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hugsandchaos · 10 months ago

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Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE!!!

Phantom smiled to himself looking up at the night sky. The event he’d been waiting for finally started a few minutes ago, the top right “corner” of the moon was dark with the tiniest hint of red on the “edge”. He was pretty grateful for being allowed to go outside for the lunar eclipse. Especially since the other members of Young Justice got to tag along as well. He could hear Wally explaining the specifics of the event to Conner below, but ignored it.

Phantom was well above the trees so he could get a perfect view of the lunar eclipse, so it wasn’t very hard to ignore them. Especially since he was so happy about what he was going to see soon. And by soon, he meant an hour or so. Since they were so far out from the city the civilization in general, Phantom also had an amazing view of the stars. It seemed like every second he spent looking at them instead of the moon, a new one would pop into existence. Or he’d recognize another constellation.

He leaned back so he was floating with his back facing the ground and crossed one of his legs over the other. He folded his arms over his abdomen and smiled fondly, acting as if he was laying on solid ground instead of being in midair. Then a small blue fog of smoke came out of his mouth.

Phantom quickly swung himself upright and looked around. He really didn’t want to deal with any ghost fights right now, he just wanted some peace. As he scanned the area around him, he noticed something in the distance. It definitely wasn’t a star, and it was too small to be a pod. It might be the ghost he had sensed being nearby.“Phantom?” Robin called out. The ghostly hero glanced down below.”Everything alright?” He asked.

Phantom nodded and went back to looking at the ghost.”Yeah, just a second. I think I see something.” He yelled back. He squinted his eyes to try to see if he could recognize the ghost. It didn’t take long for him to figure out who it was, and when he did, a huge smile broke out across his face.

“Danielle!!!” Phantom called out.

He quickly rushed towards his younger clone. He didn’t notice his friends calling for him, but he noticed that Dani had definitely spotted him since she was also hurdling towards him. They reached each other somewhere midway and Phantom slowed down enough before they practically collided with each other. Dani didn’t really slow down as soon as him and knocked him back a little, but he wasn’t too fazed by the impact and wrapped his arms around her.

He hugged his sister considerably tighter than he usually hugs people, and spun around a bit as a small way to release some of the new, excited energy. Dani laughed a little as they spun, then he stopped.”How have you been?!” He asked excitedly.

“I’ve been great!!” She said. They both ended the hug with big grins on their face, very happy to see the other after months had passed. Phantom was about to ask her about her time apart from him, but she opened her mouth to speak.”I’ve seen so many cool things that I wanna tell you about, and guess what?!“ She asked. She held her mouth open and pointed at the upper part. That’s when Phantom noticed her canine teeth were a bit bigger than a regular human’s.”I’ve grown fangs, like yours!” She exclaimed. The older halfa gasped softly. He wasn’t quite sure what emotion had just swelled up in his chest a little, but he’s felt it before, and it was definitely positive.

Was it pride? Was he proud of her? He wasn’t sure if that was it or not, but the feeling remained.”That’s so cool, Dani! They’re fang-tastic.” He said.

Dani’s grin grew a little bit wider when he said that.”Why, fang you!” She said. Suddenly, her expression changed drastically from pure excitement to what looked like distrust. Her eyes looked at something behind him, and Phantom quickly turned around to see what or who it was that caused her reaction.

Megan was floating there.”Who’s your friend, Phantom?” She asked kindly. Phantom calmed down a little and smiled again. He glanced back at Dani again and noticed how she looked a little confused, but still defensive. He floated back to be next to Dani.

“Hey, Megan! This is my little sister. She has the same powers as me.” He said. Him talking with his friend so calmly and casually seemed to help Dani relax. Which was what he was hoping for.

Megan’s smile grew as she looked over at the other halfa.”Really?! You’ve never mentioned your relatives before!” She said. She held a hand out.”It’s really nice to meet you, Danielle. I’m Megann! Well, Megann is my Earth name.” She introduced herself. Dani glanced over at Phantom. He knew what it was she was asking and gave her an encouraging nod. With the affirmation that it was safe, Dani smiled and shook Megann’s hand.”Nice to meet you too.” She said with a small smile. For a moment, Phantom was happy that they hadn’t met her in some kind of fight or had a misunderstanding. Then he remembered something pretty important. Not wanting to make it awkward, though, he decided to try to play it cool.

He gave Megann a slightly apologetic look.”I’m sorry, but would you mind letting us chat for a bit? We have a lot to catch up on and talk about, and something tells me it’s going to get a little personal.” He asked politely. He tried to make it understandable and reasonable, and to him, that sounded like a good explanation. He’s been pretty private about his life before he joined Young Justice, anyways.

Megann nodded.”Oh, yeah, of course! I’ll let the others know what you’re doing if they ask.” She said. The older halfa agreed with that idea and nodded to show it. The martian turned around and flew back to the others, and once she was gone, Phantom glanced over at Dani.

She turned to him at the same time, also looking pretty serious. Seemed like they both had something to say.”You go first.” Phantom said. Dani remained silent for an extra minute. Phantom waited until an idea of what it was entered his head, and he didn’t like it one bit.”It wasn’t Vlad, was it?” He asked. Dani shook her head.

“I was... I was spotted by one of them.”

Those words briefly made Phantom’s core stop. The sweet moment suddenly turned way more sour than he was expecting. His eyes widened in shock and horror and they both floated in silence for a while. With each passing second, Dani looked more and more like she’d start to cry. Tears were slowly starting to form, but she was holding back.”I don’t want them to catch me... We both know I can’t go into the Ghost Zone, so... I didn’t know what else to do.” She said. Her voice came close to cracking at the end.

Phantom quickly pulled his mind back together. An urge to protect his sister began to block out the fear he also felt for her and he pulled her into a hug.”They won’t get the chance. I’ll do everything to make sure of it.” He said. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d be able to actually protect her against part of the government, but he wasn’t lying. He was going to do whatever he could to protect her from the Guys In White. Dani hugged back.”Thank you.” She said.

