#For some reason Father had lots of them on his shelves saying that its for research purposes

[ask-the-clockeyes]

OPINIONS ON DEATHLY SCARY BLOOD-PUMPING MOVIES??????

i like it in the end though

[ataraxiaspainting]

It's Cold Outside.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: A stranger has weaseled his way into every aspect of your life.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-con/dub-con (the reader is under the influence of aphrodisiacs but non-consensually), the reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns respectfully, threats of violence, stalking, manipulation, Chrollo the Creepster, and unhealthy relationships.

Word Count: 2.2k.

Ten Songs Like This Piece:

(You’re The) Devil in Disguise by Elvis Presley

Salvatore by Lana Del Ray

Who Is She? by I Monster

Kiss Of Fire by Georgia Gibbs

Money, Money, Money by ABBA

Sex with a Ghost by Teddy Hyde

4:00A.M. by Taeko Onuki

How I’d Kill by Cowboy Malfoy

Sonne by Rammstein

The Great Gig in the Sky by Pink Floyd

“I say let the world go to hell, but I should always have my tea.” — Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from the Underground

*~*~*~*

i. “Technicolor worlds with white clouds are bound to be destroyed by silver snow.”

When you step into your house, it is like you are instantly transported back to a year ago. Everything in sight, from the walls to the shelves, has decorations of some kind, whether going all out with the kitchen table having an entire feast of delicious holiday treats made by your grandparents, or just a green and red painting of a Christmas tree placed in your older sister’s usually monochromatic room. Perhaps the painting is yet another way she proves that she can somewhat react well to requests to change her room a little bit. Even if the painting is on the farthest wall from the door and is partially hidden from view by the many anime figurines and books larger than your head. Your mother claims that it is a miracle she convinced her to put up any holiday decorations in her room at all and thus doesn’t bother her further. 

Each room also has a different festive scent, your younger sister’s room having a hot chocolate scent mixed with the smell of piled up dishes on her desk, most coming from when she was ‘helping’ your grandparents cook by ‘testing to make sure the food isn't poison’.

How heroic of her to sacrifice herself for the family.

Your room, you think, looks much better than your sisters’ combined, having decked it out to the maximum by taking out all of your Halloween decorations and replacing them with Christmas ones. It took you the whole weekend, sure, and caused you to break the bank, but your love for accessories outweighs your logic and reason by quite a lot. Your beloved record player is back on your table that also simultaneously houses your television and jewelry playing Elvis Presley’s Blue Christmas. A wreath larger than your torso is on your door and your room smells like all the holiday air fresheners you found in your closet. Pine, peppermint, orange, lemon, cranberry… all mix to make a beautiful festive scent unmatched by even your parents’ bedroom. Everything is how it should be, and how it always is every year.

Well, almost. A man named Chrollo, a man who gives you anything but comfort, has been invited to your family-only yearly Christmas party. When your father, who has always been too protective of you and your sisters and never lets you spend time with the opposite gender, told you that Chrollo of all people would be attending, you tried to argue otherwise. You tried telling him that none of you had known Chrollo for so long, but he had rebutted Chrollo’s lie that you had known him for over a year with you two developing a close bond. You realized it was too late then, and Chrollo had charmed your entire family, with even your older sister always having a smile on her face whenever she saw him at her workplace. 

ii. “Like actors, each snowflake has a different role to play. They sing along with every step of a boot as a deceitful way to express their pain.”

The moment the doorbell chimes, its piercing resonance assaults your eardrums and causes an unsettling shiver to course through your spine.

You find yourself in an unsettling situation as your family eagerly awaits, and to your dismay, you are the designated individual tasked with the responsibility of opening the door. You two are such good friends, aren’t you? We wouldn’t want to get in the way of your bonding time.

You want to say he is lying, to tell them everything, every threat he has told you, him meaning them or otherwise. But as soon as they know of what Chrollo really and truly is, they will meet a painful end; that being pushed onto train tracks, their drink being laced with a poison that destroys the body from the inside out, or having nails thrusted into their bloody palms as they hang on their bedroom wall as you look in horror. Elton, Anya, and Robert all being examples of such… You don’t want to think of the bodies just waiting to rot around the Riverbend, your fault or otherwise.

You also don’t want to drown in this river. A river inhospitable to any aquatic life whatsoever, and only harbors a barrier of carnivorous plants that eat those who dare come close. Butterworts, large lilac purple ones that feel like they have been dipped in the most tempting butter mixed with forbidden fruit and honey produced by none other than the queen bee herself. Are you the fly, or are they? You have no idea, and you don’t want to find out.

“Hello.” Your response is concise and devoid of warmth, with a noticeable absence of your usual cheerful demeanor evident in your expression and tone.

Chrollo's smile is so sinister that even the most depraved devil's grin would pale in comparison, with all the large gift bags behind him swinging like a tail.

“Ah, [First]. Happy holidays. No need to be so cold, you know. The snow is already doing that for you. So-”

Despite your strong desire to slam the door in his face, you choose to step aside and allow him entry, in an attempt to silence him.

“Put the gifts by the tree by the kitchen table. The white table and not the black one.”

However, rather than fulfilling your expectations, all he does is elicit a burst of laughter so unique that it resonates within you, while discreetly handing over the most colossal gift bag, compelling you to accept it as if under some intangible force.

“Just a little something. I know it’s customary to wait until later but… I simply can’t help myself. Open it whenever you get the chance, dearest.”

…He means right now, in your room, doesn’t he? Perhaps he installed a camera in your room as you slept, he has certainly threatened to do that before. Or maybe he will just spy on you through the little space between the door and the frame. He has done that before, after all. 

…

You resisted the urge to scream when you saw a picture of your mother sleeping blissfully, the camera focused on her ring finger with the caption Should I take another souvenir? written on it, but the card, as beautiful as it appeared with a lace envelope and your name written in script on the card’s cover above Chrollo’s, proved to be even more of a challenge. When you read the words on it, your heart plunges so deeply that you fear your gastric acid will erode it.

Save your tears. For even if you cry to the whole world, it will never be enough to make me disappear. Meet me outside in five minutes, and make whatever excuse you deem necessary. No exceptions.

As you begin to read further, a wave of fragrant and delicate floral scents envelops your senses, instantly igniting a warm sensation in your head, leaving no time for contemplation.

Trying to ignore your slight dizziness, you read the rest of the card.

Just a little something to make sure you do this. We wouldn’t want your family to see you in… what state you are about to be in, do we?

…Just what did he do to you?

iii. “With the burden of wintertime ending, nature spends time creating beautiful trees and flowers. To accompany them, she makes twisted vines and weeds, for she knows that without them there cannot be balance or purpose in being comfortably numb.”

You were on your back, on his bed, within what felt like one second, not remembering the car ride over to his place, your wrists pinned beneath the strength of one of Chrollo's hands while he looked down at you within another, his other undoing the tie of the bandana on his forehead and showing you, for the very first time, of the cross tattoo underneath it.

All you can do is watch your whole world slow down and be replaced by a dream.

A blissful and sweet dream, as sugary as saccharine and as dissolvable as cotton candy, that is a veil and covers your eyes from what is happening; until it is too late, until you feel some of his fingers go into the band of your skirt and start pulling and pulling, downward, and that is when terror went to combat with your unwanted lust.

“...What… are… you… doing…? Chroooooo…” Your words slur as your mind buzzes with euphoria, and you can feel every sensation in vivid detail, every touch and every breath feeling heightening and intoxicating. As much as you want to, you can’t tell him to stop, not now.

“Shh, it’s what you want, isn’t it?” At least that is what you think he said, because as Chrollo spoke, you struggled to decipher his words amidst the haze that enveloped your mind. Reality fragments, leaving you unable to muster the strength to plead for him to cease. “It will feel oh so very good, I promise. Very, very nice and very, very good.” With that, you come to realize the wetness between your rubbing thighs, amidst the cloudiness and the larger-than-life headache that rips your skull apart. “Do you trust me?” The voice sounds almost heartfelt, not as intimate as it could be, but it was still more than enough for your hands to cling to him and pull him in closer, faster, so he could relieve you of this hell. “I will assume that that is a yes.” His hands move to the two buttons on your blouse, undoing them with ease, softly, gently, like it was a baby bird. 

“Faster… faster…!” You feel like a man who hasn’t seen water on any day of their life, and if you lose the location of the oasis you are sure to never find it again. 

Like a man lost in the desert, you choke on imaginary quicksand, soon to drown if water does not save you.

“Aw, such a precious little thing, aren’t you?” You are gently flipped over in an instant and he unbuckles your bra, quickly. 

“If you love me… really love me… make me feel better… please.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” He flips you over again and his fingers lower to your panties, pulling them down from your trembling legs, just like he did with your skirt. “You trust me after all, don’t you?”

You cry out yes after utterly desperate yes, as he watches, his smile getting wider as he starts undoing his belt. He puts a finger on your lips after he has heard enough, shushing you gently.   

“Then trust me when I say that this, my dear, is for your own good.”

Beneath the surface, whether it be shallow or not, you have no desire to comprehend his intentions.

You don’t want to know. You just want this to go away.

iv. “Through discoveries, there is a hint of madness that enters our minds. Only then can we see our world’s colors change from squid ink and bone to begonias and finches.”

Chrollo undoes his belt, then his pants, and then his boxers. You focus on his face to ignore what is currently nearly touching the side of the mattress by a hair or two, hard and enlarged and slightly pink and-

He takes off his shirt button after button, much, much, much slower than how he took off the rest of his clothing. There exists a deep-seated anger within you, yet it is accompanied by a sense of gratitude, as both you and he are aware of your mutual aversion towards this situation.

Despite both of you being aware that this is not your desired outcome, he still kisses you, gently, full of warmth, and tenderly. What you truly desire is to satisfy the ache within you. But he won’t give it to you yet, will he?

Time seems to drag on as his kisses get faster, and more hungry, with his tongue essentially becoming another of your muscles, wet, and neither wanted nor unwanted. 

Eventually, you get what you want, after enough begging for him to just get it over with. At the beginning, there is a gentle caress resembling a warm and velvety rose petal. However, as time progresses, the touch becomes increasingly forceful until his fingers enter. But it does not hurt. Should you be thankful for that? At least he is being nice.

He starts thrusting, and that also does not hurt. No soreness. You won't feel any discomfort until your eyes meet, causing a sensation that almost makes you want to throw up, were it not for the illicit satisfaction this dreadful encounter brings. It's a peculiar kind of pain, one that lingers like a ghost stealthily gliding through walls, catching you off guard before you can comprehend its presence.

Nothing hurts, and that in of itself gives you the most pain anyone could imagine. 

v. “Heat lightning gives way to summer storms and verdant wind. This makes for a hauntingly beautiful melody of ripples and thunder.”

“…And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.”

vi. “The dead, fallen leaves of autumn come in many shades from bright red to a dull brown. They flow with the wind from one place to the next as invitations from those who passed on to the living.”

[apompkwrites]

Its lil!Schoenheit's turn at the fluff! And it's family fluff this time:)

It's finally the most anticipated winter break! The time to go home, spend time with family, and relax. Is what any normal student would get, but not the Schoenheits. With Vil and their father being actors and models respectively, it leaves lil!Schoenheit at home.

They can entertain themselves just fine for the first few days of winter break but seeing all their friend's magicam story with their parents and friends, the loneliness sinks in deeper. Dinners are always just them, if they are lucky, they can eat with their exhausted and tired family. Lil!Schoenheit tries to make small talk like asking how work was or how was their day, even if it ends with them going in a rant or complaining it was fine for them. If they're really tired, they say it was fine or ok. Days of the same thing and they start to isolate themselves in their room, they have their computer and their phone to pass the time.

Miraculously, Vil gets 2 days of and their dad 1. They want to make the most of this opportunity and surprise lil!Schoenheit by spending the day together so they make plans without them. Going outside to a park or tourist site? It would only cause trouble because of their fame, renting out a cinema? It would beat the atmosphere. Visiting family? They fear that lil!Schoenheit may be overlooked for not being a model or actor like them so another no. So they decide to buy a popular board game, Monopoly. Vil has seen the board game club play this and he suggested it, what could go wrong?

A lot went wrong, in a good way. Vil asked for lil!Schoenheit to come to the living room and they explained what they wanted to do. Excited, they started to play. One unforseen thing they missed while planning is that they were all very competitive, it's part of the reason their family is as far as they are today. The game started to get heated but lil!Schoenheit comes out victorious with their father going bankrupt first and Vil almost winning if it weren't for the hotel he landed on.

At that moment they didn't mind losing, they haven't seen lil!Schoenheit smile that wide in a long time. "Fine, you win this time. But next time, you will be eating your words" Vil says they realize that it was late and they ate dinner as a family. Vil's second day of his leave was spent on his self care and rejuvenation. It was soon back to normal but everytime they both had syncing days off, the game would come off the shelves and onto the table.

My brain was going 200mph writing this in the middle of the night. Some of the monopoly scenes are based of my experience🥲. This was really long so take your eyes off the screen and drink some water. Thank you for reading!

>:} anon

hhh new family tradition for the shoenheits <333

love love love the idea of lil schoenheit finally getting some healthy family bonding with their brother and father through board games :O

im sure lil schoenheit would try to introduce new games to their family, probably asking azul or idia (through ortho, at least) to borrow some from the club. to not make board game nights too monotonous :D

[coldvampire]

hurt my own feelings with a katnines human(ish?) au

this is super loose and not at all fleshed out but just stay with me here--

instead of staying in new york, for whatever reason they keep going and eventually settle in LA. obviously not doing super great as european immigrants but yknow, they have each other, her dad gets a job probably near the docks because thats what he was more or less doing back home & things stabilize, his girls at least seem happier than they were? kat is fucking On It making sure her sisters are set and taken care of and also does what she can to bring some cash into the household, and she wouldn't say her own state of mind is necessarily happy, she just wants to make sure her family is okay.

something something time passes im doing this at like 2 in the morning its fine, & they eventually cross paths, probably while she's taking something to her dad that he forgot at home. they sort of? click right away? but he assumes that she's there for her own finncee/husband/whatever & he kind just lets it go, waves at her the next time she's in the area but doesn't get hopes up until he actually Sees her father and it's like. ah. okay. this also makes sense.

she's had a handful of short lived boyfriends but they've historically all been just a Bit better off than she has (she's still practical) & otherwise just not a good match. like she didn't even bother bringing them home, just vetted them after a few bad dates. this guy is different though. circumstantially neither of them are doing them best, but god. he also just treats her so unbelievably well. he looks forward to seeing her, remembers the stuff she says, doesn't act like she's an idiot & doesn't get uncomfortable if she lets her accent slip a bit. she's happy.

you know who else is happy?? her goddamned dad.

he knows she's been on dates before and also knows that they must have been assholes if she never even brought them home but THIS ONE she does and she is visibly nervous! she is never nervous in front of them Ever, that's like. the one time she's comfortable. and yet. she wants her family to like him! so fucking much dear god, she's never been this sure of anyone in her life ever & if push comes to shove she'll pursue the relationship if their response is a bad one but she also loves her family a lot & it's important that she get to keep them.

her sisters are a bit of a mix but no one is negative but most importantly her dad is like. Yes this is a Good Choice bc they might not be getting married with a ton of cash but he recognizes actual love & connection when he sees it and knows that kat has somehow managed to find someone who Will take care of her even though she's the type to insist on stretching herself thin. & so when marriage comes up he's like. mr rodriguez i will not grant you my approval because you don't Need it, i know damn well the type of woman my daughter is and if you weren't up to standard you wouldn't be here, but i will gladly welcome you into the family. it's a beautiful wedding if Small but most blood relations are present (outdoors! the sun is out the breeze is Perfect she wears a dress that her sister irida made & there is so much crying oh my god). it's so picturesque they get to be just gfghjj happy and uncomplicated. and alive.

she doesn't even have to stress abt impressing his mother either like she's fucking On It with her social perception & they end up chatting like they've known each other for yearsssssss within like 10 minutes of meeting gfhjh she is Slightly disappointed that her new daughter in law doesn't know more than like 8 words of spanish but that's a temporary affliction, kat would dedicate herself to learning it the moment she gets a whiff of said disappointment.

they get to have a little house somewhere,, she could actually pursue the shelved future of becoming a teacher,, god. the possibilities.

(now ofc this can take a turn where they end up tragically embraced and separated for years anyway but fdgfhgjhdhfjfg shhH theyre happy.)

[anmarifromearth]

Chapter 12: Further Into the Labyrinth

Note: You can read the finished version on Quotev, but for Tumblr, I'd like to upload the chapters one by one.

WC: 3.0 K -- Masterlist -- featuring art by @amalthiaph

We returned to the place that brought us into this labyrinth of mysteries; to that section of the library. We searched the shelves of the Wessman School History section once again, a lot more thoroughly this time. All in search of one thing; the Hour Hand. We need something. Anything. Just one article.

A pile of books lay on the table. We had searched a couple of dozen books already. None of them mentions something about an hour hand, or a staff, or any time travel device.

“Hmmm,” Zach began. The guy was seated on the floor in between two shelves. He’s nowhere near the neat British guy who first walked into Wessman some weeks ago. He seemed to have forgotten about “the way he was raised” that he’d told me. “I’m beginning to think we’re approaching this the wrong way,” he began, clicking his pen on and off, “We’re approaching this like three researchers. Why not—“

“Try approaching it like a Velvet,” Charles finished for Zach, and Zach pointed his finger at Charles.

“Correct!” Zach began to stand up. “Come to think of it. If you were a Velvet,” he pointed to me, “Would you openly say you have a time travelling device?”

I stared him down, “No, of course I won’t.”

“YES!” Zach said, “You would only imply it. You would try to say that this thing, whatever it may be, is important to you but you’ll never say why.”

“That brings us back to,” Charles went to a familiar shelf in the section and pulled out a familiar book, “The book about the members.”

By the time Charles began to walk back to us, Zach was already halfway through sitting. I followed. Charles spread out the book in front of us, and Zach pulled it from him, quickly but carefully opening the pages. He stopped at the page about the Velvet Manor.

He read, “The Velvet Manor is the residence of the Velvet Family. It began construction in 1797 and was finished in 1822, the same year Christina Beatrice was born. The manor is often described by many as a labyrinth, for its confusing layout. There are only two known copies of the floor plan; one was in the possession of the family themselves and the other was given to the architect who designed it.” Zach looked up to us, “And somehow ended up in an auction where my father bought it for quite a price,” he chuckled and winked.

“The family is known to love this house so much,” Zach continued to read, “And they seem to have a fascination about the clock tower.” Zach’s voice grew louder the further he went into that sentence. “There are numerous rumors relating to this. Some say it is because of the two rubies on the hands.”

“They are protecting it,” Charles continued. Zach nodded.

“Some say the tower might be housing a gift given to their ancestors by an unknown deity or goddess decades ago,” Zach’s eyes widened as he read.

“The hour hand,” I said.

“The book about the rumors!” Zach said, looking at Charles.

“My favorite book,” Charles was already on the shelves. “Here!” he practically ran back to our table and quickly went to the index.

“Something about deities or goddesses,” Zach said as he examined the index. “There! ‘A Chat with the Deity’!” He immediately went to the page and found an illustration of a woman kneeling in front of a lake. She seemed to be praying, or begging, I cannot tell. “Here it is,” he began to read, “This is one of the favorite myths of historians and conspirators. In January 1821, the Velvet Family and the Mortimer family, who are both known to be a team of famous gold miners, discovered a cave full of gold and rubies. The find was to be divided into two. For some reasons, Richard Velvet ordered to mine only half of the cave despite stating that there’s more further into the cave. This angered Eldric Mortimer stating that mining only half would leave less for both families after the split while mining all would leave more. But Richard Velvet was resolute in his decision. This then caused the quarrel that split the two friends for life.”

“Money is everything,” Charles scoffed, laid back on his chair.

“Half of the find was mined, and divided into the two families. The Velvets used some of the money to build the interior of the manor. The two biggest rubies found were used in the hands of the clock in tower of the manor,” Zach continued to read. “The reason for Richard’s decision is a massive hit with historians and conspirators.”

“It is said that the story originally wasn’t supposed to be this,” Zach continued, and Charles immediately sat up, knowing where the verse is leading to. “Conspirators theorized that originally, the cave collapsed halfway through the mining, killing almost everyone except Richard Velvet, Eldric Mortimer, and a few workers. Most workers ensured Velvet and Mortimer’s safety thus leading them to their demise.

“Knowing the Velvets to be extremely nice to their workers and maids, this event scarred the family so much that, one day, Marion Agatha travelled to a lake in a mountain and conversed with an unknown deity under a red moon and asked the deity to reverse time so they can stop the tragedy.The diety first refused, as time should never be meddled with but Marion carefully explained to the deity that it is to save people’s lives and the deity was finally convinced, knowing it will be done for a good reason. The deity gifted Marion a time travelling device,” the three of us exchanged glances, beaming from ear to ear.

“The couple then reversed time to the start of the mining, and Richard Velvet ordered to mine only half so as to not go too further into the cave and cause it to collapse, saving everyone else from their demise,” Zach continued to read, “Such has been theorized as after the mine, the Velvets began to act strange. Richard and Marion were almost overprotective and caring of their servants than before. Richard developed claustrophobia. Both Velvets kept of recalling and talking about events that didn’t happen. They mentioned they were sent to a court hearing that lasted for four months from February to June of 1821 although they never went to any. Conspirators said this might have happened in the original timeline,” Zach finished reading.

Charles was smiling and nodding his head. Heck, he was half-laughing. “THAT EXPLAINS EVERYTHING!” Charles exclaimed, throwing his fists into the air and forgetting we are in a library. “That explains everything: from the wealth to their strange behavior to the love for the clock tower to this!” he pointed to the hour hand, disassembled and wrapped in a cloth.

“SHHH!” we didn’t notice the librarian was already at the door to the section, leaning on the frame. “One more noise like that and I’ll ban you all from this section. Including you, Mr. Stratmann.”

It was a Monday morning like never before. The three of us walked together to History, still smiling from yesterday; the Velvets altered time to save people with the use of the clock at the tower gifted by a deity. It is like all the better. We knew them from a whole new level. The manor felt all new; the cornices, the floor, and the rich oak doors looked different now that we knew where they came from and what story came with it.

However, there’s still so much more into the labyrinth. We still do not know what happened to Christina. On the other hand, I now knew more and it is time I tell them. “Hey,” I began. Charles and Zach stopped and looked at me. “I know now. I know it all now.” We continued to walk. “That man,” I began, “The man who was running after them is probably Eldric Mortimer. He learns of this theory and went to them to steal the hour hand, use it to reverse time—“

“And mine everything that’s in the cave,” Charles cut in.

“Or,” I continued, “To mine it all for himself.”

Zach smiled. No, he half-laughed. And nodded and spoke, “He’s not going to tell Richard of the discovery. He’ll keep it all to himself.” 

Now that,” I began, “Is something we should be concerned about.” With that, Zach’s smile disappeared.

“If Eldric is the only one who gets the gold and gets the money,” I continued, the most serious I’ve ever been, “The manor wouldn’t exist, and this school wouldn’t exist.”

“We wouldn’t meet,” Charles said, almost half-crying.

We shared glances, all full of sadness.

“We have to stop Eldric,” I said. “We need to complete the hour hand, travel to the very beginning, warn them about Eldric—“

“And prevent the rest of them from getting killed,” Zach continued for me. “And Christina would still be alive.”

As interesting as History is, I waited for the bell to ring. I wanted class to end. I know Charles is. For Zach, it could be uncertain but the way he tapped his fingers on his desk with his other hand on his chin tell me otherwise. We all wanted to continue or journey into the labyrinth.

Finally, it rang. It was like sweet music. And I was right, Zach wanted it too, seeing as how quickly he stood up and picked up his bag.

A man cleared his throat, “Mr. Stratmann and co,” Mr. Philipps began. We froze. “You have an hour long break after History, I want you three in my office.” He turned on his heel and started to walk.

We know it’s a cue for us to follow him and we did. The three of us lined up, with Mr. Philipps in front of us. He has both his hands behind his back, clutching his stopwatch as usual.

I kept my head low. I watched as students look at us as we walk, more like look at Zach as he walked. “Do not look at the walls, I know there are passages in between them,” said Mr. Philipps, seeing my movements.

He knows. We have walked these halls, in hidden passages even, not to mention underneath once, but none felt like eternity unlike now. Finally, we reached the office, and three chairs are already laid out.

As soon as the three of us are all inside, Mr. Philipps closed the door to this office and drew all the blinds. “How many more pieces of the hour hand are you missing,” he said as he sat down on his desk.

Zach opened his mouth to speak, but Mr. Philipps cut him, “Yes, of course I know all about it. I know about the hour hand. And I know about your quest.” Mr. Philipps raised his eyebrow at Zach, urging him to answer.

“Two,” Zach finally said.

“The ruby and the arch, I presume.”

Zach nodded. “How did you know?”

“How did you get out of the locked cellar?”

“It was you,” Zach said.

“I noticed you three missing and I went looking for you,” Mr. Philipps said, leaning back into his chair, “And heard Mr. Andrews asking for Christina’s help.” He pointed to Charles. “And I have spies.” He smiled.

“We know that,” Zach retorted.

“Every year,” Mr. Philipps continued, “I watch my students, and try to find anyone who might be searching. And this year, according to Miss Diana Mansfield, the librarian, Mr. Stratmann and his friends are frequent visitors of the Wessman History Section.” He clicked his stopwatch open and closed, “Checking out books that tells history of the Velvets, secrets of the manor, their belongings, and quite recently,” he placed the book from yesterday, “Conspiracies about the Velvets, specifically, A Deal With The Deity. Miss Mansfield saw you were reading it when she came to shush you.”

He continued, “Miss Mansfield is one of my spies. Every year, she spies on students who enter that section, look at the books they check out. There were students who had done this before, but no one has succeeded or successfully proven anything. However, this year is quite alarming as,” Mr. Philipps faced Zach, “Mr. Stratmann here has the only other copy of the school’s floor plan. Which shows the passages.”

“Why are you so afraid that someone discovers it?” Zach began, his voice serious, his arms crossed in his chest. “What are you hiding? Or… are you afraid someone finds it before you do? Or better, do you want students to find it for you?”

Charles and I began to straighten ourselves. Zach was making so much sense that Mr. Philipps himself started to stare him down. The two of them had a staring contest, neither averting their eyes.

“Are you related to Eldric Mortimer?” Zach asked.

“No, are you?” Mr. Philipps answered sarcastically.

Mr. Philipps turned serious, “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Why would we tell you?” Zach still stared him down.

“Because I’ll expel you for breaking numerous school rules and inciting a conspiracy and tell your parents,” Mr. Philipps started to press button on the telephone on his desk.

Charles and I looked at Zach. I opened my mouth to speak. I want to say something; I have to say something. I know Zach is probably having an internal battle of wanting to tell Mr. Philipps of our plan and not be expelled but at the same time, he doesn’t want him to get the hour hand.

I can see Zach start to tear up, he’s considering his options. He doesn’t have much time as we heard the other side pick up the phone. “Hello,” his mother began.

“WE PLAN TO USE THE HOUR HAND TO TRAVEL BACK AND WARN THEM OF MORTIMER!” Zach practically shouted.

Mr. Philipps stopped to look at Zach, “Your son is expelled, Mrs. Stratmann.”

“NO!” the three of us screamed as we get up from our seats.

Mr. Philipps dropped the phone.

“We told you our plan! Play fair!” Zach shouted, beginning to tear up.

“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOUR PLAN WOULD CAUSE?” Mr. Philipps shouted back. “You will alter the timeline. Imagine if you succeeded, then the Velvets would still be alive, and this would still be their house and you three wouldn’t meet.”

“Which you wouldn’t like at all because now that they’re dead,” Zach started to shout back, “It’s your family that benefitted!”

Zach bolted out of the room. Charles and I immediately ran after him.

Zach pushed the other students to clear his way. He didn’t apologize. He didn’t look back. He just ran and we ran after him. “It will take hours for my parents to pick me up,” he said as he exited the front door, still running. “It means we only have today to find the rest of the hour hand.”

We are at the forest. It’s a good hiding place since no one ever comes here. We all sat on the ground, damp and smells wet, not worrying about dirtying our uniforms.

Zach cried silently. For hours. We had missed lunch. I can feel my stomach growling and I’m sure it was the same for them. We know we need to come up with a plan but Zach is too sad to even think, and we cannot stop him. He had his head bowed, sitting in a crouched position. He tapped his feet as he cried. Finally, he peeked his head up and reached for his satchel. He rummaged inside it, pulled out his brown notebook, and took out two polaroids. He handed one to Charles and the other to me. It was the photograph of me, in that café, when I was eating the chocolate cake.

“I knew it’s strange,” he began, “But I sometimes take candid shot of you guys when I think you’re having fun. I’m sorry but I should have asked before doing so.”

“It’s alright,” Charles said as he looked at his polaroid. He turned it to us. It was when he was reading the conspiracy book, when we first hung out under the trees in the yard.

“I want you guys to keep it,” Zach continued, “I have a copy of those so it’ll be alright on my side. I just want you two to have something to remind you of our adventures.”

I turned my polaroid to them. They both smiled. “Maybe we can do something to avoid it.”

I started to reach for the hour hand, wrapped in the cloth. “I’ll try to travel back,” I began, unwrapping it, “I have a plan.”

“Iris,” Zach stopped my hand, “Mr. Philipps has a point. If we undo everything in the past, the school might not exist. And I’d rather have me expelled than that. I’m glad we had this.” He meant our adventure.

“No,” I said. “My plan is to travel back, watch where they hid the last two pieces, return here and get them to complete the hour hand. Then, I’ll convince—“

“Iris, we can’t alter the past,” Zach repeated.

“No, I’ll convince you to not tell Mr. Philipps our plan,” I finished.

I stared at Zach, “That’s your only mistake, Zach. You told him because you thought he won’t expel you if you do. I’ll tell you to tell Mr. Philipps that you’d give it to him once completed, as ‘an artifact’ for the school. And he’ll let us complete it so we can ‘hand it over’ to him and he can use it. But when we finish it, we stick to our real plan.”

Zach was finally convinced. “And I’ll surely believe you,” he nodded.

Zach’s phone rang. “It’s my parents,” he said as he opened his phone. It was three already. He slid the screen to the left, not answering the call. “They’re probably here to tell me they’re on their way. You’ve got to do it now, Iris. I don’t have much time.”

Charles helped me assemble the hour hand. Once put together, I looked at Zach and Charles once more, hoping for the best. I closed my eyes and started to feel everything turn to smoke. I am travelling to the past.

[swanimagines]

Summary: Little prequel-like thing to this, where Morpheus gets to know he's going to be a father. Female reader. Suggested by @smokeprincess24

A/N: A little reminder just in case, I don't feel capable of writing about pregnancy bumps (they just feel weird to write to me for some reason), but pregnancy announcement to the child's father is fine. And just an info that I'm not forgetting about my other requests, Sandman is just in fresh memory right now + I need to board its train early so I won't get ignored because I'm late to the hype (which makes me uninspired to write more as that what's happened before) and last one was fun to write so I thought why not write this too while I work on my queue.

Warnings: pregnancy, a sentence-long mention of smut x2 as you can't get pregnant without having someone's seed inside you in some way, but no actual smut ofc, dw my smutless followers, I'm still not writing it even though this fandom seems to have a lot of smut and literally my second request was a smut one and I already had to lecture someone about checking my rules 😅

Word count: 820

Living in The Dreaming and having all these magical beings and creatures around you also meant that some sensed things that weren't there. Today, when you had just woken up and taken a stroll around, one of said creatures had stared at you for a moment and you had smiled at her.

"Good morning, Nerjan," you had greeted the young fairy-like servant with a smile on your lips, but frowned when she kept looking at your belly. "Is something wrong?" You asked as she fluttered towards you.

"My lady, are you aware there is a life growing inside your body? Your blood has started to flow differently than before," She informed you quietly, tilting her head curiously.

You blinked at her. "What do you mean?" You asked and her eyes glowed as she replied.

"It seems you are with child, my lady."

You froze for a few seconds before laughing nervously. "That can't be right. I... Morpheus is an Endless, Endless can't impregnate humans."

"I have never heard they cannot mate or reproduce, my lady. You've been surely misinformed about their nature." She replied simply. "You should tell about the news to Lord Morpheus. I saw him at the library."

You frowned as Nerjan took off, leaving you standing alone in the hallway. You blinked, looking down at your belly and then dread flooded you - what would Morpheus think?

Nevertheless, you took a route to the library and well enough, he was there in middle of books, researching something. He looked up to you the moment you appeared from around the shelves and smiled. "Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?"

You smiled a little too. "When I'm in your arms, I always sleep well. Otherwise I'd be worried about your abilities."

"Of course," he grinned. "I'd be worried too."

You swallowed, fiddling with your thumbs as Morpheus read a book, tracing some old runes with his index finger.

"I have something to tell you..." You said slowly, unsure how this conversation would go.

He turned back to you and arched an eyebrow, intrigued by whatever you were going to say next. "What is it? Has something happened?" He asked cautiously.

You had to spit it out, not ramble.

"I'm with child," you blurted out. Morpheus instantly stilled, and for a moment, the room went deathly silent.

"With child?" he repeated. "Is it mine?" He sounded cautious—as if perhaps there had been some mistake.

