#also I know how to stitch people up now! was absolutely terrified of that before starting but now if someone needs their face sewn up I -

[glorious-blackout]

Only have two shifts remaining in my Emergency Medicine block and I honestly don't think I've ever been sadder about the prospect of finishing a work placement 😢

[edgessunflower]

Can you do a Papi Dominik request for me pls

Yesss

Change in a second

Pairing: Dominik Mysterio x Fem reader

Description: The friendship between you and Dom changes not too long into him joining The Judgement Day

You are completely stunned seeing Dom turn heel and betray your uncle Edge and his dad Rey. You didn't react how a lot of people did despite the shock you still supported him leaving him letters in his bag while the four were in the ring, texting him with reminders that not only was he still human and deserved to be his own person but that he deserved to be happy no matter what and you were proud of him which truly melted his heart, and see him whenever you could without being kept away by the other three judgement day members but also not being judged by anyone else in the locker room especially rey who was still very upset but now angry at what dom did, he slowly realized through the actions on your part and especially one day when he was off and the two of you spent the day out together that the feelings that he bottled up and held back for you were much stronger and in a very different way than he had thought for the past three and a half years ever since meeting each other backstage at 12 years old. He finally decided while in the locker room before his match against The Miz that he was going to tell you everything even if he had to do it in the ring in front of everyone he would as long as you finally knew, he feels his heart quiver seeing you hid behind a corner on the ramp watching his match quickly finishing the match with a pin winning and as soon as he was backstage he goes to the showers alone while the other three just relaxed in the locker room as Rhea gets ready for her match, he walks outside a back door finding the stood up crates with pillows on them knowing it was a habit you had ever since you had met each other and smiling big when he sees you walking towards the spot stopping when you see him quickly putting the food and drinks you had down and hug him making jokes while eating like the two of you had done before while his dad and your uncle were training together or having matches "I think over this past while i've realized just how beautiful you are". You look at him shaking your head as you chew on gum after coming back from the bathroom plus making sure no one is following you, you immediately go quiet when he lightly caresses the scar over your brow that you had gotten the previous year while the two of you were in a tag team match against Liv Morgan and AJ Styles when aj had hit you with a broken sharp point from a chair earning the win right after for you and dom who carried you backstage and held you in his arms as you got patched up and stitches groaning and crying quietly in pain, you smile for a few seconds at the memory as he leans closer to you jumping a little when you feel his nose bump yours and his forehead against your temple "I've loved you with all my heart since I was a kid but I was so afraid of doing what I did because I knew not only would I lose my family but I was terrified of losing you" you look at him feeling your heart crack and drop at the swell of emotions in his voice and the words he had just said out in the open "I would never just leave you because you decided to change your life for the better and not when I love you too much to leave you alone" as soon as the words were said and he sees the tears pour down your face he closes the gap slowly by kissing you softly which leaves you absolutely stunned inside but you return the kiss sweetly leading him lifting you over the crate to his lap holding your face tightly but gently as well before pulling away with the biggest smiles laughing in chest as he holds you with a airy chuckle "Te amo dulce niño" he bursts into laughter that truly makes you melt as he strokes your hair "I I love you Mariposa" the two of you hold each other in the silence falling asleep against the wall on the crate in his arms being found by Damian who instead of waking the two of you up in anger or telling Finn and rhea shakes his head with a smirk taking pictures of the two of you and whispering as he walks away "You sly dog cabron".

[its-haughty]

i rebranded jessie’s dollhouse cuz it wasn’t working out lmao. been working on a new story for the past few days

so here are the main three, while i figure out the side characters, world building, bla bla blaa

—

‘Catch Me If You Can!’

will be the name of this new story i’m cooking up. Premise goes as follows:

Jessie is a bounty that’s worth a hefty amount of cash, a million dollars to be exact (also he’s wanted by the government for some reason? Eh it’s probably nothing to look into), lots of people want the money and one of those people is Ernest: a tired gruff bounty hunter who’s gotten jaded due to time. Problem is… Jessie’s a million dollar bounty for a reason! He’s extremely difficult to catch and so for that reason, Ernest needs to build some trust with the man rather than just- trying to arrest him guns blazing.

Individual Bios below the cut

JESSIE

Male (he/him), 26, human, 5’9”, bounty

Very silly, eccentric, creative, full of a joyous whimsy

The reason how he escapes trouble?: He’s INSANELY lucky + has cartoon logic

Jessie’s magic works like none other in this universe, in a more sci-fi world with high tech advancements- Jessie’s creative mind to make objects bend at his will as if he were a cartoon character is extremely hard to fight against. He is the equivalent of road runner if road runner was in a sci-fi setting basically.

Ernest and Clover are his bestest of friends

Being on the run, he’s never made actual friends before. Either they or Jessie himself has to ditch them in order to stay away from trouble, so he’s gone under the assumption that good things don’t last forever… That’s until he met Ernest and Clover and now he’s gotten a taste of actual friends who is genuinely loves, it both makes him feel so safe but also the idea of losing them now is absolutely terrifying.