“Anytime.” Phantom said. It was practically obvious to him. As long as his core was still vibrating and his heart was still beating, he’d protect her against anything.”But listen, my team doesn’t know I’m a halfa. They only think I’m a ghost. I think you should say the same.” He said. Dani nodded.

They soon ended the hug and Dani looked better than before. Phantom noticed something above and pointed behind her.”Look at that.” He said. Dani followed his gaze and let out a small, amazed “ohh” under her breath when she saw it. The lunar eclipse wasn’t complete yet, but it was getting there. A part of it was still white, but the majority of it was getting more and more red, and even looked a little orange.”I saw one of those before. Lunar eclipse, right?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” Phantom confirmed.

The two remained there for only a few minutes, watching the moon change ever so slightly, before Dani filled the silence again.”Can we meet the rest of your teammates?” She asked, turning to face him.

“Duhh! This way.” Phantom said, then flew to where his friends had set up camp.

It was a pretty short flight, and once there, his teammates were already looking at them. The group had used Megan’s bioship to fly out an hour or so away from the mountain and brought their own tents, and obviously some campfire snacks along with other necessities. They were all aligned in a circle with a sort of “entrance” facing the direction of the bioship. Phantom landed with Dani close behind and glanced back at her to make sure she wouldn’t get overwhelmed or anything. He wasn’t entirely sure how good her social skills were. She looked a little bit surprised, but overall okay. Phantom turned to his team.”Hey, guys! Hope you don’t mind one more.” He said, gesturing towards his sister. Dani smiled and waved at them.

Megan was the first of them to speak.”Not at all! Come on over, the eclipse is getting closer.” She said. Dani accepted the invitation and began walking over to them. Phantom obviously followed.

He noticed Conner looking a little surprised, but brushed it off since everyone seemed a bit surprised to learn that he apparently had a sister. Dani floated off the ground to be more at eye level with his friends.”How come all of your friends are taller than me?” She asked, glancing back at Phantom. He just shrugged and grinned.”I guess you just got the short end of the stick.” He said. Dani rolled her eyes and looked back at them.

“I’m Danielle! It’s nice to meet all of my brother’s new teammates.” She said. Robin held his hand out and Dani accepted it.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Robin. That’s Wally, Artemis, Conner, Kaldur, and you’ve already met Megan.” He said. Phantom leaned closer to Dani and pointed at Wally.

“He doesn’t really believe in ghosts, so feel free to bug him when he’s not training or on missions.” He whispered.

Wally glared at him and Robin and Artemis both muffled a laugh behind their hands.”Hey!” Wally snapped. Dani gasped almost slightly offended, then grinned mischievously.

“Oh, I’d love to!” She said. Before she said something else, though, Conner spoke up.

“Megan told us you’re his little sister, but I didn’t expect you to look practically just like our friend. You could be mistaken for twins if it wasn’t for the age difference.” He said. He didn’t seem upset, and Phantom was a bit relieved about it. He didn’t think that Conner would start anything, but he had anger issues and had... negative reactions to being reminded that he’s a clone of someone who doesn’t like him.

Dani shrugged a little. “Well, yeah! I’m his clone, so of course I look like him and have similar powers.“ She said. The camp went quiet. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly heavy or intense, but it certainly wasn’t as happy and calm as before. Dani noticed the change and at first was confused, then she started to grow nervous. She glanced between Phantom’s teammates.

Finally, one of them spoke.“You said she’s your little sister.” Wally said. Phantom immediately hopped onto the defensive, but tried to remember about their treatment towards Conner and not mistake his confusion in his voice for something negative.

Dani seemed to make that mistake, though, since she began floating closer to him with a pretty nervous expression.”Yeah, because she is. Just because there’s no legal documentation or something doesn’t mean she can’t be my family.” Phantom said. Dani stopped right next to him and nodded in agreement. To her surprise and not her big brother’s, his friends all seemed almost a little heart warmed by this. Conner just looked surprised.

“That’s nice of you. To give her a family.” Kaldur said.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t, but thanks?” Phantom said. Dani suddenly flew upwards and looked at the sky.

“Enough with the sentimental stuff, we’re going to miss it!” She said. The older halfa quickly remembered the reason they’d come outside in the first place and let out a small “oh”. He followed her lead and smiled at the moon once he was above the trees.

It was now completed and fully red. Sure, there was still a tiny bit of lighter red, but the huge majority looked a lot like blood. It was a little creepy, but Phantom still couldn’t help but admire it. It was amazing, and made him almost forget about the talk he’d need to have with Kaldur and Red Tornado, and possibly the rest of the league later. He’d think about that after the eclipse was over. For now, he was just going to enjoy the sight.

#dp x yj #yj x dp #young justice #danny phantom #danny fentom #dani phantom #yj Megan #Yj Conner #Yj Robin #yj kid flash #seeing double #danny phantom crossover #young Justice crossover #danny being a big brother to dani

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itsonlydana · 4 days ago

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Love Spells and Fang-tastic Kisses (A Hauntingly Romantic Tale) | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑🦇

You're invited to Thranduil's halloween party; a fangtastic opportunity to get closer to the man you've been harbouring a crush on

tags/ warnings: none, modern!au, Thranduil in a hot vampire costume

word count: 8,2k

an: hello!! happy Halloween! This is totally not a month late!! We shall ignore and celebrate Halloween!

+ masterlist + rules +🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

You're invited to a Night of Haunting Delights!

Dearly Departed,

As the brisk winds of autumn carry the faint whispers of otherworldly echoes, and the luminous full moon bathes the night in an unsettling glow, we extend a chilling invitation for you to join us at a Halloween gathering that guarantees to send shivers down your spine!

Attire: Elegantly Eerie or Ghoulishly Glamorous

“Tilda if you want your braid to be straight you have to hold still for a second!”

The girl in front of you nods obediently but a few seconds later the wobbling of her head starts again as she grows impatient. Five minutes ago, after she kept reaching back with her hands when the braiding pinched a little, you had asked her to sit on her hands. What you didn't count on was that this would give the girl the wonderful opportunity to swing forward and backward, using the height difference that her hands gave her to the usually flat surface of the kitchen stool.