You swallowed thickly, nodding. "I have never been with anyone else than you like that." You could feel your cheeks heating up. "I know we only made love one time, and I didn't think anything would come from it. But..." Your voice faded off as another wave of embarrassment swept through you.

He ran a fingertip over your lips then took both of your hands into his own, holding them into his chest. His expression softened slightly at the corners of his mouth, showing just how happy he was for you. You blinked at him, you were partly expecting him to not be happy about it. He always said he's busy, he's got work - somehow you didn't picture him having a child in middle of it. You didn't even know an Endless like him even could impregnate a mortal, even if he had made you his Queen and now you would also live forever.

"I am glad," he finally murmured before leaning forward and pressing his soft lips against yours tenderly and pressed a palm on your abdomen. "This baby will be cherished in our Kingdom."

He pulled back to see your frown, and his own smile died away too.

"I... I thought you wouldn't want this baby," you confessed.

"Why would you think that, my love?" he asked, stilling again.

"Because you always say you're busy. I thought you wouldn't have time for a child screaming for attention."

His gaze became more intense as he watched you. "Did you think I would regret making love with you? Making you pregnant with me?"

"Well, yes..." you replied softly.

Morpheus' face morphed into a stern look then a small smile came out. "No. My time is spent working but never wasted or unnoticed by any being, mortal or immortal. The best moments are those shared between us two. This child will bring joy to all of us."

You felt tears come up in your eyes, but they weren't sad ones. They were happy and grateful tears because Morpheus loved your child so much already, and you knew he would make an amazing father. You smiled at him, placing Morpheus' hand on your abdomen again.

"We'll be a family, right?" you said, closing your eyes as you leaned against your husband.

He nodded, smiling happily. "Always," he promised as he brushed his thumb over your belly and then nuzzling his face to your neck, making you giggle.

This would be a new, marvelous chapter in your life.

The Sandman taglist: @jesllianaquilesrolon // send in an ask to be added, and specify which of my fandoms you want to be tagged on! Don’t just say “can you add me to your taglist” as I can’t know what taglists do you mean by that!! ALSO IF YOU WON’T INTERACT BEYOND LIKING, I’LL EVENTUALLY TAKE YOU OFF THE LIST!!

---

ANOTHER REMINDER: PLEASE DO NOT REQUEST A SEQUEL WHERE READER HAS A BUMP!! I don't feel comfortable.

[gryffindors-weasley]

A Known Love

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco felt as though his relationship was kept secret, though one person sees everything.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, fluff, kissing

(not my gif)

Dawn was rapidly approaching, the navy hues of the sky beginning to lighten and the stars began to disappear as slivers of orange stretch across the horizon. It was Draco’s least favorite time of day, for it was when he had to say goodbye to you until the following evening. The hours in the day had always passed as if each were an eternity, one longer than the last, agonizing as he thought of nothing else but you.

“You really should be going now, love,” he murmurs softly, his lips ghosting over the skin on your neck. His hand enveloped your own as he pulled you farther behind the shadows of the crumbling stone statue, impossibly closer to him.

“I suppose I will once you let me go, Draco,” you laugh softly. A kiss is pressed just below your ear, another to your cheek, and another to your lips to quiet your very logical reasoning. He hadn’t wanted to let you go yet. He never wanted to let you go.

He pulls back to look at you, still close enough to feel your breath on his lips, gray eyes twinkling under the soft moonlight as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. His attempts at goodbye were quickly becoming more pitiful with each moment that passed him by, and he knew it. He had the same problem every time the moment arises.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you say with a smile, your thumb brushing over his slightly pouted lip and he finds himself leaning into your touch. “You’ll have the whole day to miss me.”

For that, he closes any remaining gap once more, delicate kisses pressed to the underside of your jaw. He’s very knowledgeable of the way it makes you squirm, your jovial laughter slipping out into the crisp summer air, unable to be controlled much like his smile. His lips find yours in another attempt to silence you, soft and sweet as he hums lightly, your lips melding in a kiss he hadn’t wanted to end.

He’s reluctant to pull away, but the cooing of the morning doves is too hard to ignore. A sigh is exhaled and the sight of your kiss swollen lips leaves him wanting to do nothing but continue to kiss them, more so with the way you’re beaming up at him.

“Promise you’ll be here tonight?” He murmurs, forehead pressed to yours as his eyes fall closed. A quiet laugh escapes you and fans against his lips.

“I promise.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful?” He asks in a quieter tone, something akin to fear weaving around his words even if he’d tried to hide it.

“I will try, my love,” you murmur.

He pulls away once more and looks at you with narrowed eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. You tilt your head and look at him with a sweet smile, settling your hand on his cheek. He was not happy with your nonchalance. “It is not funny.”

You couldn’t stifle the soft laugh you’d tried to hold, appeasing his grumbling and worry as you brushed the platinum strands of hair out of his eyes.

“I will be here and I will be fine,” you say, kissing the very tip of his nose.

The tension in his embrace lessens considerably at your words, tightening his hold as he rests his face in the crook of your neck. Even with your reassurance, he was still rather scared that this would be the last time he kissed you, the last time he held you. So he relished in every second of it. He memorized the sweet smell of your perfume, the taste of your kisses, the softness of your skin. He took it all in and stored it away in his mind for safe keeping.

He released you with a chaste kiss to your neck, and one to your lips as his arms dropped to his sides. Your fingertips brush over his cheek once more as you smile, and in a matter of moments he’s standing by himself behind the moss covered statue, looking at the spot you’d once been standing in just seconds ago.

—

Draco spent the entirety of the day in his bedroom, pacing around in front of his bed aimlessly. He’d tried to get some sleep, he had been rather busy running around in a secret endeavor the night before. But he only found himself staring at the deep green velvet curtain splayed high above each of his bedposts. He hadn’t wanted to leave his room for a good while, however, there wasn’t reason to and he certainly didn’t want to run into his father. The man had become more insufferable with each passing day it seemed, if that was even possible. Besides, his mind was far too busy to hold any sort of meaningless conversation with him should there be any.

His boredom was near maddening, the Manor wasn’t exactly a place that had been bustling with entertainment. It was a place filled with silence and luxury that was made to be viewed but not touched. He looked at his clock, the hand only inching closer to eight o’clock in the evening much to his dismay; it was as if it was taunting him.

On a more positive note, it had been late enough for him to feel as though he could venture into the halls without chance of running into anyone. So he did. He found himself navigating the gray corridors with a practiced ease, eyes darting around each and every corner he passed. The residence was practically a maze; anyone who hadn’t been familiar with it would surely get lost in a matter of moments, unable to find a door to exit. He’d lived there for nearly eighteen years and still found himself wandering down unfamiliar halls.

In a matter of minutes, he finds himself standing in front of an old mahogany door, intricately carved like most others. He twisted the tarnished metal knob and pushed it open, wincing at the very audible creak it made. The scent of old books had immediately hit him as he closes the door behind him, trickles of sunlight streaming in through the latticed windows. The golden light illuminated the dust particles floating around the unfrequented room, nearly making him sneeze.

He just about jumped out of his skin when a soft voice broke through the silence in the air, his heart racing momentarily as he searched for the source. His mother sat in the corner, a half-read book propped open in her lap.

“I was beginning to wonder where you’d been all day,” she says with a soft laugh, peering at him over the tops of her glasses.

“I was in my room,” he states when he settles, trying to sound believable even though that’s exactly where he’s been.

He smooths his hair behind his ear before spinning on his heel, unable to withstand her stare a moment longer. His hands were growing clammy as he wandered the familiar aisles, lined floor to ceiling with books ranging from the history of magic to even some Shakespeare classics. Those were Narcissa’s favorite.

“Draco, what ever is the matter with you?” Narcissa asks suddenly, her brows furrowing as she looks over at her son and marks her page.

“Nothing, Mother,” he says, plucking a maroon book from its spot on the dust covered shelf, looking over the aged cover briefly and putting it back before moving onto the next.

They were the very shelves he roamed between with you in the late hours of the night, speaking in hushed whispers in the nearly abandoned library. The very shelves you hid behind to share stolen kisses and tight embraces, gently whispered ‘I love you’s’ spoken against flushed skin. They house books of fabricated fiction and tales of forbidden love, stories he finds himself reading and wishing he didn’t understand what it had felt like to be the lovers within them.

Regardless, you loved when he read to you, his voice soft as he spoke each word with ease. You’d lay on his chest, tucked away somewhere private in the Manor, somewhere with enough moonlight streaming in to ensure there was no need for a light to draw any attention. His fingers would absentmindedly tangle through your hair as he read, stopping occasionally to press a kiss to your forehead. He’d stop once you fell asleep, his eyes bouncing around the room for any chance of prying eyes. He was quiet for any chance of listening ears.

“Draco?”

He startled slightly as looks over at his mother as she continues to sit in her black velvet chair, her brow raised curiously and expectantly. His cheeks flush a pale pink as he realizes he’s gotten lost in his thoughts.

“You’re distracted,” she states.

“No I’m not,” he says almost immediately, too fast to be believable.

She chuckles, shaking her head briefly. “Then what have I just told you, darling?”

He averts his gaze and focuses on the tattered book spines stacked in front of him, the heat in his face now burning down his neck as he scrambles to think of a proper answer for her, one that isn’t foolish.

“School has been rather busy. That amongst other things,” he says, tone sharp though she knows precisely what he’s talking about. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, Mother.”

She overlooks the bite to his words as she gestures to the seat just paces away from her own, wordlessly telling him to sit down. His finger stops it’s tracing on the old books and drops to his side, wiping his hand on his blazer and leaving a smear of pale dust behind on the pristine black fabric. He takes a seat, her gaze having him fix a stare on anything but her.

A quiet tension settles over the room, thick and unwavering for a few moments, the only sound being the ticking of the grand clock in the far end of it. He knows his reasoning couldn’t have been any good, at least not half of it. It had been summer break, one that was highly anticipated before the start of seventh year. So his excuse for academic stress didn’t seem to be quite as fitting at this very moment.

“What is her name?” She asks abruptly.

His heart stills in his chest at the question, and he looks at her immediately before narrowing his eyes to contain the flurry of emotions raining down on him. Had he heard her correctly? He had to have, she couldn’t have said anything else.

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about,” he dismisses, sitting up a little straighter as he smooths his tie.

She knew about you, of course she did. She’s known about you for far longer than Draco could ever be privy to. In fact, the first time she had ever been made aware of your relationship was last summer. It was dawn, and she was unable to sleep, though she always had been an early riser. She had her morning tea in hand as she made her rounds around the Manor, that’s when it had caught her eye. Narcissa had known the place like the back of her hand, therefore it had been easy to note anything out of place, such as the tracking of mud in a very familiar shoe print leading from the door to her gardens.

Upon closer inspection, she peered out of the windows into the moonlit maze of roses and finely manicured bushes. She had caught glimpse of her son weaving through flowers and statues, hand enveloped with that of a strikingly beautiful girl; and even with such a distance she could see the smile on his face, big and bright.

She had seen you once or twice before, knew enough to know you wouldn’t have been someone her husband would approve of. But technicalities aside, she stayed put and she watched the sight before her for a few moments longer for she hasn’t seen her son quite this happy.

Her eyes fell on Draco, the blush that had spilled from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now a very noticeable shade, one that was very indicative that he did in fact know just who she was talking about. He began to fidget in the grand velvet chair, twirling the ring around his finger in nervous habit. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could happen, panic flooding his chest.

“Your father wouldn’t approve of this, you know,” she says, though there’s a soft laugh in her words. Regardless, the thought makes Draco’s stomach swirl with nausea, anger building and pressing within his chest.

He knows this, he knows you don’t fit his fathers preposterous ideals because he’s too caught up in pleasing the Dark Lord’s wishes to see with even an ounce of rationality. However, he’s always been one for conforming to absurd standards to better his reputation, he supposes.

“You don’t understand,” Draco defends in hushed anger, his jaw tensing as he fights to reign in his temper.

“Then enlighten me, my dear boy.”

He stares at his mother for a few moments, then shifts his gaze to the dark hardwood floors, seconds feeling like hours as his heart hammers in his chest and the heat crawls up his neck. His mind is bombarded with intrusive thoughts, one after another. If he tells her what’s been plaguing his mind, who has been residing there for the better part of a year, he could very well lose you. If he doesn’t, her suspicions will ruin any chance of time spent alone with you in fear of wandering eyes.

“I’m in love with her.”

It tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself from saying it, it’s as though all sense had left his body. You have a habit of doing that to him. Though his words were a bit shaky, the declaration came out clear as day, not a single drop of doubt in his words. He doesn’t know what she’ll say next, and quite honestly he does not care, not entirely. Not enough to hide his feelings for a moment longer, feelings that are so strong he doesn’t quite know how to handle them. 

The look on her face is unreadable for the first several moments after he sputtered his confession, and the panic simmering in his chest is beginning to build and boil over. But something softens in her stoic expression, and she nods slightly. He doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know what to make of the small gesture until she speaks up.

“I see.” 

That’s all she says.

He finds the statement hard to interpret, unable to find any sort of relief from those two words as he swallows thickly and tugs at the collar of his black dress shirt, loosening the tie around his neck a fraction. The large room suddenly felt terribly suffocating and he desperately wanted some air. He was quickly beginning to regret ever opening his mouth, even though it seemed it had done so of its own accord. He could never keep anything from her, she could coax his deepest darkest secrets out of him with just a simple look. Right now, he felt it’d be perfectly suitable if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole.

He had to take the statement back somehow.

“Mother, I-”

“What is her name?” She asks once more, effectively cutting his stammering short.

He looks at her cautiously, surprised to find her to be truly interested, and not for malicious reasoning. Hesitancy still clouds his mind as he wonders whether or not he should give her such details, but a part of him feels as though it’s okay if she’s privy to it.

“Y/n,” he says softly, almost too quiet to be heard, his eyes darting around the room in search of anyone who may be listening in. “Her name is Y/n.”

She smiles softly with another nod. “She’s beautiful, Draco.”

He smiles lightly at his hands, his mind wandering to you once more. To the way your lips curve, to the soft freckles smattering across your cheeks that he could spend a ridiculous amount of time kissing. Perhaps his favorite is the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, the way you look at him. He will never feel as though he’s worthy of such affection, it doesn’t make sense to him. For that very reason, it worries him everyday that you’ll slip through his fingers. That you’ll realize the person you’ve chosen to love, you’ll come to your senses and you’ll disappear.

It wasn’t easy loving a Malfoy, after all. Anyone who simply hears the name turns their lip up in disgust. He can’t say he blamed them, his family wasn’t known for anything noble or kind. He wasn’t proud of himself either, which was all the more reason he feared your seemingly inevitable epiphany.

“I know,” he chuckles softly, shaking his head. His hands are shaking as he reaches up to swipe at the hair dipping in his eyes. “How…how did you know?”

“I haven’t seen you smile like that in quite some time, Draco. It was rather easy to figure out,” she starts, her words bittersweet the more she allowed herself to think about it. “The smell of perfume had given it away in an instant. It lingers, you know.”

His face reddens, and he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, his hair falling back in his eyes again.

“Does she treat you well?” She inquires.

He smiles lightly as he nods. “She’s quite wonderful, more than I can say about myself.”

It was true. In his eyes, you were the embodiment of sunshine to put it simply. You were the kindest person he’s ever known, so much so he hadn’t been used to it at first. He had been skeptical. You treated him far better than he could have ever anticipated, though you did not hesitate to correct him when he was wrong.

“Mother?”

“Yes, my dear?”

He gulps, his mind swimming in horrific scenarios he hadn’t ever wanted to think of, possibilities he wished he didn’t have to fear. Each one was worse than the last, and paired with his pounding heart, he wasn’t sure if he could hide his internal conflict from her. It felt as though his throat was impossibly dry and the air had been stolen from his very lungs.

“Please don’t tell him,” he whispers, the lump in his throat becoming hard to ignore. The thought of how his father would react out of spite made his stomach churn and twist in knots. “Please.”

She looks at him with furrowed brows, her crimson nails tapping on the curved wood of the chairs arm. You hadn’t entirely fit the ideals set in place for the only Malfoy heir, and she knew for certain that repercussions would follow such a romance. But the unease and the color draining from her sons face had shown how truly distraught he was, and she couldn’t bring herself to tamper with it. She had never seen him care so deeply for something. She had seen just how much you had been keeping him afloat amidst the troublesome darkness trying to pull him down. Maybe she will warm up to you if he ever decides to introduce you, she would have to. For you kept him happier than could be imagined and she didn’t want to take it from him.

She fought for her love with Lucius, she fought desperately and unrelenting for it. It quickly became apparent to her that it wasn’t her place to stand in the way of it, it would be rather hypocritical if she did.

“As you wish,” she says with a soft smile, one that eased the tension in his body as she grabbed her book again. “Off you go now, Draco. I believe someone is waiting for you.”

She nodded slightly towards the window and he gets up without another word, promptly exiting the quiet library upon her dismissal making quick strides. A soft smile tugged at his lips that he had fought desperately to contain, but the attempts were proving to be pointless every time he caught glimpse of the setting sun. The hues of oranges and yellows painting the somber walls of the Manor only reminded him of you, of how you’d be waiting for him behind the decades old statue in the garden.

His conversation was brief and unexpected, one that offered waves of comfort and lightened some of the weight on his chest. Only some. Because consequences of his love were uncertain, but it hadn’t seemed to matter in that very moment. Maybe it was selfish of him to think that way, and maybe his purposeful walk had given way to the fact that he had something to look forward to. Maybe he shouldn’t have told his mother about you, he did not know.

What was known was the steady pounding of his heart within his chest and the scarlet in his cheeks.

What was known was that he loved you.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[acciocriativity]

You and Me || Harry Potter

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Slytherin/Reader

Summary: It's always been you and Draco since you can remember, the invincible duo, the two of you against the world but some things have changed along the way and it's not news to any soul at Hogwarts but it's time your parents knew too. 

 Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I took a bit to finish but here it is your story @x-dratie-x. I hope you all like it! Tom Riddle is not Voldemort in this oneshot, Voldemort didn’t exist at all but the events of the first war and its consequences still is valid, but with another wizard.

Warnings: A very very slightly sexual conversation and that's all

1987  

  I didn't want to be at that dinner, I didn't want to have to listen all day long to how well I should behave because the Malfoy's were such an important family or something. 

I had plans for the week, I would go with our elf to buy more art supplies and I was allowed to spend the day outside the house, just drawing the landscape. 

My parents never let me participate in events like this, because I might mess up, say something inappropriate for the moment, or whatever excuse they decided to make up. But out of the blue, I was told that I would have to be there. Why? I couldn't understand and I didn't even ask them, what good would it do? None. 

The day was only getting worse and worse by the hour for me, I just wanted to take off that dress and go play but I couldn't, obviously. So I did what was left to me, smile and eat politely without making any noise or comments, not that there were any comments I would like to make. I had no idea what they were talking about, it was absolutely boring. The only thing that made me feel slightly better were my own thoughts and the fact that their son was as bored as I was. 

We knew each other because of some casual encounters between our parents but never had the opportunity to talk to each other, because of course, only grown-ups talk.

But it seems that I drew the long straw after a horrible day, after dinner Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were invited to stay a little longer and I was excused along with Draco to play.  

I could hardly believe it, I wouldn't have to sit there and smile for another 45 minutes, my happiness couldn't be measured at that moment. Not even waiting for my mother to say it again, I stood up and said goodbye politely with a smile before walking up the stairs and I could hear footsteps following me somewhat hesitantly but I didn't care at the moment. 

"Come on, let's go play in my room", I exclaimed with a huge smile and threw the bow tie, which was pinning my hair, on the floor and quickly walked over to it uncaringly.

 I missed his shocked expression but as soon as we reached my door, he made sure to make it clear to me. 

"Do your parents let you do that?", the question made no sense in my head but stopping to think about it now, it makes sense, he should always be flawless. 

"They don't care as long as it's not in front of guests, you won't tell them, right?", his greyish blue eyes reflected mine and for a few seconds I thought that was a beautiful effect.

 He looked away from me and nodded slightly in agreement, his face covered in shyness and I just squealed with delight. I opened the door and pulled him inside, his hand was so cold that I thought about taking one of my jackets and handing it to him. 

"So what do you want to do? I have some toys in my closet, I'll get them", I walked happily to the door and proceeded to try to decide what I would want. Some was not the best word, there were a lot of them, far more than I would ever use. 

 I came back with a big mulberry box that I've only been able to carry within the last year and placed it on my bed but he didn't even notice, he was looking at my drawings. 

"Oh, you liked them. I wish I had done one more today, do you want to try?", I asked him and walked over to the table where my sheets were. 

"Yeah, they're not too bad", he stated nonchalantly and I didn't believe him for a moment but I chose to keep my mouth shut for once. 

 I picked up two white sheets, two quills and sat down quietly on the floor, since I didn't have two chairs for the two of us but it seems he wasn't used to that. 

"Come on, hurry up, your parents won't be here forever", I patted the seat next to me and soon he sat down as well, I noticed his posture still uncomfortable and my goal for the day turned to change that, if only for 5 minutes. 

 From that day on, we became closer and our parents obviously understood and liked that, because we were strengthening their relationship and at no point that crossed my mind. I was just happy to be supported by my parents to visit Draco. 

1991

 My Hogwarts letter had arrived some weeks ago and I hadn't let go at any point, going to Diagon Alley had become a completely different experience and I couldn't wait, but I had to because I pleaded with my and his parents so that we would go together.

But the day had finally arrived and I had to contain all my energy to not look like an out of control little girl, nothing out of the ordinary but today was more difficult because I was genuinely happy. I was always genuinely happy with my only real friend. 

"Y/N, you must hurry or we are going to be late", I could hear my mother's voice from downstairs just as I finished putting on my flats. 

 As it was a very important occasion I had chosen my favorite outfit, even my parents were a little excited too. They had told me that they had met at Hogwarts and that I would find someone from a good family at Slytherin as well. This part was completely ignored by me but they never found out about it. 

"I'm here mom, we won't be late", I said as soon as I came down the stairs and approached them without running. We were near the fireplace and I mentally thanked them for not having to apparate, because it was always a horrible experience for me.

"Okay, I'll go first and you two right after", my father made sure to announce although he always goes first when we go out like that.   

 After a few minutes, we arrived in front of Flourish & Blotts and there was the imposing Malfoy family. After a small talk in which I had no interest in paying attention to, we all went inside and we were finally able to talk while our parents were engaged in a conversation with the attendant. 

"I've already said it once and I'll say it again, I honestly don't understand how you're not that excited, it's Hogwarts", I whispered to him as we walked through the messy shelves full of books. 

"It doesn't seem like a great thing after hearing it so many times", I could clearly see that there was something more there, I had known him long enough to know that and also that he wouldn't tell me easily. 

"Okay, so you're telling me that you're not the least bit excited to leave Malfoy Manor to start your life?", his lips twitched trying to hold back a smile, his eyes shifted from mine, looking for something to distract himself. 

 But I could stop him, my cunning little hands went to his waist tickling that area before he could prevent me from doing so. That was enough to make him laugh, although he denied that he was ticklish every time I asked. 

This attack did not end well for me, because revenge existed in his vocabulary and was even overused. I had to run, as fast as I could, and it still didn't work. 

And why? Because I went to a dead end corridor upstairs, I had never even visited the second floor of that store, the day I went there I had to get unlucky. 

In short, I was attacked twice more without mercy, my glasses almost got broken and we were so noisy that the owner gave us a scolding and our parents did the same as soon as we left with our packages, but this was not enough to ruin the day and our good mood. 

1993

 It was already expected that we would both end up in Slytherin, which was great because we didn't have to be separated, on the opposite, we became closer than ever. It also didn't take long to form our group of friends, actually not more than a month but the thing that made us truly close started in the third year when I had a genius idea. 

We all had a reason to dislike Harry, mine was nowhere near Draco's, no one's was but we shared it anyway. It was always fun to pick fights with him, make pranks and get him into trouble on purpose, so why not make it a little game? It was so easy that the idiots, Crabbe and Goyle understood the first few times, you can't expect more than that from them, and this was certainly a record for both. 

The game had three main objectives: 

- Take the most materials from Harry or his friends: ink, quill, books, whatever they were carrying would be a prize and would get a point.

- See him or his friends more often, with the intention of spying on them just for fun, of course. It could be in class or in the corridors, each time would be an extra point. 

- Pick fights with him or his friends, each minute was worth one point and to be proven, had to have someone to confirm it. 

 Of course, there was no room for lies, and I made sure to put a spell on our board to prevent this. Yes, I had made a small board that stayed with me but each team wrote down their own score.

To make it more fun, we split up into pairs. Draco and I, Pansy and Blaise, Grabbe and Goyle, Astoria and Millicent and Tom and Theo.

And finally, the best part, whoever had the most points at the end of the year would win 5 galleons from each person, as well as having a celebration party financed by the losers.  

Needless to say, Draco and I always won since the day I created the game. Our friends always complained about us playing dirty but it was never necessary and deep down they knew it, it must be hard to lose every year so I don't judge them.  

1995

"Are they still complaining?", I remained with my eyes closed, it was comfortable to lie curled up against Draco on the couch in the common room. We had two free classes, which was being put to good use to get some rest after a year of N.O.M.S. and a devastating victory in our little game.

"They'll get over it when we come back in September, I guess.... You're missing the best part", his voice came out whispered directly into my ear and I couldn't help but smile.      

 I didn't need to see the scene to know what was going on, Tom and Theo blaming each other for the defeat, everyone standing back from them because no one wants to get involved in their ego battle and our other friends trying not to laugh because it was a funny scene, even if they didn't know it.

"They're taking longer than last time...", I commented slightly annoyed by the noise. I had no idea what had happened to me, because usually I spent the afternoon celebrating my victory but not today. 

"Let's get out of here, you seems so good", he hadn't even completed his sentence when I agreed and painfully got up to go to his room. 

 But before I could take two steps, I felt his arms go around my waist and legs, leading me up the stairs in a bridal style.

I smiled wider and snuggled into his arms, enjoying more of the warmth and good feeling it gave me until we reached the bed.

"Thanks honey, I don't know what happened today", I commented under my breath as soon as he had me lying on the bed, but I knew it was a lie.

"Are you sure? This isn't related to the fact that our parents will know about our relationship in a few days?", I hoped he would pretend he didn't know but that wasn't the case, I wasn't going to be able to run away from the subject.

"It's just that I don't like them meddling in our lives, of course I have nothing against your parents, I'll love to be introduced as your girlfriend but my parents will be twice as unbearable", I sighed and hugged the blond once more, if there was one thing that made me better it was this. 

"Like my mom isn't going to start a 3 year planning for our wedding after she finds out, but at least they'll be used to it by the end of the summer and we won't have to go through this again", he began to fiddle with my hair and curl the strands between his fingers, slowly my shoulders relaxed and a considerable chunk of my worry faded away.

"Yes, I think so but it's going to be a lot harder for us to be alone now. You definitely won't be stepping foot in my room like you did when we used to play together", the memories flooded back and I felt him smile too, it had been a while since this had escaped my thoughts. 

"I don't need to worry about that, we slept together for almost the entire year at Hogwarts and they can't do anything about it and we'll keep doing it", I couldn't see him since my face was buried in his neck, but the perfect image of his mischievous grin formed in my head. 

 "The question is, will you survive for two months without me? Because I don't see that happening", I teased with a huge smirk as I turned to look him in the eye. 

"It won't happen because your father won't be enough to stop me love and I'll make sure you don't have to resort to your hands, because we know it wouldn't be enough", smugness was all over his face and as much as I searched for an answer to that, I didn't have one. Not in the first few seconds. 

"Good love, that's good because I'm sure your hands wouldn't do a better job either. In fact, I'd be a little worried if they actually still work, in case we get separated", I had managed to wipe the smirk off his face but I also knew it wouldn't stay that way, revenge was still an overused word in his vocabulary. 

 A week later, there I was on one of the Hogwarts Express cars with Draco, since we couldn't fit all our friends there anyway, we decided to enjoy the last hours of freedom we had together. 

And how quickly it went by, one moment I was chatting with my boyfriend while my puppy slept peacefully in her travel bed and the next, we had arrived and a wave of students were trying to get through the doors at the same time. 

We stepped off the train holding hands, while I carried only my baby in the other, and this detail did not escape the trained eyes of our parents who were talking side by side but as soon as they noticed us they stopped.

"For Merlin's sake, you two finally decided to listen to me and are in a relationship now?", my mother's eyes sparkled with excitement and I could already hear her voice asking me all sorts of embarrassing questions. "Narcisa, our family is finally becoming one, this is the best news I could ever receive", she could jump for joy now but because of the good posture of a London high society woman, she did not do that.

"How about dinner at our house today? We have a good reason to celebrate," I had seen his mother smile at me several times but even Lucius Malfoy seemed satisfied enough to show a little bit of his teeth, which is indeed shocking.

 My parents agreed to the idea immediately and only one look was exchanged between Draco and me, it only took a single look to know that we both acknowledged it would be an insufferable night. 

Harry Potter Masterlist

[remakethestars]

CABIN 7 — APOLLO

Headcanons.

❝There ought to be more drama, I think. A musical crescendo. Confetti.❞

— Jess Cooper, I Am Still Alive

Headcanon masterlist.

Oh, boy — this is my cabin, y'all; buckle up! 😁

Not all Apollo kids are good at everything their dad's good at, okay? I sure as heck can’t paint or play an instrument. 

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of violence?

They run an underground tattoo parlor.

That's where Will & Butch got their respective sun & rainbow tats.

Apollo kids with lyrics tattooed into their skin.

Rick says there isn't much by way of décor inside, which is f*in' B.S. Apollo's the god of art; those walls have been graffitied Tangled style.

🎶 i'll paint the walls some more — i'm sure there's room somewhere! 🎶

The east wall is covered in a landscape of a sunrise, & the west has a sunset (because the sun rises in the east & sets in the — yeah, I'll see myself out).

The north & south walls & the ceiling are white, though, because it really brightens/opens up the space (C7 has the 2ⁿᵈ most campers under C11 because Apollo's a slut; things can get a little crowded in the summer).

When there’re celebrations, the artistically inclined kids bust out the face paint. Especially for the younger campers.

The artistically inclined are the ones that paint the camp beads for the end of the summer. Despite the numbers, it doesn’t take them as long as one might think.

Rick said the ceiling had cedar beams, but we're not gonna do Cyparissius dirty like that. Cypress wood is good for building; the beams are cypress. You know what? F*ck you — the whole dang cabin's cypress!

There’s a massive, potted aloe vera plant by the steps that gets moved into the C4 greenhouse in the winter. It’s one of those old ones — because everyone knows the old aloe plants work better for burns & blisters than these sh¡tty new ones. (It’s constantly getting broken off to heal burns & stuff.) 

Rick said there are potted red & purple hyacinths in the window & yellow flowers from Delos. That's true.

I'd say the flowerbeds around the cabin are full of healing plants, but I feel like they'd be better off around the infirmary for obvious reasons.

I do feel like there's a laurel tree planted outside C7, though, because Apollo's a pining b¡tch.

And there's an actual infirmary building, okay? Rick's kinda inconsistent about that. Sometimes he says "infirmary," sometimes he says the Big House is running over with injured, & apparently there's a cot dead center for injured in C7? B.S.

Or maybe I've just read too much fanfic, and the authors don't get it right?

Either way, there's an infirmary building with surgery & delivery rooms. One floor. Locker room for C7 kids to store their scrubs & sh¡t.

They go for yellow scrubs, though, because orange C.H.B. scrubs make them look like escaped convicts.

Fun Band-Aids™

They give out little orange stickers with laurels around the edges that are like I voted! stickers, but they're injury-specific.

I got my leg(s) reattached! & Percy Jackson shot me in the butt! & I ticked off Clarisse! & I made out with an Aphrodite kid in the poison ivy! & I fell off the lava wall! & I got pranked by the Stolls!

After a war or just when there’re a lot of campers in the infirmary, there seems to be a constant flow of Apollo kids singing one hymn to their father in unison to heal someone.

Sometimes, an unconscious camper wakes in a cot & thinks they’ve died & gone to the wrong afterlife for a moment because their singing sounds like angels. 

The medically inclined wash their hands like surgeons. 

Kind of germophobic?

They also go around tying surgeons knots in everything.

In the summer, they’re walking Banana Boat sunscreen & after-sun aloe lotion dispensers.

The medically inclined also have the world’s sh¡ttiest handwriting.

They have to work hard to fix it if it bothers them. 

Can check your vitals & run a blood test just by touching you.

A lot of them casually touch their loved ones (at least, the ones that aren’t in C7) every morning to check their vitals & see how their health’s doing.

They do it subconsciously every time they touch someone & don’t notice it until they pick up something’s wrong.

They can do this for themselves as well. Though it may not be as accurate? And they take daily vitamins depending on what they need.

Organize their lives via pill box (never lose an earring).

Fight surgically. Every blade in their hands becomes a scalpel, & every time they’re going in for a kill against an armed anthropomorphic monster, they slice the tendons in its arm required to grip its weapon to disable it before going in for the kill.

Back to C7, it’s got a little porch with a porch swing. The kids sit on it sometimes & teach people how to play instruments.

They leave the porch light on at night when they’re waiting for one of their siblings to come home from a quest.

