A/N: Crane, Mills, Halloween, and Lemons. I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know in the review box below. Thank you pumpkins!


The night air outside was sharp and crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the faint echo of laughter from costumed kids winding down from their candy haul. Inside Abbie's cozy kitchen, warm lights cast a golden glow, and the rich smell of buttery marshmallows and cinnamon made the night feel safe and inviting, like home.

Ichabod stirred a pot of melted marshmallows and butter with the focused determination he usually reserved for arcane spell-breaking. Abbie, grinning, tossed a handful of M&M's into the gooey concoction, watching them disappear into the thick rice cereal.

"Miss Mills, if I'd known centuries ago that such delectable treats could be made from rice and marshmallows alone, I would have never returned to England," he said with mock solemnity, smirking.

Abbie laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. "You're saying that's what could've won the Revolutionary War?"

"Indeed," he replied, tapping the spoon on the edge of the pot and grinning. "Who needs weapons and strategy when marshmallows are the ultimate secret weapon?"

With the treats molded into a heaping pile on a platter, Ichabod set about making their Baileys lattes, steaming the milk and pouring in rich pumpkin spice liqueur. He dusted each cup with a sprinkle of nutmeg, casting Abbie a pleased look when she raised an eyebrow, impressed.

"Look at you with the fancy nutmeg sprinkle," she teased, taking a sip. The creamy, spiced warmth was perfect. "Guess hanging with a 21st-century woman finally paid off."

"Ah, you mean hanging with an enchanting, fearless woman who happens to be my favorite demon hunter?" he replied, his eyes sparkling. "That's the real payoff."

Abbie chuckled, rolling her eyes as she led them to the couch, pulling a blanket over their legs as they nestled in. "Tonight's lineup is iconic," she announced proudly, gesturing to her TV, where The Thing was queued up. "The Thing, The Shining, and Vampire in Brooklyn. Classics."

Ichabod took a sip of his latte, grinning with genuine excitement, "I must say, our typical evenings fighting the dark forces of purgatory do not quite measure up to what I've heard of Vampire in Brooklyn."

Abbie laughed, bumping her shoulder against his. "Oh, you'll love it. Though I think I could convince you The Shining is scarier than any headless horseman we've faced."

"Bold statement, Miss Mills. But I'll bite," he replied with a smile, then leaned closer. "So, tell me, which of these movies made you realize you, too, harbored feelings for your devilishly charming companion?"

Her eyes glinted as she recalled the moment, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. "Definitely wasn't a movie. It was that time we were fighting that shapeshifter, and you threw me over your shoulder like it was nothing. I wasn't sure whether to slap you or kiss you."

Ichabod's face lit up, his grin broad and triumphant. Leaning even closer, he whispered, "Ah, Miss Mills, I do recall that fateful Halloween evening—the one where we bested a fiend disguised as a... what was it again? A unicorn?"

Abbie grinned. "Close, Crane. It was a glitter-covered vampire. You went after it like it owed you money."

He chuckled, his eyes warm with affection. "Well, I wasn't exactly accustomed to seeing a creature of darkness bedecked in sequins and sparkles," he said, his gaze softening as it held hers. "But you—you strolled up with that candied apple like you were ready to offer it peace negotiations."

Abbie crinkled her nose, smiling. "I was trying to keep things subtle. You're the one who pulled a sword out of a candy cauldron and yelled, 'Foul beast, reveal thyself!' like we were in a Shakespeare play." She couldn't help but smile—whenever she was with him, it came so naturally.

Ichabod chuckled, voice dropping to a murmur. "Ah, well, that night did have its… electric moments," he admitted. "I must commend you for that rather impressive left hook. You sent the creature sprawling onto the bobbing apples, as I recall." His eyes lingered on her face, memorizing every detail.

"Hey, those apples didn't deserve it," she replied, lips twitching into a grin. "And you're the one who, what did you say? 'Vanquished the fiend with holy cider'? It was apple juice, Crane."

Ichabod smiled, unabashed. "And yet, it worked splendidly. I am not one to argue with results, Miss Mills."

Abbie leaned in, smirking. "Well, next time, maybe we leave the holy cider at home and try something a little less theatrical," she said, her eyes dancing with warmth and playfulness.