You allow yourself another quick glance at the clock above the fridge and immediately regret it again when you see the time.

It was already just after four, and while on any other Friday afternoon that was just the kickoff to the weekend, today didn't offer you much more time to have three children – four if you counted Bard – ready with costumes and makeup.

Your eyes flitted from the clock to the invitation pinned to the fridge, surrounded by all kinds of paintings; the animals were Tildas, the planes had been drawn by Bain and there were a few more advanced watercolor sceneries that Sigrid had done, hung up with different shapes of magnets and while there was so much color the silver paper with the beautiful handwriting stood out in elegant monochromy.

Now, with the current time coming up closer to the one on the invitation, more than ever since the kids had brought it home from school a few weeks ago.

The girl in front of you wiggles again and you bite down on the hair tie that you had to take away from her (she had offered to hold them while you braided but with her nervousness, she had dropped them two times until you had taken them again).

“Tilly,” you groan out between clenched teeth, just barely catching the last centimetres of hair you had left before they slipped away and you could start from the beginning.

“Sorry Auntie,” the girl giggles, the sound so pure and full of excitement that the annoyance and stress disappear in a pink cloud full of love for her. “Are you done soon?” Tilda asks, already moving her head again to look back at you but you react fast and turn with the movement.

“One second–,” You hold the hair in one hand and grab the hair tie with the other, quickly securing the braid. When it falls down, you reach for the small mirror placed on the kitchen counter, holding it out so that Tilda can get a look at herself. Watching over her shoulder, you see the red-painted lips curve in a smile.

“I look so pretty!” she exclaims, her eyes wide and sparkling, not just because of the glitter she wanted you to put on her eyelids.

You laugh, tapping her red nose with one finger, “Yes you do! The prettiest scarecrow in the whole wide world”

She scrunches her nose, and takes one last look in the mirror before she hops down the stool with such speed that you nearly drop the mirror in order to catch her. But she lands safely on the floor, running off into the hallway, where you can hear her stomping up the stairs.

You hope she will only grab her stuff and be ready in ten minutes when you had planned to leave.

Knowing her, you would need to send Sigrid to get her sister.

Halloween had been a lot easier a few years ago, when it had been just you and a bottle of wine alone on the couch, watching scary movies or the few times you'd gone out with work colleagues. Halloween at the Bowman's house, no, scratch that, Halloween in Esgaroth in general was incomparable to that.

Not that you would want to trade your life now for those years, not for any amount of money.

When you moved from the bustling city of Gondor to the quiet seaside town of Esgaroth there hadn't been any more lonely nights, alone yes, you needed them from time to time, but never lonely. How could you be lonely if you had Tilda, Bain, and Sigrid in the neighbourhood? They were responsible for the move, including the change of apartment as well as job, if only indirectly.

After their mother, and Bard's wife, had passed away, your brother had overworked himself trying to feed all four of them, taking on a second and third job next to his handyman one, which in itself had already taken up too much time. It had taken you too much to listen to how tired and completely exhausted he had sounded on the phone calls between you, which had diminished in their regularity.

He didn't have to explicitly ask for your help, he was too stubborn for that, which is why you didn't let him know that you had quit your job (it had been unbearable and much too boring anyway) and your apartment (please, who wants to live in a multistoried building with a hundred tenants?!). You had just left one day with all your stuff in the car, rented a small vacation apartment in Esgaroth and rang the doorbell.

You had chosen a Sunday morning, the only morning of the week when he was not at work and far too tired to object much.

One week after that, Bard helped you move into the guest room.

Not that you weren't extremely happy with the life you now lived, much cosier and full of laughter, family movie nights and stickers everywhere on your clothes, but right now you wished you could have imprinted your organized lifestyle from before on your brother.

“Bard? We should leave in like–” You watch the clock, debating on whether you should lie to give all of you enough time to finally get out the door. Hearing nothing but what sounded like chaos from upstairs, the answer was clear, “–in five minutes!”

Eh, close enough to the truth.

A door slams somewhere, followed by the sound of boots on the carpeted stairs that barely muffle the steel soles. “Coming!” you hear Bard's grave voice getting louder the closer he gets, “Have you seen my hat? I swear I left it here..”

“On the sofa.”

“What? Who put it there?”

You would have laughed if you didn't hear a loud crash from upstairs at that moment.

“Everything's fine!” Sigrid yells just as you and Bard nearly run into each other on the way to check whatever happened and if someone is hurt. The edge of Bard's cowboy hat, now safely placed on his curly mess of hair, slams into your forehead, not enough to really hurt but it slows you down abruptly.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bard takes a step back and adjusts his hat. “What are you doing up there?” he yells, casting an apologetic glance at you as he steps back onto the first step. “I'll be right back down.”

Another glimpse at the clock.

“Tell the little monsters they'd best come straight with you or I'll tell all the neighbours to give their candy to Legolas!” you raise your voice enough that it would travel all the way to the three children's rooms. Immediately there is an indignant shout, a proclamation of “You wouldn't dare!” (Bain), “Legolas would never do that to us!” (Tilda) and “I can't get my dress zipped, Da!” (Sigrid).

It's a miracle how you and Bard manage to be out the door relatively on time with all the kids both costumed and ready with makeup, and equipped with bags for their candy.

You don't question it any further, happy that you finally made it and with few incidents. You had already been out with one foot when Bain ran in again because he had forgotten his proton pack for his Ghostbuster costume. After that Sigrid had to go to the bathroom and last but not least under the laughter of the others you went in again to exchange the cape that had come with your witch costume against a far warmer black coat.

You are glad that you did, even if it cost you time that you truly didn't have.

October has made itself comfortable in the small town, decorating the trees on the side of the road scarlet red, pumpkin orange and a sulfurous yellow and the cold winds that swirl through the colourful trees are biting at your legs, despite the tights you wear under the dress.

“Shit, I hope they have a warm punch,” Bard leans towards you, careful that the curse doesn't reach his kids that are walking a few meters in front of you, awing at the town's Halloween decorations.

You look from them to your brother. “Have you met them? Of course, they will have warm punch, jeez, I am sure we will have mulled wine served to us in barrels.”