Jumping into the depressing sh¡t, they never found Michael’s body, so they only presumed him dead. They leave the porch light on every night now, hoping he’ll come home.

Apollo kids are afraid of the dark. They use the buddy system after the sun goes down. 

The cabin’s central light fixture is a papier-mâché sun that’s been charmed to glow when someone sings 🎶 clap on 🎶 & stop glowing when someone sings 🎶 clap off. 🎶

The curtains are a gold fabric. They’re only closed at night. Because, again, C7 kids are afraid of the dark.

The Wikipedia says Apollo kids are cursed to be afraid of snakes (I assume by the Python Apollo killed). I feel like they’d burn a lot of aster leaves then. I read somewhere it was said by the Greeks to ward off evil spirits & snakes.

They play Go Fish with their tarot cards. They’re really good at tarot games.

Hand-drawn tarot decks featuring figures form Greek myth.

There’s a target on the back wall they practice throwing cards at. They can throw them in combat for a distraction with terrifying accuracy. 

There’s a Magic 8 ball that’s passed around on the Winter Solstice (the longest night of the year), when — as a headcanon I’m sure I’ve read somewhere has indicated — they’re up all night.

Crystal balls are allowed. However, they must be covered with a cloth or placed in a box when not in use because they’re double-convex lenses, & we don’t want another incident like the fire of 1993.

Sometimes, they make little predictions throughout the day other campers may find disturbing. Such as whipping around and catching a stray arrow without warning (spidey sense?). Or cutting you off when you’re talking about someone moments before they walk into the room.

There’s a tea cart in the corner. Because tea is good for healing & they’ve accumulated an addiction.

The cart has a radio on it that’s always on at night because a lot of C7 kids can’t sleep without noise. (Inspired by @sugarandspiceandkindanice.)

Most of the time, it’s on a nearby country station that actually plays good country at night. But sometimes they switch channels — especially when there’s a new kid settling in & they could use the comfort.

There’s a portable record player there too. The shelves under the cart are full of C.D.s & records.

I’m sure I’ve read a headcanon somewhere that they sing every morning while getting ready for the day. That’s true.

The number of times it’s been “When Will My Life Begin” from Tangled is disturbing, though. 

🎶 seven a.m., the usual morning lineup! 🎶

Luke said in The Lightning Thief C11 is up at 07:00 & breakfast is at 08:00, I think, but we all know Apollo’s waking his kids up when the sun rises. 

A lot of the time, someone will just start out with whatever song they have stuck in their head & everyone else will pick it up.

Sometimes, this leads to members having the aforementioned song stuck in their head for the rest of the day.

Even the people who aren’t musically inclined will sing along, as they’re usually drowned out by the music kids that get really into it.

So sometimes those not-music kids will find themselves singing by themselves during the day years later & are surprised to find — they actually sound good?? Or at least not bad??? And it’s because singing is a learned skill & they picked it up.

I’m sure I’ve also read a headcanon somewhere that they sing “Look Down” from Les Mis when they have to do menial chores, but I'm adding “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” from Annie, “Whistle While You Work” from Snow White, “Happy Working Song” from Enchanted, & the Smurf song.

They break into song all the time.

Lee was glaring at Tantalus once & made the mistake of saying, “Sometimes, I wish —” and the entire cabin broke out with “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

🎶 — i'd never been born at all! carry on, carry on… 🎶

As mentioned in at least The Lightning Thief & The Lost Hero, they spend a lot of time playing basketball. You can bet your butt they do a rendition of “Getcha Head in the Game” from High School Musical every time there’s a new camper passing by.

They have a sister named Jubilee, and every time someone greets her — "Hey, Jube!" — the entire cabin breaks into “Hey, Jude” by The Beetles.

🎶 hey, Jube! don't make it bad. take a sad song & make it better… 🎶

Sometimes, if there are two campers that really need to get together, C10′ll commission C7 to sing “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid (or the same song with different pronouns, obviously). 

It’s usually a capella unless someone happens to have an instrument on them.

Rickrolling. 

The “Macarena.” 

Apollo takes clandestine recordings of their jam sessions & distributes them professionally. Whatever money’s made goes directly into their college funds or they periodically find it under their pillow tooth-fairy-style.

There’s a lot of denim because the artistic members like to paint on the backs of jackets & the pockets of jeans.

A lot of them have excellent aim with most projectiles, so they toss stuff to each other a lot. This results in them being oddly in sync, so they can catch something from another sibling without warning & without looking like Sam & Dean Winchester do in Supernatural. 

Their life looks like a Dude Perfect trick shot video. 

It also results in some funny looks when they hurl things halfway across camp to each other. Namely, the whistling Nerf football. 

C7 is two stories. The second story has paint on every wall. 

The east wall upstairs has arrows mounted that got Robin Hooded along with a little tag with the name of the C7 kid & the date it happened.

They also have arrows mounted from the first bullseye if there’s a member being taught. 

Lots of musical instruments & art supplies up there.

There’s an old T.V. up there. They have all of Bob Ross’s show on V.H.S.

C7′s south wall (ground floor) holds the door to the bathroom on one side & a door leading to the stairs. 

It also hosts framed photos of Charlotte, Lee, & Michael.

Instead of saying “shoot,” they say “loose.” For everything. Instead of saying “Shoot!” when they drop something, they say “Loose!” 

It's kinda one of those things — like your friend starts saying something & you just integrate it into your vocabulary subconsciously.

They like to play a game where you shoot an arrow straight up & try to catch it as it comes back down.

That sounds really stupid on their part, but it actually comes in handy when someone tries to shoot them in combat & they catch the arrow, dumbfounding whoever's attempted to skewer them.

The cresting on their arrows is in Morse code of their nickname (·—— ·· ·—·· ·—··). They can take one look at an arrow & tell what’s whose.

And the paint color of the cresting tells them what kind of arrow it is — bullet tip, broadhead, explosive, etc. 

Every bunk in C7 is made with hospital corners. No exceptions. The kids who aren’t medically inclined learn because all the beds being made the same way makes it look cleaner for inspection.

I can’t decide if Apollo kids have really good eyesight so they fit the Hawkeye bill or if they’ve all just read — Apollo’s the god of knowledge — & painted so much they’ve messed up their eyes.

The number of times one of them has used bowstring wax on an art project in a rush instead of glue is hilariously large.

I use String Snot, and it comes in a container that looks like a glue stick.

A lot of them wear bracers all the time.

When the time it takes to sling one’s quiver onto one’s back, grab one’s bow, knock an arrow, & draw is so long, one really doesn’t have time to also strap on their bracers before rushing out of the cabin to threaten a giant bronze dragon.

Not to mention if they use a recurve, they’ll also have to string their bow.

And a number of them do use recurves due to the abilities to both knock multiple arrows at once & to restring in the field.

Bows with risers coated in golden, reflective paint & limbs painted with artistic strokes.

Trick arrows are their jam. C9 is constantly being asked for new arrows.

Explosive arrows, sonic arrows, grappling hook arrows…

That’s another saying they’ve all taken to: “___ is my jam!”

There’s a bookshelf or reference material on Apollo for new C7 kids (as Rick’s indicated), but the rest of the case is full of medical journals & textbooks & books on art & poetry & divining the future.

A lot — if not all — of them have either gold flecks in their eyes or central heterochromia.

Freckles across their noses & shoulders & on the tips of their ears. Tans. Sun-bleached hair. 

Long, nimble fingers perfect for playing musical instruments.

Either they hate the winter because the sun's out for less time (so you’ll find them walking around with blanched skin & faded freckles & with both a hoody & a parka on), or they’re perfectly fine with winter & are used by everyone around them as walking space heaters. 

They spend a lot of time with Castor & Pollux. 

Rachel sits at T7. She’s practically an Apollo kid at this point. 

While her cave was being renovated, she stayed in C7.

Their dad’s the god of truth; none of these M.F.s can lie worth a sh¡t. 

But, by the gods, they can tell when you’re lying.

And they take it as a personal insult. That you (A) would dare do something as immoral as lying in the first place & that you (B) would dare to insult their intelligence in such a way because you thought they couldn’t tell.

C6 & C7 are both known for reacting outrageously when their intelligence is insulted (see: chapter 10 of The Battle of the Labyrinth). 

The more civil of the reactions of a C7 kid being lied to is cursing the liar to tell the truth, which I believe they can. 

They can curse you to speak in rhyming couplets; they should be able to curse you to tell the truth.

You mean to tell me none of these kids have created a functioning Lasso of Truth yet?

This one's really long. 😅

A lot of people fancast Sam Claflin as Apollo, but I'm going with Ross Lynch. 'Cause I do what I want. 😎

Visit my Apollo cabin Pinterest board or my headcanon masterlist.

DISCLAIMER ━━━ These headcanons are what I consider to be canon in my fanfictions. They may be others’s headcanons I’ve subconsciously filed away in my noggin. If one’s yours and you want it removed or credited, please send me your post and let me know.

[oigimi]

. owlet .

. mozart and baby oc . found family . 1.9k words .

here’s a found family fic that’s been in my head for awhile now! i really hope you like it. mozart seems like the kind of guy to have a daughter

A cry filled the mansion’s halls, piercing the ears of all who heard it. It was relatively late at night, and everyone was gathered at the front door, staring at quite the unusual package. Gifts and shipments would grace the mansion’s front doors often, but this… this was something entirely different. Rather than a case of Rouge or Blanc, or a bouquet of roses or anything in the ordinary, the residents of le Comte’s mansion stood in front of a baby girl in a basket, with a tag attached reading, “My name is Asuka. Please take care of me.”

“Asuka… Just like- Ah, never mind,” Sebastian started, waving his hand. He bent down to pick the screaming infant up, only to have her screech even louder, and swat her hands around in an angry little tornado.

“Sebas, you’re holding her wrong! You need to-” Arthur’s attempts at calming Asuka were even more fruitless, with her fighting to wriggle out of his arms. He passed her on to Theo, who scared her. She was given to Comte, then Leonardo, then eventually everyone in the room before being returned to her basket.

Vincent looked downwards, his mouth tugged downwards in a frown. “What do we do? I feel so bad for her, she won’t even stop crying. Poor little baby…”

“Broer, she tried to bite you!”

“She’s just little and scared! You were like that too once, Theo.”

As the younger brother clammed up, a final face showed itself that hadn’t been present before.

“What’s all this noise? Whatever you’re all doing, can you wrap it up soon? Or perhaps be a little quieter?” Mozart hissed, marching right up to his roommates and their new problem. He caught sight of Asuka and wrinkled his nose. “Arthur, did one of your little flings catch up with you?”

“No! She’s just a darling little thing that showed up on our porch and we simply can’t get her to stop crying. If you want to get her to be quiet, why not try and hold her?”

Mozart looked at the screeching infant, whose face was reaching a color as hot and fiery as her hair. “No,” he simply said. Babies were messy and loud and provided everything he didn’t want in his life. But, Arthur was right. If there was any way he could try and fix the problem, it was to try and hold this thing. Mozart took a deep breath and took the baby out from the basket, shaking his head and awkwardly cradling her in his arms. “There… there. I suppose.”

“You’re supposed to bounce her,” Vincent chuckled, guiding Mozart into rocking Asuka to the rhythm of his heartbeat. “Just like that.” They looked down, and everyone’s faces melted into shock when Asuka finally stopped crying. Her big, glossy blue eyes were coated with tears, but she stared up in wonder at Mozart, or rather the feather in his jacket. She reached her tiny hand out to grab it.

“No. You’re just going to put it in your mouth and get sick.”

Asuka scrunched her face and pouted, reaching a little harder for the feather. She fussed, to which Mozart simply scoffed.

“No.”

“No!” she echoed, shaking her head. “No, no!”

“She’s already learning to speak like him,” Arthur snickered. “Oh, isn’t that just precious?”

Mozart glared at him as he tried to keep the baby away from his feather. He sat down on the couch, holding Asuka away from his body as if she carried a disease. “How long do I have to hold this thing?”

“Until she goes to sleep. Mozart, can’t you take care of this baby for just one night until we can figure out what to do with her?” Comte asked, tilting his head to the side. “It would mean you can get to your music faster, anyway.”

He looked at Asuka, who was still making fruitless attempts to obtain Mozart’s jacket feather, scowling in contempt at her. “Fine. But only for one night.”

“We all know how ‘just for tonight’ goes. You’ll be with her on her wedding day now!” Dazai mused, earning another deep scowl.

“I am not fathering this child.”

Asuka began to fuss, wriggling around and squirming in Mozart’s arms. He moved his arms so that she was gently pressed against him. “There… I suppose.” He swayed his body to the rhythm Vincent showed him, slowly patting her back. Before he knew it, she was yawning and her grabbing began to stop. “Hm. I’m putting her down to bed. Then I’m going back to my music.”

“Are you sure you should leave her alone? I think she’s gotten quite fond of you!” Arthur chuckled. ���You might just wake her up if you leave.”

“Are you serious?” He groaned and looked down at the baby. “I guess I’m going to go to sleep too. The sooner I sleep the sooner time moves forward. Goodnight.”

Without another word, Mozart made a quick stop in the kitchen to warm up some milk. He swiped some chocolate, and glanced down at Asuka. She looked so… relaxed. So cute, even. Mozart couldn’t deny that he didn’t like babies, but the child he held in his arms felt a little different. He didn’t like her very much, but he couldn’t let anyone else take care of her. For some reason, it felt warm in his chest when she would only relax in his arms. As if he was meant to be her father in some way.

He grabbed a second, little cup with this in mind.

When he got to his room, Mozart made a tiny bed on the carpet with layers and layers of blankets and pillows, and laid Asuka down in it. She stirred, and made little cries in her sleep. Was she upset that Mozart had set her down? Could she even tell? It didn’t matter, he still felt a little bad for her. “We’ll get you a proper bed tomorrow. I couldn’t put you in a drawer or in your small basket,” he sighed. “You’re annoying and I don’t like you, but you’ll get a crib tomorrow. Goodnight, owlet.”

------

The next morning was full of diapers, crying, hissy fits, and screaming. Sebastian had run to pick up some basic supplies, but it ultimately did very little in the vampires’ battle against a fussy baby. She didn’t like peas, she didn’t like corn, and Vincent had to learn that babies can’t eat pancakes. What could she eat that would make her happy?

“Warm milk,” Mozart huffed, taking some off the stove. He poured some in the little cup he’d carried and let it cool off to a safe temperature. With some strict, yet gentle coercion, he managed to bring the cup to Asuka’s lips and help her drink as much as her tiny stomach could handle. “What was so hard? Babies like milk.” He grumbled a bit and cleaned out the cup. “Morons.”

“Well well well! You really are like a natural father to her!” Dazai chuckled. “What did we predict?”

“Nothing. I’m just not a fool,” Mozart snapped back, lifting Asuka out of the chair and burping her. “The plan today is to get some more supplies. But I am shopping for them.”

“Are you sure you do not want anyone to help carry anything?” Jean mumbled. “I can hold items at the store for you and help take them home.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Jean’s workplace ended up with a bit more than he expected, with a nice crib and mobile and a lot of bottles and sippy cups. The Frenchman blinked at the juxtaposition between the baby supplies and the items of war he sold in the shop. Mozart mentioned only taking care of Asuka for a few days. The abundance of furniture seemed like overkill.

At a nearby store, Mozart stood next to a stroller with his fussy responsibility inside. He scanned the shelves for toys, putting a set of blocks, paints, and a few stuffed animals inside. He stopped, however, when he laid eyes upon a stuffed snowy owl. “Just like Schelm…” he chuckled. He took the toy off the shelf and held it to Asuka. “Do you want an owl? An owl for the owlet?”

“Ow,” she replied, reaching out for the toy. “Ow!”

“Is that your way of saying ‘owl’? Alright, here you go. Be nice to it.” He paid for the toys and found himself looking in the stroller at the baby. She was cuddling her new toy and inspecting its wings and rubbing it, inspecting it for anything of interest. “It’s just a stuffed animal. Silly,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you home now. I have a feeling you’ll start screaming here in a moment.”

By the time night had arrived, the crib, bookshelf, mobile, and toys were all set up. Asuka was shaking a rattle on the floor when Mozart picked her up. “Alright, it’s time for bed. Come on.”

“Noooo!” she cried. “Nooooooo!”

“Yes. Come on.”

She fussed and began to cry, reaching down at the floor for her rattle.

“No rattles in bed,” Mozart huffed. “Here, I have something you can take in bed.” He reached down on the floor and handed her the stuffed owl. “Here. Your owl.”

“Ow.”

“That’s right. Your ow,” Mozart chuckled, setting Asuka down in the crib with her stuffed toy. “Goodnight, Asuka. You’re a silly little owlet who needs plenty of sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, he wound up a music box and turned off the lights.

------

“Papa, can I get the first slice?” Asuka asked, beaming wide at a large cake in the kitchen. “Better yet, I want the whole thing!”

“You can’t have the whole cake because you’ll get sick. You have my sweet tooth.” Mozart finished moving the cake to the table and sighed, “I can’t believe you’re sixteen years old now.”

“Old enough to get a boyfriend!”

“Let’s not go that far.”

“But you said when I turned sixteen I could!! Papa, you’re being unfair.”

Mozart chuckled and ruffled his daughter’s hair. “Alright, go sit down at the table.”

She did as she was told and grinned, admiring all the presents everyone in the mansion had bought for her. From personalized books from Uncle Arthur to a paint set from Uncle Vincent to expensive clothes from rich Uncle Comte, Asuka was surrounded with so many luxuries given to her by the people who loved her. She was adopted into the greatest family she could imagine, and by the best father she could ever want. Sure, Asuka had a bit of an attitude sometimes, but she always knew when the important things needed to be said.

“I love you Papa,” she murmured, getting up and hugging Mozart. “Thanks for taking care of me, and thanks for all the birthday gifts.”

He smiled, embracing his daughter tightly in his arms. “I love you too. I love you so, so much, Asuka. You gave my life and music meaning like no other… Are you crying?”

“N-no! I don’t cry!”

“Okay.” He kissed his daughter’s forehead and sat down at the table. “No matter how old you get, whether you’re sixteen or sixty, you’ll always be my little owlet. I love you so much, and happy birthday.”

[crystaljins]

Finding Christmas again

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 21K

Synopsis:  After a lifetime’s worth of turbulent and miserable Christmases with your family, you finally make the executive decision to spend this year’s Christmas alone. 

However, when you take home a box of old Christmas decorations from your friend’s shop, it seems that this Christmas is set to be different from the others.  

ChristmasScarecrow!Tae x human!Reader

Notes: Here it is!!! My contibution to the @thebtswritersclub​ secret santa (and also their monthly holiday prompt, Holiday/festival)!!!  And my secret santa is.... *drum roll*....

Hi @pars-ley​​, Merry Christmas!!!!! I hope you enjoy your secret santa!! 

Anyway, I know the premise sounds weird but bear with me!!!! It’s kinda cute, I promise!!

Rating: PG13

Genre: Fluff, angst

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, fighting, alcoholism, depression, mean step-siblings (OC’s family). Mentions of house break-ins, some kissing and some ANGST, santa is real, really poorly explained world mechanics that are kind of glossed over because I’m lazy LOL

For you, the start of the Christmas season is always marked by Seokjin unboxing the stock for his December-long Christmas sales. Any stock from the previous year that didn’t get sold gets lined up along the shelves along with a few new trinkets here and there. He pulls out a series of dusty cardboard boxes, soft and collapsing from age and within are numerous fraying, gaudy Christmas decorations he likes to string around the shop to give off a bit of a “festive” atmosphere. Of course, an overstocked, tacky dollar store can only be so “festive” but Seokjin never seems deterred. 

This year, however, marks a change. You sit amidst towering, overflowing shelves whileJin beams at you over the counter of his tacky dollar store and slides the first of the decrepit and infamous cardboard boxes towards you. 

“If you’re being stubborn and insisting on spending Christmas alone this year, at least put up some decorations.” He insists. Hesitantly, you peer inside- the tinsel has lost some of its magnificent sparkly mane, but it’s still passable and there’s a few tangled lights that you know from experience may have a bulb or two blown but are still somewhat useable. 

“I guess I could,” you reluctantly agree. Your small apartment could definitely do with a little apartment sprucing. “You’re not going to decorate this year?” You question. Jin shakes his head and beams, gesturing to a series of brand new cardboard boxes, freshly shipped. They’re crisp and upright in a way that makes the old boxes look even more soggy and pathetic.

“I’ve done a little bit of online shopping this year and thought it would be nice to freshen up my decorations. And I know you could use some decorations so I knew my babies would be going to a good home.” He announces, positively giddy with delight. Christmas always leaves Jin on the edge of manic. Starting the month off with his birthday and then finishing it off with the entire world decked out in festivities is like giving him a month-long sugar rush. Nothing says festive season like the terrifying sparkle to his gaze.

“Well... thank you, I guess.” You say. You’re hesitant but grateful. You’re not the kind of person who hates Christmas or thinks the grinch was a victim, but it’s always been a season that didn’t ring as joyful for you as it seemed to for everyone else. After all, for you, Christmas had consisted of you hiding upstairs while your parents had screaming matches while they were still together, and then it had been a mix of being picked on by your step-siblings the years you were stuck with your father, and nursing your mother after she’d get drunk over eggnog and cry over her broken family when you spent it with your mother. Perhaps this is your chance to reclaim the season. “I can load these up in my car and then we can get started hanging up your new decorations?” You suggest, as Jin finishes balancing the till. 

Jin nods absently, counting under his breath, before leaning against the counter with a smile. 

“That would be absolutely fantastic. Your santa hat is in my office- don’t forget it!” He reminds you. You groan. 

“Do we have to do this every year? It’s demeaning.” You complain. Jin nods and then ignores your grimacing, returning to counting the day’s takings. 

With a heavy sigh, you take your time loading the boxes into your car, parked out the back of the shop, before ducking into his office. Sure enough, two embroidered Santa’s hats sit haphazardly on Jin’s desk. You tug one over your head and grab the other for him. 

You’re not sure when this tradition of helping Seokjin set up his shop for Christmas began. If you’re being honest, you’re not even sure when you started being friends with him, but this has been a yearly tradition since he started the shop, and the closest you’ve ever gotten to Christmas cheer. Your job is to string out the decorations in the least gaudy manner possible while Jin arranges his Christmas stock on his already overflowing shelves.

Back in the shop, Jin has just finished locking up when you come down the stairs at the back. He turns to you and beams, before gesturing to the boxes filled with new decorations. 

“Time to put that interior decorator eye to good use, (Y/N)!” He cries, clapping his hands enthusiastically together. You wince- it would take a lot more than some Christmas lights to fix the mess that is Seokjin’s shop. Even a professional interior decorator couldn’t fix this chaotic mess. His shop is ten years past a clearance sale.

Still, you walk over and begin to open up the boxes, sorting through the decorations until you come across an older box. You thought you’d loaded them all, but it looks like you’ve missed one. 

“What’s this box, Jin?” You ask, peeling back the lid to find a series of old, musty decorations. Jin pauses in his detangling of some dangling star lights to look over your shoulder. 

“Those are the decorations I put up for sale every year that never seem to go. Even the words “clearance” isn’t enough for people to want them.” He sighs, and he’s surprisingly melancholy as he looks upon the unwanted decorations. You’ve never had much to do with the things he chooses to sell- frankly you’re a little afraid with the things you may find should you venture into the labyrinth of his dollar store. Curious, you peel back the cardboard flap and peer inside at the myriad of unwanted decorations. 

Oddly, it makes your heart twinge a little, to see the stock that has been stuck gatherinf dust for eleven months. As dramatic as it sounds, you know a thing or two about being unwanted. 

Not that your parents ever implied you were unwanted! It’s just hard not to feel that way when you’re born to a couple who want nothing to do with each other. The constant back and forth between your two feuding parents had constantly made you feel more like a “pass-the-parcel” package than a human being.

And when your dad had remarried, he’d always insisted that you were welcome, but it’s not difficult to see how happy he is in his new family. How his stepchildren’s achievements made him smile or how he’d finally achieved the noisy, warm household he’d always dreamed of. The household he never had with you. And now even your mother is trying new things- she’d asked you to come with her to meet the family of her new boyfriend, but you couldn’t bring yourself to suffer through the awkwardness. 

That’s why you’d chosen to spend this Christmas alone- because you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re an afterthought when it comes to a holiday that involves spending time with your family. You exist, and you share their blood, but they have plans with people they actually chose to be in their lives. You’re welcome along, but not really wanted. 

Jin watches the expression on your face with mild interest. 

“Do you... want any of them?” He questions tentatively. “They’re a bit gaudy, but you could give them a home?”

You grimace at the ugly decorations- it’s not hard to see why no one wanted them. Tacky, corny baubles and cheap little mantle ornaments that a even a seventy year old grandmother would turn her nose up at.

But despite your general distaste, a tuft of red wool at the corner of the box catches your attention. You reach forward and tug it free.

A Christmas-themed scarecrow toy smiles back at you. Tufts of red, woollen hair peak out beneath his little santa’s hat, and two sewed on black buttons make up his eyes. His mouth is a simple stitched black line, a little upwards curve, and a little paint on upside down triangle makes his nose. He’s dress in a flannel shirt and overalls, but the overalls have a little christmas tree embroidered on the front and his flannel shirt has fluffy cuffs like the ends of a santa shirt. He’s sort of charming, if a little strange- why a christmas scarecrow? What an oddly specific decoration. 

“I can kind of see why no one would want these.” You snort, though you don’t put him back. Jin nods sympathetically. 

“This little guy has been with me for years. All the other decorations I bought with him eventually got sold but this guy is still unwanted.” He admits, taking the scarecrow from your hands to examine it fondly. “I even tried giving him away for free once but they didn’t want him.”

You bite your lip at that. The two button eyes stare up at you longingly, and for some reason you feel a sense of camaraderie with this stupid, gaudy christmas scarecrow. 

If you’re taking a bunch of decorations, why not this guy? He clashes with every instinct you have in terms of decoration, but the thought of him sitting on a shelf, unwanted for a month only to go back in this dusty old box at the end of the year is too depressing for you to handle. With a sigh, you take him back from Jin. 

“Might as well, since you dumped all your other old decorations on me.” You sigh.

And you miss the way Jin winks at the little scarecrow when you’re facing away from it. 

++

You actually forget about the decorations for the next few days. They sit in your car, unpacked. You’re busy with work as they rush to wrap up the end of year projects before their deadlines. And it’s not like putting up decorations has a deadline, right? You put them up some time before Christmas and hopefully remember to take them down before February hits. 

It’s when Autumn finally draws to a close and the first of December hits that you’re finally motivated to put them up. You’re in a deep clean kind of mood and when you duck out to your car to chuck out the various wrappers and old papers you’ve built up over autumn, you recall the boxes in your boot. 

The little Christmas Scarecrow is the first thing you pull out once the boxes are unloaded into your home. The little button eyes gaze up at you mournfully, as if scolding you for leaving him unattended in your car for so long. 

“Sorry little guy.” You sigh, straightening and setting him atop your mantle. He looks a little out of place with your decor but it feels right to place him there for some reason. This way he’s in full view of any guests that walk in. “Here. This can be your spot. Front and centre.” You tell him, and from this spot his button eyes look a little less mournful. With a smile, you begin puzzling out how to assemble Jin’s ratty old Christmas tree. 

You’re in the middle of a youtube tutorial on how to make your tree appear fuller when your phone lights up with your mother’s contact image. 

It takes you a few moments to steal yourself to answer her.

You aren’t on bad terms with your mother or anything. It’s just... for a few years after the divorce, when you probably needed her most, she just wasn’t your mother. And she’s done really well and gotten a lot of help and she’s in a really good place right now, but it’s still hard. It’s hard to talk to either of your parents, really. 

“Hey mum.” You finally say as you answer the phone. You can guess what she’s going to ask- every since she found out you wouldn’t be going home for Christmas, she’s been doing her best to convince you otherwise. 

“I was just at the store this morning,” she greets you. “And I saw all the ingredients for that christmas cake we used to make when you were small. Do you remember? And we always made it snowman-shaped and you’d cry when we’d eat it.”

You smile at the memory- it’s one of the very few fond ones you have on Christmas. When you were a very young child, before whatever your parents had between them went sour. Before life transitioned into hiding upstairs and trying to block out the sounds of shouting and being bounced back and forth between opposite sides of the country because your mother and father couldn’t even handle being in the same city together. 

“I do remember.” You say.

“We could make it!” Your mother urges. “Just think- wouldn’t it be so fun? John has a daughter your age, and she loves to bake! She’s so eager to meet you too- we could-“

“Maybe next year, mum.” You say. “I’m just absolutely slammed at work this year. Besides, I’ll be down for your birthday soon. I’d just rather spend Christmas at home, this year.”

Your mother is silent for a moment. You know she didn’t miss the implications of your statement. When you had first moved out for studying, returning to your parent’s place had been “going home”. Even you’re not sure when avoiding your family for the holidays had morphed into “staying home.”

“I... I’m sorry. I know I keep bringing it up, but I heard from your father that you weren’t going to spend it with him either and I... I don’t like the thought of you alone for Christmas.” She finally says. “I know I’ve failed you in a lot of ways, but I don’t want this to be one of them. John’s wonderful and his family would love to have you. We could make room for you.”

You go quiet for a moment. Your mum is trying her very best. You know that- you know that so well and yet you can’t. You just can’t do it. You don’t have it in you to brave through Christmas with either of your parents and play happy families and pretend that the years of misery didn’t happen. You don’t want a Christmas where people are “making room” for you. You want to have a place that is just inherently yours.

“Next year.” You promise. Next year you’ll have steeled yourself. Next year you’ll have it together. Next year you can try again. Next year you’ll be a little stronger and more resilient and then you can face the mess of your broken family.

Your mother sighs on the other end, in a sad, disappointed sort of way. 

“Next year.” She finally says, and there’s a promise in her words. Next year she’ll be better too. She’ll keep trying. 

You stay on the phone a little longer, and when you hang up you just spend a moment in your empty apartment. Boxes are sitting, strewn around you and currently the only decoration is your little Christmas Scarecrow. 

Oddly, he almost looks judgemental as he peers at you through the buttons. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh, getting to your feet and beginning the process of organising the Christmas decorations. “It’s complicated. You don’t know my mum and I know she loves me and I know she’s trying... but it’s... it’s just complicated, ok?”

You continue to ramble as you finish up your decorations. It’s quite therapeutic, talking to an inanimate object. It almost feels like he’s listening- there’s something warm in the little stitched mouth and button eyes. You and your scarecrow, both unwanted on Christmas day. You tell him about your parent’s divorce, about your past Christmases. About Jin and your friendship with him. About your decision to be alone for Christmas this year because neither of your parent’s offers seemed particularly appealing. 

By the time you’ve finish, your apartment actually looks decent. The Christmas tree sits in the corner, decorated with baubles covered in chipped paint and balding tinsel. There’s lights strung across the ceiling and across your mantle and maybe there’s one or two missing spots, and maybe it’s just a little tacky, but it’s warm. It’s home. You’ve carved out a little home for yourself in this apartment, and maybe it’s not perfect, but you like it. 

When you fall asleep on the couch, exhausted, you dream of ringing sleigh bells and cheerful Christmas tunes. 

++

You awaken suddenly. Your heart is in your throat. 

There’s someone in your apartment. You can hear them rummaging around in the kitchen. You don’t know how they got there, but terror fills you. 

The first thing you do is discreetly reach for your phone. You want to call the emergency number but you don’t want the intruder to know you’re awake in case they retaliate. Instead, you shoot a text to Jin. 

There’s someone in my house. You text. The response is almost immediate. 

I’m on my way. He responds. You resist the urge to groan. You’d told him so that he could call the police, not so that he could play hero. 

You roll off the couch and sneak closely to the wall. A metal bat rests there- a housewarming gift from Namjoon when he first learnt you’d be living alone. You never thought you’d have to use it. You never forget to lock your doors and surely no one has the guts to scale a building and come in through your balcony, right?

Still, you’re grateful for it now as you grip the handle tightly between both fists. 

Hesitantly and quietly, you inch towards the kitchen. The light is on and you can make out a figure bustling inside. 

With a cry, you rush forward, swing the back in a downwards arc. 

Only for your terrified intruder to whip around and catch the bat with the palms of his hands. Ignoring the fact that he just caught the full swing of a metal bat without flinching, you try and pull your bat back to tru for another swing. 

But he merely tightens his grip on the bat and this gives you time to take in his appearance. 

There’s a lot of striking things about the man’s appearance. Bright, brilliantly red hair, the colour of Christmas ribbons and raspberries, a straight, prominent nose. A sharp, well-defined jawline and two warm, dark eyes, almost familiar in their dark shade. 

It’s hard to know what to take in first. His startlingly handsome face, his brightly coloured hair, or his outlandish outfit. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look cute in tacky, Christmas themed overalls or a flannel shirt that’s an odd mix of a Santa’s hat and a farmer’s uniform. Complete with the Santa’s hat and the bright red hair, the man could almost be twins with your Christmas Scarecrow. 

“Who are you?” You demand. You attempt another futile tug on your bat, but the man’s grip is firm. 

“Don’t panic, (Y/N)!” He urges. His voice is deep and velvety but edged with a little terror. Your eyes widen. 

“How do you know my name?” You demand. If you weren’t afraid before, you are now. 