Why is he wanted by the government???

dont worry about it

—

ERNEST

Male (he/him), 43, cyborg, 6’7”, bounty hunter

Gruff, tired, easygoing, solemn, has lost his way with things

Incredibly good at his job as a bounty hunter

This is because Ernest is made to BE a weapon. He works at headquarters where his boss assigns him bounties to catch to which he usually doesn’t struggle with doing… But now he’s faced with a bounty who’s powers are so unconventional, Ernest genuinely has no idea how to approach Jessie.

Ernest wasn’t always a cyborg

Before he became a cyborg, he was a musician who liked to play the guitar before a horrible accident occurred in which he had to get surgery or else he’d succumb to injury. The person who operated on him was shady as fuck and nobody knows who operated on Ernest but instead of being stitched up- the doctor had made Ernest a living weapon. While Ernest hated what his body resembled, he’d decide to give up on music and to give himself up to a career path that he’d excel at: Bounty hunting.

He’s lonely…

Of course… When building trust with the man, he gets closely attached to him and now he needs to decide whether to go against his orders/programming or to choose the more emotional decision and go against his mission in order to keep Jessie safe.

Extra..

—

CLOVER

Trans Female (she/her), 12, lizardfolk, 4’1”, engineer

Standoff-ish, brave, rambunctious, witty

Why is she teaming up with Ernest and Jessie?

She knows about the bounty on Jessie’s head but doesn’t give a shit about the money. She doesn’t have the intention to capture him, instead she hangs around the two and specifically Jessie to use as a motor of transport since he’s constantly on the run.

What is she looking for?

She hopes that while traversing the city with Jessie and Ernest, she’ll find her mother since she’s been missing for some time… She never makes her true intentions clear to Ernest or Jessie, always stating that “she just wanted to escape her home-life” implying she has bad parents but it turns out she doesn’t have parents to begin with.

She’s proficient with weaponry and crafting

Clover makes all her weapons and gadgets, including her yo-yo/shield and has a big passion for making fun technology!! She learnt her skills from her mother when she was still around, the two having a shared passion of engineering

Extra..

[bogleech]

Okay sorry but I didn't even make it halfway through the first episode of the Wednesday Addams show before I was too bored and also just dumbfounded by how badly Tim Burton fucked up the whole concept. I know I was just saying this but the entire premise of the Addams Family and their entire appeal as characters is that they’re eccentric and morbid enough to scare people but they’re not supernatural in any way, they’re kind and loving and they aren’t actually aware of being strange. The whole humor of the original show and comics was that they acted like a picture-perfect wholesome happy family who also happen to like medieval torture devices and cemeteries.

So naturally Tim Burton makes this “older Wednesday Addams spinoff” all about how she’s a cynical morbid goth who can’t stand her parents and goes to a boarding school where she’s considered (quote) a “psychopath” who terrifies all the other students and not only is this obnoxious cliche bullshit, not only does it have absolutely nothing to do with the Addams Family at all, but it makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER IN ITS OWN CONTEXT because, oh yeah, the school she’s going to is for kids who are also werewolves and vampires and shit like that. Burton can’t resist the whole “goth girl terrorizing the prep normies” routine even while insisting on a setting where everyone is a monster anyway, and maybe the joke is that the normal mortal human is 2spooky for even the vampire and werewolf kids but he also gives Wednesday psychic powers, which she keeps secret from her fellow supernatural beings for no interesting reason, and it’s just the most ridiculous mess of a concept even just minutes in. Nothing wrong with people liking it as its own thing, it’s probably fun if you take it as a self contained setting with its own distinct characters only loosely related to the Addams Family, but I just don’t understand what the thrust of it could ever possibly be. Her character dilemma is that she’s a different kind of weirdo than all the other weirdos?? And Morticia is like a smothering mom for some reason? Or Wednesday interprets her as such??

And why does thing have STITCHES?? It’s bad enough this character became canonically just a hand, it was way more interesting when he was just a hand and arm attached to something unseen, HENCE THE NAME, but I guess he’s been portrayed as just the hand for decades now, so whatever, he’s a guy who’s just a hand for no explained reason and THAT’S why he’s called Thing. But Tim Burton feels he should be explicitly some kind of undead Frankenstein deal?? God that’s boring. That’s the most obvious route you could ever possibly take.

[sukirichi]

acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

[pyroclastic727]

Is Amity autistic?

In the Owl House fandom, we hear a lot about how Luz is written to be ADHD. Now I would like to present the flipside: Amity is coded as autistic.

Here’s the breakdown.

Amity is touch-averse. “BuT aMiTy ToUcHeS LuZ aLL tHe TiMe” nice try. The key to autistic touch-aversion is only being okay with touch when she initiates it. And that totally matches up with Amity. See, Amity is really happy when she initiates touch with Luz. She’s also cool with it when Luz holds her hand after standing near her for enough time that Amity can predict an incoming touch. That’s because Amity consents to that touch and expects it.