It wasn't an understatement, last year the hosts of what must be the biggest Halloween party in the area (not just in Esgaroth, it was bigger than the ones in most cities on the coast) had shipped in the most expensive bottles of cider and even the simplest choices of drinks like water or coke had been served in crystal flutes.

Bard grins, clearly remembering the cider as well, or the effect it had. By the third glass, when all the kids had been tucked into their beds in the mansion and the adults had gathered outside again, there had been one too many drinking contests with the result of a shared hangover.

“I can't wait to see what Thranduil has planned for this year,” Bard muses, raising a hand to scratch the stubble of his beard. He turns his head slightly in question. “He didn't tell you anything?”

“What?” you ask in what was probably a much higher note than usual because Sigrid whips her head around alarmed. You wave her off with a tight smile and lower your voice, “Why– why should he tell me anything?”

Bard's eyebrows wander so high up his forehead that they should disappear under his stetson any second. “No, don't do that. Don't deflect and worm your way out of this. He comes into the coffee shop daily and I know he stays for a chat.” At your incredulous look, he shrugs his shoulders, “What? The kids talk.. and before you tell them off for snitching–” his lips curve into a smirk “Thranduil mentioned himself that he enjoys staying for his cup of tea.”

“I wouldn't tell them off!” you protest, completely overrun by the sudden emotions cursing through your body like it's a goddamn rollercoaster.

“No, you are too nice for that,” Bard says, drawing a roll of your eyes as a reaction from you, “–and far too flustered that you would speak to them right now.”

Any objection dies on your tongue as another particularly cold breath of wind hits your face and the heat in your cheeks burns indisputable; your denial is no match to it. Your stubbornness, however, steps into the fight with her hands raised, ready to at least try and defend yourself in any way she knows how.

“So what?” you attempt to sound nonchalant. “There are many customers that do not want to leave immediately. They say they like the atmosphere. It's cosy and comfortable.”

When you think of the coffee shop that hired you a few years ago, those adjectives were not the only ones coming to mind- the moss-green facade made it special, tugged in between a white hairdresser and a grey washing saloon, the plants ranging from honeysuckle growing on the walls to seasonal potted plants littering every window sill and the steps up to the dark blue door made it colourful and alive.

It was however very cosy and comfortable as well once you stepped inside, with cushioned stools and wooden tables decorated with candles in coloured glasses. There were benches under the windows, and a leather couch tugged away in one corner of the room with two giant armchairs where students would hang out during their break you truly love the warm feeling that just thinking about the shop brings to you but you can't help it; your thoughts trail to the man that would come into the coffee shop every morning and sit at the few bar stools at the counter.

Right where you worked, and waited for him.

Before, your mind would only conjure the big windows, the sound, and smell of coffee getting crushed in the machine and the chatter of the customers but now, and damn that man for messing with you with that, you think about golden sunlight filtering through the window and falling on silver hair, about tea steaming and the flowery scent of it, about the low hums of appreciation when Thranduil would slowly sip his tea, the cup looking tiny cradled between his big and yet slender hands.

“Yeah sure,” Bard laughs and the familiar sound of it leads you back, out of the coffee shop into the night; Halloween night. “That's what keeps the customers there, right.” He earns himself a well-deserved nudge in the side from your elbow “Ow!” he yelps dramatically, rubbing the spot that you slightly grazed.

“What was that supposed to mean?” you glare at him, eyebrows pinched together, “And I hope for your own well being that you're gonna tell me it is because of the coffee and the delicious pastries.”

“–or the woman smiling at everybody like she gets paid for it.”

“I get paid for it!”

“Not enough to be that happy every morning, sunshine coming out your–”, Bard stops himself before the crude word slips out his mouth but the sentence finishes itself in both your minds and that's enough for you to hit him again. It doesn't do anything, your flat hand catches just his upper arm and not forcefully, you two were never really ones for the whole wrestling siblings act.

His upper body shakes with laughter as you shake your head, clicking your tongue against your teeth like that would help the smile fight its way up in the corners of your mouth. “Obviously I am nice to the customers, they pay good money for a good cup of coffee.”

“Or tea.”

“Or tea,” you roll your eyes again because of course, Bard has to throw in another hit with the fence about Thranduil. “Just because you are mister grumpy, grumbling while you work and avoiding talking to your customers doesn't mean I have to do that as well.”

That you bring up the subject of his work is normally enough for him to change the topic, not that he hates working as a handyman, going around town fixing leaky pipes and sinks or straightening up shelves and letter boxes, but his boss wasn't as nice as yours and that left him working far too much for (what you think) is far too less money. On any other day he would quickly move on to another topic but tonight he has his teeth dug into what was in his mind, the relationship between you and Thranduil Greenleaf.

The truth is that you don't know what Thranduil thinks of you, you on the other side are completely and utterly swooned by him. Hell, when you moved to Esgaroth the last thing you had on your mind was falling in love and then, a few weeks into the new job, in comes this tall, beautiful man with shoulders that you want to lean into and cerulean eyes that pierce their way into your soul and he orders a fucking tea.

In a coffee shop.

At first, you thought you hadn't heard him right, then he'd cocked one dark eyebrow, his manicured nails tapped against the wooden counter and his deep voice had repeated the order for “His tea”.

Thankfully, your coworker Feren had jumped into the conversation before you'd started crying out of pure confusion about who the man was and why he would order tea in the middle of the midday rush when you weren't even sure if and where the shop stored tea.

The next day the man was back, this time with an apology about his rushed behaviour the day before and when he ordered his tea, a flowery combination of what smelled like roses, cherry and green tea, you told him off for behaving far too entitled for someone who wanted something from you.

After that Thranduil came back every day, ordering his tea and sitting on the barstool, chatting with you while you prepared coffee, wrapped up pastries and tried not to glance over at the beautiful man giving you his whole attention.

Well, not that often. Once in a while, you allowed yourself a sneak and were gifted a small smile and sometimes a wink.

“Yes, let's come back to Thran for a second.”

You groan.

Bard laughs.

“Did he or didn't he tell you about the party?”