“Seokjin said it! In the store, a few days ago!” He cries, still pressing firmly against your metal bat. Despite you pressing your whole weight into it, it doesn’t budge a centimetre closer towards him. 

“So you’re a stalker?” You cry. 

“No!” He counters. “It’s me, (Y/N)! The scarecrow!”

That startles you enough to relax your grip on the metal bat. He senses the lapse in your grip and tugs the metal bat free. He holds it away from you and approaches you slowly, cautiously. 

“I was just making you some hot chocolate.” He says slowly. “You seemed sad after your phone call with your mum and I wanted to comfort you.”

He’s crazy- a crazy guy has broken into your house and has been listening to your conversations for who knows how long, and has been stalking you before that. 

“How long have you been stalking me for, you psycho?” You demand. His eyes widen in horror. 

“I’m not a stalker!” He insists. “I’m your scarecrow- turn around and I can prove it!” 

“What? So that you can stab me while my back is turned?” You demand. You make a grab for the bat. “Get out of my house!”

He manages to throw the bat backwards and grab both your shoulders as you lunge for him. With impressive strength he presses on your shoulders and spins you around. In the same motion, he shoves you forward a few steps and you stumble to re-gain your balance. 

Enraged and terrified, you whip around, ready to retaliate.

Only, he’s gone. Where a weird red-haired man previously stood, your kitchen is now empty. 

The counters are scattered with objects- your milk is out, and an open tin of cocoa, a few of your spice jars are laid neatly next to the pile of pots. 

And, sitting neatly where the man had been not a moment before, is your little Christmas Scarecrow. He smiles up at you, button eyes gleaming like he knows something you don’t. 

You can’t help it- you crumble before it. The post-adrenaline crash hits hard and you stare dumbly at the embroidered smile for a moment. 

“It’s a dream.” You finally conclude to yourself. “This is some messed-up nightmare and tomorrrow this haunted scarecrow can go right back to Jin’s store.” 

You grab it and hold it at a distance, your arms outstretched like it smells bad. 

“This is fine.” You assert. “It’s a dream. Just. Just go back here. And I’ll go... run into a wall or something. And this will all be some sort of fever dream.”

You settle the Christmas Scarecrow back into its rightful spot on your mantle, before turning around. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to run full speed at the wall just opposite. 

“‘Haunted’ is a little much, don’t you think?” The same velvety voice from earlier asks, and you turn to find the very same intruder leaping off your mantle onto the ground. “I’m not a ghost, or anything.”

He comes to stand in front of you, arms folded and lips pulled into a frown. Looking upon him now, you see the similarities to the Christmas Scarecrow- even the loose thread in the embroidered tree of his overall pockets is identical. It... it really is your Christmas Scarecrow, standing before you in human form. 

You nod to yourself, a peaceful wave of acceptance washing over you and- 

No wait, never mind. That wave is nausea- you’re blacking out.

++

When you come to, you’re arranged neatly on your couch with your scarecrow hovering over you. You almost want to faint again, but you hold strong. 

“You’re awake!” He cheers, waving a damp towel around. He’s been dipping it in a bowl of cool water and pressing it against your forehead and you flinch as his actions send icy drops over water scattering across your face. 

“And you used to be a scarecrow.” You grumble, sitting up. You squint and lean in closely, taking in every detail. Each mark on his skin, each strand of bright red hair, the smooth curve of his smile... it’s so human. Probably the most ethereal and beautiful human to walk the planet, but still human. One of his eyelids is a monolid and the other is a double lid and one of his front teeth is just slightly longer than the other and yet the effect is that he’s just so charming. Far too beautiful to be sitting in your tacky, poorly decorated apartment and far too beautiful to be spending most of his time as a cringe-y christmas-themed scarecrow that Jin probably fished out of the bottom of a clearance basket at a thrift shop and thought he could get away with re-selling. “You have maybe thirty seconds to explain before I call the police. Or an exorcist. Or both.”

He holds up his both his hands in surrender.

“Wait. Please.” He pleads. The desperate way he says the words makes you pause. Honestly, the sane thing to do would be to kick him out. Leave the weird, haunted scarecrow out on the street to fend for himself and go about your days as if this particular little supernatural incident never occurred. 

You sigh. 

“Just... please tell me what’s going on.” You finally say. “I won’t do anything drastic, but at least explain.”

Relied and gratefulness shines in his eyes and he clasps your hands gratefully between his own. Your attention is momentarily caught by the way his large hands dwarf your own. The bony prominences of his knuckles catch your attention- they shift and glide beneath his skin as his grip around your hand tightens. For some reason, the tiny action seems huge. You lift your gaze slowly to meet his eyes, which are round and warm. 

“My name is Taehyung.” He explains. “And I’m a Christmas Spirit.”

“Christmas Spirit?” You echo in bewilderment. Taehyung nods eagerly and sits forward. He pulls his legs together so that he can sit cross-legged and wraps his hands around his ankles. 

“Yup!” He says, and he’s surprisingly nonchalant despite the supernatural implications of his statement. “We’re beings that come about from the magic of the season. And our job is to spread Christmas cheer to whoever welcomes us into their home.”

As if that’s just a normal thing that someone can spring on you and not expect you to panic! Yet he announces it like he’s a five year old excited to explain the drawing he made of you in school that day. All you can really manage is to nod mutely for a moment. Despite the absurdity of his words, it certainly sounds like what you had done- taken a tacky, unwanted Christmas decoration and welcomed it into your home. 

“And that’s you, (Y/N).” He says warmly, and the way he says your name is so fond. Like you’re his oldest, most valued friend. It startles you- you don’t think you’ve ever had the syllables of your name pronounced with such care, like they are a precious gift. “You are the first human to ever welcome me into your home. All my friends eventually found people to take them, and I’m the last one to remain. I’ve never gotten to fulfil my duty, not even once.”

“Why not?” You croak out. Why was there a random little christmas ornament in Seokjin’s store that held this kind of power? Why did it end up with you? Who was this mysterious man in your house, gazing at you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him?

“Well, it’s probably not hard to tell.” He admits, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck and then adjusting the santa’s hat atop his head. “Not many people want a Christmas-themed Scarecrow for a decoration. At least not around here.” He sighs. But then he turns to you and his gaze is bright. It’s a little blinding, his mega-watt smile, and it’s certainly overwhelming to have the full force of it directed at you. “But you gave me a chance! You took me home!”

“So... you spread Christmas cheer for me? What does that even mean? What happens when you finish?” You say, leaning back just a little to give yourself room to breath. His scent fills your nostrils and it’s overwhelming. A pleasant mix of christmas scents- gingerbread, cinammon, peppermint. It sits thick in the back of your throat like the pleasant burn of a hot, sweet drink. 

He looks surprised at the line of questioning and a frown replaces the warm, glowing look he’d borne just moments earlier. 

“Well, I’m not sure. I suppose when I finish then you put me away for a year or you pass me on to someone else.” He admits. “This is my first time, so I’m still learning the ropes.” He’s a little sheepish as he admits it. But then his gaze lights up again and he pulls himself up onto the couch so that he can sit shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “But spreading Christmas cheer is just helping you enjoy the season! You haven’t had a great experience with Christmas, right? I can help!”

You stiffen as you recall earlier that day; you had essentially aired all your dirty laundry to what you’d thought was an inanimate object. Taehyung now knew more about you than even some of your closest friends did. You’d unintentionally opened up and made yourself vulnerable to some guy you hardly knew. The thought has you recoiling. You’re not against the idea of opening up- certainly when people ask the right questions, you’ll answer honestly. But people rarely ask and you’ve never volunteered. No one has has access to every dirty detail like Taehyung now does. 

And for some reason that thought has you terrified.

“I’m... I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Taehyung.” You volunteer quietly. Taehyung stiffens at the tone of your voice. “You seem like a nice enough guy. Or spirit. Or scarecrow. Whatever you are. And I hope that one day you’ll find someone you can give lots of Christmas cheer to. But I didn’t sign up for this. I don’t want any of it- the “Christmas cheer” or the festivities, or anything. I’m just...” you inhale deeply. “I’m just trying to make the most of what I have.” 

You get to your feet, your back facing him. 

“You can stay the night, but I’ll take you back to Jin in the morning. I’ll see if I can convince any of my friends to take you, if you like.”

A slight tug on the sleeve of your jumper stops you from leaving. You glance down at your wrist. Taehyung has just the tip of your sleeve, pinched between his fingers. It’s not enough pressure to stop you from leaving. The slightest tug would liberate you from his grasp and you’d be free to go back to your room. 

“No one else will.” He admits quietly. There’s a sort of heart-aching tone to his voice that makes that tiny grip feel like he’s handcuffed to you. “I waited for five years in that store. I’d sit in a box for eleven months of the year, and hope that this year would be the one someone chose me and every day of December that passed I’d watch people walk right past me. And before that, I was passed around from store to store. People would keep me in the store until they realised I’d never sell and then they’d palm me off to someone else. They didn’t even have the guts to get rid of me. And I’d watch as the objects around me got chosen. They got sent to good homes. But never me. I have waited twenty five christmases for someone to let me in. You’re the first.” He quietly admits. He hasn’t changed or adjusted his grip on your sleeve. Just that tenuous, fragile grip, that little bit of hope that can be snapped at any moment keeps you in place. “Please.” He breathes. 

You stare at his fingers, at the tacky cuffs of his sleeve, at his hopeful, pleading expression. 

You don’t have to do this. He’s asking you, but he won’t force you. You can say no and have the bleary, lonely Christmas you’d originally planned. You can keep pushing everyone away and forever allow Christmastime to be a holiday of heartbreak for you. 

Or you could let this random Christmas Scarecrow and his sparkly, bright eyes into your home.

“Ok.” You finally say. “My work hasn’t shut down yet so I’m gonna be super busy for the next few weeks. But in between you can give it a go.”

The answering smile he gives you in turn has your heart fluttering in anticipation. 

Maybe Christmas won’t be so bad this year.

++

Although you had had every intention of welcoming Taehyung into your home and applying yourself to the festivities as best you could, your workplace dials everything up to eleven over the next few days, just as predicted. Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t whine or complain. He spends most of the day while you are at work in his scarecrow-form or binging netflix on your account and he spends his evenings stretched on the couch, or beaming at you over dinner. It’s kind of like having a loyal golden retriever to come home to, but maybe with better manners.

It’s actually kind of pleasant. You occasionally catch him humming Christmas tunes and he keeps leaving his Santa hat in strange places but otherwise he’s a rather nonintrusive roommate. He even makes you dinner on occasion and he’s not a terrible cook.

 It’s only as the weekend approaches and you’re contemplating how to spend it that it occurs to you that Taehyung hasn’t left the house once. It’s not like he can just wonder down the street in his scarecrow outfit- it’s not exactly designed to withstand subzero temperature. And you’ve been so slammed at work that it never occurred to you that you’d essentially let the poor guy stay with you and then left him to the equivalent of house arrest.

“Do you do much during the week?” You ask Taehyung across dinner that night. You had quickly learned that he does need to eat and shower and sleep like every human but he can stave it off by staying in his scarecrow form, and so dinner time had just become a shared meal most evenings. He had even waited in his scarecrow form for you to get back on the days you had finished late that week. He pauses through a mouthful of pasta and looks up, cheeks bulging. 

“Not much.” He confesses, after a noisy swallow. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.” He reminds you. 

Guilt churns in your stomach and sours your dinner. You had promised him you’d give him a chance, and yet here you were a week later, making him fend for himself in an unfamiliar and empty apartment with nothing to do but watch netflix and raid your pathetic excuse of a pantry.

“Right.” You sigh, thoroughly chastened. “I... forgot. I’m sorry- work just hit me really hard.”

“It’s fine.” Taehyung dismisses. “It’s my job to entertain you, not the other way round!”

You stir awkwardly at your food, still unable to dispel the guilt.

“Even so... we could go somewhere tomorrow, if you want? I have the weekend off.” You offer as nonchalantly as you can. “If you’re here for the rest of the month, you’ll need clothes. And proper bedding. We can pick that stuff up and then do some other things.” 

He positively beams at your offer and it’s jarring. You aren’t used to such joy at such simple things. It’s so easy to win a smile from him, but rather than make his smiles seem meaningless, it just seems to make them brighter. You’re not used to earning such easy affection for so little and it leaves you unsure what to do with yourself.

“Really?” He questions eagerly. “The whole day?”

You duck your head slightly to disguise your fluster. You’re not even sure why your heart seems to race at his smile. Perhaps because you’ve never seen such a beautiful person smile quite like that. 

“The whole day.” You reassure him. “I can make up for this week- I really didn’t mean to ignore you like this.”

Taehyung shakes his head. 

“Don’t be silly!” He scolds you. “You told me that work would be busy. It just means we have to make your weekend even more enjoyable to make up for a missed week.”

He gets abruptly to his feet, wiping pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth. 

“Oh, I have so much to plan! Can I borrow your laptop? I have to plan our day!” He asks. A little startled, you merely nod at him in bewilderment and he grins determinedly to himself. “Ok! My first day on the job. Here I go.”

He storms off and then performs a quick u-turn. 

“After I clean up my dishes.” He recalls sheepishly. 

The next morning you shuffle into your kitchen a bit bleary-eyed and still in your pyjamas. Taehyung never seems to be tired or grumpy no matter what time of day it is, and so it’s not surprise that he’s up and humming to himself as he cooks breakfast for the two of you. 

He hears you shuffle in the kitchen and glances over his shoulder to smile at you and it catches you off-guard for some reason. You’ve gotten used to him cooking meals, to his singing, even to just his general presence, but you can’t seem to get used to the way he seems to just smile so easily. Something about the way the wintery sun streams in through the windows and catches the tips of his hair and gilding the sharp edges of his handsome face is just ethereal. You can believe he’s not a human in that moment- he’s too gorgeous to be one.

“You’re up!” He cheers. You shake your head to try and rid yourself of your strange thoughts and shuffle forward to scrutinise the breakfast he’s preparing. 

“I’m making a Christmas classic.” He informs you when he notices you attempting to peer over his shoulders. “At least, according to her.” He gestures to your ipad on the counter, where he has one of those food blogs run by stay-at-home mums that write essays on their blogs instead of the actual recipes. This one seems to have a picture of tacky santas made from pancakes and whipped cream. 

Looking at Taehyung’s progress so far, it actually looks fairly similar to the picture, but that’s not saying that much considering the quality of the picture. 

“Isn’t that like cannabalism for you? Isn’t eating Santa basically eating your coworker?” You point out. Taehyung laughs, a full-bodied laugh that makes his eyes curl up into little crescent moons. 

“He’s actually my boss more than my coworker. But he loves Santa-themed decorations. He says it makes him feel jolly.” He tells you. 

There’s a lot to unpack there and so you choose to ignore it by occupying yourself with the cleanup. 

“So I was thinking that we can get some clothes for you today and maybe some other necessities if you’re going to be staying here all month.” You inform him. Taehyung nods distractedly, gently nudging one of the santa pancakes onto a plate. He reaches for a bowl of blueberries, arranging them into eyes and then spraying whipped cream in the shape of a beard. It kind of seems like he’s not very interested in your schedule for the day.

“Tadaa!” He exclaims, showing off his creation. He then reaches for a blueberry and pops it in his mouth. “They’re not bad for frozen fruits.” 

“Looks great.” You praise him. “But the plan for today-“

“(Y/N).” Taehyung cuts you off. He looks a little stern, but there’s still a warmth to his expression that softens the harsh edges. “I told you I’d plan today. It’s my job to make your Christmas season enjoyable. I’m not here for you to babysit- got it?”

Chastened and surprised, you nod meekly. He grins. 

“Good. Now open up.” He says, brandishing a blueberry menacingly between his fingertips at you. Your eyes widen.

“But Tae-“ you protest, and he’s shoved the blueberry into your mouth before you can finish your counterargument. This time, when he smiles, it’s a little smug.

“No “buts”.” He sighs. “Just sit down and enjoy breakfast and trust me. We can pick up some

clothes since the Christmas overalls are a bit weird, but after that, then I take over. Ok?” He demands, and you chew through the blueberry, a little disconcerted.

“Ok.” You finally agree reluctantly. 

Breakfast is a peaceful affair, with the two of you enjoying the pancakes. Cleaning up with Taehyung is almost domestic- there’s something pleasant about having him stand shoulder to shoulder with you, drying the dishes as you wash them. 

Outside is a frigid affair- it hasn’t quite hit the point where it’s snowing outside, but temperatures are definitely creeping lower and lower and Taehyung nearly glows blue in the short sprint to your car. You fix it by blasting the heater the second the two of you are safely secured in the vehicle. 

“So, if you’re planning the agenda for today, what are we doing after we grab you some clothes?” You ask conversationally. Taehyung pauses from where he’s flicking through your phone, scrutinising your spotify playlist like he’s studying it for an exam. He looks up, his eyebrows still furrowed in concentration. 

“Well, I called in a favour from an old friend and booked us a free Christmas bauble painting workshop.” He announces, looking pleased with him. You squint at him and grimace just a little. 

“I don’t know if you know this, Taehyung, but I am terrible at drawing. I’m so bad that in highschool all these kids signed a petition to ban me from it.” You say, completely serious. He stares at you, bewildered for a moment. 

“Surely it can’t be that bad?” He wonders aloud. You just shake your head grimly at him.

One shopping trip later, Taehyung discovers that it is, in fact, that bad. 

“What did Rudolph ever do to deserve this?” He questions in abject horror. You feel your cheeks heat as you curl your hands protectively over your glass bauble. 

“It’s not that bad!” You insist. And then you hesitate. “Is it?”

Taehyung pries your fingers back to expose your masterpiece- splotchy brown paint, sparkles, and a lovely dollop of red paint in the centre. 

“(Y/N).” He says seriously. “It looks like someone walks into Santa’s stable, massacred all the reindeer and then scattered glitter over the scene of the crime.”

You squint at your painting, and, depressingly enough, his description is more accurate than what it’s meant to be. It was meant to be Rudolph, smiling happily through the glass of the bauble. 

“Forget it.” You snap, setting the glass bauble down and moving to get up. “This is stupid, anyway- we still have to pick up a mattress protector for your bed.”

“Wait!” He laughs, grabbing at your sleeve before you can make a hasty retreat. A firm tug from his has you landing back in your seat, face to face with the awful paint spill you call a painting. “I’m sorry! Just relax, ok? This is supposed to be fun.”

“I’m not having fun.” You sniff. “I told you I wasn’t good at painting and now you’re laughing at me.”

Taehyung winces. 

“Well... it’s not totally unsalvageable.” He finally compromises. He picks up the bauble, examining it for a moment. And then he picks up the paintbrush, and with quick, precise strokes of his paintbrush, he morphs the brown splotch formally known as Rudolph into a sort of sleigh-shape, and the red-splotch is rounded into the curve of Santa’s belly. “There.” He says, satisfied. You blink in wonder at the new creation. It’s still a little ugly and a little streaky, but it definitely doesn’t look like someone went on a Christmas-killing spree. “How’s that? Now you just have to decorate the sleigh an add sparkles. Surely you can’t mess that up.”

“You underestimate me.” You deadpan at him, and to your surprise, he snorts with laughter. A couple of the other people painting baubles glare at you, and Taehyung merely offers them a merry grin. 

“There used to be an elf like you at Santa’s workshop. No matter what he did, he’s somehow always mess up painting the toys.” Taehyung recalls, shaking his head fondly. “The two of you would get along.”

It’s the second time he’s mentioned it, and this time you can’t keep your curiosity at bay. 

“So... does that mean you’ve met with Santa? The Northpole and all that is a thing?” You ask. Taehyung nods. 

“It sure is! It’s where all Christmas Spirits grow up. We get raised there and taught about the best ways to spread Christmas cheer and then we get sent out to spread the cheer.” He sighs warmly. “I was top of my class.”

You grimace as you picture it. Dozens of Christmas Scarecrows, sitting at tables, studying books on how to paint the perfect Christmas bauble. 

“And so you just... get kicked out after a certain age? They raise you and send you out to sit on a shelf for eleven months of the year and then follow silly Christmas traditions for the last one?” You question him, and for a moment you’re horrified by the loneliness of such an existence. “Wouldn’t you... just get sick of Christmas? Spending your life only ever being in Christmas mode?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Taeyung reminds you as he sprinkles glitter over his painting of a snowman. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the idea, but you feel like he’s slapped you. “This is my first official Christmas on the job, remember? I haven’t had a chance to get sick of it yet.”

That makes you go silent. 

Taehyung seems to pick up on the way the mood has shifted. He stops detailing the buttons of his snowman painting and glances at you. Your eyes are wide and slightly misty.

He’s never felt particularly sorry for himself. Sure, the many years he’s spent gathering dust on a shelf have been lonely. He missed his friends, and all he could ever dream of was getting to sit on a mantle as he watched a family enjoy Christmas. That would be the closest he’d ever get, and that’s been his dream for so long. 

But for some reason, with you looking at him like that, the ache that he’s sought so hard to push down resurfaces. It’s like a damn breaking; it’s soothing. To have someone look at him and actually be acknowledging how hard and lonely and painful what he went through was. 

“I’m ok now.” He reassures you, though his voice is a little hoarse. The sheen to his eyes is a little less brilliant, and your heart aches for him as you process the twenty-five year wait that Taehyung has endured. “After all, someone welcomed me into their home, right?”

You blink- that someone is you. You’ve welcomed Taehyung into your home. Christmas is perhaps even lonelier for Taehyung than it is for you, and yet all he seems to want to do is make it enjoyable for you. 

You duck your head, distracting yourself by stirring the tip of your paintbrush in the bright red paint. 

“I guess so.” You finally say. You offer him a tentative smile. “I guess I have a responsibility to make this your best Christmas ever, then.” You resolve. 

Taehyung is silent for such a prolonged moment that you’re forced to face him again to ensure he hasn’t died. When you do, what you find is him gaping at you like a Christmas tree just sprouted from between your eyebrows. 

“What?” You question, a little defensively. It’s hard to interpret the look on his face. 

He shakes himself, coming back to his senses. 

“Nothing.” He reassures you. “I just realised that you’re a bit rare to smile, is all.”

Something about the look in his eyes has you feeling flustered- your fingers tremble enough that you knock over the glitter and it spills across Taehyung’s newly bought trousers. You get up quickly, horrified, but he laughs it off. 

“I think we’ve done enough damage to these baubles.” He says with a warm smile. “We still have things to buy, right?”

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Taehyung drags you from store to store, excited by the smallest things. He stares at a Christmas-themed hot chocolate for so long that you end up having to buy it for him. The look of gratefulness in his eyes is unparalleled and almost makes up for the fact that you literally have to plead with him to buy actual clothes and not just ridiculous Christmas Sweaters. In the evening, you wonder the shopping district, appreciating the lights that line the main street in brilliant arrays. 

When you slump down on your couch beside Taehyung that night, showered and ready for bed, you’re exhausted to the bones. Oddly, it’s not the same kind of tiredness you feel after a long week at work or after you’ve had a long argument with your mother. Instead, it’s a satisfying fatigue- like you’ll drift off quickly and dream of christmas lights and children’s laughter. 

“How did I do for my first day?” Taehyung yawns from where he is sprawled on the couch in a similar position to you. 

“Good.” You say, turning your head to glance at him. The dim light of your living room softens the slope of his nose, and his dark eyes catch flashes of the light that makes it seem like his irises are tiny little galaxies. There’s something so inherently peaceful about the warmth of his presence beside yours .

“I’m glad.” He says, though his lashes flutter and you too find yourself fighting off the comforting waves of sleep. He shifts and turns his head so that his cheek rests against the couch and he gazes at you. “Hey (Y/N)?” He calls gently. 

Your eyes are closed by this state. 

“Hmm?” You hum, in acknowledgement of his statement. He’s quiet for a moment before he ask.

“Why did you want to spend Christmas alone?” He asks. You blink open your eyes and look back at him. His gaze is steady and unwavering. But it’s not scolding or judgemental- instead he just seems curious. 

“You told me about your parent’s divorce and all their fighting on Christmas... but I heard the way you spoke to your mother on the phone too. You want to spend Christmas with her, don’t you? You just... can’t?” He asks. “You said you didn’t want the Christmas cheer... but you still took me home and decorated for Christmas. You painted the baubles and drank the hot cocoa and did the Christmas shopping... why do you pretend to hate it all?”

If it were anyone else, you would probably stop the conversation there. You have no interest in delving into your long, complex family history only to be met with looks of confusion, or worse, pity. 

But somehow, in the short space of a mere week, Taehyung has become someone you feel safe opening up to. Perhaps it’s because he’s already heard your whole story already. Or maybe because of the way he genuinely just wants to see you smile despite there being no substantial gain for him other than job satisfaction. Or because he’s proven himself trustworthy in the little ways he’s slotted himself into your life, like sharing meals. Whatever the reason, you don’t clam up like you usually do. 

“I don’t pretend to hate it.” You tell him softly. “I just got sick of trying to love it.”

Taehyung is silent for a long period of time. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, exhausted and sleepy. The weight of your confession hangs in the air, and the moment is strangely intimate. 

Then he smiles. 

“Then I’ll keep trying for you.” He promises. 

The two of you don’t manage to stay awake for much longer. Eventually the long day catches up to you- you drift off first, with one of those rare but peaceful smiles on your face, and Taehyung follows suit soon after.

++

The week that follows is one of the worst you’ve had in a while. You’re putting in ridiculous amounts of overtime and everyone is a little on edge from sheer exhaustion and the mounting stress of deadlines. 

And in that time, Taehyung is honestly a lifesaver. It’s remarkable, being able to come home from another hellish day at work to find him with dinner ready and a crappy Christmas movie set up. You spend your evenings laughing and unwinding. It’s not like you don’t have friends who will come rushing if you tell them you’ve had a bad day, but there’s something special about the way Taehyung does it. With bright smiles and easy laughs and an infectious joy that seems to chase the fatigue that plagues you away. 

It’s towards the end of the week that you hit your limit. You’re not really the type to cry much. You’ve always been fiercely independent, and your upbringing meant that you were the kind of child to retire to your room and work things out for yourself when you felt the need to cry. It’s not like crying ever really achieved anything. Maybe the occasional sad scene in a movie would get you, but usually you’re the kind to feel sad internally.

But after this particular day, you’re close to tears. Your boss had yelled at you, one of the major projects you had been working on just hit a major snag, and you found out your favourite coworker was leaving. 

All you can thing about as you walk in the door is spending another peaceful evening with Taehyung. You’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time to expand his taste past cheesy Christmas movies and had even made a list of films he may like during his lunch break. You swing open the door to your home, eagerly rushing in and calling out to Taehyung so that he knows you’re home. 

And that’s when your phone goes off. 

It’s your father, probably the last person you want to talk to right now. 

Unlike your mother, who at least was trying to make up for the ways she’s screwed up in your upbringing, your father has never acknowledged his part in their divorce. It was always what your mother did wrong, how she let him down, how it was because she changed and wanted different things. He was the kind of man who always wanted a big family, and he had adored your mother at first. But her pregnancy with you had been difficult and you had, admittedly, been a sickly child. She’s never outright said the words, but you suspect postpartum depression might have played a part in her downward spiral. Either way, she had resolved to have no further children after you, something your father was heavily against. 

You suppose it can’t have been easy- your father had been in love and the two of them had agreed on the kind of future they wanted together- the kind filled with children, a quiet suburban life not far from either of their parents. And for your mother to change so suddenly and drastically would have been devastating and incomprehensible to your father. 

Still, you can’t help the resentment and hurt you feel towards him. Why did you have to get caught in the crossfire of his heartbreak? And then the icing on the cake was his remarriage. 

His wife is a lovely woman. Coming into the marriage with three children of her own, she had treated you with the same love and kindness she expected of your father towards her children. Her children, however, were not bound to such conduct, and made it their personal mission to make your life a living hell. Perhaps they felt insecure over the fact that your father was related to you by blood and they weren’t.

Either way, it put him in a difficult position- perhaps he felt he couldn’t tell them to back off without it coming across as favouritism. But he could have done something- spoken to his wife, or chosen you before the family he married into. But he didn’t. He ignored it and turned a blind eye and to this day he continues to pretend that things are normal. Especially after the birth of your half-sibling.

“Hi.” You say, as you answer the phone. Taehyung has stepped into the entryway with you, watching curiously as you answer the phone. 

“Hi sweetheart!” Your dad calls on the other side of the line. You wince at the unwelcome nickname.

“To... to what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask. You can hear a loud racket in the background. Its probably your half-sister. She’s always been on the louder side, even as a baby. 

“Nothing! I was just thinking it’s been a while since we last chatted. You haven’t been returning my calls.” You have no doubt the sadness in his voice is genuine, yet somehow it feels insincere. 

“I’ve just been really busy at work.” You lie, rather than admit you had seen the missed calls from him and not even bothered to listen to the messages he left. “I haven’t had a chance to call you back.”

“Right... right. No, that’s fine. I’m sure your very busy.” He rushes to reassure you. “I was just calling because your mother contacted me. She was hoping I could convince you to spend Christmas with us.”

You stiffen at the familiar topic. You had thought it had been a little too quiet on her end. Perhaps she had thought that if she couldn’t convince you to come home, maybe your father could. She’s always had this idea in her head that maybe you aren’t close to her because you prefer your father, and it’s not like she can handle having a long enough conversation with him to find out she’s wrong. It’s surprising she even managed to let him know your plans for Christmas. 

“It’s fine. Like I told mum, I’d really much rather spend it here this year. Besides, I thought you all were going away for Christmas this year? We already spent Christmas together last year.” You say, pointedly trying to remind him that Christmas isn’t even a yearly thing with him. He does the contractual every-second-year with you, and then plans fun events with his family on the years he isn’t stuck babysitting. 

“That’s true. But that’s why I’m calling! It took a bit of convincing, but there’s a spot on this trip with your name on it, if you want it.” He tells you. He almost sounds excited, like he’s really done something thoughtful and kind. Not just made some last-minute attempts to shoehorn you in. The invite hadn’t been there to start with, after all. It’s only as an afterthought that he’s made any attempt to add you in- a chance to pretend like things are good. Like the two of you aren’t on rocky terms the rest of the year. Like you’re close enough to go on holidays with your stepfamily. 

“I think I’m fine dad.” You finally say. Taehyung is watching the expressions play across your face with mild curiosity. He probably can’t hear your father’s voice on the other line, but he can see the anger on your face, and hear the wobble to your tone. “You have fun on your trip. I’ll make do here.”

There’s a beat of silence and you hear your father sigh. You grimace- that’s his pre-scolding sigh. The sigh he gives before any lecture he thinks you’ve earned. As if he has any parental claim to scolding you. 

“(Y/N),” your father begins. “It’s Christmas. Don’t be like this- you should be spending time with your family-“

“I did.” You cut him off, and you surprise yourself with the way tears fill your eyes. You squint, trying to keep them at bay. Taehyung watches with alarm as he registers the way you are on the verge of crying. “I spent every year. With you and mum. And then you and then mum and then you and then mum. I tried for so. damn. long. to do the family Christmas thing, but all it ever ended in was the two of you letting me down. Mum was too drunk or you were too busy. And yeah, maybe you guys were going through your own stuff. But don’t you dare try and tell me that Christmas is about family because if that’s what family is, I don’t want it. At least if I spend Christmas alone, neither of you can let me down.” You snarl into the phone line. 

Your father is silent after your outburst. Taehyung watches you, waiting for your response. 

And the tears finally spill forth, rolling down your cheeks. 

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I won’t stop you.” Your father finally says. He sounds hurt, as if you’re the one who’s hurt him. “I guess we’ll see you in the new year. Your sister’s birthday is coming up and Rachel wants to have a big party since she’s ten this year.” 

“I’ll see you then.” You say, your throat raspy and your voice small. 

You’ve barely hung up the call before two strong arms have wrapped around your figure. You go stiff in Taehyung’s arms. This is probably the first time he’s hugged you, and it isn’t unpleasant. Instead, the scent of gingerbread and peppermint fills your nose and it’s strangely soothing. You shift and turn your head just slightly so that your face is buried into the soft cream of his jumper, one of the fresh purchases from the other day. 

“You can cry if you like.” He tells you, and you feel the words rumble from deep in his chest. “I won’t look.” He promises. “That was painful for me to hear, and it’s not even my dad- if you want to cry, then cry.” His voice cracks on the end of his sentence, and you abruptly realise that Taehyung is crying. He’s known you for just a short couple of weeks, and the only nice thing you’ve done for him is not drop a tacky Christmas Scarecrow back into a box of junk, and yet he’s crying just from hearing your half of a painful phone call. 

Perhaps it’s the permission you need. For all of the long, lonely years you were stuck in the middle of feuding exes, you never gave yourself permission to cry. Instead, you’d retire to your room, pressing a pillow to your ears to drown out the sounds of screaming. 

For a long time, you just stand there, sobbing into Taehyung’s arms. He runs his hands soothingly over the back of your hair, and eventually the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulls you into a sense of peace. 

Taehyung is quick to act from there- before long, you are forcefully seated on your couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Taehyung crouches before you, swiping at the tear trails on your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks cautiously. You grimace and shake your head. 

“It’s just the same old stuff.” You reassure him. “Long day at work; daddy issues; the usual standard.”

Taehyung smiles and settles himself beside you on the couch, tugging the blanket from your hands so that he can curl under it. 