But when other people touch her? She doesn’t take kindly to that. When Luz initially bumped into her at Covention, she snapped at her and degraded her. Even when she bumped into Luz in Enchanting Grom Fright, her initial instinct was to snap at Luz, since she didn’t expect to be touched. When Hooty touched Amity’s face without consent, she flipped out and beat him up. Not even Lilith beat Hooty up when he wrapped her up in his mucus-filled tube, but Amity gave Hooty the injuries we all wanted to see him with, because he breached her boundaries without her consent. Even as late as the last episode, Amity fell over when her face got close to Luz’s on the bleachers, because she didn’t expect it.

Amity stims. Okay, this one took me a while to catch, since most of the time, Amity is very controlled with her actions. This symptom isn’t very intense; her senses aren’t understimulated too often, and she really only does it when she’s really excited.

Mainly, when Luz offered to carry her. While she adorably scrambled for words, she also flapped her hands against her legs. At first I thought it was just a cute thing she did, but there’s more to it. She was so excited to be held by Luz that it showed up in her hands flapping...a common stim. With Amity feeling more comfortable around her new friends than the old ones, I wouldn’t be surprised to see more stimming in the future.

Amity always has The Mask as her expression. You know, the one with her eyes half-lidded, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly downturned. I also call it the Resting Blight Face, for...reasons.

At first I thought it was just a way to hide her true emotions, since her parents are assholes. But even though Luz makes her feel accepted, she keeps doing it. It’s more like...you know that feeling when you’re thinking really hard, or uncomfortable, or ashamed, or even just relaxed, and you can’t think of which expression to wear quickly enough, so you put on an unreadable one to tide people over? Apparently most people don’t do that, since allistic people tend to have expressions for those feelings, ones that arise naturally.

Another symptom of autism is having hard-to-read expressions, or being less expressive. In Amity’s case, it’s the fact that she doesn’t see a need to have an expression in calmer moments, so she just uses her usual expression.   

Amity hyperfixates. This has several facets, so I’ll break this down.

She initially hyperfixated on school. And that’s how she became top student. Amity Blight is who you would mistake for a “gifted student.” But make no mistake...she is not gifted, and gifted is a bullshit label used to overexert people and force them to keep school as their special interest for their entire lives (and I may have a bit of a vendetta against it). Anyways, we already know she’s a perfectionist. My theory is that Amity originally was hyperfocused on school--the Abominations track, to be exact--and that’s part of how she got so good. Then, her focus shifted, but the school expected her to keep being top student. Cue the perfectionism; she was no longer able to focus on school like she wanted to, but everyone expected her to, so she got insecure about it.

She hyperfixates on Azura, just like Luz did. Yeah, she keeps it secret from the world, for most of the time. But she definitely likes Azura a lot. I mean, she started to reconsider her opinion on Luz when Luz offered her an Azura book. She destroyed her jock career because she tried to use an Azura move in real-life Grudgby. Her interest in Azura is long-lived, starting about the time that her interest in school would have expired (which would explain why she stayed closeted). And we can’t ignore the fact that she sees Azura in Luz and is definitely enjoying the parallels between herself and her fictional counterpart. (Which might not be a coincidence, but that’s an entirely different theory).

She hyperfixates on Luz. Yes, part of this is a crush. But a lot of us have watched Amity’s personality go from alpha bitch to cutest little bean in the Boiling Isles, all thanks to Luz’s influence. Lumity is not a rivals-to-lovers speedrun due to bad writing, it’s due to Amity hyperfixating. She’s already extremely introspective, going so far as to keep a diary where she analyzes and makes sense of herself. It’s not a stretch to say that she identified the faults that kept her from Luz and worked hard to change those off-screen. 

Amity keeps a journal. To me, this seems like masking. You see, Amity is what people would consider to be high-functioning, since she can pass for allistic. But in order to do this, she has to put in significant effort on her part. See, when she does something that makes it so she doesn’t pass, she just sees it as a problem (since she probably doesn’t know about autism, and she passes well enough that she would totally be undiagnosed). Then she tries to fix the problem, in order to keep being perfect. 

Amity has awkward body language. Thanks to the journal and other ways of masking, you don’t see this early on. But once she feels comfortable enough around Luz to let her guard down...she completely forgets boundaries. To review: in episodes 15-17, she throws herself at Luz, holds her formal rival’s hand for 24.71 seconds, blushes every time she sees Luz, and loudly declares her thirsty thoughts about Luz in uniform before literally running away. While some of this can be seen as normal gal pal things or crush things...you’d think a repressed wlw like Amity would try very hard not to touch Luz, so as to avoid being outed. Or at least she would do less of that stuff, so as to respect Luz’s boundaries the way she wants her boundaries to be respected. But that’s not the case, since she straight-up misses a lot of social cues. And since she feels comfortable around Luz, she doesn’t feel the pressure to be so paranoid about the cues, and can be her awkward self. From her point of view, she probably sees it as being freed from her parents’ judgment.