He matched her smirk, gently brushing a stray lock of her hair back. "Only if you promise not to spoil the next shapeshifter's evening with that dangerously precise aim of yours."

"Deal—but only if you keep up with the swordplay." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "A girl likes to see a man who knows his way around a fight."

"In that case, Miss Mills, consider it a solemn promise."

She reached for him, her fingers tracing along his jaw, and a spark passed between them as their lips met in a lingering, tender kiss. The world around them faded, leaving only the warmth of each other, savoring the rare peace of a night like this—a Halloween miracle.

Finally, Abbie pulled back, laughing softly. "Alright, Mr. Crane, you're going to need that latte if you're staying awake for all three movies."

He smiled, taking her hand in his. "With you, Miss Mills, I could stay awake all night." Their fingers intertwined, a perfect fit, both knowing they'd finally found home in each other.


As the final credits rolled across the screen close to 3 a.m., Crane marveled at how Abbie's features softened in sleep, her usually sharp, confident expression melting into a peaceful vulnerability. Her lashes cast delicate shadows on her cheeks, and her breathing was slow and rhythmic, each rise and fall of her chest a gentle reminder of her strength and resilience. He couldn't resist reaching out, letting his fingers brush softly over her side, tracing the curve of her waist with featherlight touches. She shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, and he held his breath, captivated by even this small movement. He felt a surge of affection that bordered on reverence.

His voice dropped to a whisper. "Miss Mills," he murmured, half-hoping she'd awaken to share this quiet moment, half-content to admire her undisturbed. "You and your horror films… I'd brave them all again if it meant keeping you close like this."

Gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead, a tender promise sealed in silence. She stirred, eyes fluttering open, her drowsy gaze meeting his with a soft smile as she realized he was so near.

"Crane," she whispered, voice still heavy with sleep, "did you stay up just to stare at me?"

A small smile played on his lips. "Can you blame me? You are a vision, Abbie. A more captivating sight than any I've known." He let his hand glide up, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin with reverence. "And I wondered if you were dreaming of me… as you did last year when we were snowed in."

Her lips curved in a sleepy smile, her hand sliding up his arm, pulling him closer. "Maybe I was," she replied, her voice hushed and warm.

"Shall we retire to bed?" His voice rumbles low in her ear, sending involuntary shivers down her spine. He nuzzles her fragrant and delicate neck. She tilts her head to give him better access.

"Okay," as the smile crosses her face, she turns into the circle in his arms sliding her hands up his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat. "Carry me," She sighs, breathing in his masculine scent.

His whole face perks up and he pulls her even closer, kissing her tenderly before trailing his lips over her cheeks and brow then down to her ear. She brushes her hips against him already feeling the evidence of his arousal.

"Damn Crane," She smiles, and a little giggle follows.

"Miss Mills," he murmured, voice low and filled with a barely restrained smile, "I daresay reaching the bedroom may be… overly ambitious tonight..." He whispers in his smooth baritone and begins running anxious hands up and down her back, his fingers tugging at her panties.

"Fine by me," She, reciprocates, pulling his shirt free of his pants and moving her hands beneath the material. His skin is smooth and warm against her palms, the muscles shifting smoothly. Eager to feel flesh against flesh her hands slid around his waist, fumbling with his shirt. Once he is unbuttoned, she slides her hands between the opening of his briefs, maneuvering her hand inside.

"Oh, Abbie!" He lets out a lustful groan. Crane's shaft is hot and firm against her hand and she strokes him. His hips involuntarily flex in response while his fingers dig into her upper arms. Capturing her mouth with his, it seemed to go on forever until the need for oxygen had them pulling apart, both flushed and breathing heavily. With frantic hands, they quickly finish disrobing and Crane quickly settles over the top of her.

She loves the feeling of his weight pressing firmly on her, dominating her. She moved her hands across his broad shoulders wanting to feel every inch of him and her foot hazily slid up and down his thigh while her nails traced the path of his spine. Her hands skim his waist and then she squeezes and pulls at his buttocks, urging him to move closer to her aching center.