“He told me nothing,” you say, fingers crossed inside the pocket of your coat. It's not entirely true, he really hadn't told you anything but he had asked you some things. What you would want to drink, what you think is a better activity for the children, apple bobbing or pumpkin bowling?

The lie, half-lie, half-truth, comes out sure enough and Bard huffs, white clouds escaping his nose and disappearing into the rosy evening light of the lowering sun. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as well and you can see the second-guessing of his outfits happening on his face. It's a nice costume, the nearly all-black outfit except for a leather belt with a golden buckle, some silver decorations on his stetson and the jacket that he is wearing. He probably would have chosen another, slightly warmer costume if it hadn't been for Tilda who wanted her dad to wear the golden star that she had made him in school and that's now proudly shining on his chest.

You smile and link your arms, pulling your brother with you as you catch up with the kids that already started trick-or-treating at the houses on the way.

When you arrive at the mansion its heavy iron gates are wide open, pumpkins with what probably were supposed to be scary faces cut into them by a wobbly kids hand sit on the ivy covered pillars. They stare down at you as you turn onto the gravelly road adorned with orange-glowing lanterns, the kids sprinting and kicking up dirt and gravel with the warm boots that Bard made them wear no matter the costume. You can hear them awing and gasping, and when Bard and you turn another corner and the tall pines make way for the mansion sitting on the end of the road, even your mouth falls open.

The fountain in the circle in front of the stairs is coloured an eerie red, illuminated by the lights inside the lower bowl, and the texture looks easily mistaken for blood from far away. Instead of the usual birds using the fountain as their water source, fake bats are hanging from the upper bowl, their glowing red eyes shining through the water rushing in front of them.

The whole garden is decorated accordingly for the festivities; spiderwebs cover the trees and bushes, skeletons sit on the benches, gravestones are splattered here and there on the lawn and everywhere are little ghost fairy lights strung from tree to tree.

The house itself screams Halloween as well, with flickering lights in the windows, more cobwebs stretching over the dark roof tiles of the front porch, and the small tower where Thranduil's son and the children's friend Legolas has his room. The ivy that grows outside at the gate grows on the white brick of the house itself as well, climbing up the walls and when you get closer you can see the (hopefully) fake spiders nested inside the green vines. The door to the house is wide open, letting a pool of golden light fall onto the porch but instead of going inside Bard tugs you along with him towards the small group of adults milling around on the lawn around a small campfire.

“Good evening!” he proclaims and tips his hat.

You give everyone a small wave, eyes scurrying over everyone in search of a particular someone who doesn't seem to be there at the moment. Though you don't know if it's a relief or disappointment, your heart leaps in your throat at the realization. Arm still linked with Bards, you stop at the fire pit.

It's the same constellation of people as most years, mostly parents from the children's friends who got together in the ways that parents always make acquaintances. Elrond (dressed as a pirate with a ridiculously big hat and a fake pirate sitting on his slim shoulders) and his wife Celebrían who matches his costume with a puffy blouse, leather trousers and a sword dangling next to her leg were the first parents you met when you started bringing the kids to school. Their daughter, Arwen, waited for Sigrid and Bain and her parents had roped you into a conversation while they wandered into the school, Arwens hand finding Sigrids naturally.

Then there are Thorin and his husband Bilbo, Thorin who seems to be dressed the warmest in a werewolf suit, and Bilbo, who wears a green overall with flowers pinned all over it (“I am a gardener!” he could be heard multiple times throughout the night and every time Thorin would lean into the other part of the conversation and whisper loudly “He is secretly a garden fairy, you simply can't see his wings” and watch him so lovingly when Bilbo glared at him that you got jealous.)

Those two you met because Bain was in one class with Thorin's nephews Fíli and Kíli who he basically adopted as his sons at this point. Five years ago they came over for a school project and stayed because “Bilbo is trying out vegetarian recipes and we need meat if we want to become real strong men” (their words, mumbled with mouths full of the spaghetti and meatballs you had cooked that day).

You really met them on a stroll through the park with Tilda, who decided that walking around and gossiping was much more fun than sliding and swinging on the playground, and you exchanged numbers so at least one person would inform them about the boy's whereabouts. Fíli and Kíli, as it seemed, sometimes just forgot to call home, and now you would ring them and chat when Bain and the two boys would huddle up around the living room table, their textbooks buried under snacks and instead of their pens they held controllers of Bain's game console in their hands.

There were some other people around the garden, work colleagues of Elrond and Thranduils or parents that you never got as close with as these four, neighbours and friends of friends.

However…

“Where did the children go?” you ask, head turning back to the parents after sweeping over the whole garden, resultless.

“Maybe the evil witch got them,” Thorin's joke about your costume goes right over your head, your eyes still wandering and meeting Bards in confusion. They weren't your kids but you felt the same chilling drop of your heart whenever you couldn't find them as if they were your own.

Elrond steps closer, nudging his chin toward the house. “Thranduil gathered them inside the house,” he explains with a comforting smile that eases all the worry. Of course, you didn't have to worry, this party is always safe and it's not like you let them loose in the woods for the wild animals (Ha Thorin, take that!).

“He wanted them to get some warm tea before we go out trick-or-treating,” Celebrían adds, uncrossing her arms in front of her chest when Elrond takes one hand in his.

“That's good,” you feel and hear Bard exhale a deep breath, even he gets nervous when he doesn't know about Tilda's whereabouts despite the fact you are with his dearest friends right now. “So who drew the short straw and will go with them this year?”

The groan that leaves Thorin at the question is an answer in itself.

Bilbo playfully pushes his hip against his husband. “We–” there was most definitely a bigger I in that word– “decided that Thorin should definitely go to keep an eye out for the boys. Kíli got into some trouble with another boy at the school and his house in on our route.”

“Yes,” Thorins mouth twitches into a smile “And judging by how dented the boys' pockets looked, I'm sure I'll find the eggs that mysteriously disappeared from the kitchen in them.” He gets another push from Bilbo and rolls his eyes “I won't do anything stupid, love.”

“Throwing eggs with them will count as stupid.”

“Then I will maybe do something stupid.”