Amity takes things literally, sometimes. Now, this doesn’t happen all the time, since she isn’t heavily affected by this autistic trait. But when Luz says “I’m picking up what you’re putting down” and Amity says “I’m not putting down anything” and looks down...she not only missed the conclusion Luz drew from her words, but also assumed a literal meaning from her words. I can’t come up with many other instances of this, mostly because this doesn’t happen often. I would assume that Amity missed these a lot early on, and learned how to mask/identify them.

Amity is easily upset when things don’t go as planned. Let’s review these. In the library, she gets really mad at Luz when they end up stitched to a book, and it takes Luz’s sweet personality to get Amity to loosen up and laugh over it. When she goes to practice magic, and Luz steals her wand and uses it to get her siblings kidnapped, Amity locks Luz in a cage and assumes that she will get badly injured if she tries to fix the problems she caused. When Luz comes to her school, she panics and focus on how that doesn’t change anything. When she burns Willow’s mind, she appears absolutely terrified of being punished, flinching and bracing for impact when Luz finds her near the memories, constantly trying to distract Luz as they work together to save Willow, and hiding behind Luz when she confronts the Inner Willow. When Luz asks her to join her in Grudgby, Amity doesn’t initially agree, instead taking much more of the episode to come to terms with her involvement in it.

Amity likes predictability. She’s not attached to routines, but she does like being able to expect things. If she makes a plan for the day, she expects that day to adhere to that plan, and she doesn’t respond well when it changes. When Luz comes to her school, she focus on how that doesn’t change anything...not how that would ruin things or complicate things. Whenever she gets involved in Luz’s shenanigans, she either gets angry, scared, or takes a while to accept it. In a broader sense, she takes a while to accept that Luz and her shenanigans are a permanent fixture in her life--sixteen episodes, to be exact.

Finally, it would make for some excellent representation. An ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist is pretty groundbreaking. But an ADHD Dominican-American bisexual protagonist girl who dates an autistic wlw witch girl from another dimension is exactly the kind of intersectional representation you’d expect to see from an unrestricted Owl House crew.

...Now, this might just be me hardcore projecting. I’m a little scared to post this because I don’t know how much of this is me reading into imaginary things, or trying to convince myself that Amity is like me. Feel free to debate/disprove me or support me in the comments. 

[peralta-guaranteed]

Would you do any early peraltiago just hanging out being all new and scary but also comfortable and defintly end game.

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since that chaos of a first date.

And, okay, he has to admit he doesn't have many relationships that ever passed that timemark to compare it to, but he's pretty sure none of the few who did ever felt like this. Or went to this level after less than fifteen days.

Amy was already in her pyjamas as she opened the door for him when he knocked on it after his shift, and he quickly shed his jeans and flannel for the comfort of shirts and boxers while she divided up the take away he brought on their plates. They'd chatted about their days at work, as if they hadn't sat across from each other when everything happened anyway, and Amy excitedly told him that the new book she'd been waiting on had finally come in the mail today, so that's what she pulled out when they settled on the couch and started the tv up. Her plate perched on her thighs as she scooched back on the cushions and started reading, and he was sure she didn't even notice half of the food she was shovelling into her mouth as her eyes stayed glued to the pages, so he kept a few bites of all the dishes on his plate to the side in case she'd later complain about not getting 'that perfect gyoza bite' she'd been craving all day.

And then the silence had started.

Well, it wasn't exactly silence. The tv was running some property show, and his phone would occasionally bling with a new message or twitter notification, and Amy had this habit of scratching along the pages every time she turned them. But it was quiet.

And quiet wasn't good, not in his mind. Quiet meant the suppressed rage after an unfinished fight hanging in the air, or soft sobs from another room while the cartoon laugh track from the tv tried to distract him. Quiet meant 'I'm done', in every bad sense of that phrase.

Quiet made him want to fill the empty space with as much noise as he could to drown it out.

But he knew how much Amy hated to be interrupted while reading. And what would be even worse than quiet would be her fiery stare up from those pages she was lost in, that piercing look that made him tremble long before they were even friends, when he'd receive it a lot more.

So he'd stayed quiet, too, set his attention to the new house the tv was currently showing and how absolutely horrid it was for that price range, while his mind worked overtime to convince him that maybe quiet wasn't so bad.

Quiet could be comfortable. There was no need for chatter between them anymore, and thinking back, it hadn't been needed for quite a while even before those two amazing weeks. They could sit and just be, enjoy each other's presence while doing their own thing, sometimes breaking through with a little Hey or a nod and a showing of a phone screen, or even the soft touch of fingers on arms to get the other's attention.

Amy's feet shuffle against him as if to prove that point, while she puts her finished plate on the side table without taking her eyes off of the book. He lifts them up when they hit his thigh, stretching her legs out straight across his lap and hearing the involuntary sigh of relief as her muscles unclench. She turns another page as his hands wrap around the fuzzy warm socks, press into the arch of them and start massaging.

Quiet can be good. Quiet lets him hear the soft noises she makes with every new press of his thumbs, sounds she herself probably doesn't hear. He knows them well from lying next to her in bed, when she's deep asleep and starting her little routine of whistles and peeps that are too adorable to be described.