“Good thing your personal Christmas Spirit is here to save the season.” He whispers conspiratorially. He leans forward towards the coffee table and grabs your iPad, before pulling it into the safe cocoon of your blanket. “I’ve been researching all day! Tomorrow’s your day off, so it’s week 2 of spreading Christmas cheer.” He announces, unlocking the iPad and scrolling through the internet page he has open. 

You nearly choke on your hot chocolate. 

“Taehyung,” you rasp. Your oesophagus is probably blistering as you speak. “That’s a page for date ideas. This stuff is all for couples.”

“We are a couple.” Taehyung answers, confused. He points to himself and then to you. “A couple of people.” And then he grins at you and you realise he was teasing. 

You snort and can’t hold back your laugh. Taehyung’s smile softens and he leans into your personal space. 

“There it is.” He remarks. Wonder fills his tone. “That lovely smile.” He taps the tip of your nose fondly. 

The smile slips off your face at his words. Lovely? Your smile? He thinks your smile is lovely?

A weird, electric feeling fills you at the thought, and you lean away from him quickly before your stupid heart can get any funny ideas. He didn’t mean anything by that compliment. He’s a Christmas Spirit- it’s literally his job to make you smile. You won’t overthink it and ruin this strange but precious arrangement you have going on. 

Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t look hurt or uncomfortable at the way you’d blatantly pulled away from him. Instead, his smile widens. 

“Good idea. You gotta rest up those smiling muscles for tomorrow or you’ll get a cramp.” He tells you. He then gets up and and stretches, letting out a tremendous yawn. He glances over his shoulder at you with a wink. “Prepare yourself for the best day ever.”

++

Said “best day ever” begins with you staring listlessly up at your ceiling. Taehyung had talked big the night before, promising you a day of fun and enjoyment. 

But you just can’t picture it. You’ve spoken to coworkers and friends before, about the excitement of Christmas. How they see lights or hear carols or even smelling gingerbread triggers this warm, nostalgic and joyful feeling deep in their hearts. But you’ve always felt nothing. Christmas has always been just another day, to you. 

With a sigh, you roll out of bed. 

Out in your living room, Taehyung is fidgeting with your smart tv, trying to get it to play what looks like Mariah Carey’s rendition of “All I want for Christmas is you”. He’s mumbling to himself, and his santa’s hat droops lower and lower on his head. The little white pompom at the end brushes his nose, and the bright red strands of hair that peak out from beneath the cap stick out in every direction. 

Apart from the santa’s hat, he’s dressed remarkably stylishly. That had been a big surprise on your little outing the week before- his impeccable fashion taste. Today he’s wearing a soft, fuzzy red cardigan over a large white t-shirt and tan trousers. 

“The volume’s off.” You inform him. He starts, glancing at you in surprise, before confirming that he has accidentally managed to turn the volume all the way down. “You operate technology like a grandpa.”

Taehyung grins as you take the remote from him, adjusting the volume and selecting the song so that the familiar opening begins to chime through your speakers. 

“You say that like I didn’t catch you yelling at your printer two nights ago.” He chuckles. “Are you ready for our ultimate Christmas adventure?”

He must catch the way your guard goes up, because his smile softens from something amused into something more gentle and comforting.

“Nervous?” He asks. You hesitate, just a moment, before offering a terse nod. 

“Sorry.” You finally settle on. “I just... I’ve tried the “christmas cheer” thing. And it didn’t work Tae. I just feel like... Christmas is just another day.”

“That’s because it is just another day.” He reminds you. “But if you give it a chance, it can be more.”

 You bite your lip hesitantly, and he shakes his head. 

“What if you didn’t think about it like Christmas?” He asks. “How about, today is a day for me to cheer you up after a long week. We’re gonna do fun things and enjoy ourself because we want to. Does that sound doable?”

It does. It’s strangely reassuring and low pressure, and something about his words and the patient, warm light to his eyes puts you at ease. You don’t know why you feel so much pressure about enjoying Christmas but maybe it’s because you don’t want to let Taehyung down. He has so much riding on this Christmas and you don’t want to be the person who ruins Christmas for him. Who makes its a tedious, miserable event like your parents did for you. 

And maybe a small part of you wants to enjoy the season for you. To claim back the years lost to misery and fighting and to share in the merriment that everyone else holds.

“Ok.” You finally agree. “Lead the way.”

Taehyung beams in response. 

First on the agenda seems to be in the park in the centre of your city. Not every year in this place has a white Christmas- some Christmases are just cold and muddy, with a thin layer of ice over dirty pavements. This particular Christmas has been quite frosty, and quite early on- the first snowfall had been earlier that week and now a thick layer of snow coats the ground and clings to thick winter coats. 

“Tadaa!” Taehyung proclaims, waving a hand out towards your first activity of the day. An open carriage, decked out in sleigh bells, and two gorgeous white horses, standing tall and sleek in their crystalline surroundings. 

You creep closer, and their handler spots you. He’s a cheerful man in a formal suit, offset by the bright red santa hat atop his head. He matches Taehyung, who seems reluctant to part with his beloved accessory no matter the time of day.

“You must be (Y/N),” the old man cheers, crowding closer. His horses snort and stamp their feet at his excitement, but he pays them no mind, instead skittering forward to greet you. “Taehyung has told me all about you! Come, get yourself seated and we’ll begin the tour.”

You glance at Taehyung, who merely shoos you encouragingly towards the carriage. 

“How did you afford this?” You hiss at him. He shrugs and smiles. 

“Christmas spirits have connections.” He whispers, before placing a hand on either side of your waist. You smother a yelp as you feel him practically lift you up the first step, and it doesn’t take you much encouragement to scramble onto your seat from there. It’s a vain attempt to distract yourself from the feeling of his large hands encircling your waist. 

“All seated?” Your guide questions. Taehyung nods as he scoots in close to you and that’s really all the warning you get before the carriage lurches forward. 

You steady yourself with a yelp, and an arm around you from Taehyung keeps you upright. You glance at him in surprise and are momentarily caught off-guard by his profile. A thin, delicate smattering of snowflakes has been caught on the breeze and they catch on his hair and lashes. The tip of his nose has gone endearingly red in the cold. 

He turns his gaze when he feels your stare and he grins. 

“Enjoying the sights?” He wonders innocently. You grimace and look away. He merely laughs. “Let me explain to you the logic behind our first activity of the day. First of all, it came as a package with the activity my friend got me for free. Secondly, I thought that it might help you see how little perspective can make the things you see every day so much more special.” He finishes his explanation by pointing an arm across you to gesture at the scenery of the park. He’s right; you’ve seen this scenery hundreds of times, across all seasons, but there’s something special about it in the moment. The warmth of families, covered in thick, puffy jackets, the flutter of chilly snowflakes against your skin, the sheen of frost over the pond on the far end of the park. It’s all familiar and yet in that moment, surrounded by the glimmering sound of sleigh-bells and the stead thud of horse shoes against the pavement, the park you’ve known since moving to this city is different, magical. 

The carriage pulls to a stop beside a crowded pavillion. On the other side, you can glimpse people taking advantage of the outdoor figure skating rink thats set up in the park over winter. 

“Is this our second stop?” You ask Taehyung, as he helps you alight from the carriage. Oddly, though he grasps your hand as he helps you down, he doesn’t release it once you’re on solid ground. Instead, he keeps his fingers wrapped around yours as he waves farewell to the carriage driver. 

“You guessed it!” He congratulates you. “Stop number two; appreciating the fun of winter! Nothing screams winter wonderland like a figure skating rink.”

“Can you skate?” You ask him as he leads you to the skate rental counter. 

“No?” He asks. “But how hard can it be, right? It looked really easy on all the videos I watched in preparation.”

A short while later, you get to bear witness to Taehyung learning just how hard figure skating can be. 

“It’s just like walking.” You attempt to soothe him, all the while wincing at the vice-like grip he has on your hands. “Just keep standing upright.”

“Have I always been this tall?” Taehyung breathes. He’s gone deathly pale, and you don’t think the cold is the reason behind it. “Why is the ground so far away?”

“You can do it.” You urge, still allowing him to cling onto your forearms like he’s about to plummet off a cliff edge and you are the only thing keeping him from certain death. “Come on, Tae.” 

He shoots up straight, eyes widening at the sudden nickname. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong move, because he topples forward, and the only thing keeping him from lying face-down on the ice is you. You’re toppling backwards before you can stop yourself. 

Taehyung yelps and you brace yourself for your head to impact against the hard ice, but it never comes. Instead your head lands in the firm cushion of Taehyung’s palm. Somehow, in the chaos of slipping, he’s landed on top of you but managed to stop you from banging your head. 

You blink open your eyes and for a moment, your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of peppermint and the warm brown of his eyes. He looks just as startled as you are. You feel your face heat and his breath puffs warm against your cheeks, contrasting the chill of the air.

“Maybe figure skating isn’t for me.” He volunteers sheepishly. 

You can’t help but offer a crooked smile. He’s so silly but it’s strangely endearing. He looks surprised at your smile, and it seems that’s the moment he abruptly realises the position you’re in. Quickly, he scrambles off you and helps you into a sitting position. 

“Sorry.” He says glumly. “I thought it would be fun, but clearly I overestimated myself.”

You get to your feet and offer a hand to help him get up. He looks nervously at your outstretched hand. 

“It is fun.” You reassure him. “And it can still be fun. Just hold on to me, and trust me ok?”

Something in his gaze softens and he accepts your outstretched hand. It takes a bit, but with an arm around his chest, you manage to stabilise him between yourself and the wall of the ice-skating rink. 

He peeks up at you through his bright red fringe. His santa’s hat sits lopsided on his head. The smile he gives you this time is different from all the other ones. It’s not as ecstatic or joy-filled. This one is more reserved, almost shy; you feel a bit like you’ve been punched in the chest for some reason when you see it. 

You stretch out your hands again, your hands flat and palms extended skywards, and he place one hand into each of your palms. Even through your thick gloves, your skin feels oddly warm when he holds you. 

Gently, you take slow, gliding steps backwards, while he follows with much smaller, much more jilted steps. 

“It’s just like walking, but smoother.” You explain, and the words are forced through a tight throat. Perhaps the cold is getting to you- that’s the only explanation you can think of for why you suddenly feel so short of breath. 

Taehyung nods, focussing hard on the ice. He gives a big exhale that releases in a huge, cloudy breath, and presses one foot forward. And then the other. It’s not long before he’s gliding along before you. 

“That’s it!” You cheer. “I’m going to let go of one hand now, ok? I can’t keep skating backwards or I’ll crash into someone.”

Taehyung looks a bit fearful, but then he nods with determination lighting his eyes. Slowly, you release one hand and spin so that you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He still maintains a death grip on the hand that’s still grasping his, but he manages to stay upright and not go tipping forward. 

“Ok, here we go.” You say, and you take one step forward, followed by a second, and then a third and before you know it, you and Taehyung are drifting across the ice, albeit slowly and with lots of breaks to allow Taehyung to steady himself on the wall. 

It’s actually quite fun, and relaxing, gliding across the ice like this. Music crackles through the speakers, and the people around you are all enjoying themselves. Surrounded by the bright flurry of December snow, it’s easy to smile and let loose and enjoy the season. 

Eventually, the cold does manage to catch up with you, but Taehyung’s quick to press on to the next scheduled activity before you can feel too sad that the ice skating is over. 

He crowds you off the ice, eagerly urging you forward with a hand planted on either shoulder.

“Hurry! We’re going to be late!!” He informs you. You deliberately slow down at that and he gets so huffy and impatient at your silliness that you find yourself laughing. 

After warming yourselves up with a hot chocolate and some lunch in the warmth of a well-heated cafe, it’s starting to get a bit dark by the time Taehyung leads you to your final activity. He refuses to say what it is- instead he leads you in an increasingly convoluted route on public transport. He gets more and more amused the more unfamiliar with your destination you become, and by the time you step off the bus on the snowy outskirts of the city, you’re starting to think the whole Christmas Spirit thing was an act designed to murder you in a forest somewhere.

Particularly when he claps a hand over each eye, obscuring your vision. 

“Taehyung,” you sigh. “If this is how you’re going to murder me, can’t you at least let me see the knife coming?”

“I’m not going to murder you.” He scoffs, though with gentle pressure, he leads you forward, his chest pressed protectively to your back. “I just want to surprise you.”

“I’m very easily surprised.” You remind him. “I don’t need to be blind in a forest to be surprised. Just give me a box of chocolates after a long day of work or something.”

“Hush.” He shushes you. “Just walk, and trust me.”

You take a deep, inhaling breath and your lungs fill with what has become the calming, warm scent of peppermint and cinnamon. It’s Taehyung, you remind yourself. He’s had plenty of opportunity to hurt you or scam you or even kill you but instead all he’s done is wait eagerly for you to return home and watch tacky Christmas movies with you. 

“Ok.” He says, against your ear, and you shiver at the heat of his mouth tickling the cold tips of your ears. “Are you ready?”

Words fail you for some mysterious reason, so you settle for nodding mutely. 

Taehyung drops his hands from your eyes and it takes you a few blinks to adjust to the sudden onslaught of light. 

What lies before you is a long, brightly lit pathway. Market stalls line the paths, with vendors brandishing their wares. Fairly lights string across the stalls, in various tones ranging from warm-toned white lights to festive blues, greens, reds. Overhead, brilliant archways decorated with marvellous, intricate arrays of Christmas lights mark the path.

“What... what is this, Tae?” You breathe. Your chest hurts a little and this time you’re willing to admit that it has nothing to do with the cold. 

“This is the Annual Christmas Markets.” He announces proudly. “Brought to you by your local council and sponsored by Subway (sandwiches not included).”

You take hesitant, wondering steps forward. You don’t really have any words for the strange, ballooning feeling in your chest. Like your heart is so full it’s about to burst. You feel on the verge of tears yet at the same time you feel free and light and happy. 

“It’s so... pretty.” You say. Taehyung beams and steps in close so that he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. 

“Pretty magical, huh?” He asks you. “I found it on google! Did you know the city throws this event every year?”  

You shake your head wonderingly. 

“I had no idea.” You admit. He tilts his head towards the festivities.

“Then let’s explore!” He cries, tugging you forward with a hand wrapped around yours.

There’s lots to do around the markets. There’s christmas light sculptures scattered around, like a scavenger hunt of sorts. Taehyung’s favourite is the one of a santa formed from wires twisted together, skiing across the snow on a sleigh, two reindeers are standing tall. Your favourite is probably a tunnel of lights, tightly woven together to create an archway as people weave through it- you like the way it turns Taehyung’s bright red hair into brilliant licks of flames, and how his eyes look like they hold the entire night sky within their depths. 

There’s a mulled wine stall, although Taehyung pulls a face at the taste and you have to buy him a hot chocolate to get him to forgive you. 

“I just don’t understand how anyone can dislike Christmas carols!” Taehyung protests across his hot chocolate as the night progresses. You’re nearing the edge of the market stalls, which open up onto a big open space, paved with asphalt and with the snow scraped off it where various families and groups of people are starting to gather. Most of them are in parked vehicles, all facing towards a central stage that hasn’t been lit up yet. 

“If you talk to anyone who works in retail, they just get repetitive after a while.” You explain. “I mean, “Last Christmas” is a good song in theory, but not after the six repeats that played before your lunch break.” 

Taehyung “tsk”’s and shakes his head. 

“I think you just have the wrong associations with the songs.” He sighs. “If you associate it with work and bad things, of course you won’t like it! You have to make positive memories and think of those when you hear the songs.”

The stage lights up ahead of you and a small band starts to take the stage. You gaze at the performers as they prepare.

“Any suggestions?” You ask softly. You surprise yourself, and when you look at Taehyung, he looks a little stunned to. “To make positive memories. What should I think of instead, when I hear those songs?”

He searches your gaze for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth quirks in a little half smile. 

“Follow me.” He urges, leading you across the asphalt towards the stage. You have to duck between parked cars where people have makeshift little dens to enjoy the show from. He brings you to a stop where there’s a bit of a space just before the stage. A few couples have already taken advantage of what is essentially a dance floor. He spins around and pulls you in close. You stumble a little, not expecting the movement, but it seems he was expecting that. He steadies you with a hand against your waist and tugs one of your free arms up to rest on his shoulder. “When you hear this song... you can think about today.” He tells you with a smile. “And about all the fun we had!”

He begins to sway you back and forth in a slow turn. You wonder why his weird Christmas Spirit school taught him how to slow dance. Up on the stage, the singer begins to croon the opening notes of “have yourself a merry little christmas”. You tell yourself its the cold that urges you to shuffle in closer to Taehyung as he sways you from side to side. He’s so warm, and solid. Unbidden, your heart starts to beat a little faster, and when you raise your eyes to meet his, something about the warmth in those dazzling depths has you feeling light-headed. 

“What do you think about when you hear them?” You ask him, changing the subject in an attempt to overcome the strange, overwhelming emotion you suddenly feel weighted with. He spins you out in a twirl, before tugging you back in. 

“Hmm...” he contemplates. “I think about hot chocolates, and snowball fights, and the smell of Christmas trees. And Christmas lights and Christmas bells.” He lists, his gaze hazy as he thinks through his list. It’s a bit of a scary thought, but you could honestly stay here forever, watching Taehyung list the things he loves, being swayed gently in his arms. And then he glances down at you and there’s something so warm and fond in his expression that you feel your face heat. “And I think about your smile.”

A funny thing happens in that moment, after his confession. Your heart goes on strike for a moment- even she seems shocked at the sudden turn of events. And then suddenly the air is electric, and all your senses are just filled with Taehyung. His smell, his eyes, his hair, his warmth... his lips.

It’s a sudden revelation, like being struck by lightening. The look in his eyes seems to thread into your veins, leaving burning trails in its wake. His scent washes into the very bottom of your lungs. You like him. In a very short amount of time, he’s wiggled past all your defences and now here you are, standing in his arms, and you realise you want to stay there. You want to keep seeing his smile and keep spending time with him and you don’t want this Christmas to end. 

The songs draws to a close and you step away from his embrace. He seems to sense your sudden change in mood. 

“Is everything ok?” He asks you and you nod, smiling in a way you hope is reassuring. 

“Yeah. I just noticed how cold it’s getting, is all. Shall we head back home?” You ask. Taehyung blinks and glances around as if he’s just now realising how cold it is. He shivers and steps in close to you. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He admits. “Let’s head home.” He wraps his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your biceps to try and warm you up. “Did you have fun, though?” He asks eagerly. 

“Yeah.” You say, and this time the smile isn’t forced. “Yeah, I did.”

++

A week later, you’re stressed and bustling around the kitchen like a madwoman. 

“Is it golden brown yet or is it just the oven light?” Taehyung wonders, attempting to peer into your oven without opening the door. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just check now?”

Your realisation of your feelings hadn’t changed too much around the apartment. As work for the year finally drew to a close this week, you hadn’t really had a chance to overthink it, and then you’d been busy planning a pre-Christmas dinner upon learning that Taehyung has always wanted to try a family Christmas dinner. You’d insisted upon throwing one despite his protests that he was the Christmas Spirit, not you. Finally, he had relented, and you were keen to return all the memories he had given you tenfold. 

Only a couple of your friends had still been without plans, this late into December. Jin always manages to make time where food is involved, and Dahyun had had to cancel flights back home for the year. She’s also dragging along an old friend of hers, Jungkook, and then Nayeon had invited Namjoon and Jihyo. They’re all good friends of yours, but there’s something about organising a home-cooked Christmas meal that is just inherently stressful.

“The recipe says another ten minutes.” You remind Taehyung in between your attempts to both whip the cream for dessert and finish placing all the appetisers into sufficiently aesthetic containers. 

Taehyung frowns, and straightens. He watches you dance around in a frazzled manner for a few minutes, before catching you by the shoulders. 

“Hey.” He scolds. “I know I said I wanted a Christmas dinner, but not at the expense of your sanity. I don’t appreciate you undoing all my hard work of making you enjoy Christmas.”

You stiffen at the warmth of his palms against your shoulders before taking a deep breath. 

“You’re right.” You finally say. “I’m sorry. I just... I want you to have a good time. I’ve had so much fun these past few weeks and I want you to feel what I feel. I never thought I could ever look forward to something like Christmas, and yet here I am, throwing an entire Christmas dinner.”

“Seeing you enjoy Christmas and smiling like this makes me feel happier than you can imagine, (Y/N),” Taehyung reassures you. “This dinner is just a bonus. I’m grateful for it, but what would make me feel the best is if you’re having a good time.”

There he goes again. He’s remarkably smooth for a strange mystical being that was raised in the North Pole. He’s just so good at making your stomach feel like it’s filled with butterflies and making your heart forget to beat. With a deep, resigned sigh, you nod to him. 

“Ok. I’ll chill out.” You promise, before returning to your preparations in a far more mellow manner. 

Guests start trickling in. Jin just barely manages to avoid a throttling when you see him, after his stunt where he didn’t show up when there was an intruder in your home. It all worked out fine, but it’s always offensive to learn that your friend would leave you to die because he had “an oven emergency”. Jungkook and Dahyun come in bickering over the intricacies over some meme they’d seen, and Jihyo drags in far too much alcohol for the night. 

The night settles into a comfortable sort of atmosphere- people scatter across the living space of your apartment, catching up and just generally enjoying the vibe. Taehyung gets a few probing questions into the nature of your relationship and Jin seems to develop some sort of facial tic with all the eyebrow wagging he’s doing, but otherwise things go smoothly.

At least until it becomes apparent that Jin had taken the liberty of doing some decorating of his own while you were setting up for dinner. 

Namjoon and Jihyo are the first of the victims to the numerous mistletoes Jin has concealed around your home. Luckily, they are dating and so it’s just a quick peck between them to the sounds of laughter and hooting. 

At least until the other attendees realise that if Jin has hidden multiple mistletoes around your home, at any moment they could fall victim to a dreaded mistletoe kiss, with a completely undesired partner. 

From there, things devolve into a terrified, suspicious sort of scavenger hunt. Jin thinks it’s hilarious, watching you all scour the place like sniffer dogs, comfortably reclined on the couch as he shouts out hints that could be true or could be total lies. It’s always hard to tell with him. 

Of course Taehyung, poor, sweet naive Taehyung, had missed the dramatic revelation of Jin’s prank. He had been in the kitchen, dutifully monitoring dessert as it slowly cooked in the oven, and he had only stepped out to check with you when you thought it would be done. 

You feel him tap your shoulder in the middle of combing through your mantle, making sure Jin hadn’t hidden anything amidst the photo frames and decorations that sat there. You jump, surprised, and turn to face him. 

Only for Jin’s screeching laughter to reach you. 

“Victims number 2!” He calls triumphantly. Taehyung looks confused, and you grimace as you finally spot the offending object. A small bit of mistletoe twisted in amongst the tinsel lining your ceiling. You’re not even sure how the madman actually got it there without anyone noticing. 

“Mistletoe!” Dahyun chants, from where she’d been pressed into a corner and snarling at anyone who dared walk close enough to her lest she too fall victim to the mistletoe. “Mistletoe. Mistletoe. Mistletoe.” Slowly everyone joins the chant until your apartment sounds a bit like a cult. 

“Let’s not be hasty!” You plead. “Think about it. If you let me off, then we can all ignore this silly tradition.”

Taehyung, interestingly, has gone very still upon realising the two of you stand beneath a mistletoe. 

“(Y/N).” he calls, audible only to you beneath the chanting. “We can’t leave. It’s a mistletoe- I have to.”

You squint at him. 

“What do you mean? It’s just a silly tradition, why would you have to-“ you begin, before trailing away as it occurs to your that Taehyung is actually not a human. This isn’t two friends caught beneath a mistletoe and talking their way out of a silly tradition. Taehyung is a Christmas Spirit and thus bound to different rules to you. “Oh.” You breathe. “So I have to... do that?”

With a deep blush that nearly rivals the brilliant red of his hair, Taehyung nods. You wince and let your gaze drop. His mouth is a soft pink- one of the first things you’d bought on that first shopping trip had been lip balm after he’d seen you applying your own. He applies it meticulously and his lips are always faintly glossy and soft looking. This close you can count the tiny moles that sit against his skin like little stars, and you feel a little bit like your heart is in danger when you finally draw your gaze back up to meet his. 

His expression is a little hard to interpret, but you don’t let yourself overthink it. You slide your palms up around the back of his neck and tug his mouth down to press against yours. 

Taehyung makes a little surprised noise when you do, and it makes you blush. The smell of peppermint and cinammon is strong but captivating, and you wish you could stay there. You wish you could keep kissing him, but you know it’s wrong.

With a sigh, you pull back. Taehyung’s eyes are round and mystified and the blush sits high on his cheeks. His tongue darts out to swipe his lips and he clears his throat awkwardly. 

“I...” his gaze flickers down and then he averts his gaze quickly. Around you, your friends let out a few wolf whistles before returning to the panicked search for any other offending items. Taehyung’s breathing seems a little faster and you can’t say you’re in much better state. “I just came out to ask you about the dessert.” He finally manages, though his voice comes out a little raspy. You nod, hoping he doesn’t think much of the way you mirror his fierce blush. 

“Right...” you say awkwardly. “I’ll just... go and check on it.”

You dart around him, heading straight for the kitchen. 

When you are there, you take advantage of the lack of other party guests and bury your face in your hands. It was just a mistletoe kiss, it didn’t mean anything and yet your traitorous heart is rioting in your chest, threatening to go on strike. Your mind can’t help replaying the moment- his lips on yours, his familiar, striking scent, the scratch of his ugly Christmas jumper beneath your fingers. The size of this stupid crush is embarrassingly enormous. 

It takes a few moments, but you manage to regain your composure enough to discover that the dessert is very slightly undercooked, which you know Jin will bitch and moan about, but everyone else won’t mind. It’s nothing copious amounts of ice cream or custard won’t cover up. 

When you step out into your living room, it seems the panic over the mistletoes has settled. Jungkook had smothered Jin until he caved and gave up all the locations and now your living room has devolved into a ridiculous Christmas dance party- Jin and Dahyun belt out the lyrics to Last Christmas with absurd amounts of drama and gravitas, and Jihyo and Namjoon are curled up on the couch, murmuring to each other softly. Jungkook has gotten ahold of Taehyung and is currently trying to teach him ridiculous tiktok dances, and all-in-all it’s kind of a dream vibe for a Christmas party. No pain, or fighting, or tears. Just warmth and laughter, and a shared camraderie of the season. 

You find yourself smiling as you finally admit to yourself that maybe Taehyung was right. 

Christmas isn’t so bad after all. 

++

After everyone goes home, you and Taehyung are left to the cleanup. 

It’s a bit awkward, standing shoulder to shoulder after the kiss. His movements are slow and hesitant, like if you move too quickly he’ll get frightened and bolt. But gradually you settle into a kind of rhythm, tidying things up together and you can’t resist asking him about the party. It had been for his sake, after all.

“Did you have fun?” You ask. Taehyung jumps from where he’d been gently working the sponge into a lather and a clang rings through the kitchen. The silence seems more pressing after the loudness of your party. 

“Um... it was good.” He says, though his voice is a little high and squeaky. “I had a lot of fun- your friends seem nice.”

“It’s not really a family dinner.” You admit sheepishly. He pauses and offers you a smile, and the pleasant expression on his face seems to thaw through the lingering ice in the room. 

“No, don’t be silly.” He tells you. “It was everything I could have hoped for. Except for Jin’s interpretative dance to Santa baby. I feel like I could have gone without that.”

You laugh and shake your head, stepping in close to pluck plates off the drying rack and drying them off. 

“This was nothing. Wait till lizzo comes on and then you’ll see peak Seokjin.” You sigh. But then your expression changes and you offer Taehyung a smile. His eyes drop for just a fraction of a second, so quick you think you’ve imagined it, before raising quickly back to your eyes. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

He nods, and hums, still making his way through the pile of dirty dishes. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You pause to think about it. The laughter of your friends, the silly Christmas carols, the snap of Christmas bonbons.... you did. You really, truly enjoyed yourself in a way you didn’t think you could and it’s thanks to the man before you. The man who patiently waited for you to come home each evening to eat dinner with you, and who dragged you across the city to places he thought you’d enjoy... he’s truly a magical person. 

“I really did. It’s gotten me so excited for the rest of the year, to be honest. Are there any other Christmas traditions we can do? Christmas is almost here, but what about New Year’s? We could do something fun then too.” You suggest. Suddenly the season seems so bright and exciting, and the fact that there’s a whole week and a half left to December leaves you unbelievably excited. 

Taehyung pauses from where he scrapes at a stubborn crumb on your baking tray. 

“What?” He asks, and his voice goes strangely soft, and tentative. You blink- something about his tone makes you uneasy. 

“For after Christmas.” You clarify. “You’ve already got Christmas planned out for us, right? So I can plan something for New Year’s. Return the favour.”

By now, Taehyung has completely stopped cleaning. He doesn’t look at you, and stares straight ahead. 

“There... there isn’t an “after Christmas”, (Y/N).” He confesses. Your heart drops into your stomach. He turns to face you, and for once, his eyes aren’t bright, and filled with joy. They’re dark and miserable. 

“What?” You breathe, trying to speak past the sudden shattering sensation in your chest. “Why... why not?”

“I’m a Christmas Spirit.” He reminds you. “I bring Christmas Cheer and then I go back in a box for the rest of the year.”

You blink- you feel like you aren’t hearing him right, or just not comprehending things. 

“Why? I can just not put you away. Why can’t there be an “after Christmas”?” You urge. You step in close, fighting past the sudden panic in your chest. “How could I just put you back in a box for the rest of the year? That’s crazy! Just, don’t go in the box.”

“It’s not that simple.” He protests. “There are rules, (Y/N). I can’t just ignore them. My job is to make you happy during Christmas and then that’s it. That’s what I was born and raised to do. That’s what I spent 25 years waiting for.”

Your eyes widen.

“But surely there’s another way? Surely you don’t want to be in the box.” You cry. You step in close and grab his hand, pulling it towards you pleadingly. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He says, and there’s a resigned note of finality to his tone. “After Christmas, that’s it. I lose the strength to turn into a human. You can keep my out of the box, but it doesn’t make a difference. It ends on Christmas night.”

That makes you fall silent as you finally learn the full truth. You’d been so busy having fun that you hadn’t thought about what comes next. You’d stupidly let yourself believe that you could just keep having fun with Taehyung. You hadn’t thought about the logistics or the long term of it. You feel like you’ve been slapped. 

Christmas has an end date. 

Taehyung spots the tears forming in the corners of your eyes before you do, and his expression softens at the sight. 

“It’s not fair.” You rasp. Somehow, he manages to pull a smile from somewhere, though it’s tinged with a deep sadness that makes more tears spill forth. He steps in close and pulls your face into his chest. 

“I know.” He soothes. “It is. It’s unfair. I want to... I want to stay. But I can’t.” 

You can’t keep your composure after that, and the sobs come in in full force. 

“I wanted to keep having fun with you.” You bawl, and he just shushes you with a tighter hug. 

“I did too.” He confesses. “But it just means we have to have even more fun until Christmas. Can you do that for me, (Y/N)?” He breaks the hug so that he can gaze into your eyes, smoothing the tears from your cheeks. “Please.” He begs. And you see the way his own eyes are red and moist. 

You want to tell him you absolutely cannot. That if he’s going to make Christmas fun and then leave you at the end, he can leave right now. Before you fall even harder. Before it’s too hard to say goodbye. 

But you’re a fool. A masochistic, lovestruck, weak fool. You can’t look into his eyes and tell him no. Not when you know what this means to him; you can’t take away his first Christmas for selfish reason. 

“Ok.” You finally rasp. “I’ll do it.”

You’re walking off a cliff face with your eyes wide open.

For once Taehyung’s smile isn’t enough to comfort you.

++

Christmas day dawns cold and subdued. The days following dinner had been warm, but quiet. Reserved. Like you both knew a goodbye was coming and didn’t want to acknowledge it. You spend one night curled up in your car at an outdoor theatre, laughing along to some silly Christmas comedy, and another day is spent going bobsledding. You both go through the motions of merriment, but it’s clear that neither of your hearts are in it. It’s hard to be enthusiastic and merry when each precious moment that passes is one step closer to when he turns back into a scarecrow. 

When you step out in the kitchen, Taehyung is making breakfast already. He sees you and smiles. 

“Good morning.” He calls. “Merry Christmas.”

It triggers a pang in your chest as his words confirm that this is truly your last day with him. 

“Merry Christmas.” You yawn, attempting to conceal the way your heart aches by settling into a chair at your table. 

Taehyung scurries over, a plate in each hand. 

“Breakfast is ready.” He declares. He’s gotten quite creative in his cooking- he can now manage a fairly decent semi-scrambled omelette and his bacon is surprisingly crispy. You’re eager to see what he has prepared for Christmas Day.

When he sets it down in front of you, however, you glimpse the Santa pancakes he made that first day. Your face falls. Two familiar blueberry eyes stare dolefully up at you and even the banana smile seems less curved and cheerful. It’s clear Taehyung had been a little distracted making them, because they’re not as carefully put together as that first meal. But the sentiment behind them still stands; that Taehyung cooks for you. He likes seeing you smile and he goes to absurd lengths to get you to enjoy yourself and he has for the entire month of December. He’s come to mean so much to you in such a short span of time- somehow he’s made a season that previously only meant cold and misery become a time of warmth and laughter. And now you have to say goodbye, before you’ve even started. There’s so many adventures the two of you could go on together, and yet you don’t get to. It’s so cruel. You’re alarmed when the tears come, unbidden. 