“Don't you dare,” the smaller one shakes his head, wavy locks flying with the movement, “I really have no desire to deal with the parents tomorrow about why their windows are smudged.”

Thorin laughs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Bilbo's temple while throwing a wink in Bard's direction. “No worries, they won't know who it was. Bain is a smart one and will figure that one out.”

“Oh, I am sure about that,” Bard nods, pride oozing out of the smile that grew when Thorin called Bain ‘smart’.

You want to reply, step into the conversation to tell them that Bain will not partake in any egg throwing at all because of his smartness, thank you very much, when the children storm out of the house, loudly cackling and yelling, long and short feet trampling over to you fast enough that you get nearly crushed by a small fury of a straw scarecrow who crashes into your legs. Following her is Arwen, Elrond's girl, who is wearing a costume that must be snow-white, because hot on her trails is Thranduil's daughter Tauriel with a red-riding-hood cloak a fiery red like her hair, fluttering in the wind like a wild flag in a storm. Behind them comes Legolas, who, despite his braided hair and green Robin Hood outfit, bears such a resemblance to his father Thranduil that you falter for a moment. He seems to have had a growth spurt every time you meet him, slowly growing as tall as his dreams, his head ever closer to the clouds.

“We are going now!” Tilda yells up to you, her voice uncontrolled by all the excitement that has the girl bouncing up and down your side and tugging at your coat. “Are you coming with us, auntie? Are you? Or are you Da? Pleasee–”

Thorin, who steps away from the fire to Fíli and Kíli (both of them wear a Ghostbuster costume like Bain) rubs his hands through their hair, earning himself an outraged grumbling, “Aren't you two going to ask me nicely to join you?”

“I would beg you to stay here,” Fíli barks out, fixing his long blond hair by throwing it dramatically over his shoulder. “But your head is too thick for that to go through.”

“That and you are such a fool for Bilbo. He probably asked you to keep us in check,” Kíli adds, mimicking his brother with his own, brown hair. Even though they are not twins, their behaviour is so similar you could mistake them as such.

“You–,” Thorin starts but Elrond jumps in: “Celebrían will be there as well and now.. you know not to anger her.” His sharp eyes bore into the boys, even without any real edge or warning in the sentence Kíli and Fíli shrink under the gaze, nodding fast enough that their heads must hurt, Elrond's stern, thin eyebrows surely help with that.

His wife and you share a smirk.

You turn back to Tilda and Bard, the latter is wiping away some crumbs of what must have been cookies out of the corner of her mouth, careful that he doesn't smear the lipstick the younger one is so proud to be wearing.

“Tilly–,” you tug at the collar of the sweater she's wearing under her costume.

You don't get to finish the sentence, right as you open your mouth to tell her that you would love to come with her, you are abruptly silenced by the resonant sound of approaching boots from behind. The arrival of a newcomer, his voice a mellifluous, baritone timbre and a sonorous blend of charisma, sends a tantalizing shiver down your spine. “I had dared to hope she might grace me with her presence, as you delightful rascals torment the hapless neighbours.”

Tilda's eyes grow bigger as she looks up at the man standing behind you, the dark brown shining with admiration, and her mouth falls open in the tiniest ‘o’.

It's not that difficult to impress her, she is an eight-year-old girl, all you had to do to win her heart was to tell her a story about the fairies and elves that supposedly lived in the forest next to your house, but that look in her eyes, awe in its purest form and you are sure that she would be singing praised about whatever she is seeing right now if there wasn't absolute shock mixed into her emotions as well.

There are only few that get that reaction out of Tilda though and you slowly twist around. First, your shoes turn, squelching softly on the grass covered in leaves, then your legs, your upper body following the movement and finally, awfully cautiously, your head turns.

Your eyes land on a pair of boots.

Black. Leather. Boots.

And they don't seem to end as you lift your chin.

You know the man is tall, like really, really tall. Even Bard, who got luckier than you with the height genes, is a few inches shorter than Thranduil. If you stand next to Thranduil, it always requires you to look up.

Right now, as your legs buckle and you casually (it surely is anything but) drop one knee into the grass for more balance, the striking figure of Thranduil is looming over you. Your eyes travel upwards, up those damn boots on his endless legs, to the silvery corset that hugs his small waist tight, higher up over a ruffled white blouse with far to many buttons undone to be considered decent, and when you reach his face, your tongue lays heavy in your suddenly dry mouth.

The smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth and the crowfeet next to icy blue eyes twinkling with mirk tell you that the asshole knows the effect the costume has on you.

“Good evening,” Thranduil greets everyone but his gaze is locked on you. “I didn't know it’s witching hour already,” His lips curve more, flashing a row of pearly white teeth and if the black cape swaying around his body isn't expressive enough, the smile reveals two extraordinarily sharp canines, pointing down at you almost predatory.

You swallow hard enough that your throat protests. When you speak there is still a roughness to your voice that surely anyone around you must be able to detect: “Aren't you supposed to lay in some dirt until the sun sets? I wouldn't want anyone to clean up your ashes,” and when you can't fight the smile that threatens to break out on your lips anymore, you add a cheeky, “Count Greenleaf."

Next to you Thorin snorts and Bard groans.

“If you two would pause the flirting for just a second,” your brother's voice cuts through whatever had been building up there because your eyes snap to him.

“We weren't flirting!” you say at the same time as Thranduil nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders: “One second should be fine.”

The look you send him is supposed to be threatening but all it archives is another smirk from the tall blonde man.

“Back to the question,” Bard sends you a wink that has you fletching your teeth in his direction “I think Thorin, Celebrían and me will go with you, Tilly-bear.”

“Yes, and I think Bilbo wanted to help me prepare the games for when you come back,” the man addressed nodded dutifully, not an ounce of not a bit of malice in his face and yet you resist the urge to roll your eyes. Here stood probably the smartest people you knew and they didn't even try to hide what they were up to.

