#witch!andrew

[millportisntreal]

Making a separate post to share my latest fic The Witch and The Wildling! If you like magic and fantasy and forests and Andreil maybe consider checking it out <3

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[jemej3m]

incarnate

neil is just your friendly neighbourhood demon. andrew is just a curious witch. shenanigans ensues. 

*

“Look,” Kevin said, waving his hands in front of Andrew’s face. “I get it. You want to know what’s after death, we all do. You want to bring Aaron back - we all wish we could bring our loved ones back. But this is going too far, Andrew.” 

Kevin really was an idiot sometimes. Aaron had died a long time ago: Andrew had long since healed, and wasn’t stupid enough to go disturbing the create-destroy balance. Also, Andrew couldn’t give less of a shit about what happened after death. 

The only reason Kevin was here was to make sure Andrew didn’t hallucinate whatever results he was about to happen across. Kevin didn’t actually know what Andrew was planning. He’d been working on this a good year, deciphering the code and glyphs within the Wesninski journal, which was a spellbook all about demons and their alternate realms. Andrew was sure he had it right this time: if he kept the circle intact, there would be nothing dangerous about this at all.

Unless he fucked it up. But he wouldn’t. He’d never fucked up a ritual before, and he wasn’t about to start. 

That is, if Kevin stopped blabbering. 

“Kevin,” Andrew managed. “Will you shut the fuck up?”

The man glared, fiddling anxiously with the small raven brooch that his brother had gifted to him years ago. Andrew turned away now that Kevin was somewhat quiet, ignoring the “Wymack’s going to kill us.” whispered under Kevin’s breath. 

Andrew poked his palm with the tip of his knife and watched the droplet of blood slide from his hand, dropping into the centre of the circle. It sizzled, like Andrew was doing this ritual on an enormous hotplate, and dissolved into the pile of pure salt crystals beneath it. The glyphs all glowed a vibrant blue as the ground shook. Andrew could feel the energy being drawn from the clearing, summoned to the ritual circle. He shielded his eyes as the light grew too bright to look at and took a step back. 

There was a strange and obscenely loud noise that tore through the silence, almost like someone was shredding a piece of paper into a microphone. The air shook around Andrew, quivering anxiously, and all Andrew could think was: 

Fuck.

He needn’t have worried. Within a few moments, the noise, the vibrations, the light - it all vanished. He slowly opened his eyes and glanced to Kevin, who was curled into a tiny ball on the ground. 

“Oh, Hell.” Came an unfamiliar voice, very out of breath and very relieved. “You saved my life.”

Andrew slowly looked to the ritual circle: Within it was the figure of a young man, barely taller than Andrew was. He looked normal for the most part, dressed in a billowing white blouse and trousers, except for the scars across his skin and his eyes. The cuts and burns seemed to be laced shut with golden thread, glittering in the moonlight, whilst his eyes were the most piercing shade of blue Andrew had ever seen. They glowed, really glowed, like those glyphs had during the ritual. The strangest part were his pupils, like two little voids but shaped into inverted pentagrams. Combined with fire-licks of gorgeous red hair and the curvature of his cheekbones, Andrew seemed to have summoned the most attractive monster possible. 

A monster of whom looked extremely exhausted, bewildered, and injured. 

“What?” Andrew remarked, clutching the book to his chest. 

“You saved my life by summoning me.” He stepped closer to the edge of the circle. “You pulled me out of my father’s realm and into this one. Speaking of which,” He looked around. “Where in Lucifer’s name am I? And how did you manage to get ahold of that?” He pointed to the Wesninski journal in Andrew’s grasp. 

“Found it.” He said. 

“Of course.” The demon threw his hands up into the air. “She said she’d hidden it, but I knew she’d lost it. ‘It’s safe with your uncle, Nathaniel. I never lose anything, Nathaniel. Don’t accuse me of causing us such a terrible fate, Nathaniel.’ If you’re listening, Mary, just know I know you were full of shit!” 

“You are the demon Nathaniel?” Andrew tried not to act shocked. He’d hoped that the ritual would pull a demon. He didn’t expect to pull the demon. Or, more accurately, the Wesninski demon’s son. 