Taehyung watches the expressions play out across your face, before wordlessly reaching out with the sleeve of his sweater to wipe the tears that fall away. His touch is gentle and his expression somber. He hasn’t even donned his usual Santa’s hat.

“I’m sorry.” You say, in a small voice. “I know I said I wouldn’t cry.”

He shakes his head and smiles, pulling his chair up so that it’s seated as close as possible to you. 

“It’s ok. Just means I have to work a little harder. I wanna see that pretty smile, before I go.” He reassures you. You sniff and scrub at your eyes before staring determinedly at your pancakes. 

“Ok.” You say. “Let’s do this, then.”

Taehyung searches your expression, and you’re not sure what he sees there, but it seems to satisfy him. You feel that the last few days, his smiles had been duller and decidedly less genuine, but this time he hits you with the full force of his dazzling smile.

“First things first, we have to open presents!” He cheers. You frown. 

“But I don’t have any presents-“ you protest, but Taehyung cuts you off with a sharp rush of air through his teeth. 

“Then what’s that?” He questions innocently, gesturing to your ratty Christmas tree. 

And sure enough, beneath it is laden with presents. You stare at it for a long time. 

“I didn’t get you anything.” You finally admit. Taehyung laughs. 

“You enjoying my gifts is the present.” He says dismissively, before crowding you towards the tree. “Anyway, it’s a universal Christmas tradition to open your presents after breakfast, and I have failed you as a Christmas Spirit if we don’t do that.”

He slides the first gift towards you and eyes you coyly. “Open this one first.” He urges you. 

They’re all small gifts, relatively inexpensive. You’re not expecting Swarovski crystals from Taehyung considering he’s an unemployed Christmas Spirit. But each gift is thoughtful and sweet and bought specifically with you and your tastes in mind. By the time you open the last of the presents, you’re fighting off tears again.

“I didn’t get you anything.” You lament, sniffling slightly as you set the last gift aside. Taehyung’s eyebrows wrinkle together and his mouth pulls into a pout. 

“I already told you. Just being here is a gift for me.” He insists. “Besides, it’s not like I can use anything you give me for eleven months.”

That causes you to fall silent. You bite your lip as you look away. You had been determined not to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but you can’t do it. You can’t spend the day pretending you’re not on the verge of tears.

“I know I said I wouldn’t. But I can’t keep pretending this isn’t going to happen, Tae.” You say, and when he looks at you, you know it’s the first chink in his armour. He’s held it together considerably better than you, and you’d thought maybe it just didn’t bother him. After all, you were the one with feelings, not him. “At least... you can answer questions, right? If I know more, maybe it will hurt less.”

But looking at him now, you realise that he’s been fighting to stay composed to. 

“What do you want to know?” He finally says, and he’s quiet. Defeated. So unlike the optimistic, cheerful being you’d come to adore. 

“Are you trapped? Will it be be uncomfortable?” You question. “Can you still hear me? Will you... will you be lonely?”

“Not exactly.” He reassures you. “I look like a human but I’m also a glorified Christmas ornament. Time and events are different when I’m a scarecrow. It’s hard to explain.... but it’s not so bad. It’s just... how I am. I’m waiting, but I’m not trapped.” He explains vaguely. “I can hear and see what’s going on, but I just process things differently. Time just... feels different.”

You nod, a little comforted that at least you’re not sending your friend to be trapped in a prison of his own body for eleven months.  

“Am I meant to pass you on to someone else?” You ask. “Or do I keep you here?”

“I guess...” He looks uncertain, and tentative. “I guess it depends how your year goes. Eleven months...” his voice cracks and he clears it awkwardly to hide it. “It’s a long time. You can keep me here, and I’ll see you next December, if you need a little extra help enjoying the season... or you can pass me on to someone else if you don’t need me anymore.”

He’s right. Eleven months is such a long time. Long enough to forget Taehyung and his bright smile and cheery disposition. Long enough to spend next Christmas with your family and pretend like things are ok between you. Long enough... long enough to forget just how much your heart aches today, and fool yourself into doing the exact same thing next year. 

“What do you want?” You finally settle on. It’s the last question of the interrogation. After this, you can pretend everything is ok. You can go on like nothing’s wrong. 

Taehyung’s eyes go wide. He points at himself, bewildered by your question. 

“What do... I want?” He echoes, as if he’s never heard the words before. You nod. 

“I want you to spend Christmas happy.” You confess. “So where do you want to be, next Christmas?”

He’s quiet for so long you’re worried that his brain has stopped functioning or that his weird Christmas Spirit voodoo has kicked in. But when he finally looks at you again, his eyes shine with so much emotion that your heart aches in your chest at the sight. 

“I want to be here.” He finally says. “I want to spend Christmas with you again. There’s so many things we still didn’t get to try, and I want to do them all.”

Your throat goes tight, because yet again, you’re signing yourself up for heartbreak. If you do this, you’re the only one who will be hurt. Pining alone for most of the year for a season you used to hate. The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

But you’re helpless to him, to his smile and his sweetness and his warmth, and you can’t say goodbye. 

“Ok.” You agree. “Then you’ll stay with me. Now let’s have some fun.”

++

The day must inevitably draw to a close. Though you and Taehyung linger at every activity, attempting to draw out each moment, the point in the day comes where the two of you are back at the apartment, with the time drawing closer and closer to midnight.

You unlock your apartment door with trembling fingers and inhale a shaking breath. You glance over your shoulder at Taehyung. He’s a broad-shouldered person, tall and imposing were it not for the warmth of his eyes and his puppy-like demeanour and normally he just seems larger than life. But in that moment, he’s so small and uncertain. 

There’s so much you could say. You could plead with him; try and see if there’s a way to bargain out of the inevitable goodbye. Or you could thank him, from the bottom of your heart, for the first enjoyable Christmas you’ve had in your entire life. Crying feels like a viable option too, or getting angry. Your heart can’t seem to settle on a response and so instead it’s settled on numbness. Like it’s cold, lifeless hunk of metal rattling around in your ribcage.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Is what you finally settle on. He stares searching at your expression, before nodding to himself and squaring his shoulders

“Yeah. That sounds fun. I’ll make us some hot chocolate as well.” He says, stepping past you into the foyer. 

You eventually settle on watching the Polar Express. When you sit on the couch, Taehyung sits far too close and tugs a blanket over both your laps. He hands you a mug of hot chocolate and the two of you settle into a peaceful quiet, opposite from the laughter and activity of the daytime. The evening melancholy seems to have settled in. The whole movie, you don’t really pay attention, instead trying not to think about the way the clock on the wall seems to be moving quickly. 

“(Y/N).” You’re startled when Taehyung calls your name. It’s out of the blue, and you hadn’t noticed the way he’s steadily edged closer until the words are said almost directly into your ear. You’d been watching the clock instead of the movie, and you think for a moment that he intends to reprimand you. You turn to look at him and the proximity startles the breath out of you. “It’s almost midnight.” He tells you, as if you haven’t been glaring the clock down for most of the night. 

It’s true, though- the minute hand is edging closer and closer to the dreaded twelve. It makes you realise that he’s been eyeing the clock as well. 

“So it is.” You acknowledge, and he’s so close that his breath skates against the skin of your cheeks, staring at you with an intensity you don’t understand.

“Did I... Did I do a good job?” He asks you. You press your lips together; in a way he did. You think you may have smiled in this month alone more than you have the entire year. But you also know that the rest of the year will now pale in comparison; the rest of winter will leech by, depressingly dreary, and summer will come and go in muddy heat. The year will both inch and speed by and that whole time you will have the special month of December in mind. The times you spent with Taehyung. 

“You did.” You finally say. “I... Christmas was always so lonely and miserable to me. Where we tried to pretend that things were ok and merry and it would just dissolve into screaming matches. But with you, it wasn’t. You helped me make it into something warm, and beautiful. And even though...” your voice cracks, and it takes you a moment to reclaim your composure. “Even though the ending will be lonely and sad, you gave me all these wonderful memories. I’ll hear a Christmas carol and think of you from now on, Taehyung.” 

When you finally gain the courage to meet his gaze, you’re startled to find tears pouring down his cheeks. He’s been sad and a little misty-eyed ever since he admitted he wouldn’t be around after Christmas, but he’s also been frustratingly composed. 

But in that moment, he’s anything but. He looks devastated as he brings his hands up to press into his eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow of tears.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps. “I tried so hard but... I never imagined Christmas would be like this. I was only supposed to make you smile and then go back to being a scarecrow and that should have been enough but it’s not.”

He’s full on sobbing now, and you can only stare in bewilderment as tears form in your own eyes. 

“I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you, and start the New Year together. I want to see you on your birthday. I want to see you on happy days and sad days. I want to...” he rubs his eyes clear and stares straight at you. “I want to make you smile the whole year.” He confesses. 

And that’s when your phone goes off. You’d set an alarm, earlier in the morning, so that you’d know the exact moment midnight hit. You glance away, for just a moment, dread hitting you full force like a sledgehammer. 

And when you turn back, it’s too late. The familiar little scarecrow stares up at you from the couch, where Taehyung had been seated just moments before. 

And you finally let yourself break down at the sight of the familiar button eyes.

And just like that, Christmas is over. 

++

“Why does your apartment smell like someone’s been dumped?” Jin sniffs as he steps through the threshold of your home, uninvited as usual. You’re not sure how he got in, but he probably had a copy of your key made somehow without you noticing. He’s prone to doing invasive things like that.

“Being dumped doesn’t have a smell.” You snap, from where you had been curled up on the couch under a mound of blankets. 

“Yes it does.” He insists. “It smells like...” he pauses to take one long, obnoxious sniff to the air before wrinkling his nose. “B.O. and cheetos.” He recites. 

You sigh, still not bothering to shift from your blanket nest. You’d been expecting his visit, to be honest. It’s the day before New Year’s Eve and you haven’t responded to his annual New Year’s Eve Bash invite. He’s very intense about RSVPs.

“What do you want, Jin?” You ask. He picks his way delicately towards you, navigating his way through your semi-dissembled Christmas tree before settling before you in a crouch. You’d made it part-way through the post-Christmas clean up before you’d been too upset to continue.

“Well, you aren’t answering my texts or calls. Zero activity on social media, no RSVP to my party... So I thought I’d make sure you hadn’t choked on a piece of tinsel.” He looks around your apartment with distaste. “I’m actually not sure if I’m relieved that you’re ok if this is what “ok” looks like.”

You ignore him, choosing to focus your attention back to Netflix. His expression softens, just a fraction.

“Tell me what’s going on, (Y/N). And where’s.. where’s Taehyung?” He questions tentatively. 

You’re unable to conceal the way your shoulders stiffen, just slightly, at the mention of his name. You’ve been doing your best in the five days since Christmas to bounce back and return to normal life, but you can’t seem to. It’s easier to lounge around on the couch than to muster up the emotional energy to pretend you’re ok. You’ve spent too long pretending you’re ok. There isn’t a single drop of you left that can even try to do so. 

“He had to go.” You say, hating the way your voice goes abruptly raw with tears. Jin’s eyes widen just slightly, and he shuffles closer. 

“What do you mean he had to go? He’s-“ As he said the words, his eyes had been darting wildly around the apartment, but he abruptly cuts himself off when he spots the scarecrow on your mantle. “Why is Taehyung...” he begins, before his gaze flickers to you. 

“Oh.” He exclaims simply, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, (Y/N).” He says, his voice filled with sympathy and sadness on your behalf.

You’re surprised when Jin engulfs you in a hug. You’ve never had that sort of friendship- he prefers to show his love by nagging you. But it’s weirdly comforting and you melt into his embrace. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t RSVP.” You say glumly. “I didn’t feel like celebrating.”

Jin pulls away and scrutinises your expression. 

“Forgive me if it seems probing, but I don’t understand what happened. You guys seemed like you were going great at dinner the other night.” He says. “Why... why didn’t you use his wish?”

You pull back and blink at him in confusion. 

“His... wish?” You echo. Jin nods. 

“All Christmas Spirit receive one wish for their entire career. It was instituted recently, though, maybe only in the last twenty years or so, so maybe Taehyung didn’t know about it?” Jin wonders. 

Your eyes widen. 

“Christmas Spirit?” You splutter. “You mean you knew?”

For someone who’s dropping a bombshell, Jin looks remarkably deadpan. 

“Of course I knew. You think I wouldn’t notice a Christmas Spirit living in my store for five years?” He questions you with exasperation. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

“And you never thought, just once, that it would be a good idea to tell me what I was bringing home?” You demand. He rolls his eyes. 

“Oh please. Like you would have believed me.” He says dismissively. “Little Miss Grinch, hates Christmas, told her weird Christmas Scarecrow is actually a special Christmas Spirit? I’m a simple man, (Y/N). I see an opportunity for a great Hallmark movie, I take it.”

You stare at him in rage, and then something occurs to you. 

“That’s why you never came when I texted you that night! You knew it was Taehyung!” You realise in horror. “What if you had been wrong?”

At least he has enough sense of propriety to look sheepish. 

“Taehyung would have helped you if I was wrong.” He offers meekly. The change in pace of conversation has you deflating. 

“If you knew... why did you let him go home with me? I could have spent Christmas at home, alone, and not be dealing with any of this.” You confess, and Jin softens just a little bit. 

“Well, because I didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone.” He admits. “Every year, you’re so miserable. And I thought Taehyung could change that. And honestly, I didn’t think it would end up like this and even if I did, I thought Taehyung would use his wish.”

“What wish?” You ask. Jin shrugs. 

“Every Christmas Spirit gets one wish throughout their career. Usually it ends up being that they become human, but I know of some who have wished for other things.” He admits. You brows knit together as you gaze at your friend. Where is all this knowledge coming from?

“Jin... just who are you?” You ask hesitantly. He smiles awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m Jin. The same Jin you’ve known for years. But before that, I was a little Christmas bear who spent years trying to make people happy on Christmas day.” He admits. “And one year... I’d had enough. So I wished that I could be human. And here I am today.” He smiles at you. “And it’s not too late. Taehyung can still do the same.” He glances over at your mantle, where the motionless Christmas Scarecrow sits. “Anyway, I have to get going. I was just coming to make sure you were alive.” He gets up and dusts off his pants. “Maybe give the apartment a clean, and then you can sit down and have a nice, long chat with that scarecrow over there.” 

He makes to leave, but can’t resist tossing one last comment over his shoulder. 

“I’m just going to assume you’re bringing a plus one. I’ll change your response to “going” on the fb invite.” 

++

One clean apartment later, you stand before your mantle, gazing into the button eyes of the scarecrow. It’s weird to know that behind them, Taehyung watches you. What is he thinking? Is he sad? Lonely? Trapped? Is he listening? 

You’re strangely nervous. Taehyung had told you that he’d wanted to spend the rest of the year with you, but maybe he changed his mind. Maybe watching you lounge around your apartment the past five days made him realise how lame you are. And if he only gets one wish in his entire career, why would he waste it now? He’s only had one Christmas to live out his purpose as a Christmas Spirit- maybe he’s not ready to give it up yet. Maybe you’re asking too much of him. It’s only been a month; to ask him to become human and face the horrors of the human world is maybe the cruelest thing you could do.

But your heart yearns, and ultimately that it what gives you the courage to begin speaking. 

“I... don’t know how much you heard of what Jin said earlier.” You admit. “He pretty loud so you probably heard at least some of it. But the basic gist... is that you get a wish. Only one wish, so once you use it, that’s it. So, you have to use it wisely.”

You look away and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“And, I understand if you want to save it. You’ve only just started out and maybe you want more time. But I was thinking... if all that stuff you said before is true... Maybe you can use it now. To be a human.” You inhale shakily. The offer is out in the open now. 

The scarecrow doesn’t move. 

“I mean, maybe you didn’t. That’s ok. I’ll be ok if you don’t actually want to spend the rest of the year with me. It’s a lot to ask when it’s only been a month. But I want to.” You squint and you feel the hot prick of tears forming at the corner of your eyes. “This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I’ve never smiled so much before, and so easily. Something about you makes it so easy. And I was never brave enough to say it, but I like your smile too. I like it so much. It’s ridiculous that you can say my smile is lovely when you can look in the mirror and see what your smile looks like. And I... I don’t want to only get to see it on Christmas. I don’t want to spend eleven months waiting for you but the ridiculous part is that I will.” You admit. “I’ll just keep comparing things to the time I spent with you. I’ll spend eleven months of the year waiting for you’re smile. And that’s because... I really like you, Tae. So much- no, too much. I like you too much.” You’re full on crying at this point. “So please. Spend it on me. Wish to be a human. Wish to be here the rest of the year.”

You fall silent, and still, the scarecrow stares at you. Unmoving, unchanging. 

You smile helplessly, before scrubbing at your eyes. He doesn’t want to use his wish. That’s ok. He doesn’t have to. It was stupid of you to think that he would.

You sniffle and open your eyes.

Only to be engulfed by two arms around your body.  

“I like you too much as well.” Taehyung gasps. It takes you a moment to process- your face is smushed into his chest and his arms hold you securely. “I didn’t know about the wish. But... I want to keep spending time with you. I’d have spent it on you a hundred times over if I’d known.”

You go to pull away so that you can see his face, but he doesn’t give you the chance to because his lips are meeting yours. 

It’s a sweet kiss but also a little clumsy and eager. Like he’s worried time is running out. 

Gradually, the urgency fades and he pulls away. At this proximity, you can see the way his lashes frame his bright eyes, and the way his eyes crinkle into little tiny half moons. It’s a little surreal, being able to gaze upon him so freely when just last week you’d been prepared for a goodbye. 

“So... you’re a human now? You get to stay?” You ask. He pulls back and squints at himself. 

“I guess so. I can’t seem to turn back into a scarecrow so I guess... that I’m human now.” He says.

You kiss him again, after that. It’s soft and sweet and perfect. When you pull away, his eyes are hazy and his expression is unfocused. He looks adorably dishevelled and distracted, and then he offers you that smile, the one that makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. His fingers come up to delicately trail over the paths of your face, like he’s trying to memorise what you look like. 

“You’re smiling.” He breathes, his tone filled with wonder. His thumb comes up to reverently trace the curve of your lips. “It was your smile.” He confesses. You blink up at him in confusion and he chuckles in response. “It threw me off guard. At the ornament store. Up until that point I’d been so nervous whether I was in over my head with the whole Christmas spirit thing. And then you smiled at me and it wasn’t even because of anything I’d even done and suddenly I wanted to keep that smile on your face.” 

You flush, a bit flustered by his admission, but he isn’t finished, apparently. 

“It’s so pretty. You’re pretty.” He insists. “When you kissed me under the mistletoe I thought my heart was going to burst and then I remembered what I was. That I’m a Christmas Spirit and that I don’t get to do this. I get your smile at Christmas and then that’s it.” He smiles self-deprecatingly at himself before it shifts into something warmer, and fonder. “But now... now...” he trails away, too emotional to continue and he settles for pulling you into another tight embrace, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. All you can smell is that comforting scent of peppermint and cinnamon, and you melt. “Now I get your smiles the rest of the year too. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the year with you.” He confesses, a soft, whispered confession into the warm crook of your neck. 

And there’s lots to do, and things you need to work out now that Taehyung is by your side as a human. Your relationship with your parents isn’t fixed, and he doesn’t have a job or a source of income, and there’s still some remaining Christmas decorations that need to be placed in storage. 

But that’s ok. You’ll both work all that out together eventually. After all, you have the rest of the year to do so.

[juuten]

The Hyodos | Juza Hyodo

Anon says: May I please have Family with Juza? Like, maybe Juza is introducing his s/o to his family or something cute like that? Merry Christmas, by the way!! 💖💖💖

Aimee replies: Thank you so much for your patience, anon! Of course you may! But since I only finished this approximately 8 months before Christmas time again, I wish you a very advanced merry Christmas!

Anyway, I really enjoyed making this fic despite revising it a lot of times. Hopefully, you guys will enjoy reading it too! Btw, the story takes place before Act 2 so Kumon’s not in the MANKAI dorm yet. 

For ‘A December With You’ writing event.

You tightly gripped the basket as you stared at the house before you. It was a simple modern Japanese house, but it was not just “someone’s” residence. That place was where your boyfriend and his family lived! You have no clue on what your boyfriend’s family was like. Were they the interrogating type as if you were a criminal for dating their son? Were they the demanding family who required a fifty-page report on why you loved your boyfriend? Or were they the doting kind wherein they would already plan for their son’s wedding?

You stiffened as something warm enveloped your trembling hand. However, your shoulders quickly relaxed when you saw a familiar large hand wrapped around yours.

“What’s wrong?” Your boyfriend asked. Besides the blush that painted his cheeks, you noticed the concern behind his golden eyes.

Coming up with a bunch of descriptions for his family was too embarrassing to admit. Hence, you said, “It’s just... I’m really nervous.”

“Just be yourself.” Juza squeezed your hand.

You looked down on the ground. “But what if they still won’t like me?”

The chilling breeze nor the honking of the cars were unable to distract you from this unnerving silence. You shuffled your feet. You knew it was a difficult question for your boyfriend. After all, Juza highly valued his family’s opinions. He always considered their thoughts in all of his endeavors.

And you understood that you were one of those endeavors.

You were snapped out of your trance when you felt Juza’s hand on your head. You looked up to see his tender smile, making your heart pound.

“’m sure my family will like you ‘cause… I really like you,” your boyfriend quietly but firmly said.

A soft smile made its way on your lips. No matter how irrational his reasoning was, you felt assured. Perhaps it was because of his sincerity and Juza’s faith in you, himself, and his family.

Before you could reply, the door suddenly slammed open. “Ah! Nii-chan, you’re already here!”

The younger boy jumped on your boyfriend and hugged him. Juza almost toppled on the ground if not for his fast reflexes. As he quickly wrapped his arms around his younger brother, Juza let out an exasperated sigh. “Kumon, that’s dangerous, you know?”

Kumon giggled. “I just missed you so much, nii-chan!”

Then your gaze met with the younger boy. Unwrapping his arms from his older brother, he curiously stared at you. “Nii-chan, is she your girlfriend?”

Juza nodded. “Her name’s (First Name) (Last Name).”

You held your basket with one hand while you stuck out your other hand to the young boy. “H-hello! Nice to meet you.”

As he accepted your handshake, the young boy grinned at you. It was so bright that it rivaled the sun itself. “Hello! My name is Kumon Hyodo. Thank you for always taking care of nii-chan!”

You shook your head. “I am always in Juza’s care. Thank you for having a great nii-chan.”

Kumon’s eyes sparkled. “Nii-chan’s so great, right? One time, there was a robber in a convenience store. And…!”

As Kumon continued to ramble on, you smiled. You could see why Juza said before that everyone loved him. His presence was warm and comforting. It was also cute to see Kumon fanboying about his brother. With that, you understood why your boyfriend had this fond look whenever he talked about his younger brother.

Juza suddenly patted his younger brother’s head, momentarily distracting him. “Kumon, go help mom and dad set up the table first.”

Kumon’s eyes widened. “Oh! You’re right!”

You waved your hand. “You can continue telling me about your nii-chan later, okay?”

Kumon happily nodded before quickly entering the dining room. Then Juza scratched his head. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

You chuckled. “It’s alright. I find it touching that your baby bro loves you so much.” Your laughter increased when Juza's cheeks became a dark shade of red.

After calming each other down, the two of you removed your shoes. Juza let you enter first, closing the door when he set foot in the living room.

“Excuse me for the intrusion,” you said.

As your boyfriend led you to the dining room, a woman in her mid-forties stopped chopping some fruits and turned to you. Her wrinkles were noticeable but her grin stood out the most. Now you knew where Kumon had gotten his sunny smile.

“Hello, (First Name)-chan! We’ve been waiting for you.”

You bowed at Mrs. Hyodo and presented your basket. “Thank you for having me, Hyodo-san. Please accept this as an advanced Christmas gift.”

Mrs. Hyodo gasped at the bottles that filled the basket. “Thank you so much for the condiments! I will gratefully use them in my cooking."

You grinned. "You're welcome, Hyodo-san." Mr. Hyodo, who was standing beside his wife, peeked at the basket. Without a word, he slowly took it and placed it on one of the shelves.

As Juza sat on the chair nearest to him, you chose to sit beside him. You gaped at the food on the table - salad, miso soup, braised pork belly, wagashi and even a Christmas cake. All of them looked like a three-star Michelin chef cooked them.

Your eyes widened when you saw Kumon placing a plate of (Favorite Dish) on the table. You shot a questioning glance at your boyfriend. Juza rubbed the back of his nape as he said, “I asked mom if she could cook your fav food.”

"Nii-chan even chose the ingredients for it!" Kumon proudly declared as he sat beside his beloved brother.

“It was so sweet of Juza!" Mrs. Hyodo squealed as she set down the plate with fruits beside the salad. Then she sat down on the chair across from you, Mr. Hyodo following suit.

All of you clasped your hands. "Thank you for the food!"

While you wanted to savor Mrs. Hyodo's cooking, you could barely focus on eating. Mr. Hyodo's eyes scrutinized your every move like surveillance cameras. As an attempted distraction, you chatted with Mrs. Hyodo. However, Mr. Hyodo's gaze was too intense to ignore.

It was when you were drinking water to cool your nerves off that Mr. Hyodo suddenly spoke, “(First Name) (Last Name), what do you see in my son?”

You choked on your water. Juza rubbed your back, his worried eyes looking at you.

"(First Name)-san, are you alright?" Kumon said. You nodded despite almost dying because your air supply was momentarily cut off.

Mrs. Hyodo sighed at her husband. "Dear, don't go asking such questions so suddenly."

Mr. Hyodo averted his eyes from you and mumbled 'sorry.' You shook your head. “It's fine, Hyodo-san. And to answer your question..."

Two words immediately popped into your head when you thought of your boyfriend. Without any hesitation, you said, “I see Juza’s his passion and dedication in everything he does, especially in acting.”

Kumon's head popped into your view. “Then (First Name)-san, have you watched ‘Picaresque’?”

“Of course! Closing night was amazing! Actually, every performance Juza’s in is really good.” You beamed at your boyfriend who suddenly had the urge to chug down a glass of water.

“Yeah! But I really want to see Nii-chan as Luciano again.” You chuckled as you saw the familiar sparkles in Kumon’s eyes.

Mr. Hyodo cleared his throat. “I have another question for you, (First Name)-san.”

Cold sweats formed on your forehead as Mr. Hyodo’s (golden) gaze at you defeated the freezing air outside. With a deep and threatening voice, he said, “Do you like sweets?”

You slowly blinked. Did your ears hear Mr. Hyodo's words right?

Seeing your frozen state, Juza sighed at his father. “Dad, that’s unnecessary...”

After recovering from your initial shock, you managed to reply, “Well, I’m willing to eat sweets if it’s with Juza."

“If that’s so, I can bake some for your dates!” Mrs. Hyodo giggled, making the younger couple blush.

Meanwhile, Mr. Hyodo put his interlocked hands beneath his chin as he intently stared at his son. Juza stopped eating his cake and looked up. When he locked eyes with his father, Juza stared back at him with the same fervor.

In the middle of the fierce staring contest, Mr. Hyodo gave a thumbs up with the same serious expression. “I approve of her.”

You were unaware of how much you held back from breathing until you let out a deep sigh. Then your lips curled upwards. Meeting with the Hyodo family wasn’t as bad as you previously thought.

[imagineyourworld-old]

The Duchess and the Captain (Part One)

Captain Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader 

Summary: Regency AU! Marrying Duke Palpatine was not your idea of a perfect marriage, but meeting a certain Captain in his personal guard might make up for it. 

Warnings: This is in no way historically accurate and the names I came up with are truly terrible, mentions of sex 

Check out my other works: Masterlist 

------

Of course you had always known you’d one day have to marry a man your parents chose for you. And yet you couldn’t stop hoping and wishing that you wold marry a handsome, kind man, maybe even someone close to your own age instead of the older men your friends were married off to. But these dreams stopped the moment your parents told you who they had chosen as your husband.  “Duke Palpatine is a very respectable man with a huge fortune”, your mother had told you.  “He will provide for you and any children you will have”, your father had added.  “And he’s old, if you’re lucky he’ll die sooner rather than later”, your brother had tried to console you. Of course your parents hadn’t appreciated that comment.  But now here you were, in a carriage larger than any you had ever traveled in, on your way to your new home.  Just hours after the wedding ceremony your new husband, though part of you still refused to call him that, had told you he’d need to leave for one of his many estates first thing in the morning. And after the wedding night, which you refused to think about, he left with most of his men, leaving you to travel to your new home without your husband.  “I can tell you miss him already”, your mother smiled. She was accompanying you to your new home and would stay a few weeks to help you get settled until the Duke’s return.  You turned away from the landscape you had been looking at through the window. Deep down you knew you had no reason to be mad at your mother, all she had done was make sure you were married to a wealthy man. It wasn’t her fault you were not allowed to choose your own husband, nor that Palpatine had proposed and your father had accepted the offer. In fact, you didn’t even know whether your mother had any say in the decision.  “It’s hard to miss someone you only knew for a single day, even if that someone is your husband”, you told her.  Just as she opened her mouth to reply the carriage came to a sudden halt and a moment later someone knocked on the door.  You opened it just a little bit to reveal General Skywalker, the leader of the troop of your husband’s personal guard that was accompanying you.  “General”, a small smile found its way to your lips at the sight of the friendly face and you opened the door a bit wider. “Why are we stopping?”  The young General bowed his head ever so slightly while still keeping eye contact.  “We were just informed that part of the way was flooded due to heavy rains last night, your Grace. I thought it best to stop at this inn for tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.”  You tried your best to smile politely, even though this unexpected stop was the last thing you wanted right now.  “Of course, General.” 

-------

Just a few minutes later General Skywalker lead you into the main room of the small inn, your mother following with the Captain, whose name you had not yet learned.  “If you’ll allow, my lady, I will arrange the rooms while you wait with Captain Rex”, the General said. He turned around to look at the other man and you did the same.  Of course you had noticed him from a distance, but from up close you could see that his eyes were not dark, but a light caramel brown and even hints of brown roots where his hair was growing out.  “I will be just fine with the Captain. Thank you, General.”  Only a moment after General Skywalker left another man approached you. He looked so much like the Captain, you assumed they must be related somehow. He bowed to you and your mother before turning to the Captain to tell him something in a quiet tone. “ “Alright, Fives”, the blond agreed after a while. Just as the other man turned to leave, however, your mother asked him to escort her back to the carriage to get some personal belongings she didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on.  “You don’t mind waiting here for me, do you, darling?”, she asked you. You shook your head and just a second later you were alone with the Captain.  You tried your hardest not to look at him and inspect your surroundings instead, but you could feel his eyes on you. His stare, though burning, felt protective and comfortable rather than threatening, but after a while it made you face him nonetheless.  “Is there something you want to say to me, Captain?”, you asked in your best Duchess voice, a tone you still needed to practice a lot more based on the glint in his eyes.  “Nothing at all, your Grace.”  You nodded. A small smile graced his handsome face and there was a certain warmth in his eyes you did not expect from someone in your husband’s guard.  “I must admit, you are not like I expected you to be”, he finally said after a moment of silence.  You knew it wasn’t his place to say such things, and based on the shadow that took over his features he knew as well, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued.  “I do hope that’s a compliment”, you said with a smile. The first real smile, you suddenly realized, in weeks.  The Captain nodded.  “It most certainly is. You are younger than I expected, kinder, and more beautiful as wel-”  “Captain”, General Skywalker interrupted his kind words.  Any warmth disappeared from the Captain’s face as realization set in. He stood up even straighter than before as he turned to face the General.  “I am sorry, sir. I should not have said those things.”  Even though you barely knew the man you could tell General Skywalker was fighting a smile and there was a hint of amusement behind his sinister expression.  “You should apologize to the Duchess, not to me, and hope she was not offended by what you just said.”  The Captain turned back to you with a blush on his face. He wore a schooled look of remorse and respect, but there was just a hint of fear in his eyes.  “I was not offended, Captain Rex. Quite the opposite, you paid me very kind compliments and I should hate for you to be punished for that.” Your last words were directed more at the General than the Captain.  “T- Thank you, my lady”, the blond stuttered with a look of utter relief on his face.  You would have liked to say something else, maybe even compliment him in return, but your mother’s arrival destroyed any thought of that.  “I would like to be shown to my room now”, she said.  Her words, her posture and her tone made you realize how inappropriate your conversation with the Captain had been. A Duchess should demand respect and not talk to her guard as if he were her friend, even if that guard was good looking and nice and made her feel like a person for the first time in a while. 