Two weeks, and he recognises the sounds of her sleeping better than some police codes he's been learning for almost a decade. Two weeks, and they're just sitting there in silence, a whole evening spent on nothing but being together.

He looks up from her fuzzy feet to her face, still deep in the world of her book. At her usually perfect ponytail turned into a messy bun, no trace of makeup on her face, her lips being chewed on while she seems to hit a very tense part of the story. The light brown stain on the shoulder of her NYPD sweatshirt that he knows is from some coffee from ages ago and that she's been fighting to get out, but it's probably burned into the very DNA of the shirt by now. The soft curve of the thick fabric around her - knowing all about the even softer curves that hide underneath it too - down to that little tear in the side-stitch of her yoga pants, turning them from actual workout clothes into sleepwear.

No one, he thinks, not at two weeks or any other time frame, has seen her like this. Her family, maybe, parts of it - she wouldn't dare wear broken or dirty clothes in front of her mom, that he knows for sure.

She looks so beautiful without any pretense, he thinks. And something else, something that's been stuck in his throat for two weeks and needs to be swallowed down a whole lot longer if he wants to make this work.

Three little words that absolutely terrify him.

He’s not Rosa. He’s said it to more than just three people.

But not that many more.

His Nana and mom, of course, got to hear it a lot. Gina too, even though she sometimes rolled her eyes at it and scoffed. Charles, in a buddybuddy way. He’s dropped it as a joke or an oversimplification a lot, but that’s different, isn’t it? That’s not what it really means, when you say them like that, like a single statement.

Claire, the clever girl from NYU he met during his academy training, who Gina later ‘ruined financially and emotionally’ when they figured out she’d been cheating on him pretty much the entire relationship.

Sofia.

He knows now that that one maybe doesn’t count, either. It had felt wrong the second it had left his lips, even as he repeated it. It wasn’t really a feeling - it was a sense of panic, realising that things were going wrong, things were breaking, and he had to fix it, stop it, patch it up somehow, and the only thing he could think of was that. But it wasn’t true. That’s not how it was supposed to feel.

This. This, he thinks as he looks at Amy’s tongue slip out just a tad as she turns another page, this is what it’s supposed to feel like.

Like lying in a warm bath, feeling the water slip over your face as you slide under completely, every bit of your skin being heated. Like the complete absence of nerves, feeling like you could fall back at any second, because there’s always, without question, someone there to hold you up. Like that excited glimmer of joy in your chest, feeling like you’re embarking on a journey you’ve been planning for ages when all you’re doing is seeing someone you see almost every day.

I love you, he thinks and swallows it down quickly again. I love you and it’s crazy, it shouldn’t make sense, it’s been two weeks and also five years and also forever. I love you and I didn’t think this is what it feels like, I didn’t know it, I didn’t think I’d ever get to feel it like this. I love you and I know that is never going to change and I know there’ll never be anyone else, but if I say it now it will break and the quiet won’t be comfortable anymore. It will just be deafening.

-*-

She doesn’t consciously notice him starting to massage her feet - something that’s become too much of a wonderful constant already to be acknowledged every time - but she does notice when he stops.

She looks up, then, and notices Jake is staring at her with half-lidded eyes and a smile on his face, a smile that’s so soft and, as of yet, still slightly unfamiliar to her. She knows his grin too well, remembers all his guffaws, even knows about his truly excited smile, and by now also the soft turn of lips reserved for his mom and Gina sometimes, but this smile is still so new.

She doesn’t think anyone but her has ever seen it, either.

A realisation that makes her heart leap, then, completely pulled from the fantasy world of the book she’d been diving into back to reality. A glorious reality, really. Sitting here with Jake, her feet on his boxers, his soft cotton shirt clinging to his shoulders while his fingers press into her skin. That smile on his face, the smile for her, only for her.

Two weeks, and now that she thinks back, she’s seen that smile every day. Hitting her like a sledgehammer during her awkward stammers at the first few dates, making her stumble while walking through Central Park hand in hand. Caught in a funny selfie of them in front of some weird statues they found there.

They’d quickly shed the date-routine of outside and traded it for the comfort of their homes, though, and she’d excused it with the fact that they were more often than not exhausted from work, and spending time together was just easier in PJs and with trashfood than planning an outfit for a fancy restaurant. But maybe it was something else, too, something that didn’t need all the extravagance and facade of special dates. Something comfortable and sheltering and good.

Still, it maybe shouldn’t dissolve into completely ignoring him in favor of some stupid book.

“I can finish this some other time.” She says, softly, and watches the smile slowly fade from his face. “If you want to chat?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head, but also climbs over to settle against her side, his arms around her ribs and his head fitting perfectly into the curve of her shoulder, and that’s a mixed message if she’s ever seen one. “Keep reading. You’ve been waiting for that book for weeks.”

“It’s still gonna be here tomorrow.” And so will you, and the day after that, and the day after, and hopefully forever, she thinks, but she knows what’s more important as her fingers start carding through his hair.

“Read, Santiago.” He mumbles in a deep voice, and it makes her laugh, but she does reopen the book she’s been holding closed with one finger slipped in between the pages.