Of course, you could have seen it coming, in the last few years it had always happened that you and Thranduil were suddenly left alone. At Sigrid's birthday party, Bard sent you off to buy more garlands, only for you to run into Thranduil at the supermarket, whom Bard had asked about the very same thing. Another time, Elrond and Celebrían both had to cancel a breakfast out of the blue, so it ended up being just you and Thranduil sitting together. It seemed like everyone was conspiring behind your back to force something into existence that was growing so beautifully slowly.

Now all you can do is smile and nod, while you kiss Tilda on the cheek (“I will try to ask Lady Galadriel if she has your favourite chocolate,” she whispers into your ear like a secret promise), ruffle Bain's hair despite the fact that he always shakes the care you put into styling the short brown mop away as soon as your hand leaves his head, help Sigrid with the zipper of her Mary Shelley dress and let her pull you into a hug (“If you want me to abandon Da somewhere on his own, you just have to say the word,” she mumbles and nods into Thranduil's direction. “I will be fine,” you assure her. When you want to let her go, she smiles encouragingly: “Don't let us be the reason you hold back from going after what you want. I'm pretty sure Bain wouldn't mind having another boy his age around the house.”

You hug her just a tiny bit tighter, wondering when the hell she grew up.)

Bard only gets another light shove, as well as a threatening warning that you would hide all of his work tools if he steals the kids' candy, and then they are off, disappearing down the gravely path winding through the trees and you watch until the laughter and howling grow quiet.

Someone, and you know exactly who it is by the crunching sound of leaves under heavy boots, the scent of a rich perfume hitting your nose without having to turn around, steps next to you. “They are not very subtle, are they?” Thranduil hums, and your cheeks go up in flames again.

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” you deny, forcing a calm tone into your voice.

“Come,” Thranduil says. He holds out an arm, an invitation you gladly take. The sight of him, all dressed up in this costume with fangs and silvery blond hair flowing down his back, is enough for your legs to consider giving up under you; you appreciate the arm not just for the gesture but for the feeling of his muscles underneath your palm as well.

“Where to?” you ask, yet you know that no matter the answer, you will follow wherever. Sigrids words have made themselves comfortable in your mind, and the night, coming upon you on the slow walk to the mansion in beautiful tones of pink and purple in the sky, feels magical.

“I did not lie before, even though I was tempted,” Thranduil says “There are a few more things to be done and I was a little bit selfish in wanting your help especially.”

This time, you don't ignore the warmth settling in your stomach that his words cause, instead you embrace it, use it. “Well, I am sure that while the others are maybe capable, this witch here” – and you point to yourself with the free hand – “has a touch of magic that will surely be better than anyone else.”

He chuckles, seemingly agreeing in the form of a low hum. “Witch, you truly are captivating, making me wonder if being wicked has ever looked so irresistibly appealing,” he flirts right back, as openly as he never did before. Or maybe he did. Maybe all those times he complimented you in the coffee shop or asked for a smile to sweeten up his tea were not just niceties (it was what you told yourself every time, a reassuring 'He doesn't mean it like that' to hold yourself back and not kiss him senseless), maybe he really did like you.

Motivated by a sudden rush of adrenaline and giddiness, you tug at his arm, beaming up at him. “Count Dracula would be envious of the charisma you bring to that costume, Count Greenleaf,” you giggle, nearly shocking yourself with the sound.

You reach the steps up to the front porch of the mansion just that moment. You take the first step, Thranduil though, stops and while it's not the biggest difference in height, when you turn around to ask him why he stopped, you have a direct line of sight with the fangs biting down on his lip.

“I don't know who this Dracula is or what you mean with a costume,” he leans closer, finally taking that step and growing taller before you. “But I will take the compliment nonetheless. It's not every night that an enchanting woman compliments me.”

He grins an uncharacteristically lopsided grin, boyish and far from the snobby, rich persona he sometimes falls into and the laugh bursts out of your chest. His statement was far from the truth, he must be the most lusted-after man in Esgaroth (it didn't help that he was a stupidly rich single father, drop dead gorgeous with soft features, strong shoulders and a voice that made a woman's heart tremble). More than enough times you had become a witness to a poor soul making their way up to Thranduil when he was sitting on his spot at the counter. Their faces were sometimes nervous, sometimes determined but no matter in what way they came onto him he never accepted a number or agreed to a date.

He did however accept the compliments that rained onto him.

Walking into the mansion, you are confronted with what can only be described as the target Halloween decoration section. The dimly lit hall is illuminated primarily by the soft, flickering glow of antique chandeliers that have been fitted with blood-red candles. Their warm, dancing flames cast haunting shadows on the cream-colored wallpaper, adorned with intricate, spiderweb-like patterns that seem to writhe in the low light.

Upon entering, you can't help but notice the intricately carved mahogany staircases that rise on either side, their ornate bannisters entwined with artificial cobwebs, and the steps littered with pumpkins and more candles. The velvet drapes on the large windows are heavy and dark, adding an air of foreboding mystery to the space.

Throughout the hall, life-sized, macabre figures dressed in costumes stand at attention, like sentinels of the night. Skeletons in tuxedos and gowns, ghouls with outstretched hands, and statuesque vampires adorn the corners, exuding an unsettling realism.

The air is heavy with the scent of incense and dried herbs, giving the impression of an ancient, mystical ritual underway. A wrought-iron candelabrum hangs from the ceiling, holding a cluster of flickering black candles that fill the air with an enchanting, spicy aroma.

Turning in a circle in the middle of the hall, your mouth falls wide open.

“Thranduil,” you breathe out “How.. what.. don't tell me the whole house looks like this! No wonder I couldn't find any decorations,” you turn, throwing your hands in a wide gesture into the air and an airy laugh follows, “–you bought it all!”

Thranduil quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head, his hands neatly tucked behind his back. “No,” he starts, then corrects himself. “Well yes, the whole house looks like this, you would be surprised to see I fully committed myself as I now have a coffin instead of my bed upstairs. Legolas and Tauriel inspired me with their fantasies of a haunted mansion, they picked out the majority of what you see, though I shipped most of it into the country from a friend.”

“Because that is so much more reasonable,” you shoot back, skipping over that one part of his answer, still gazing around in wonder, “Where did this friend get these things? They look so real.”