--------

You stood in front of the grandest and most beautiful house you had ever seen in your life. How this could be called a house instead of a palace was, quite frankly, beyond you. There were more windows than you could count, a polished facade and flowers growing all around it.  You could hear a soft “oh” coming from your mother, who stood a few feet behind you. It would take you a while to get used to the fact that your mother, being a lady, would now always stand behind you, the Duchess of Empireshire.  In front of the house stood the servants, from the butler and the housekeeper to the gardeners and kitchen maids. As if on command they bowed or curtsied the moment your eyes landed on them. When they came up again a good looking man with a well kept beard approached you, followed by a beautiful woman with the kindest eyes you had ever seen.  “Allow me to introduce myself, your Grace. I am the butler, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And this is  Satine Kryze, the housekeeper. Welcome to Senatehall.”  You gave both of them a smile you hoped looked graceful, even though you felt incredibly out of place. In this moment you were supposed to have your husband by your side, to take your hand and guide you to your new home. Though you supposed being alone was favorable to having Palpatine with you.  “Thank you, Kenobi, Kryze.” At least you knew how to address your new employees. “Thank you for this kind welcome. I am very much looking forward to exploring this breathtaking house, but for now all I want is to retire, preferably with a cup of tea.”  You could almost sense your mother’s nod of approval. This was how a Duchess was supposed to behave, not getting lost in a Captain’s eyes in a roadside in. A Captain you had not even seen all day.  “Certainly, my lady”, Kryze, though you couldn’t help calling her Satine in your mind, said. She waved and a young woman approached. She could not be much older than you were, though you considered her to be a whole lot prettier.  “This is Padmé. She will be your lady’s maid, unless of course you brought your own with you.”  You shook your head to tell her that you had not. In fact, you had never even had your own lady’s maid and had shared one with your mother your whole life.  “It is nice to meet you,Padmé.”  She smiled.  “Nice to meet you too, my lady. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?”  With a single nod from you Padmé ushered you inside.  Though you could see how beautiful and expensive everything was on the inside, you were too tired to actually pay attention to anything.  “I hope everything is to your liking. I took the liberty to redecorate a bit, but of course you’re free to change anything you like”, Padmé said as she opened one of the doors in the very long hallway. She stepped aside to let you enter and you found yourself in a stunning sitting room.  Two small sofas were in the middle of the room with a table between them. The walls were lined with shelves, some filled with books, other with small trinkets or flowers. Next to the huge windows overlooking the park stood a small writing desk with nothing but a picture of your husband on it, which you decided to ignore for now.  “Padmé, it is beautiful”, you told the other woman.  She lowered her head in thanks, but you could see a smile gracing her lips. “I am glad. Would you like to see the bedroom and the bathroom before your tea arrives?”  The bedroom was just as beautiful, though a bit smaller. Two wardrobes stood on both sides of the door, a vanity table next to the window and a small nightstand with a bouquet of flowers next to the bed. The bed, however, took up most of the room. It was gigantic, bigger than any bed you had seen before, and beautiful with its soft pink blankets, matching pillows and canopy hanging around it. But it made you nervous as well. You hated thinking about what would eventually have to happen in that bed, and who it would happen with. One night had been more than enough and your husband had not hurt you, it had been nothing like the sweet and romantic experience your friend Nova had described to you in whispers after her own wedding night.  Other than the bedroom and the sitting room, the bathroom was nothing special. Still pretty, but mostly practical.  “You’re tea is here, my lady”, Padmé called from the sitting room, but you barely registered her words.  The other woman entered the bedroom just a second later.  “Are you alright, your Grace?”  It was only when you felt her hand on your shoulder that you were awaken from your trance.  “I’m fine, thank you. Could you help me loosen my corset, though? I can barely breath in this thing.”  Padmé got straight to work. She helped you undress and loosed the string of your corset a bit. Immediately you felt freer and could actually take deep breaths.  “Is that better, my lady?”  You nodded in relief.  “Much, thanks. Though I wish you’d stop calling me that, I am (Y/N).”  Though Padmé stood behind you, you could see her from the vanity mirror. She shook her head, but a smile was on her lips.  “I don’t think I can to that. It’s not proper.”  You turned around. Being alone with someone your age, having your corset loosened and finally realizing your position made you desperate.  “I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re going to spend a lot of time together and I would be more comfortable if you called me by my name. Plus, I need a friend since I don’t know anyone here and I’m hoping you might be that friend and friends call each other by their first names.”   This time Padmé saw no other choice but to agree. 

------

Being alone for the first time since the wedding and the warm tea in your stomach made you more relaxed than you had been for a while and before you knew it you were asleep.  When you woke you didn’t remember even falling asleep, nor why you had woken up. Only the warm and secure feeling the dream gave you remained, until your growling stomach made even that disappear.  You sat up from the rather uncomfortable position on the sofa and looked around the room. The moon outside was illuminating most of it and a small fire did the rest, nonetheless you were shivering.  Quickly you made your way to the bedroom, where you found a warm, soft robe folded at the foot of the bed. You slipped it on while your stomach growled again.  Back in the sitting room the clock on the bookshelf told you that it was already half past nine. Which was way past dinner time and made you wonder why no one had woken you up to eat. But you decided not to dwell on the though, instead you opened the door and slipped into the hallway.  It was dark, only a few candles were lit along the walls, but they gave you enough light to find your way downstairs to the entry hall. From there on, though, you had no idea where to go. Finally, after trying to remember whether Padmé had even told you what direction the kitchen was in, you headed down another hallway.  This one was darker than the one upstairs, and colder as well. You shivered in your thin dress and robe, but didn’t want to give up your search for the kitchen.  “Who’s there? Reveal yourself!”, a stern voice sounded from your right.  Though you knew it wasn’t the smartest move, you yelped and turned around with wide eyes.  “I- Miss (Y/N), no, wait! Duchess (Y/N)”, you remembered your new title.  Suddenly a door opened and illuminated the hallway. Due to the sudden brightness you didn’t recognize who stepped out, you only saw a tall, muscular man. You opened your mouth to scream for help, hoping someone would wake up and hear you, when the man spoke.  “Your Grace, you really should not be here this late at night.”  “Captain Rex?”, you asked, recognizing his voice.  The Captain stepped closer so that you could finally see his face. His eyes seemed to be glowing in the dark hallway, though his eyebrows were crunched in confusion.  “What are you doing here?”, he asked in an almost hushed voice and suddenly you realized how inappropriate the situation was. Though you were still dressed, your corset was looser than you were used to, you hair had come loose and parts of it hung down your back, not to mention that you were alone with him.  “I was looking for the kitchen. I missed dinner because I fell asleep and now I’m awake and I’m hungry and I was hoping there might be some leftovers in the kitchen, or maybe at least some fruit. Maybe a couple of strawberries. I love strawberries, don’t you?”  You knew you were rambling, but you had no idea why. This was now your house and you shouldn’t need excuses to be wandering the halls, no matter what time. You stood up straighter, prepared to tell the Captain as much should he say anything else. But he didn’t question you any further, instead he let out a low chuckle.  “You’re as far from the kitchen as it gets. It’s downstairs, and that’s quite a maze itself. But if you let me I could guide you back to your room and you could send someone to get you a snack.”  You had no idea what made you blush, his words or the sound of his laughter, but you felt your cheeks heat up and suddenly had the desire to pull the robe tighter around your body.  “I actually don’t want to bother anyone, the servants should be asleep by now and-”  “You really think they’re asleep already?”, he interrupted you. As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes darkened. “I’m sorry. I should not have interrupted you. Forgive me, your Grace.”  As much as you disliked Padmé calling you “your Grace” and “my lady” hearing the Captain apologize was worse.  “Please, feel free to interrupt me whenever I speak untruths. It’s a service, not an offense.”  He nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Neither did you for a moment.  “I still don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I will just go down to the kitchen and get a piece of bread or something. Perhaps you could point me in the right direction”, you finally said.  The blond looked at you with raised eyebrows. He seemed to be thinking about what to say.  “With all due respect, my lady, I don’t think you will find your way to the kitchen by yourself.” He stopped for a moment. “I could show you, if you want.”  “Lead the way, Captain”, you said with a relieved smile.  He didn’t lead the way, instead he walked right beside you, closer than he probably should. You kept glancing at him from the side. There was no denying that he was good looking, and nice as well, but he was just so stiff, as if he was afraid that putting a single toe out of line would get him punished.  “Is General Skywalker very strict?”, you asked after a while. Partly to break the silence, but partly because that would explain his constant apologizing.  For a millisecond the Captain stopped before he continued on his way.  “He’s not. He is a good man, a bit reckless at times, but we are lucky to serve under him.”  That statement only confirmed your suspicions. The General had not seemed strict, but rather kind, but what other explanation was there for the Captain’s behavior? Though maybe it was just in his character to be safe rather than sorry.  “Where are you from, Captain?”  From the corner of your eye you could see him raise an eyebrow.  “Kamino. It is a small village in the North.”  At first it seemed as if he wanted to add something, but he stayed silent and just kept walking. By now you were close to the entry hall again.  “Do you have family?”  As you walked through the entry way, which had better lighting, you could see more of his face. He was smiling, just a little bit, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that almost made you reach out to touch his arm. You had already lifted your hand when you realized that that would make the already inappropriate situation even worse.  “I have three brothers. Fives, Echo and Kix.”  The first name sounded familiar and made you remember the other guard you had seen yesterday.  “Fives is a guard as well, isn’t he?”  The Captain nodded. He finally stopped in front of a door you almost didn’t see, it was half hidden behind a statue and painted the same color as the wall. He opened it and let you pass through first.  You found yourself on top of a dark staircase, only a torch on the wall gave a bit of light. It was colder than in the main house, which made you wrap your robe tighter, and everything was stone, no carpets covering any of the surfaces. The Captain grabbed the torch and asked you to go on down the stairs.  “He is. Echo as well. Kix is studying to become a doctor, though, like our father.” His voice got more and more quiet with every word, letting you know his father was dead without ever saying the words.  “You must be proud of him. A cousin of mine studied medicine and told me how difficult it was.”  Since the blond was now behind you you couldn’t see his face, but you could swear you heard a smile in his voice.  “I am proud of all my brothers.”  Before you knew it you had reached the bottom of the stairs and a moment later the Captain was beside you again.  “Almost there”, he told you, to which your stomach responded with an embarrassingly loud growl.  The closer you got to the kitchen the stronger the smell of fresh bread and warm tea got.  Finally you stopped in front to the opened door to the largest kitchen you had ever seen. The room could probably fit a dozen cooks and three time as many kitchen maids, but right now there was only one present. A girl with her back to you stood in front of the last gleams of the oven fire and cut some fruits or vegetables.  “Ahsoka”, the Captain said.  The girl turned around. You could now see that she was pretty as well and started wondering whether everyone who lived and worked in this house was good looking.  “Rex and, oh my! You’re the new Duchess!”, she exclaimed and fell into a deep curtsy.  The look the Captain shot her had you imagining him with his brothers or disciplining guards.  “You were not out front when I arrived”, you told the girl.  Ahsoka shook her head before letting it hang low.  “You know how they say children should be seen and not heard? Turns out a kitchen maid should not even be seen. I mean, I understand that I’m not much to look at in this dirty dress and ugly apron, but it’s not my fault I only get old hand-me-downs from the other maids. I still think I should get to see my new employee, since Duchesses usually don’t visit the kitchen”, she said with a sly smile.  Next to you you felt the Captain stiffen, making you realize just how close you were standing to him. Though you blamed it on the cold, you had probably instinctively gotten closer to share body heat.  “Ahsoka, you shouldn’t s-”  “It’s fine, she’s right”, you interrupted the Captain before he could scold the girl without reason.  You stepped closer to her, farther from the man next to you.  “I was actually hoping to get a snack. I missed dinner, you see.”  Her eyes lit up.  “You want me to make you something to eat? No one ever wants me to make them something to eat.”  You weren’t sure if her words meant you should rethink your decision, but she was so eager you couldn’t help but nod.  “Why don’t you go over to the servants hall and I’ll bring you some food in a minute. And tea as well?”  You nodded once again, but before you could finish the motion Ahsoka was already preparing a plate. You felt the Captain’s hand on your arm, making you turn and face him. He was closer than ever before, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Slowly you closed your eyes, just for a short moment, before opening them again and looking right into his.  “Let’s sit down, Ahsoka will have your food ready soon.”  Without another word he lead you by the elbow, out of the kitchen and into a room just across the hall.  This room was darker and colder than the kitchen, no fire was burning and the space seemed sad and deserted.  “Usually it’s full of life, but everyone else is asleep. Thanks to you not showing up to dinner there was a lot less work”, the Captain explained. His tone was far more casual than a few minutes earlier, he seemed more relaxed.   Ahsoka entered the room before you could say anything, carrying a tablet with a steaming pot of tea, cups and a plate.  “I’m afraid the food is not the dinner you’re used to, my lady. This late there is often not much left”, she said as she sat the plate filled with bread, cheese and fruit in front of you.  Your eyes grew wider as you saw a couple of big, juicy strawberries and as if to tell you to eat them already your stomach growled once again. With a sly smile, hoping the others had not heard how desperate you were for food, you bit into the biggest strawberry. A loud moan escaped you and your face instantly blushed to match the fruit. If a growling stomach was something no one should hear, this sound was indefinitely worse. To your horror the Captain looked at you with wide eyes and even bit his lip, until he noticed you looking at him at least. Ahsoka, on the other hand, laughed.  “Seems like you love strawberries as much as Rex here. I remember one time last summer he came rushing into the kitchen because he could apparently smell the strawberry marmalade we were making all the way  from the stables. You should have seen the look on his face, it was-”, suddenly she interrupted mid sentence. She looked from Rex to you and back again, while you tried your best not to look at the Captain as well.  “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, my lady.”  She cast her eyes down as she started pouring a cup of tea, focused on the dark liquid in front of her.  It took you a moment to realize what she had just apologized for. Having been raised in a much smaller and poorer house as a lord’s daughter, not a duchess, you were used to talking with the servants, being friendly, even if you weren’t exactly friends.  “Please stop with the constant apologies, both of you. I’m glad to know more about the Captain and loving strawberries is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I am much worse than the Captain. When I was little I once escaped from my governess to go to a nearby strawberry field. I picked and ate strawberries for what felt like hours, until I fell asleep. By the time my father found me my white dress was stained pink and I later got sick because I ate so much. After that I wasn’t allowed any strawberries for a month.”  A smile grew on your face from the fond memory. It had been a good time, before the talk of balls and husbands had started.  The little story had lightened the mood, because Ahsoka went on to tell about that one time she had climbed a tree to get the biggest apple and then fallen, resulting in her breaking her leg. Even the Captain jumped in and told you about his first time falling off a horse.  You liked to know these little things about your servants, it made them more like people and less like employees. And you really enjoyed how Ahsoka’s voice changed throughout the story, it got louder and quieter, faster and slower, making you really feel what she must have felt in that moment. But the Captain was a whole other story. It wasn’t as much his voice that changed as his face. There was a light in his eyes and the corners of his lips, which you tried not to look at, lifted whenever he talked about his brothers. His chuckles made your insides turn warm and when his eyes landed on you you felt as if you were on fire. Though you didn’t know why he had that effect on you, you knew it was thrilling and comforting and dangerous, but mostly you knew you should ignore all of that, because it went beyond anything you should feel for the Captain of your husband’s guard.  Ahsoka was in the middle of telling a story about General Skywalker when low bells interrupted her.  “Shit, is it midnight already?”, she exclaimed.  Out of the corner of your eye you could see the Captain open his mouth, probably to scold the girl for her language, but before he could say anything you stood up.  “I should go. And you should get to bed, Ahsoka”, you said.  The girl nodded. She drowned the last of her tea, which must have been cold by now, and reached for the empty plate.  “I’ll clean this up and then I’ll go”, she told you. For a moment she halted in her movement and looked at you. “It was very nice meeting you, your Grace.”  There it was, the reminder that you had not just made friends, but were talking to your servants. No matter how good you thought you got along, you would never know whether they enjoyed your company or were just pretending in order to keep their jobs. And in that moment you wanted nothing more than to tell Ahsoka, tell the Captain, to call you (Y/N) and to let them know how much you had enjoyed the evening with them, but you knew you never could.  “Let me walk you back to your room, my lady”, the Captain said.  You just nodded, suddenly more tired then you were moments before.  “Good night, Ahsoka”, you said with a smile you hoped was kind rather than sad.  The two of you walked in silence. Though the way back was shorter, since you didn’t make any detours or got lost, it seemed to last an eternity. Finally you reached the top of the stairs and turned down a familiar hallway.  “I had a good time tonight”, you said as you were nearing your door.  It wasn’t until you actually stopped in front of said door that the Captain answered.  “Me too.” He paused to look at you. You felt his eyes wander from your disheveled hair to your eyes, your nose, your reddening cheeks and finally your lips. A strange tingling in your stomach caught your attention, but you decided to analyse that later. For now you were quiet happy standing in a dark hallway close to a handsome and kind man whose breath you could feel on your face. It smelled of the strawberries you had offered him earlier.  “You know it can never happen again, don’t you?”  You closed your eyes at his words. Though there was a new familiarity in the tone, and he hasn’t even used your title, they felt colder than anything he had said that night. Like a goodbye.  “I know it’s... I know it’s not exactly proper... But it’s not really improper either, is it? It’s not like we were alone, we had Ahsoka with us.”  As soon as the words left your mouth you realized that in that moment you were alone. Alone in a dark hallway and closer than you should be to any man who is not your husband.  You could feel the Captain taking a slow, deep breath. His hand brushed yours, whether accidentally or on purpose you couldn’t tell, and his eyes fluttered close for a moment.  The tingling intensified and you braced yourself for what was to come, though you weren’t sure what exactly that was. But then he took a step back.  “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”  There was a new emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t read but were convinced you never wanted to see again. “I’m sorry, I... I suppose... I guess I still need to adjust to all of this.” You lifted your hands and pointed down the corridor. “And you...”  You decided it was probably better to end your sentence there, you didn’t even know what you wanted to say, so instead you reached out your hand to open the door. You stepped inside your sitting room, still facing the man in front of you.  “Goodnight, Captain”, you said with a smile. He mirrored your smile, though it looked somehow sad on his face. When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you started closing the door and it wasn’t until it was almost shut all the way that you heard him softly saying “Goodnight, (Y/N).”  With a sigh you leaned against the now closed door.  “Goodnight, Rex”, you whispered into the cold, dark, empty room. 

-------

Next Part

The idea for a Rex Regency Au just popped into my head and I had so much fun writing this.  More parts will definitely follow, I already have a rough idea of how I want everything to work out. Though I’m currently writing another Rex fanfiction and a second part for my Poe Dameron fanfiction as well, so I’m not sure how fast I’ll be...

[randomposterofstuff]

Soldiers by Choice - Chapter VI

Author's Note: So, real life has been stressing me out immensely. Lol. And I really wanted to post this chapter as soon as I could, so please forgive me for any mistakes and any other problems. Haha. In any case, I hope that you all like it!

Also available on Archive of Our Own. Check my tumblr page to click on the ‘Archive of Our Own’ tab!

Tumblr Chapters List can be found here.

CHAPTER 6: Reasons and Apologies

Summary: Mikasa and Levi encounter troublesome Military Police officers while doing a supply run. Meanwhile, at the Cadet Corps headquarters, Eren Yeager and Jean Kirstein have another confrontation.

Year 847 (5 months later)

---

“Tch. They’re out of bleach.”

Levi glares at the empty row of shelves where jars of commercial bleach usually would be. A few feet away to his left, Mikasa speaks with the shop owner.

“Mr. Gale, I don’t understand. Section Commander Hange told us that you usually have stocks of everything during this time of the month.”

The Titan-scientist and Moblit were on the supply pick-up rotation for the current month. But since they were away on another observation expedition with the Research division, the task had fallen to the two Ackermans.

Mr. Gale, an aging man in his early 50s, clasps his hands apologetically. “I’m sorry, Captain. But due to some issues with our supplier, we won’t have stocks until next month.”

The dark-haired woman sighs at the news. “I see. We will just have to make do with an alternative and the other supplies.”

After a few more words and apologetic gestures from the shop owner, she approaches her co-captain, who is still glowering at the vacant racks.

“They won’t restock until next month.”

His frown deepens. “How the hell are we supposed to properly clean without bleach?”

Mikasa cracks a small smile at his displeasure over the absence of the cleaning agent. In the back of her mind, she muses that even after three years of working together, she still finds his pseudo-obsession with cleanliness to be comical to the point of disbelief.

“We can make our own cleaning formula.” She says. “The store has the necessary ingredients, and the budget is enough to cover them.”

The tautness in his jaw relents at this. “You know how to make bleach?”

She nods. “I do. My mother created her own cleanser. The employees at our estate use it.”

His eyebrows raise in mild surprise. “I didn’t know the Azumabitos also dealt in the cleaning business.” He remarks wryly.

She shifts her eyes from side to side before taking a step closer. "It's a closely guarded family secret." She whispers mock-conspiratorially.

He smirks. “Your secret is safe with me.” He speaks in a similarly hushed tone, and she mirrors his smirk.

---

After perusing the store for the needed ingredients, the two officers help the elderly shop owner place all their purchased supplies in eight wooden crates.

“That’s everything.” Mr. Gale comments as he places the lid on the final crate. “I’ll call my boys to help you load them on your cart.”

“There’s no need for that.” Levi says, already readying himself to lift some of the boxes. “We can handle it.”

The proprietor laughs good-naturedly. "Come now, Captain Levi. I know that you’re ‘Humanity’s Strongest Soldier’ and that Captain Mikasa is the ‘Woman Worth a Hundred Soldiers”, but you can’t rea---”

He cuts himself off when the two Ackermans each lift four boxes with little effort.

Mikasa shifts the crates so that she faces the shop owner properly. "Mr. Gale, you've already received the payment from our budgetary officer, correct?"

The older man merely nods, his mouth still agape in shock at the display of inhuman strength.

“We’ll be on our way, then. Thanks, old man.” Levi states, unfazed by the reaction.

The warm afternoon sun greets them as they exit the shop. The commercial area of Trost is filled with chatter from the mass of patrons. Due to the crowded streets, they had to leave their wagon at a fairly secluded area some ways away from the store.

When they finally arrive at where they parked, the crowd has thinned considerably. The few people there are either entering or exiting the complex. The two are in the process of loading the crates onto the cart when they hear the sound of glass breaking, followed by a frightened yell to their right.

They turn their heads to the source see to see a small saloon. One of its front windows is covered by pull-down drapes, while the other one is unobscured. Through the glass of the second one, the co-captains see a middle-aged man and woman, presumably the owners, anxiously speaking to two Military Police officers.

“Whaddaya mean we have to pay?” An MP with light hair slurs loudly while gripping a long-necked bottle.

The woman, who looks to be in her early 40s, attempts to explain. “Sir, you’ve consumed more than two bottles already.” She says, wringing her hands together nervously. “And our store ---”

“Blah!” The other MP, a man with darker hair, sways as he unslings his rifle from his shoulder. Both the woman and her partner take a step back, visibly terrified. “We serve the kingdom!” He yells. “You lot should be grateful! Besides, your stuff tastes like shit!"

He unsteadily aims his rifle at a row of bottles behind the counter while his companion laughs. “You’re right, Ricky!” He shouts, smashing the bottle he was holding against the floor.

The one called Ricky guffaws. "Damn right, I'm right, George!" Slightly swaying, he disengages the safety lock. “I’ve been wanting to try this beauty out! They say this thing can shoot 15 bullets in a row after just one click!” Just as he is about to place his finger on the trigger, he is suddenly struck across the head. The impact of the attack causes him to drop his weapon.

“Ricky!” George makes to unsling his own rifle but barely has time to react before a heavy boot hits him in the stomach. He faintly registers his gun being snatched from him before he is thrown across the room and roughly crashes onto a table and some chairs. One second later, Ricky lands beside him with a loud thud.

They both groan for a moment before raising their heads and seeing the profiles of two other soldiers in the area where they had been standing before. “Hey!” George yells while unsteadily getting up. “What gives?!” He demands, face flushed with both embarrassment and alcohol. “Who are you anyway?!” He trains his glazed-over beady eyes at their assailants.

Levi narrows his eyes, not the least bit intimidated. “You were harassing innocent civilians.” He crosses his arms, leveling him with a look of disdain. "Taxpayer money is wasted on pigs like you.”

“They’re from the Survey Corps!” Ricky exclaims, pointing to the Wings of Freedom on the fronts of their jackets. “You two have got some nerve!” He glares, eyes glassy with inebriation. “Accusing us of wasting taxpayer money when you ---”

Mikasa quietly raises his rifle at him, causing him to cut himself short. Both MPs freeze at the movement.

“P—put that down and g—give it back!” Ricky demands, voice shaking.

Mikasa shifts her gaze from the anxious Military Police officers and to the firearm in her hands. She examines its long sleek frame and swipes her thumb over the grip.

“It saddens me to see that my father’s guns were used to frighten defenseless civilians.” She comments out loud, her tone a cross between pensive and disappointed.

George’s brows scrunch up in confusion at her statement. “Huh?!” The two MPs look at her dumbly, trying to comprehend the meaning behinds her words.

Meanwhile, Levi picks up the second rifle from the floor, ignoring the whimpers from the two pigs. He feels the gun's weight in his hands and notes that it is light compared to other models. He then places his thumb on the butt of the rifle and runs it over the engraved encircled cursive 'A' which serves as the insignia of Lord Mikhail Ackerman's gun manufacturing company. He muses that the emblem looks similar to the Azumabito clan symbol on the inside of Mikasa’s wrist.

“If it’s any consolation,” he begins, still looking at the rifle, “I think that your father did a great job with this gun, Mikasa.” He remarks almost idly.

“Thanks, Levi.”

“Levi? Mikasa?” George repeats their names, a hint of recognition in their slurred tone. “Mikasa… Mikhail A—“. Shock settles on his features as they finally connect the dots. His eyes further widen in realization when they shift to Levi. “… Ackerman.”

“You’re Levi and Mikasa Ackerman!” George exclaims, lips trembling. At his exclamation, Ricky’s mouth drops open as sweat starts to form on his brow. The two men nervously shift their eyes between the co-captains – panic and recognition clearing away the drink-induced glazes in their eyes.

“I mean, my lord and lady!” George suddenly bows at the waist. His companion scrambles to do the same. “Our apologies! We didn’t recognize you!”

Levi’s jaw clenches at their sycophantic gesture. “Tch. Do not call us those.” He hisses. “And quit your groveling.”

They straighten themselves instantly at the vitriol in his voice. “My lord?” One of them squeaks.

Mikasa takes a sharp breath. “We’re not at the royal court.” She states, an edge to her voice. “Furthermore, we’re acting in our capacities as officers of the Survey Corps. So, if you’re going to address us, do so accordingly.”

“Yes, my la---, I mean, Captain!” The same MP yelps. “We’re sorry!”

Mikasa narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re clearly not genuine.” She speaks coldly. “And it appears that the likes of you get your bravado from carrying my father’s guns. Perhaps I should tell him to terminate his weapons provision contract with the Military Police.”

“Please don’t!” They both plead simultaneously, alarm in their voices. Clearly frightened of the consequences should they be the cause of the loss of the contract. “This won’t happen again!”

The disdain in her dark grey eyes indicates that she is not convinced. “I don’t believe you.” Mikasa then grips that rifle’s ammunition magazine. “So, I’m going to take these.”

Following her lead, Levi makes to do the same with the rifle in his hands. “I’ll take care of this one.”

Once he’s done, Mikasa holds out a hand, and he gives her the second rifle. She throws the weapons at the feet of the two MPs. “Take those and leave.” She commands, voice near imperious. “And don’t forget to put your payment on the counter.”

The two men do as they are told. They wordlessly take the ammo-less rifles and practically empty their wallets onto the counter before leaving the saloon with their heads bowed.

Once they were out of sight, the two Ackermans turn to the shop owners, who had been silently watching the exchange from the sidelines with bated breath.

“We’re not from the Military Police.” Levi states plainly. “But all the same, we’re sorry for the trouble they caused.”

The middle-aged man shakes himself from his daze. “Oh, please! You have nothing to apologize for!” He says, a nervous but sincere smile on his face. “In fact, my wife and I should thank you, my lord and lady!” His eyes then widen at his slip of tongue. “I’m sorry, I mean---”

Mikasa raises her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” She assures him with a smile.

The man’s tension eases, relieved at her assurance.

“Thank you so much, Captains.” His wife steps forward, wearing a bright and grateful smile. “May we offer you something to eat and drink?”

“Oh, we ---” Mikasa begins, about to politely decline.

“It’s on the house!” The husband insists. “It’s the least that we could do for you! We insist.”

Mikasa observes their smiling and amiable expressions before turning to Levi. She lifts her brows, and he gives a slight shrug before taking out his pocket watch.

“I suppose we have time before we need to get back to headquarters.” He comments.

The shop owners beam at the response. “Wonderful! I’m Tim Briles, by the way, and this is my wife, Frances." Tim introduces himself and his wife. “Please, have a seat. The menu is by the counter. Order anything you want!”

"Sure." Levi replies, and he turns towards the turned-over tables and chairs. “I’ll fix the tables and chairs. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Noted." Mikasa states as she makes her way to the counter. She peruses the menu and, after a minute of deliberating, settles on a sandwich platter and chamomile tea. She vaguely wonders if the tea selection is meant for customers with hangovers.

After an enthusiastic Frances takes their order, she makes her way to Levi, who has just finished righting the disarray of furniture. As she approaches, her co-captain suddenly pulls out a chair and gestures for her to sit.

Mikasa looks at him questioningly, and he tilts his head towards the offered chair.

She decides to play along. “How very gentlemanly of you.” She jests, voice half-coquettish as she moves to sit.

“Only for you, my lady.” He drawls as he pushes the chair in for her.

They both snicker at the mocking references to their noble backgrounds.

“So, what are we having?” He asks as he sits from across her.

“Tea and sandwiches.” He raised a brow at ‘tea’, and she smiles. "I know; I was also surprised to see it on the menu.”

Levi hums. “In any case, it’s too early for liquor.”

A few minutes pass, and Frances approaches their table with their food and drinks. “Here are your orders. Enjoy!”

The co-captains both thank the female shop owner, and they split the sandwiches and tea between themselves.

Comfortable silence ensues as they eat their sandwiches. Levi muses that the saloon’s turkey sandwich is quite good. He takes a look at the sandwich in Mikasa’s hand and deduces from the green poking out from the bread that it’s full of vegetables.

After he finishes his food and begins stirring his tea, a random realization suddenly occurs to him.

“Something wrong?” Mikasa asks, noticing the contemplative furrow of his brow.

“No.” He replies, taking out the spoon from his cup and gripping it by the rim. “It’s just that I realized you actually used the ‘I’m going to tell my daddy’ card.”

Mikasa blinks at the remark. A beat of silence passes before she bursts into laughter.

Her shoulders slightly shake as hearty chuckles flow from her. She laughs in earnest at the absurdity and the truth of the statement.

Levi’s lips curve upwards at her open display of mirth, observing how her usually stern eyes crinkle at the corners and how genuine joy shines through her typically reserved expression.

“I’m sorry.” Mikasa says, still giggling as she adjusts her cravat around her neck. “You’re right, but it’s just so ridiculous.” She remarks, her smile wide. “Come to think of it, I’ve never used it before.” She muses out loud, her lips still twitching.

“At least you used it for a good cause.” He quips, sharing in her amusement.

She chortles at his joke. He also lets out an amused sound.

She eventually sobers down, though a small smile still remains on her lips.

But after a moment, her eyes suddenly become downcast, and her smile disappears.

Levi frowns in concern at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a breath before directing her gaze towards the afternoon sky beyond the saloon’s window.

“Moments like this…” she speaks quietly as she raises her hand to gesture at their light-hearted conversation, “…don’t come by often.” A sad gleam then enters her eyes. “In a way, it’s… sort of unsettling.”

Levi’s lips press into a firm line at the reality of her words. Every soldier in the Survey Corps knows that every encounter with the Titans could be their very last. Danger, risk, and bloodshed are their constant companions. And the absences of the comrades lost will always be felt by those who live to join the next expedition.

The survivors know that it is their duty to honor the sacrifices of the fallen by carrying on with their mission. Yet, this knowledge hangs heavy over the heads of those who remain standing.

“I know what you mean.” He says, voice solemn. “Enjoying a moment of peace can be hard sometimes, considering the things we go through.”

They remain quiet for a while, the atmosphere suddenly tenser. Mikasa closes her eyes and sighs before speaking again.

“Sometimes, I wonder what my life would be like right now if I had stayed in the Capital or joined the clan’s Elite Royal Company.” She stares intently into her cup of tea, wistfulness underlying her tone. “I would probably be promenading with the other nobles in the parks. Or patrolling the grounds at the Fritz castle. Either way, my life would be simpler and less daunting."

A flash of resolve then enters her gaze. “But I already made my choice a long time ago.” She declares with a quiet certainty in her words. “And I’ve chosen to be a soldier for the Survey Corps.”

Levi quietly observes her profile. She sits with the graceful posture of a noble lady – a result of her upbringing. But her shoulders are squared with a soldier’s discipline. She holds her teacup delicately, but her fingers are calloused from years of wielding blades. Had she chosen differently, she could have been a socialite hostess.

The passing thought then prompts a question. “Why didyou join the Survey Corps in the first place?”

Mikasa half-smiles at that. It was a question she was often asked – the daughter of a noble joining any of the military branches was unheard of. Although, she never divulged anything apart from saying that she merely wanted to.

“I could ask you the same question, Levi.” She prompts back.

For all his fame, no one has ever known of his reason for joining the Survey Corps. Not surprising, since he would always brush off anyone who asks by telling them that it’s none of their damn business.