“You had to have known who you were summoning when you perfected the ritual,” Nathaniel frowned. “Didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t 100% sure on the translations.” Andrew admitted. “Kinda went on a whim.”

“Well,” The demon remarked. “Congratulations. You’ve snagged yourself a demon.”

“Now what?” Andrew demanded. “It didn’t exactly tell me what to do once I’d brought you here.”

“No wishes?” Nathaniel hedged. “No insatiable desires? No memories you wish to have removed or altered? No enemies you want smited down? I owe you big time, little witch. I’d have a knife in my throat if it weren’t for you.”

“It’s Andrew, not little witch. Also, that’s rich, coming from you.”

“I’m aware.” The demon said breezily. “But for what I lack in height I make up in attitude. It’s what my father was trying to knife me down for: Being such a nuisance. I think your friend has gone into shock, by the way. He can’t seem to stop looking at me like a concussed goldfish.”

Andrew had completely forgotten about Kevin in the midst of his success and looked to where the man was curled into a ball on the floor, jaw hanging and eyes peeled wide open. He kicked Kevin’s leg. “The ritual worked.”

“No shit!” Kevin snapped, scrambling to his feet. “Are you insane? Summoning demons? Everything has its cost, you know!”

“He’s not wrong.” Nathaniel offered. “What you get is what you give.”

“I saved your life.” Andrew pointed out.

“That was fate. You didn’t do it on purpose.” Nathaniel reprimanded. 

“Well?” Andrew spread his hands wide. “What do you want?”

The demon frowned. “Aren’t I meant to ask you that?”

“Because I totally care about semantics. What do you want, demon?”

Nathaniel narrowed his gaze at the journal in Andrew’s hands. “I need that book back.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “I asked you what you want, not what you need.”

He looked to his feet, lacing his fingers behind his back as he chewed on his bottom lip. All his teeth were just slightly pointed.  “Well - I suppose I would...no. That’s ludicrous.”

“Spit it out.” Andrew crossed his arms. Kevin made a weak noise of distress behind him.

The demon looked up from under his lashes. “I’d do anything for my freedom.”

“Anything?” Andrew prompted. 

“Anything.” Nathaniel confirmed. 

“Alright.” He walked over to the circle of glyphs that kept Nathaniel ensnared. Just as Kevin cried out “Andrew, no!” his shoe scuffed the engravings in the dirt, and whatever invisible leash that bound Nathaniel to the centre of the circle snapped: Andrew could hear it. 

The demon looked at Andrew like he’d lost his damned mind. 

“You’ll still have to uphold your end of the agreement.” Andrew reminded him. 

“Right.” Nathaniel said. “Right. Okay. Are you crazy? You just unleashed a demon into your home realm.”

“Yes, he is!” Kevin cried out, holding up his hands as Nathaniel stepped outside of the ritual circle. “Oh, fate, don’t hurt me.”

“Not insane.” Andrew said, cocking his head. “Just intrigued.”

“Well.” Nathaniel said, appraisingly. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again soon, Andrew Minyard.” With that, he tapped two fingers to his forehead in a mocking salute before promptly vanishing into thin air. He left behind a distinct smell of smoldering ash and ocean spray. 

Kevin covered his face with his hands and moaned “We’re all going to die!” 

Andrew ignored him. He still had the book in his possession and Nathaniel owed him. It was an asset that no other witch would’ve had before, and that made Andrew very powerful. 

Andrew found that he didn’t mind the idea of having a demon in his pocket. No, Andrew didn’t mind at all.

*

yeehaw *kicks writers block to the curb*

[bedlamsong]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Neil Josten & Everyone, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Neil Josten, Andrew Minyard, Kevin Day, David Wymack, The Foxes (All For The Game), Other Character Tags to Be Added Additional Tags: Familiars, Magic-Users, POV Multiple, Soul Bond, alternative universe, Familiar Neil, Other Additional Tags to Be Added Summary:

Nathaniel Wesninski could shift his shape since he was three years old. When he turned eight he asked his mother what the tugging in his belly button meant. She told him he was a familiar to a witch, then told him to never mention it again. When he was 18 he ran from David Wymack and his offer to join the Foxes and straight into a racquet. That was how he met his witch, Andrew Minyard.