As she explores his body, Crane tenderly kneads the soft flesh of her breast. His thumbs flick her nipples until they stand at attention only to replace his hands with his mouth. His tongue teased the sensitive skin of her breast, all the while intense blue eyes deeply gazed into her deep brown ones. His tongue licks the entire surface of her belly and traces the shape of her navel. He moves down to her shapely thighs, and legs, trailing butterfly kisses up her calves, across her thighs, and then back onto her stomach. He kisses up her neck while she softly moans, raking her fingers through his hair. Gently he trails his fingertips the length of her body, causing her to shiver with delight. Picking up her arm, he brushed delicate kisses down its length until he reached her hand, her pretty little moans spurring him on.

"So lovely." He whispers slowly brushing an obsidian coil of hair from her face.

The sight of her shapely body intertwined with his muscular form fuels his arousal even more and he glides his fingers over the sensitive flesh dipping the first one, then two fingers into her, causing Abbie to clutch at the cushion of the couch. Rhythmically he moved his fingers in and out of her, while his thumb brushed against her swollen nub.

"Iccabod!" With each stroke, her breath hitched, and she struggled to hold on to her sanity.

"You're extraordinary," His breath was ragged against her ear and she shivered already close to the edge, "and I love you dearly," He stared into her amber eyes, desires making them appear like onyx, "Open yourself to me, Abbie," His whispering voice is like a low growl and she positively jolts with excitement.

Knowing what was to come, Abbie raised her knees slightly to spread her legs wide, flatting her back against the couch as much as possible so that her hips tilted upward. Lying there totally exposed to her man she felt the tremors already building inside of her, her juices flowing, preparing the way for his possession. The thought of what was to come had her hips moving restlessly, begging him to take what she offered.

"Nothing in the entire world is more striking, my love," His blinks were as long, as Ichabod was lost in their reverie, feeling euphoric. He stared as though hypnotized before lowering his head. When his hot tongue began to tease her tender flesh, she knew she was lost and tumbled over the edge.

"Oh, Crane!" She groans; it is raw and primal and she wants to be devoured by him as much as she wants to devour him, kiss him black and blue. She undulates, bucking her hip and thrusting wildly against his eager mouth.

"Utterly Divine!" He laps her up greedily sucking, savoring, unable to put into words how exquisite she is to him. For several moments he devours her unable to sate his appetite for her, wanting her, needing her to come for him.

That hungry place inside her, building the intensity of sensations until each dive inwards is met with an outward rush of pleasure, "Oh...Crane, I'm...Com-Coming...oh fuck!" Abbie cries out in sheer pleasure; her vision goes black and she sees stars as her body plummets over the brink.

"Positively delectable, "Crane lapped up every drop and then kissed her deeply. She tasted herself on his lips and tongue. In his kiss are the promise of years and the sweetness, the promise of devotion, primal desire sweetness, and passion.

On his knees, Crane grips her hips, his erection, hard and hot against the moist fold of her sex. She parts her legs wider, begging him silently to enter her, to bury himself so deep that they are one. He obeyed, angling her back to penetrate her, groaning with one smooth stroke, deep, hard and so right. He steadily rocks his body against her, the tension immediately building for them. The sounds of skin slapping, his primal groans, and her sensual whimpers fill the room. His groans become more animalistic, his movements forceful, demanding, rocking her toward another powerful release.

"Oh, Crane fuck!" Her voice broke at the height of her ecstasy. She wanted more, needed more, she could feel it building inside of her, inside of him.

Both were beyond control, they desperately sought release.

He let out a wild moan while frantically thrusting his hot smooth length, filling her, savoring the incredible sensation of her tight wet folds.

Abbie whimpers at the sensation of being filled by her lover. Her aroused body reacted instantly, her sex clenching him, pulsing and vibrating, releasing a violent thing, a hungry place inside her.

Pausing for a moment, words failed them and for a while, neither could speak...

"Good heavens! That was entirely unintended!" Crane sighs, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He's breathing in the scent he can't live without.

"Good thing I'm well taken care of," She leisurely rubs her hands up and down his back, coaxing him further into tranquility.

He is still inside of her and she wishes they could stay like that forever. She feels so possessed by him; she never wants them to be apart. With that, he dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers, savoring the warmth, the softness, and how she responded, even in her half-awake state, wrapping her arms around his neck and drawing him down to her. It was as if the world outside faded completely, leaving only the two of them cocooned in the warmth of each other, lost in a night that would forever be theirs.