And so she continues, only half diving back into her fantasy world, the other half firmly locked in place by his hands sliding up and down her waist, his breath trailing over her skin down into the opening of her sweatshirt, his warmth radiating from her side all over her.

She can feel his warmth growing, and the breath calming, slipping down into that soft rhythm she knows well from her bedroom as his hands still. And when she looks down next, Jake’s eyes are closed, his face gone slack and his mouth open in a little pout as he starts those little rumbling sounds from his throat that she knows mean he’s far, far gone already.

She’s seen him asleep before their two weeks together, all balled up on the break room couch after a few overnighters, slumped into a chair or spread out over the uncomfy single bed in their stakeout holeout. She’s always been fascinated about this over-animated, noisy creature turning all soft and pliable and calm, his face morphing into an even younger impression of himself, if that’s even possible for a baby-faced adult like him. But it hits differently when it’s so much closer, when she knows she can make his eyebrows scrunch up and slacken again with her fingers scratching behind his ear.

They’ve only had two weeks, and she already knows aspects of him she never knew existed. She’s seen him at his best and his worst, and found both sides perfect.

Two weeks with anyone else, and they’d often not even seen her apartment yet. Two weeks, and she was still dressing up in outfits she didn’t even think about in her normal life, watching makeup tutorials online to perfect a smokey eye, making sure not to whine too much about her day at work and check off those interesting talking points she’d mentally collected instead while they ordered at whatever nice restaurant she’d picked for them.

Yet here she is, two weeks in, in the most ratty outfit she could find, her hair in desperate need of a wash and the feeling of a pimple making itself known on her chin, Jake in his shirt and boxers pressed against her side, softly snoring after the tough day they’ve both had.

She wonders why it feels so different, and yet not wrong at all, from all the other relationships she’s had to this point.

Maybe because it’s not as new as they make it out to be. Sure, their official relationship started almost exactly two weeks ago, but everything they have started so much earlier.

He was there when she created the coffee stain on her sweatshirt, dropping her head down with a grown on her table after they’d gone over the possible alibis after hours at her place for the hundredth time. He’d poked his finger into the tear on her yoga pants after a Sergeant-mandated work out with a laugh before she’d even noticed it herself. He’s held her hair back in even grodier states while she was kneeling over a toilet at Shaw’s, glad for their unisex approach for the dinky, dirty little closet they called WC that meant he could follow her when she stormed off from the bar.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel nearly as freaked out or anxious about their settling of the relationship as she would have if it happened with anyone else. He was already settled into her life, a comforting constant she could rely on. It wasn’t much of a leap from that kind of partnership to a romantic one, she reasons, obviously it would need less of an adjustment time.

And maybe that was just one of the reasons why it felt so right. Maybe there was something else, too, bubbling up her throat and slipping out into the safety of their silence right now, with him deep asleep on her.

“I love you.” She whispers, and she knows she’ll have to wait a lot longer to say that to his conscious self. She knows he’s difficult with emotions, and closes up faster than any wild clam if threatened with ‘seriousness’. And she also knows, with a twinge to her heart, that he has more than valid reasons for that - that he’s barely ever heard or said those words without them immediately crumbling in his hands.

“I love you.” She repeats, carding through his hair one more time to a soft sigh from him. “And it’s safe. I promise. It’s safe with me.”

His head turns, digs a little deeper into her shoulder, and while she knows she shouldn’t tell him yet if she wants this to work, she hopes he hears it at least a little bit. That it settles into his mind while he sleeps, makes him feel as comfortable and sure as she feels whenever she’s with him. Makes it a little easier for him to take that step and say it back some day, when she dares to try it out loud for real.

Whenever that is, she’ll be there. It’ll be worth waiting for, she knows, just to hear it again and again after that.

Hopefully for the rest of their lives.

[yoddream]

are you okay? | l.in

pairing: hockey player!jeno x gender neutral reader

summary: taking a puck to the face really fucking hurt.

warnings: blood, hospitals

a/n: hey!!! this picture gave me no choice but to write this. i’m sorry i’ve been so inactive. i’m writing my bad boy jeno story, and it’s taking a lot more time than i expected. i’m also still working a lot, and with the holidays coming up it’s gonna get even crazier. please enjoy!!! and i’m writing this in mobile so sorry for no keep reading button. This is actually horrible I am so sorry.

It was absolutely freezing as you raced to class. The sun was shining, but it was the middle of winter. The weather man had informed everyone that it would be the coldest day of the season so far, so you were bundled up as you walked against the frigid wind.

Unfortunately, you’d woken up late, and now you were trying to get to class on time. Your roommate was supposed to wake you like they’d promised, but they didn’t. So, now you were cold and late.

As you reached the university’s pond, you could see the math building in the distance. With a sigh of relief, you started the walk over the bridge that passed over the water. There was some shouting and laughter nearby, but you ignored it. The wind seemed to be even colder on the bridge, and you had no choice but to slow down.

“Watch out!”