 Rewriting and reposting my fic by the same name.

[jemej3m]

incarnate (p2)

yall rlly liked this for some reason so have some more - p1

*

Neil - the name he’d chanced upon and decided he preferred much better than Nathaniel - liked this realm. It was another version of Earth, sure, but it was significantly brighter than his own. 

For one, demons didn’t roam around freely, some how excluded by a convenient barrier that encircled this dimension. That meant that Neil really didn’t have to worry about Lola, or Jackson, or Romero, or DiMaccio popping out of the shadows to leer at him and bind him with platinum chains. They were all mutts of some kind because his father only employed those who were resistant to both human weaknesses and demon weaknesses. 

That was always bad news for Neil. His mother had died so long ago that he could barely recall her - his father had caught up with him enough times that he’d tampered with his memory - and yet the thought of her death still ached. 

She’d talked about this place, once. A dimension free of monsters, where magic flowed freely in humans called witches and fae. It’d be paradise for us, Abram, she’d whispered. If only we could cross the border. 

Their only hope of figuring out a way to cross said border was with his father’s journal, of which they’d (they, being Mary) stolen and then lost. It seemed as though it’d slipped through the folds of the universe anyway and right as his father’s knife had begun its arc downwards towards his chest, fate had skipped along and said nope, you’re not dying today: thanks to Andrew Minyard’s summons, he’d slipped away just in time. 

“You good, buddy?”

“Hm?” Neil looked up from where he’d zoned out. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’m good.”

Matt hopped over the back of the couch and landed right next to Neil with a bowl of snacks. Neil had never seen them before.

“What’s that?” 

Matt snorted. “You really crack me up, you know that? It’s popcorn.”  

Popcorn. Right. Neil took a few pieces and munched on them, turning his attention back to the television where a violent sport was being played. It seemed pointless to Neil, but maybe these sorts of games were what kept humans so civil. A demon’s version of fun was finding another demon to eat and seeing how loud their prey screamed when the bone marrow was sucked out from their femur bones. 

“What’s this sport called again?” Neil asked his roommate, averting his line of thinking as quick as he could. 

“Exy. You like it? We could try it with some of my - friends.” Matt jostled his shoulder. "You clock a faster mile on the treadmill than anyone I know: You might have fun as a striker.” 

Ah, yes. The treadmill. Neil had been momentarily weirded out by the thought of running but staying still, but it was good to get out his jitters on rainy days. There were a lot of those down in South Carolina. Neil hated the way the humidity made his curls untamable. He supposed it was better than getting his hair singed off by a blade made out of Hell’s Eternal Flame, so he’d get used to it. 

A strange whisper caught his attention, somewhere at the back of his attention span. Nathaniel. Nathaniel. Nathaniel. 

He felt the string on his soul be tugged on slightly and looked to Matt who was still chattering away about Exy - this would be awfully strange to explain when he got back - only to be summoned elsewhere. 

When Neil came-to, he found himself in an apartment. 

“There we go.” Andrew closed the Wesninski journal, satisfied. Neil looked around and observed many things: He was in Andrew’s bedroom, seeing as Andrew’s scent of woodpine and a sparked flame was strongest upon the unmade bed. The curtains were drawn over his windows: He had various plants across his dresser that curled and blossomed vivaciously, and countless books on spellcasting stuffed under the bed-frame. The other bed had to belong to Kevin, Andrew’s friend. His things were far more orderly, but with the cauldron and recipe books tucked under a shelf in the corner, Neil could tell the man was practised in alchemy. 

“You may have made things a little awkward at home.” Neil said, relaxing the glamours he’d put on his appearance. Andrew knew what he really looked like: There was no point in trying to hide it. The man gave his figure a once-over when the mirage slipped off. “I was sitting on the couch with my roommate. I didn’t want to tamper with people and live up to my namesake, but I can’t have him going and exposing me, can I?”