But Levi decides that he wouldn’t mind making an exception for her. “I’ll share if you share.”

Mikasa hums as if contemplating the proposition. “Fair enough.”

A moment passes before she continues. “I joined because of my Asian heritage.”

He raises a brow in confusion. But stays silent and waits for her to elaborate.

“The Azumabitos are the last Asians in the world.” She explains. “Our clan’s records state that our ancestors’ homeland, Asia, was full of rare creatures and mysterious fauna. Unfortunately, just like every other continent, it was invaded along with the rest of humanity by the Titans.”

“My parents gave me everything I needed while growing up. But they taught me that if I wanted something, then I should work to earn it.” Mikasa pauses as her lips twist wryly. “And since I wanted to see the roots of my Asian heritage, I decided as a child that I would join the Survey Corps to help eradicate the Titans.”

“It’s silly.” She remarks, more to herself, amused at her younger self’s reason. “But it’s what prompted me to enlist.”

Her expression then becomes more pensive, and she redirects her gaze to the table between them. “But after my first expedition, I realized that there are things which are bigger than my wants. I suppose you could say that it opened my eyes. Seeing first-hand the dangers and struggles made me understand the weight of the Corps’ mission.”

She looks up at him again. “I still want to see Asia…” she admits with a bashful look. “… and if we can eradicate the Titans during my lifetime, then I’ll be to do that.”

“But even if that won’t happen, I won’t have any regrets about joining the Survey Corps.”

With that, she concludes her piece. Levi remains quiet for a moment, feeling astounded and moved at the revelation.

“I’m glad that you joined, Mikasa.” He says softly.

She smiles at his remark. “Thank you for saying that.” A tinge of levity then enters her dark orbs. “Now, I believe it’s your turn to share.”

Levi tsks, but there’s mirth in the slight quirk of his mouth. “I suppose a deal’s a deal.”

He swirls the contents of his teacup before speaking. “When I was a kid, my great grandfather would always preach about upholding the clan’s tradition of being the Crown’s ‘Sword and Shield’.” He drawls out the last two words.

“Just like you and everyone else in our clan, I was trained to be the best fighter possible – because, of course, the royal family only expects the best to protect it.” He pauses to take a drink.

“Sure, it’s natural for the royal family to have protection.” He concedes. “But our clan’s talents are being wasted. The biggest threats are out there beyond the Walls, and our clansmen use their many years of special training to deal with problems that the Military Police pigs are supposed to handle.”

Levi lifts his gaze to hers. "So, I said to myself, ‘to hell with tradition’.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Of course, you would say something like that.”

He smirks before taking another sip. “So, I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps. Thankfully, my uncle became head of the clan even before my rite of passage. And since he isn’t as uptight and prissy as my great grandfather was, he let me go without much of a fuss. I wanted to put my skills to better use. And what better way to use them than to reclaim the lands stolen by the Titans from humanity?”

“And after everything I’ve seen…” he trails off, a more somber and pensive look in his eyes as he stares at his cup, “…I’m now surer than ever that I made the right choice.”

A quiet second passes before Mikasa speaks. “That’s very noble of you.” She says, her voice earnest.

Her co-captain snorts out a harsh laugh. “If it were anyone else, I’d say that they were kissing my ass.”

Remembering the incident with the two MPs earlier, she likewise smiles in good humor; his words can’t be any truer.

“But since it’s you…” his harsh smirk morphs into a gentler smile, “… thanks.”

Her smile remains as their eyes meet again.

“You know, it’s odd…” she begins off-handedly, “We’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we talked about something like this.”

He raises a brow. “Is it? I wasn’t aware that there was a standard timeline for sharing things.”

Another light laugh escapes her, and Mikasa wonders if Levi realizes how humorous he can be at times.

---

Chatter fills the air of the communal dining hall of the Southern Division’s Cadet Corps Headquarters – with the main source of noise and talk being the long dining table where Eren Yeager sits with his friends.

“Eren, what you did was really cool!”

“Yeah, I don’t think that anyone else here would’ve been able to do that!”

From his seat at another table at the far right of the hall, Jean Kirstein watches as several trainees crowd around Yeager and pay him compliments for his incredible feat earlier this morning.

Connie sits across the green-eyed recruit with a wide grin on his face. “Eren, you were amazing earlier!” He exclaims. “Being able to balance yourself using defective equipment was incredible!”

Beside him, Sasha nods enthusiastically as she munches on a loaf of bread. She smiles broadly after gulping down her food. "You really did well, all things considered!" She exclaims while not so discreetly trying to take Connie's bread from his plate.

The shaved-headed boy snatches her wrist before she could lift the loaf to her mouth. “Oh, come on! You haven’t even finished your own bread!” He grumbles, exasperated as Sasha strains against his grip.

Eren chuckles at the display before scratching the back of his head with a sheepish expression. Even so, his green eyes seem to glow with pride and appreciation. “Thanks, guys.”

“Congratulations on a job well done, Eren.” Christa speaks from amongst the group that congregated around the table. “Your determination paid off.”

Eren's cheeks redden slightly at her smile. "Thanks, Christa. But I can't take all of the credit. Armin here gave me pointers, and Reiner and Betholdt told me to keep calm and not to give up." He then turns to the male blonde seated next to him. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Armin’s lips quirk upwards. “It’s true that you got help, but all the work was you.”

“Armin’s right.” Reiner’s deep voice resounds from one side of the crowd. To his left, Bertholdt silently watches the interactions with a small smile. “At the end of the day, you were the one ultimately responsible for your success.”

Jean watches as more trainees give the brunette praises for his resolve and performance. It isn’t until he feels something nudge him in the side that he turns away.

“Just talk to him already.” Marco urges with a knowing look.

Jean scoffs at the comment. “Talk to Yeager? About what?”

Marco simply gives him a half-amused and half-exasperated smile. “You know what I mean.” He then picks up his glass of water. “It’s good that you want to apologize. It’s a mature thing to do.” He says before taking a drink.

Jean grumbles something unintelligible as he observes the sky through an open window. The last rays of sunlight are starting to fade behind the darkening sky. He can see some of their Commandant's assistant officers patrolling the grounds and inspecting the outdoor training equipment to ensure they're still working properly.

As his gaze lands on the row of 3DM gear simulators, Jean recalls how he, along with nearly everyone, laughed at Eren when he failed to steady himself using 3DM gear during his first attempt. He also remembers snidely commenting that Yeager was just "all talk and no bite" and how he brushed him off when he asked for pointers to improve.

Jean then sighs before getting up and walking over to the green-eyed recruit’s table.

---

Armin and Eren were in the middle of speaking with fellow recruits when the blonde sees Jean walking up to their table.

“Uhh… Eren?” He taps his friend on the shoulder.

At the prodding, Eren turns away from Mina and Thomas, who were standing behind him. His eyes narrow at the sight of Jean standing behind the other recruits surrounding their table. “What do you want, horse face?”

The entire room goes silent as everyone turns to Jean. The man in question averts his gaze as his cheeks flush at suddenly being the center of attention.

He stays silent for a moment before speaking. “I’m not here to fight.” He then finally raises his gaze to look at Eren. The crowd parts as he moves closer to the table.

Armin notes the sudden tension in the air as his childhood best friend stares at Jean with a cautious look – he deduces that Eren is not entirely convinced that Kirstein came in peace.

Jean halts when he’s near the edge of their table, just a couple of feet from where Eren sits. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“I’ll be honest. I still think that going after Titans is stupidly dangerous.”

Eren's eyes further narrow at the remark. He rises to his feet, but Armin pulls at his arm before he can move towards Jean. "Hear him out first.” The blonde half-pleads.

Eren frowns but nonetheless sits back down. His eyes are still trained on Kirstein, who instinctively took a step back at his abrupt movement.

Jean takes another breath before continuing. “But I now get how serious you are.” He admits, voice quiet but clear. “You have real resolve, and I respect that. And I’m…” He pauses, his pride momentarily stifling his next words.

“… I’m sorry for making fun of you before.”

Some trainees gasp lightly while some simply stare – all surprised at his gesture. Armin sees that even Connie and Sasha have paused their food-related grappling to gawk at Jean. The blonde also quietly muses that the entire room probably half-expected another fight to erupt between the two boys. All eyes are now trained on Eren, who looks astounded with his eyes widened and mouth slightly agape.

Armin then lightly nudges his friend’s shoulder. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything?”

The question shakes the green-eyed trainee from his stupor. He blinks once before rising to stand – more calmly, Armin notes approvingly.

“Thanks, Jean.” The hardened look in his gaze is now gone. “I appreciate you saying that. Apology accepted.” He says with a small smile.

“And for what it’s worth…” Eren trails off as his eyes dart downwards, a hint of shame in them, “… I shouldn’t have scoffed at you for wanting to go into the Interior. After all, there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be safe.”

He then looks directly at Jean again. “So, I guess I also owe you an apology.” He admits with a half-smile, hoping that it would lighten the mood.

It seems to have worked as Kirstein offers him a smile. “Glad to know that you can see things my way, Yeager.”

Eren grins more naturally at the response. “So… friends?” He asks, voice tentative as he holds out his hand.

Jean looks at the offered hand in surprise for a moment before observing the other boy’s expression. There’s a mix of uncertainty and apprehension in his countenance – possibly wary of how he would respond. But the look in Yeager’s eyes tells him that the offer of friendship is genuine.

He eventually grasps the hand offered to him. “Friends.” He says while giving it a firm shake.

There’s a smattering of applause as the crowd gives a slight cheer at the show of camaraderie. Armin especially claps heartily at the sight of the usually hot-headed Eren making peace with Jean even as he hears Connie yelp when Sasha takes advantage of the distraction to take a massive bite from the Springer boy’s loaf.

“Well, it’s nice that we’re all finally getting along.” Marco comments with a smile from the sidelines, hands still pressed together from clapping.

Jean sends a slightly annoyed look at Marco, who only continues to smile in return.

---

End Note: So, the 104th gang finally appears! Since Mikasa is a veteran in this story, I wanted to play a little with the dynamics of the 104th's relationships with one another. On this, I wanted Eren and Jean to have a friendlier relationship in this story than in canon. I hope that I was able to execute this idea (as well as all my other ideas) properly. Lol.

In any case, let me know what you think! Critiques and comments are most welcome!

[gwyn-bd]

Thomastair Week, Day 3: Thomastair Fluff/Angst

Thanks to @youngreckless for hosting this event

It is never too late, Alastair

It was early evening and Alastair was walking the streets of London. The sky he was growing accustomed to pale gray, Alastair was trying to find a space inside of him where the state of things was suspended, the worries not entering, so that he could keep walking and enjoy the view neutrally. Except that it was certainly not so easy.

Cordelia was in Paris, and he was concerned about her. Maybe there where thing she had not told him and if she had, he would have tried to help. Alastair knew that this was the result of the conduct that he had been carrying on toward her sister. Towards everyone. Still, for the time being, there was nothing he could do – he talked with James and his parents William and Tessa, and they discussed a little about what to do, but it was still not certain whether they should depart soon or not, and they also had to find Lucie. What was that made Cordelia so sad? What made her leave London with Matthew Fairchild? Was Paris making her feel relieved, even if just a little, by the last time they had that conversation?

Alastair should have known that entering his space was out of question for that day, so he just continued to cross street after street until he found himself in front of a shop window. What caught his attention, even if he was facing forward and the shop was on his right side, was its content. A lot of hats were displayed. Among them, one was very elegant and funny. On the cuff was placed a little pin of a geometrical form. It resembled a compass rose. But there’ s not the rose, Alastair said by himself, a smile appearing unconsciously on his face. He then found himself surprised by this. For a moment it was like time stopped, it was just an impression, he knew well, still… How could such calm warmness disperse all through his chest? He had to keep his mind away from him. He had made it clear after all.

He decided to enter the shop. Will just have a look, he thought, and after wandering he approached again that hat. It was strange to see a design like that, he had never seen a pin on a hat, let alone of that curious form, but it was not like he had an appropriate knowledge about all the hats of this world either. That hat would have been perfect for Thomas. The copper color would match his features so well and make his hazel eyes stand out. Moreover, if a compass rose is meant to lead someone home, one could as well remember to wear a hat before leaving just by looking at that pin. It leads you away from careless acts. Those were the perfectly reasonable thoughts that crossed Alastair’s mind, but then again, if he ever were to buy that thing - the thinking already crossed his mind two or three times for reasons he could not find a clear answer to – on what purpose? It was not like he could easily go and give it to him, not after all he said the last time they talked.

He did not know exactly why but ended up buying that elegant and funny hat. Without thinking too much he just called the assistant and asked for that hat to be packed in a discreet manner. He paid and leaved the shop. He knew that he bought it because, after all, he had hope. Hope that one day he could deliver that small gift to him, under different circumstances. It was not much to ask for- giving it as a birthday present next year would not be such a harm- the possibility to be at least on good terms with Thomas, one day. So, for now, he would keep it at home. Before reaching home, Alastair decided to go to the Institute just in case there were some news from Paris or about Lucie. When he asked about James, Bridget told him that he was with his father and mother and that they would reach him as soon as possible. He thanked her and went in the library. The little pack still in his hand, he walked around the shelves. From the noises outside, he guessed it had started raining. To have a look at the titles of the books finally calmed him. There were so many he could spend hours in that place. The sound of rain was getting heavier and heavier. Immersed in his contemplation of various works of literature and accompanied by the regular sound of the rain, he did not notice when someone entered the room. Herondale, he thought, but when he turned toward the door, he saw the figure of Thomas standing still. They looked for some seconds, uncertain about what to do.

“Sorry, I did not know, you… were here” Started Thomas with a trembling voice.

“Oh, ehm, no..” Don’t say sorry, he wanted to say, please. He was about to explain the reason he was here, but Thomas continued.

“Where have you been?” He asked, at the same time as he put his hand on the forearm, where his tattoo was covered by layers of clothes, the last being a wet jacket. In fact, Thomas’ face and hair were both wet. His gaze fell on Alastair’s hand which held the small package.

“Nothing of your interest” Alastair replied immediately with a cold tone. As he immediately regretted what he said, turning his gaze to the pile of books on one of the shelves because he did not want to see whatever expression appeared on Thomas’ face. It had better be anger, it could be easier to bear. He had to be polite, Thomas did not deserve all of this. He went by “As I believe no one would enjoy doing commissions of any kind.” He hoped he would not inquire further. To make sure, he added “I just bought some writing stuff, pen, paper and so on. I needed them.” The package was like the ones used for papers or letters, since the hat could be fold, if necessary, like a boat of paper. Alastair silently thanked the shop assistant. He raised his hand as if to examine it and eventually said “But I think now is late to write”.

Alastair hoped he managed to handle the situation. He could not even be sure of what he was saying, if it was reasonable. All he was doing was trying to avoid the awareness of being with Thomas, and the sense of uncertainty that followed. How much talking about paper and pens while her sister was away from London with her friend and her future parabatai was missing, was a good argument, he was not sure. Probably he sounded like an idiot. But he was spared the self-pity because as soon as Thomas gave an answer, Tessa, Will and James entered the library.

“I knew we would find you here, Alastair”. For how much he appreciated James’ father remark, Alastair would have preferred to hear Thomas’ reply.

"It’s never too late, Alastair" was what Thomas had gently and softly said, before silently leaving the library, feeling like he had no reason to stay.

[thomaslightwood]

Blackthorn Detective Agency - Part 1

KitTy Sherlock AU!

It's set in 1930s, slow burn & will have a few parts!

I'm not 100% sure where this is going but I'm already writing the second part, so we will see

Words: 3 862 (I know it's long, sorry, this part is more about the plot and the surroundings)

Kit looked at the grey sky above his head and frowned. It was going to rain. Of course.

He hasn't been in London for over a year now but he wondered how he could forget that. The bad weather, the noise, (and true to be told - very dirty) streets, the men in suits and cylinders, the women in pretty dresses, sometimes with pants. He wondered what happened to the few closet shops he was passing by. One of the many mysteries of life.

And talking about mysteries…

Kit saw at the other side of the street what he was looking for. A grey showcase, thorns all over the frame with a few simple words in the middle - "Blackthorn Detective Agency". There was a small bee on its left.

Kit fastly crossed the street, holding his hat. Some man angrily shooted, cursing the sudden wind that scattered many leaves, newspapers and even a few hats. Kit laughed. He missed London even though it wasn't the most awesome place.

He stood up in front of the agency, hesitating. He knew the guy who ran it is young, very good at what he does and known among people as Sherlock Holmes. Kit didn't know almost anything about him. What if he was a criminal? Or another kind of dangerous person?

But he remembered the look on his father's face. The empty package. Kit needed the money, no matter what kind of guy was this Sherlock.

He quietly opened the door and looked around the room as he was entering. It was kind of a lobby but a lot smaller - there was space only for two comfortable-looking armchairs, mahogany mass and a portrait hidden behind a curtain. The walls were in nice, warm colors, mainly grey and brown, a turned off radio on the desk. In the right corner, almost unnoticeable was a polished ajar wooden door.

Kit cautiously stepped towards it but then he heard voices. He stopped, grateful he was quiet while coming inside.

“... think so?” this was a woman's voice, perhaps a girl's.

“Look. All I know is that my friend disappeared a few days ago,” this was definitely a woman's voice, probably older than the first one. “He didn't show up for our meeting the next day. He didn't send a note. And…” she hesitated.

“What is it?” this time it was a male's voice.

There was a minute of silence, then:

“The only reason I come here is not because I can't do investigation on my own. It's because…” she sighed. “The last day we saw each other, exactly the day before our appointment, he told me there is a secret that was passed to him to protect. And he told me about it. Not everything, not enough details, but I'm sure he told me because he knew he may be… attacked. I think his… attackers may know about me and this would impede the investigation.“

“I understand,” the male voice again. It was a nice voice. Melodic. Kit could listen to it for hours. “I suppose you can't tell us this secret.”

“No,” she said firmly. “I definitely can't. It's not mine to say.”

After this no one said anything but Kit thought he heard a pen writing fast on a paper.

“Is there anything further you want to share?” asked the male voice.

“I don't think so,” the woman said. “Just… be careful. Find my friend. The money is not a problem.”

Kit swallowed. Money. This woman had money. Kit should get the job at all costs.

“Thank you, Miss Loss. We will do everything we can to help.”

This was followed by silence and noise of moving clothes. Tracking of heels. Kit jumped off the door, hoping he wouldn't be caught eavesdropping.

A woman with blue skin and white hair came out of the room. A warlock. She suspiciously looked at Kit but didn't say anything. She walked past him and frowned at the sky.

“London's weather is terrible, isn't it?” Kit chuckled. “Sometimes I forget.”

A shadow of a smile crossed the woman's face. “It is, indeed. That's why I brought an umbrella.”

“Lucky you. I always forget and I'm supposed to live here.”

Then a real smile appeared on her face. But she didn't say anything - just put on her gloves, took out her umbrella and went outside. As she opened her umbrella right in front of Kit her skin and hair became darker and she wasn't warlock anymore - just a regular woman in the rain.

Kit watched after her for a second then turned around. On the door's frame was leaning a girl. Not much older than Kit probably, with bright blue-green eyes that was watching him curiously. She was wearing gloves, white shirt with puff sleeves and coffee brown wide leg pants, almost as dark as her curly hair. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. Kit noticed a necklace around her neck, with a gold chain and a slim disk of metal on it. On the front was a wreath of thorns - probably the family symbol.

“How can I help you?” she asked politely.

“I'm here for the job. I heard that… Sherlock… is looking for a partner.”

“Yes, that's right,” she said. “Very well. Come in.”

She turned around and got back into the room she and the other woman were in. Kit followed.

It was an office. The shelves on the walls were filled with books - some of them about mathematics and the morse code, about the body language and animals, others - mysteries and classics, fairy tales and mythology, most of which Kit didn't recognize. It was surprisingly cozy - the room was warm and smelled like ink and paper. There were a few maps on the walls - of the world, of England and of London. Three armchairs like the ones in the lobby and surprisingly many tables (at least three) on which were a few little toys and tons of well organized paper - on one was even a disassembled watch. Right against the door, no more than 5 meters away, was a big desk - it was a little messy, with a rotary dial telephone and two chairs on both sides. Probably for the clients.

There was also a board, standing close to the desk - big, see-through board on wheels with paper and written things on it. A young man was cleaning it right now.

As Kit saw him everything around faded a little and his gaze was focused only on him. How beautiful.

This was probably the most good-looking man Kit has ever seen. He was tall, taller than Kit, with messy black hair which showed he probably runs a hand through it a lot. His eyes were grey like the sky outside, carefully reading a piece of paper. He was wearing gloves, a silk white shirt, a little loosened on his neck and black trousers with braces.

This should be Sherlock, Kit thought. He didn't expect him to be so young. Hell, he probably wasn't much older than Kit.

“We have a job candidate," the blue-greened girl said and sat on one of the armchairs.

The young man lifted his gaze to look at Kit. Kit felt embarrassed. He was wearing his favorite overcoat and cap - he wasn't as elegant as the two of them.

“Hello,” he said, trying not to sound too nervous. Or desperate. “I'm here for the job. I heard that Sherlock is looking for someone helping him.”

None of them said who Sherlock was or if the guy in front of him was Sherlock. The black haired one just nodded.

“You can sit if you want.”

Kit sat. The boy took a notebook from one the piles on the desk and a pen.

“My name is Livvy. This is my brother, Ty. We run this place. Nice to meet you.”

They, Livvy actually, asked him a few basic questions - his name, age, occupation. Kit came here prepared to lie for them all. But watching the boys' - Ty's - face while he was writing down the information, he couldn't make himself tell all the lies he had prepared. Kit ended up telling them the truth. His father would be disappointed in him. Well, if he knew his son was here.

“So, Mr. Rook,” the girl started.

Kit shivered. “Please, Mr. Rook is my father. You can call me just Kit.”

“Kit, it is,” she smiled. Kit had a feeling the serious questions begin now.

After almost 30 minutes the interview was at its end.

“Final question,” Livvy said. “Tell us Kit, why do you want to work in this agency?”

Kit paused. “True to be told, it's mainly because I need the money.”

“Oh,” clearly this wasn't the answer she expected. Even Ty looked up. “Really?”

Kit shifted uncomfortably. “Well… I want to help my father and for this I need to find a job. And when I saw the inquiry in the newsletter… I told myself this is what I want to try to work.”

It wasn't the greatest answer, really. But it was the truth.

“Very well,” Livvy said. Ty wrote something in his notebook - he was doing it the whole interview. “Please, leave us alone for a few minutes.”

Kit nodded and got up. He smiled at them and turned around.

When he got out of the room the door closed tightly after him.

•

Livvy turned to him with a playful smile.

“What do you think about him?”

Ty looked at the notes he had made during the interview. Christopher, also known as Kit Rook.

“He looks like he can do the job,” Ty said.

“Oh, come on!” Livvy stepped away from the door and approached Ty's desk. “I know you liked him.”

It was true. Ty did like him. He had a nice smile.

“You're not wrong,” Ty said. “But.”

“But?” Livvy raised an eyebrow.

“I don't think he'll keep up around for long. You heard him. He's here only for the money. When he is financially stable again he'd quit.”

“Ty,” Livvy sighed. “We talked about this. We're looking for someone who will work here, no matter how long. We can't find a full time worker that fast.”

Ty ran a hand through his hair. He closed his eyes and breathed. He looked at the empty board. He already imagined how he filled it with paper, the possible connections and people, places and details, the web of the case - could this stranger help him solve the board?

“I know you don't like strangers,” Livvy said quietly. “But at least give him a chance. From all the people that came, he is… I don't know. Most reliable-looking, I suppose. He would talk with people and he's smart. And I have a feeling he may know a thing or two about London's criminals.”

Ty looked suspiciously at the door, even though he couldn't see Kit through it. “Do you really think he would be helpful?”

Livvy sat on the chair in front of the desk, looking amused - Ty wasn't sure why. “I think he is worth a try.”

Ty looked at his notes one more time, tapping with the pan on them. He looked at Livvy. Sighed.

“All right,” he said. “Let him in. He must hear the good news.”

Livvy smiled at him and got up. Ty almost didn't hear their conversation. Still tapping with the pen on the papers, he read again all the information Catarina Loss gave him. He should talk with some people. Check some places. To think about it.

“Ty?”

“Yes?” he looked at Livvy.

“When is Kit starting?”

Ty thought about it for a second. “Right now.”

•

Well, Kit thought. These guys are intense.

He watched, sitting on a chair, as Ty and Livvy together "prepared" for the case. Ty cleaned up one table, while Livvy moved the London's map closer to the see-through board. At some point they were finished and Livvy sat on the same chair she was sitting on during Kit's interview, while Ty remained standing.

“Let's retell get the case from the beginning,” Ty said and grabbed his notebook. “Before four days, on 10th October Ragnor Fell arrived in London, around 2 p.m. After that, around 4 p.m he and Catarina Loss met on George Street, in a restaurant whose name is unknown. They sat there no more than three hours and left between 6 and 6:30 p.m. This is the last time Catarina sees Ragnor. The next day, 11th October, they should have met at Arthur Street at 11 a.m. but Ragnor never appears.”

He looked up from his notebook and said, “Do I miss something?”

“I don't think so,” Livvy, who had written fast while her brother was talking, shook her head. She turned to Kit as she was handing the paper to Ty. “This is the 'skeleton' of the story. The very basics we know. The details come after this.”

Kit nodded, fascinated by the team they were. What was Kit even doing here? It was obvious the twins worked well together - they didn't need a third wheel.

“Now,” Ty said slowly, looking at the paper with the information Livvy wrote on. “Ragnor told Catarina the secret during their meeting on 10th, correct?” On another list, which he pinned next to the first one, he carefully started to write what he just said. He was making a timeline, Kit realized.

“Correct,” his sister said. “Also, in the same conversation he mentioned he's going to meet with a person named Raphael Santiago, but it's unclear when and where.”

Ty wrote that too.

Then he stared at it, tapping the pen on his hand.

“Do we know when he comes from?” Kit suddenly asked.

They both turned their heads at him at the same time. A little creepy but impressive.

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking about Ragnor and his train. Do we know where the train started from? Or from where Ragnor was before arriving here?”

Ty intensely searched his journal. “I don't think so.”

“It's probably not important anyway…”

“It may be,” Ty just said and took one more paper, wrote something on it and pinned it on the other side of the list with the 'skeleton'. “This is the first thing we're going to check tomorrow.”

For a few more hours they discussed the case. It was Ty mostly and Livvy. Kit was only following their conversations (and Ty's monologues), adding some little details time to time.

He was amazed. After spending a few hours in their company he could understand why "Blackthorn Detective Agency" had this reputation.

Kit looked at the clock on his hand and stood up. “I'm sorry but I have to go.”

It was almost 6 p.m. His father would wonder where he was.

“All right,” Livvy said. “Come here tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. Or earlier.”

Kit shivered. So early. But he only nodded and left.

•

Kit was running down the street. The wind was blowing in his face, his lungs were burning. He could barely stop in front of the door of "Blackthorn Detective Agency". Kit took one deep breath and entered.

Ty was in the lobby, sitting on one of the armchairs. He was reading his notes, in one hand holding a calabash pipe and in the other - his journal.

He glanced at Kit. “You're late.”

“I'm sorry,“ Kit said. It was his first day - it was a bad impression to be late, wasn't it? “I didn't correctly estimate how long it would take me to get here. I promise it won't happen again.”

“Good,” Ty said, closing his notebook. He got up from the armchair and grabbed the overcoat that was on the other.

He was as tall and handsome as yesterday. Under the overcoat he was wearing clothes similar as the day before - only the shirt was green. The braces remained the same.

“Let's go.”

“Shall we not wait for Livvy?”

“She is not coming with us.”

“Oh. All right.”

Ty eyed him as they were leaving the building. “Are you disappointed?”

“Well. No. Just surprised I suppose.”

Ty seemed like he accepted his answer. They walked side by side on the street.

“Where are we going? To the train station?”

“We shall,” Ty said. “But our first stop is Ragnor's apartment because it's closer. Then we'll take a taxi to the train station.”

“Sounds good.”

They walked together in the chilly London. Kit could see his breath in the air. The streets were rather empty. Maybe it was because it was too early? Anyway, he liked it this way. It was calm.

“So,” Kit said. “Why do you choose to call yourself Sherlock? Where does it come from?”

“Livvy came up with it,” Ty said, glancing around the street. Maybe he was searching for Ragnor's apartment. “And I'm not Sherlock.”

Kit was so shocked he stopped walking for a second. Then he caught up with Ty and asked, “Wait, you're not Sherlock Holmes? Then who is it?”

“Well,” Ty said and turned towards the street on the left. “It's Livvy and I. Although she probably will disagree.”

“Interesting,” Kit said absently. This explained some things. Like why no one could tell how Sherlock looked or his age. Even if he was male or female even though most people thought it's a man.

“This is it,” Ty said and they stopped in front of a tall but narrow building, reminiscent of a tower. “I believe Ragnor's apartment is on the third floor.”

Instead of entering the building from the main entrance, they went around to the rear entrance. While they climbed the stairs (because around the elevator too many people would see them), Kit asked, “Do you have a key to the apartment?”

“No,” Ty simply said.

“You say we're going to break in?”

“Well, technically, yes. But Catarina Loss said we should do everything we can to find him. Even if this includes "some not so legal actions", in her words.”

“Dear god,” Kit murmured. “So, we, kind of, have her permission to break in her friend's apartment?”

“That's right.”

Does he know how to do that? Kit thought but didn't say it. He probably knew. This was Sherlock Holmes (or at least half of it).

They quietly sneaked throughout the floor, until Ty stopped in front of room 66B.

He frowned at it.

“What is it?” Kit said.

“It seems that the lock is not... what I expected it to be,” Ty sounded deeply displeased when he said it.

Kit signed. He didn't want to seem like a criminal but desperate situations require desperate measures.

“Have you brought some instrument to open the door?” Kit said, already looking at the lock. “Small screwdriver perhaps? Or something like it?”

“I did,” Ty said absently, tapping with his foot. He was probably thinking of other ways to open the door without breaking it. Well, with a bit of luck Kit was going to do it for him.

“Can you give it to me? I want to try something.”

For a second Ty just looked at him but did as Kit asked.

Kit took the little object and kneeled in front of the door. The lock was better than he expected from a place like this but nothing unbearable.

After a few minutes, a few clicks and pressure on the mechanism Kit unlocked it. He stood up and gave the screwdriver back to Ty.

Ty was looking at him with amused eyes. “Unexpected but very helpful. Thank you.”

Kit felt warm and smiled. He wasn't used to people complimenting him. Shyness he didn't know existed in him woke up and he just said, “Nothing special. You're welcome any time.”

Ty gave him a thoughtful look for a second but didn't say anything.

They walked in the Ragnor Fell flat. It was a rather simple room. Pale red wallpapers, boring green sofa. A dresser and a desk with a few books about Spanish language on it. Bookshelf and a few plants. In the end of the room was a door, as boring as everything else here, that was probably the bedroom.

“This doesn't make sense,” Ty said, looking around the room. He approached the desk and looked at the books.

“What? That this flat is awfully boring for a warlock to live in? If so, yes, you're right.”

“No. I mean,” Ty ran a hand through his hair. “You have a point. I suppose. But I meant that such a warlock as him would protect his own flat at least. We get into it too easy. There were no spells, no protection, nothing. This is strange.”

Kit closed the door to the apartment and stepped in it. “Maybe he just didn't have the time?”

Ty shook his head, opening a drawer in the desk. It was empty. “Between his meeting with Catarina and his arrival in London are two whole hours. After that too, if we guess he hasn't been kidnapped right after meeting her.”

“Fair point.”

Kit looked around as well, approaching the door. There really wasn't anything interesting. Most of the books were classics, the sofa looked old but unused. Kit opened the door to the bedroom which creaked quietly.

This room was even simpler. One big bed, two nightstands on both sides of it and one more wood door, probably for a bathroom or closet. At one of them though there was a frame. As Kit took it in his arms he saw it was a black and white photograph. In the middle Kit recognized Catarina Loss - she was smiling quietly with crossed on her chest arms. On the right was a tall guy with cat eyes and a big smile, maybe a little drunk.

Kit decided the man on the left was Ragnor - he couldn't imagine a guy like the other one would live in place like this. Maybe-Ragnor looked grumpy and annoyed but Kit could see in his sparkling eyes that he was happy. He probably loved his friends but would never admit it.

On the right corner with a thick pen was written 'Peru,1890'.

“Did you find something?”

Kit looked a little startled at Ty. He almost forgot they were here to investigate. Almost.

“Something,” Kit repeated. He handed the frame to Ty and watched as his grey eyes were running through the photo.

“Peru, 1890,” he said thoughtfully. “This photography is from more than 40 years ago.”

“It's the only personal piece here. Probably in the whole flat, except the Spanish books.”

“You have a point,” Ty agreed. “But this is not his-”

A sharp sound interrupted him. It was the front door. Someone was trying to break it.

Kit breath stopped. Before he could do anything Ty grabbed his arm, opened the wood door and dragged them both inside.

Ty closed the door to the narrow dark room. Kit couldn't see anything. The only material thing was Ty's body against him. A moment later they heard how the stranger broke the lock and their steps as they came inside.

To be continued...