Before you could even turn to see what was going on, something hit you in the side of the head. You fell to the ground, and as your vision started to darken, you couldn’t help but think, Well, at least I’ll have a good excuse for being late.

///

“...up! Y/N, come on, please wake up!”

The throbbing in your head made you groan. When you tried to open your eyes, it was far too bright. Your hands came up to shield the light, but somebody stopped you.

“Guys, stand around them to block out the light.”

Soon, you were able to open your eyes. Your vision was blurry at first, but then it started to focus on the boy that was kneeling over you. Lee Jeno, alternate captain of the school’s hockey team, looked extremely guilty, and you knew exactly what had happened: you’d been hit in the head by a puck.

“An ambulance is on the way. You hit the ground pretty hard,” Sungchan, one of the other players on the team, informed you.

“Which one of you idiots hit me,” you grumbled.

Everyone seemed to freeze. Okay, so maybe you were known for being cold towards people. Anyone who faced your wrath was always terrified, so you weren’t surprised to see the three boys hesitate to tell you the truth.

“I’m really, really sorry, Y/N. The puck went much higher than I thought it would,” Jeno said quietly, his eyes wide with fear, concern, and...sadness? Nobody had ever been sad after dealing with you.

“Yeah, he saw you and fucked up his slap shot.”

“Shut up, Yangyang,” Jeno hissed over his shoulder.

The sirens approaching caught your attention. You looked back to the boy that was still kneeling over you, holding something to the side of your head. When you reached for it, he gently stopped you.

“What-“

“My scarf is slowing the bleeding. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

Soon, there were paramedics tending to your head. You were loaded onto the gurney and into the ambulance. Jeno followed, ignoring his teammates’ protests, claiming that since it was his fault, he needed to go with you to the hospital. The doors were slammed shut, and you were soon on your way.

As the paramedic checked your blood pressure and vision, Jeno sat on the bench across from you with his scarf clutched tightly in his hands. It was supposed to be the school’s colors, orange and blue, but the large spots of red ruined it.

“I have no idea how I’m gonna explain this to my professor,” you mumbled.

“Oh! My friend, Renjun, is in your class. If you want, I can send a picture of you to him so he can tell your professor what happened,” Jeno offered.

Not having any other options, you agreed and watched as his hands shakily reached for his pocket. He unlocked it before holding it up in selfie mode. The two of you held up peace signs and listened as the phone a shutter sound.

“There. I’ll send it to him right now,” he said, his thumbs flying across his phone screen.

An hour into your visit at the hospital, you and Jeno were left alone. He was sitting in a chair nearby, his knee bouncing with nerves. The scarf was still in his hands, and you noticed that his knuckles were white.

“What did Yangyang mean?” you asked.

His head snapped up, and it reminded you of a puppy. Cute. “Huh?”

“He said that you saw me and fucked up your slap shot. What did he mean by that?”

The sudden rosiness of his cheeks caught you off guard. He looked embarrassed, and he wouldn’t meet your eyes. Instead, his gaze stayed glued to the floor.

“I, uh, may have liked you since our first semester,” he stated.

Your eyes widened at the information. “Jeno, that was two years ago.”

“Trust me, I know. God, this is so embarrassing,” he whined.

“Why?”

“Because I was never going to say anything-“

“No, why do you like me?” you asked quietly. Even you could hear how broken you sounded.

He finally looked to you, face determined. “Because I know you’re as beautiful on the inside as you are out. When you took care of Winwin while his leg was broken, I could tell it wasn’t because you wanted to date him or whatever. You genuinely just wanted to help him. And I know you helped Jisung around campus. Even though Jaemin kind of adopted him, you two still keep in touch. I’ve seen you two grab lunch together, and I know that when Chenle tagged along once, you refused to let him pay, even though everyone knows how much money his family has.”

You looked to your own lap, a small smile on your face as you felt your cheeks warm. “Winwin is a family friend. He’s the reason why I applied here. I needed a familiar face so that I wouldnt feel so overwhelmed.”

Jeno slowly scooted closer, not wanting to upset you. “See? Even though you act tough and cold, I knew there was more to it.”

There was a pause. Then, you said, “Nobody’s ever told me they liked me.”

“Can’t say that anymore.”

When you were finally discharged, Jeno called for an Uber. As the two of you waited, you shuffled closer to him to stay warm. His arm snaked around your waist as his cheeks managed to get even more pink in the cold. The two of you sat in silence, enjoying each other’s presence.

“I like you too,” you mumbled. “I always have, but I was afraid that you were scared of me like everyone else.”

“A little bit, but it kept everything exciting,” he admitted.

When the car arrived, he insisted on making sure you got back to your apartment okay. With your head throbbing at the thought of arguing with him, you couldn’t help but let him do as he pleased. Doctor’s note in one hand and his in the other, you watched the city fly by as you were driven home.

Once you were standing in front of your building, you didn’t want Jeno to leave, but you knew he still had classes and practice to get to. He seemed reluctant to go, as well, his fingers hooked with yours and swinging side to side as you faced each other.