“Roommate?” Andrew asked curiously, walking over to open the curtains of his bedroom window and brushing his fingertips across the leaves of the plants closest to him. They all shivered. It made sense that Andrew had mastered that dichotomy between life and death. He seemed like a man who appreciated balance. 

“Well, I have to assimilate into human life somehow.” Neil said wryly. “He said his past roommate left to move out of state, but I’m pretty sure the guy died. Are all humans cagey around death? By the way, I’ve chosen the name Neil Josten. Do you like it?”

“What difference does my opinion make?” The man answered blithely.

“None.” Neil shrugged. 

Andrew paused momentarily. “I’m not cagey around death. But I’m one of the rare ones.” He looked up at Neil. “You should meet Renee.”

“Was that why you’ve called me here?”

“I called you here because I was bored and I want to spook Kevin when he gets home in -” Andrew checked his watch. “Forty three seconds. Now that I think about it, showing you off to Renee is a horrible idea. She’ll lecture me on responsibility.” 

“I’m not a trophy to be shown off.” Neil put his hands on his hips. “Although it was very miraculous you managed to figure out even half of my father’s ridiculous glyphs and encrypted ritual pre-tasks. Huh.” He cocked his head. “Maybe I am - what did Matt call it? A trophy-wife?”

Andrew seemed to choke on something, even though Neil hadn’t noticed him eating. “Matt?” He asked. 

It was too late: Kevin burst into the room in a flurry of movement and energy. 

“Fuck!” He cried out, scrambling for purchase against the bedroom door he’d fallen against at seeing Neil. “What are you doing here?”

“Not sure, really.” Neil answered and pointed to Andrew. “Ask him.” 

“You willingly summoned it? Again?” Kevin demanded. “Andrew, you’re going to be the death of us all!” 

“Untrue.” Neil supplied. “You humans always seem to die because of disease. Whether that be infectious or non-infectious. Although, I could cause a plague.” He glanced at Andrew. “If that’s what you want.”

“Tempting, but no.” Andrew said flatly. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t causing trouble, is all.” 

“How considerate.” Neil cooed, waving his fingers. “Anyway, can I head back? I have to fix things up with Matt now that he’s seen me vanish in the middle of a conversation.”

“Sure,” Andrew said, waving his hand dismissively. 

Neil waved Kevin goodbye. “Nice seeing you.” 

“Right.” The man said, weakly. “Nice seeing you too.” 

With a definitive pop! Neil was back in his living room, sitting by Matt. 

“Hey!” Matt crowed, throwing his phone away. “You’re back! I mean, you could have told me instead of vanishing mid-conversation, but I’m glad either way!”

All Neil could manage was a flat “What.” before Matt scrambled for his phone once more. 

“Yeah, Dan! He’s back. You owe me ten bucks: I told you there was something witchy about him!” 

Huh. Neil Josten, a witch. 

He could work with that. 

*

[jemej3m]

incarnate (p3)

Hheeere uuu goooooooo (OooOoooooOOooOOoOooO) - p2

*

Andrew rocked up to the weekly gathering, basically in his pyjamas. Neither him nor Kevin were early risers, but Kevin had the gall to actually come to these things appropriately dressed. 

Andrew had just chucked a sweater over his t-shirt, tucked his pyjama pants into boots, yanked a beanie over his head and shuffled into his overcoat. Erik and Nicky - who lived in the second bedroom of their apartment - didn’t look much more presentable than he did, slomping around like zombies until they’d knocked back some coffee. 

Why Wymack and Dan held these gatherings at sunrise was beyond Andrew. He hated every single fucking time the little fox dropped off the acorn message at their door. How the fox even managed to get inside the building without triggering security was a wonder in itself. Andrew couldn’t wait to move out into a house. 

They’d all crammed into the car, revved up the engine way too loud for almost five in the morning, and cruised till they arrived to the edge of town. 

They all trudged through the forest till they’d arrived at the clearing where Palmetto held all their most powerful rituals and flamboyant gatherings. It also happened to be where Andrew had summoned the demon - Neil - maybe two weeks ago. 

