Disenchanting Valentine’s: F Wraith (Patreon)

Some people would think that cooking dinner for one on Valentine’s Day is depressing and lonely. Those people have clearly never experienced having a phantasmal mental roommate that loves to pop out and commentate simple tasks.

“I think I liked pasta,” Wraith says, watching you heat the water to a boil, “Not with cheese, though. Tomatoes sound right.”

“You didn’t like mac and cheese?” You shoot her a disbelieving side eye, “Everyone likes mac and cheese.”

A small smile flickers on her lips, “I feel like I heard that a lot from someone.”

“Well, someone was right,” You say, dumping the noodles in the pot unceremoniously and stirring, “Clearly you’ve never had the right mac and cheese.”

She wrinkles her nose, glancing down at the Kraft package and the bright orange noodles printed on it. She raises an eyebrow, looking almost judgemental.

“This isn’t that, okay?” You defend, “This is the mac and cheese you have after a long day and you’re too tired to make anything else. Half the time you stand in the kitchen, eating it straight out of the pot.”

“That might just be you,” She jokes, “I definitely don’t recall ever doing that.”

You shoot back, “You can’t even recall your own name.”

She stares at you blankly for a moment and you fear you may have crossed a line. Then she laughs, and you realize you forgot how breathtaking she is when she’s happy. The way her nose crinkles, the way her dimples show when she smiles, and the sound of her laugh. God, her laugh. It just about makes you weak in the knees.

You hear a hiss as the water boils over and snap back around to stir the pasta. You bite the inside of your cheek, hoping she hadn’t noticed why you were so distracted. When you sneak a glance at her, a small smile curls her lips up and she winks when you meet her eyes.

“Better pay attention,” She chides playfully.

Damn it all, she definitely knows.

You finish dinner with her chatting in the background about everything and nothing. You pour half the pasta in a bowl for yourself and cover the rest for Theo after evening classes let out. Plopping down on the couch, Wraith perches next to you and stares out the window for some time as you eat.

The first thing she says after a long pause is, “What is Valentine’s Day, anyways? Some kids in your classes won’t shut up about it.”

You blink, glancing over at her. She has her lips pursed in confusion, and there’s a little furrow between her brows. She has that look on her face she gets when she’s frustrated she can’t remember something. You refrain from saying you think it’s cute simply because you might die of embarrassment.

“A holiday for couples,” You explain, “Mostly for big corporations to make money off of couples, but you get the idea.”

“Oh,” She shifts, staring down at her semi-incorporeal hands, “I don’t think I ever celebrated that.”

“You aren’t missing much,” You start to brush off the importance of the holiday when you see the look on her face.

Not frustration, not confusion, but loneliness.

“I don’t think…” She hesitates, glancing up at you as if she’s suddenly self conscious, “I don’t think I had many people in my life.”

The words are wrenched from her, like she’s ashamed to admit it. She usually balances carefully on the border of cheeky and kind, but this reminds you more of when you first met. When she was all alone in your head, in your dreams, drifting in the darkness of the afterlife until she finally anchored to you.

“Not just in a romantic sense.” Her mouth twists to the side, “I don’t think anyone cared about me in general.”

You open your mouth to say something, anything, when you see the silvery wisps form in the corners of her eyes. Tears.

“It’s nothing, anyways.” She shrugs, jaw clenching as she turns away, “Not like I can change it now.”

Ah, evasion of emotions, your old friend. It was one of your favorite methods to get through the day back in boarding school. Unfortunately, it never really helped you feel better. Bottling it all up and ignoring it until you had a breakdown was no way for you to live.

Studying the tightness of Wraith’s expression and the tension in her form, you decide it’s no way for her to live either. Even if she isn’t exactly living in the traditional sense.

“I wish I had known you,” You whisper.

She jerks slightly in surprise, turning wide eyes back in your direction, “Why?”

“I would’ve protected you, or at least been there by your side when I failed.” You say, swallowing past the knot that threatens to form in your throat, “Because you deserved that. You still do.”

The misty tears spill over, running down her cheeks and vanishing in midair. You reach a hand out, placing it over her cold one as you inch closer to her. Your shoulders brush, and you ignore the chill that runs down your spine.

“I wish I had known you, too.” She stares at your hands, twisting hers around so she can entwine your fingers, “Sometimes I feel sad, and other times just overwhelmingly angry. I think it’s because that’s how I felt when I was living. You make me happy, though; you make me feel like I can be something more than sadness and anger.”

“You are more,” You insist, “No matter what happened before this, before us, you will always be more than that to me.”

“Us,” She turns the word over in her mouth, dark eyes filled with longing, “Is there an us?”

“Would you want there to be?” You ask, squeezing her hand.

“Do you?” She counters, “I think, by now, you should realize that you’re all I want. If I could be given back my life, with the sadness and the anger and the loneliness, I’d say no. I’d stay here, with you, where I can be happy.”

You’re all she can touch, and she makes good use of the ability. She leans in closer, moving her hand to rest on your shoulder.

“So…Do you?” She asks, her face inches from yours.

You nod. Her lips crash into yours, and you relish the ice cold feeling that settles over you. She settles in your lap, unsure of where to put herself as you collide with each other, and the weight of her is somehow reassuring.

“So, does this mean you’re my Valentine?” You ask with a breathy laugh as she pulls back.

Her eyes grow wide, “That’s actually today?”

“Yeah,” You nod, unable to hide your amusement, “You have great timing. Some would think you planned it.”

“I didn’t,” She smirks, “And since I’m unprepared and without a gift…”

She kisses you again, and you think this works just fine for you. Then her hand reaches your waist, trailing lower, and you suck in a sharp breath as she runs a finger along your waistband.

“Too much?” Her brows furrow, jerking her hand back, “We can stop, or just kiss, or whatever you want. I just…just want you to keep touching me. If that’s alright?”

The look on her face is pleading and you wonder how your touch feels to her. Are you warm where she’s cold? Solid where she’s shifting?

“It’s okay,” You say gently, guiding her hand back to where it was, “The cold was just…surprising.”

She carefully slips her hands down your pajama pants, her fingers curious and exploring. She learns your body quickly, though, and uses your gasps and eventual moans as a guide. You hold onto her tightly as the pressure in your abdomen rises, ready to pull you under at any moment, and you hear her let out a shaking whine as her fingers struggle to stay steady.

“Are you okay?” You ask, panting as you cup her cheek in your hand.

“I can feel it all,” She chokes out, whimpering as she leans into your touch, “Whatever you feel, I feel the echo. I can feel my own touch, like I’m in your body.”

“Well, you are.” You smirk slightly, running a hand over your own chest and tweaking a nipple between your fingers.

A bolt of pleasure races down to your core, and your gasp is synchronized with Wraith’s. She really can feel it all. As her hand works faster, her movements eager, you drive the both of you closer to the edge by rocking into her touch and teasing every sensitive part on your own body. The only place you can’t really reach is your neck.

You can reach her neck, though.

Falling forward, you drape your upper body over her as you press heated kisses along her jaw. Eventually you find where her pulse would be if she had one and suck.

You both tip over the edge at the same time, shattering in each other’s arms. Wraith flickers momentarily, like she might just disappear into thin air. She clutches at you though, holding on desperately to her anchor, and you grip her back just as firmly. She remains with you, finally relaxing in your arms.

The night is quiet except for her quiet little praises, the sweet nothings she whispers as she kisses each of your fingers with reverence.

“My anchor, my…everything.”