You reach out to one of the skeletons in a fancy suit, barely hearing the: “Wait!” when a loud cackling booms through the hall, a ghostly and eerily sound. The squeak that you nearly scream bounces off the walls in the same way, rounding corners and expanding in reverberation.

Thranduil is at your side in seconds. He extends his hand just a moment too late to prevent you from approaching the sensor. However, the shock coursing through your body, combined with the warmth of his presence so near, sends your hormones into a frenzy.

Laughing uncontrollably, you fall into his chest, grasping for your own racing heart while feeling the irregular beat of his through the thin blouse. His cape drapes around you, as he joins in the laughter and lets his chin brush against your shoulder, folding himself across your back.

“I should probably adjust the sound settings,” his breath hits your neck and the thought of his lips (the fangs!!) this close to the delicate and sensible part of you sends a thrill to your body.

“Maybe,” you answer, sounding very much as flustered as you are. “Or you could hide it somewhere you don't want any guest to wander and use it as an alarm system.”

Thranduil's hand, still holding yours, comes to your waist, guiding your own fingers over the tulle fabric of the skirt and it evokes a delicate and ethereal sensation as your fingers gently graze its surface. “Maybe,” he sounds rough, voice low and raspy, similar to boots sinking into gravel. When you take a deep breath and relax into his touch, let him stretch the flat and warm palm of his hand over yours, the tips of his fingers sinking into the fabric of the dress right on the curve of your hips, his voice evens out:

“I think it has found its purpose right here.”

“And that would be?”

“Luring alluring witches into my arms.”

“Do you plan to use that move on anyone else?” you ask, and suddenly feel his lips ghost over the soft skin on your shoulder.

The lips turn into a smile. “Why should I?” The words feel like they are spoken directly into your skin and the grin with which they are said leaves a heavy and burning imprint in your mind. Your eyes dart toward the ceiling, to the flickering candles as if you would pray to the gods in the heavens above even though the devil is standing right behind you- ready for your command.

“It has worked once and I find myself quite satisfied with the results it has yielded,” Thranduil's voice becomes even lower, his timbre taking hold on your heart while rattling your bones. One boot shuffles closer, tapping the outside of your shoe gently and teasingly, and you are sure that if you look down you would faint at the sight of the leather boots reaching as high as your hips.

He raises his other hand as well, lets it descend slowly on the other side of your hips and without your hand under it, his touch burns through the fabric. You wishfully hope they will stay there forever, holding you to him and moulding your forms together perfectly.

“Do you know how you can best a vampire?” the question shouldn't cloud your mind over as much as it does, but how could you continue thinking clearly when Thranduil decides to graze the tips of the damn fangs over your neck?

Not at all, as proven by the lack of an answer.

Thranduil continues, either unbothered by the silence on your part or spurred on to unravel you even further. “There is sunlight, an unfair opponent if one considers that you emit light even brighter. And though I know the consequences, I would gladly burn to ashes for one second in the golden rays of your smile.”

A gasp echoes through the hall, wavering with emotions, and your hand flies to your mouth to bite down on a finger, stifling any sound.

“Most theories revolve around a stake through the heart. I doubt that would do any good since I lost mine when you came to this town and served me that awful cup of tea.”

You want to laugh but the true meaning of what he is telling you hits you hard enough to press all the air out of you in a shaky exhalation.

“Then there is holy water,” Thranduil's lips ghost over the juncture of your neck once again, not once really touching skin. The anticipation of what is about to be said, about what he is about to do, tears at your resolve to stand still, to wait and let it happen. There is no one rushing you, no one trapping you in conversation or leading you into awkward fumbling around with words while the others are staring.

This is exactly what you yearned for.

There is a cold blow of air as Thranduil takes a breath and then his teeth scrape the skin, digging slightly into the flesh (not to break it, he would never hurt you) and-

his lips touch you, finally. They press down onto the spot where the fangs have been, gently and not moving at all. Just the soft weight of them.

“I would drown myself in it if I could taste your lips.”

Oh..

Your eyelashes flutter down, brushing the heated skin of the apple of your cheek. A soft: “I wish for nothing else than a kiss” is said into the room, raising the electricity sizzling and crackling.

Before you can even blink, Thranduil's hand caresses your cheek, tilting your head to the side. The difference in your heights grants him the perfect angle to lean in, capturing your lips in an ardent kiss, despite the awkward positions of your bodies, twisted into each other. Any illusions of gentleness from the previous kiss on your shoulder fade, as Thranduil's lips now meet yours with an intense, passionate fervor.

You might have expected that your first kiss would leave you breathless, but the desire and hunger within him not only steals the air from your lungs but also clears your mind, immersing you in a captivating void. He doesn't break away, his lips maintaining their press against yours, and with the hand curling over yours on your waist, Thranduil tugs at you to turn you. The sensation is head-spinning, and if you weren't already descending into the depths of Thranduil, you'd surely have stumbled.

With Thranduil no longer towering over you and no need for you to twist to meet him, he confidently takes a step forward. It's like a well-practised dance, where he leads with precision. Uncertain of where he's guiding you, you surrender to his direction. A step back, a pause as your hands intertwine behind his neck, though it tugs at your arms, and then the next step. Another kiss follows, fervent and insatiable, a hunger that defies comparison.

In the distance, a cheer breaks through the pounding of your heart and the rush in your ears. Realizing it's the children, you manage to disentangle yourself from Thranduil. Even though you long to return to his lips, he, too, wears an apologetic look in his cerulean eyes.

“We should–”

“The children–”

Both of you speak simultaneously, still in such harmony that your words tumble over each other. You gaze at each other, and a burst of laughter escapes your lips, hearty, uncontainable laughter that you attempt to muffle with a hand, though Thranduil still holds you close.

“We should head outside,” he murmurs, a touch of nostalgia in his voice, longing in his gaze, which traces a path from your well-kissed mouth to your eyes.

“That would probably be the wisest choice,” you agree, but your body seems to resist the logic, leaning in closer to him. “Strange, I appear to be unable to detach myself from you,” you jest. Your arms wrap around his waist, seeking the comfort of his embrace.

“I will blame it on you, you captivating witch.”

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