He still had no idea what he wanted from the thing. He didn’t want anything, really. He’d never wanted anything. 

Andrew lit a cigarette when they arrived to the clearing, waiting for the others to show up. Renee, Dan and Allison were already there: Renee, smiling like an angel, Allison, looking like a god-send and Dan acting like she owned the place, formally greeting the others upon their arrival. 

Renee sidled up to Andrew, nudging their shoulders. “Something’s changed about your aura. Something lighter.”

Odd. He would have thought a demon summoning would’ve put a blemish on his soul, or whatever bullshit Renee actually bought into. He just shrugged. 

“The whole place seems a little different, really.” Renee said. “Like its recovering from something big. You wouldn’t have been here recently, would you?”

“Everyone hangs around here.” He said flatly. “We’re a bunch of witches and this is the coven’s gathering circle.”

“Of course.” Renee said easily. “It could have been any one of us. It’s definitely not Kevin, though. He looks far too guilty.”

Andrew’s gaze travelled across to where Kevin was mulling about the exact spot Neil had appeared the first time. Andrew muttered angrily under his breath and stalked over, dragging Kevin by the arm. 

“Hey!” Kevin complained. “I was just checking -” 

“Shut it.” Andrew hissed. “Fuck this up and I’ll tell everyone exactly who hexed the coven in an attempt to get rid of his tattoo and ended up giving everyone shitty tramp stamps. We clear?”

Kevin gulped. “Crystal.” 

The recognisable footsteps of Wymack were heard by everyone: They all stood to the clearing’s edge as he arrived, flanked by Abby and Bee. Bee smiled at Andrew warmly and tapped her wrist ( “Talk later?” ). Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“Boyd and the neophyte will get here soon.”  Wymack said gruffly, brushing himself off. A twig was still stuck out of his hair and Abby plucked it out fondly. “Yes, that’s why I’ve called you all here. We’re initiating a witch into the Palmetto coven this morning.” 

Two sets of footsteps neared the clearing. One set familiar - heavy and rhythmic, like Boyd’s heart rate - and the other flighty and nervous. As they appeared, Andrew’s heart bottomed out into his stomach. 

“Neil Josten.” Wymack gestured for him to step forward. “Welcome to the Palmetto coven.” 

Neil nodded gently, eyes scouring the circle that greeted him. He looked human - the scars on his face and arms were gone, and his eyes were a normal (still devilishly gorgeous) shape and shade of blue. When his eyes flit to Andrew and Kevin, he had to stifle the hints of a grin. 

“Step into the centre: everyone else, join hands.” Wymack instructed. Andrew hated this part of the initiation, twisting his fingers with Renee’s and Kevin’s. Everyone’s energy flowed freely between them. He could feel the valliant leadership from Dan, Allison’s lures and illusions, Bee’s soothing calm, Abby’s healing tisanes, clarity and forgiveness from Renee, strength and loyalty from Matt, Kevin’s logic and perfection, Nicky’s boisterousness and sunshine and Erik’s curiosity and perseverance. 

When Neil bowed his head, they all took a startled step back. Of course it’d be something unlike any of them had ever witnessed: Neil was a creature of pure magic. Not like humans, who were poor conductors at best. His power glossed over Andrew’s skin like gold dust and he opened his eyes. 

Neil’s glamours had held up, but they wouldn’t be good enough for Renee and Bee. Regardless, they both smiled and went to Neil to welcome him alongside the rest of the coven. He looked lost and somewhat uncomfortable with all their friendly introductions, looking frantically from witch to witch. 

Andrew kept back: Kevin did too. Wymack glanced to them only once, shaking his head. 

“He’s so strong.” Kevin murmured. “He could - Andrew, he could teach us stuff! Will you ask him to?”

“Like I’m going to waste my one wish on your needless pursuits for knowledge.” Andrew muttered, letting his head fall to one side. Even Kevin’s rattling couldn’t distract him from the way Neil’s eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, the way the tip of his nose curved perfectly to his lips. 

Andrew would never ask for that. There was no consent in magically inclined bindings. But so long as he could appreciate from afar, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Oh, how Andrew hadn’t had a clue. 

*

three moon cycles later 

“It’s the fall equinox, it’s the fall equinox!” Neil crowed, sitting on Andrew’s dresser with his ankles crossed and rapping against the wooden surface with his knuckles. “Wake up, morons. Is that an appropriate insult? I’m still not very good with insults. Although I have decided that you humans are rather feeble: Almost pathetic. So maybe dweebs is a better term?”

Andrew blinked awake blearily, not realising he’d set a hyper-active demon to go off at six o’clock in the morning rather than his usual Kevin-Day-Getting-Bored-And-Wanting-To-Research-Or-Practise alarm. 

“How’d you get in here?”  Kevin said, waving his hands around in a futile effort to block the rays of sun that peered through the window: Neil, the little bastard, had opened the curtains. “Andrew, didn’t we set up protective wards?”

“Neil’s a part of the coven.” Andrew muttered. “He can bypass them. He’s been bypassing them for two and a half months now.”

“Who decided it’d be a good idea to bring a demon into the coven?”

“Matt’s.”

“To be fair, he still doesn’t know.” Neil chirped. “And I’m right here: I can hear everything you two are say. And some things you aren’t saying.”

Kevin sat up, shirtless and still half asleep. “What, you can read minds now?”

“I’ve always been able to read everyone’s intentions and emotions.” Neil corrected him. “It’s rather necessary for one’s survival. I’d teach you how to block it, but that wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“You’re the worst.” Kevin groused, stumbling to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Andrew finally sat up and checked his arm-bands were there, pulling a hoodie that’d been stuffed between his bed and the wall over his head. Neil watched him with his head cocked to the side. Andrew didn’t care. It’d been three months of having a pet demon and Andrew really couldn’t care less about the five-foot-three nuisance. 

“I lied before.” Neil said, softly. He was still sitting atop of Andrew’s dresser, effectively blocking Andrew from grabbing a clean pair of boxers. “I can read everyone’s intentions and emotions - except yours.”

“Now that’s some Twilight bullshit.” Andrew grunted, checking over his plants with careful fingertips. “Do you glitter in the sun, too?”

“I hate it when you make pop-culture references.” He complained. “I never understand them.” 

“Forget it. Why can’t you read me?”

He shrugged. “Most demons back home are very good at concealing themselves, but humans have never been. Renee is also practised, as is Bee, but your soul is far more intricately protected.”

Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. “It needs to be.”

“Right.” Neil said, unconvinced. “I just hope you’re not constricting yourself in the process.”

Andrew flipped him off. 

“What? I’m just making observations.”

“Well, make your observations elsewhere. I need to get to my drawers.”

Neil, in a rare moment of complacency, did as he was told. He sat on the edge of Andrew’s bed instead and leaned forward. “Have you thought about what you want from me?”

Andrew ignored him. 

“Because it’s the fall equinox, and I can draw a lot of power tonight. I should use it to escape.” Neil admitted. 

Andrew slowly turned. “What?”

Neil looked up at him from under his curly fringe. He’d let loose his glamour again - fuck, those eyes got Andrew every damned time - and he hadn’t really cut his hair for however long he’d been here. It was getting ridiculously long. Andrew wanted to run his fingers through it. 

“I can’t stay.” He said. “My father will find me. He’ll break into this realm somehow and ruin everything. I have to leave before he does.” 

“Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Neil looked back down at his hands. They shook slightly: He balled them in his trousers, a pair ratty pair of jeans. Andrew crouched in front of him. 

“Neil,” He said. “I have the journal. I have you. If he wants to cause trouble, I’ll send him to Hell’s ninth fucking circle, got it? You’re staying.” 

“But -” He tried. 

“No.” Andrew reached out to pinch his lips shut. “Quiet, before you say something ludicrous. Stay out of trouble and I’ll watch your back. Clear?” 

Neil’s lips fought free of Andrew’s fingertips to smile, a small thing that was so reserved but unrepentant all the same. Andrew hated it. “Crystal.”

*