“Well, I should go,” he said with a sigh. “Again, I’m really sorry for hitting you with the puck.”

“Don’t worry about it. A couple stitches and a concussion aren’t too bad,” you stated, but the reminder of your injuries made him frown.

“You have my number now, so text or call if you need anything. Or, you know, if you just want to.” His hand started to venture towards his face, but the bloody scarf reminded him that he couldn’t use that one. It gave you an idea.

“I promise I’ll make you a new scarf. Hopefully it’ll be ready by our first date,” you said.

The blush and grin on his face was completely worth it.

[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.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Twilight Skies and Tea (Loki x Reader)

ULTIMATE MASTERLIST

Loki often felt like an outcast no matter where he went. In Asgard he was typically reserved and more mischievous compared to the rest of Asgard. Didn’t help that after years of thinking it was because he was his mother’s son, he finds out that wasn’t even the case. He had been taken from Jotunheim as a political pawn, as a relic until Odin had some use for him. Even on the Jotunheim he was out of place, his being raised in Asgard had left him with different habits and ways of thinking from his Jotun brothers and sisters. 

Midgard... well Midgard was obvious. 

Loki wouldn’t admit this but he barely remembered him invading, bits and pieces but the rest was a blur. Like he wasn’t in control, and that terrified him. He had underestimated the power of the mind stone and fell victim to it’s madness. 

Despite him barely remembering, he carried the weight of the lives he had taken whether it be directly or indirectly. He knew Midgard would never forget what he did to New York. 

As punishment for his crimes he was sent to Midgard by his brother and mother. Odin had wanted to let Loki rot in a cell, however Thor and their mother insisted that Loki should try to correct his wrongs by working with the Avengers in protecting the world. 

Tony and the rest were hesitant about it at first, however Fury had forced their hand and in the end Tony was the first to agree that the more man power the better. Although it seemed the tin man had seen better days when he agreed. 

They didn’t make it easier at first. Their hatred and judgement was nothing compared to that of Asgard but still, it hurt. However as months turned into years they had let up and eventually considered him a friend. Even Clint had come to consider Loki a friend eventually. 

Even though his relationship with Thor had improved as well as his relationships with the rest of the Avengers, He still felt very out of place. He began to accept the fact that maybe he’ll always feel like that when you came into the picture. 

You were the latest person to be added to the Avengers team. Loki immediately sensed great power coming from you alone, sure Wanda’s was overwhelming, but yours seemed to match his and that was nothing to scoff at. 

Loki felt a connection with you that he had never felt before. Something akin to companionship but stronger. 

Apparently you had felt it too because you naturally drifted to Loki. You were calm and tranquil most of the time. Both of you enjoying each other company in the library reading Mary Shelley and Charles Dickens respectfully, and it seemed as though you two were naturally nocturnal because you often shared freshly brewed pot of tea with the god at unseemly times of night to discuss recent reads and a few playful remarks here and there on the roof and watch as the sky turned. 

It almost seemed like you two were on the same wavelength.

“You know that I don’t believe you were in control of the New York attack.” You blurt out randomly. You two were on the roof again, this time watching the twilight skies. That sentence took him aback for a second. 

“Why?” 

“I took a look at some of the footage that you were caught on and now that I’m looking at you I can see a clear difference.” You take a sip of the warm tea in your hands before continuing. “It seemed like the scepter was draining the life out of you, and your eyes were borderline bloodshot and glowing blue. I think the mind stone had taken over you and controlled you.” 

Loki couldn’t help shaking slightly, he had never told anyone, not even Thor of not remembering what he had done. He had doubted anyone would believe him. 

You seem to have noticed and placed a warm hand on top of his cold one. 

After that you and him had made it a habit to drink tea and watch the twilight sky on the roof everyday. It was the closest thing to therapy you two ever had. 

“I feel very out of place here sometimes,” You had just gotten back from a mission with the rest of the team, and immediately you came to the roof where Loki had found you waiting for him. He sat beside you and gave you an understanding nod. 

“I feel like that too here.” 

“Here’s the strange thing,” you said leaning your head to rest on his shoulder, “I don’t feel that out of place right now though. When it’s just us on the roof drinking tea.”

“Are you sure you’re not a mind reader?” he had asked playfully, you had laughed silently. 

“I’m sure if I was I would have gone completely mad years ago.”

“What wrong with a bit of madness.”

“Absolutely nothing.”

You smiled at each other before turning your gaze back to the sky. You sat there until the stars and the moon had taken their place in the sky before you spoke again. 

“I’ve done horrible things Lok,” you admitted silently. By now the tea was cold and discarded and now you two just laid on the roof watching the stars and admitting things in the comfort of darkness. 

“I know,”

“Not completely,” you said. There was a weight in your words that Loki quickly recognized. 

“I volunteered for HYDRA experiments, not out of wanting to change the world like Wanda or was forced like Bucky.” You paused taking a deep and shaky breath in and out, “I volunteered for revenge.” 

You then told him what you didn’t tell the others. Your family was the most important thing to you, the sun had risen and set on them. However people did unforgivable things to them, things you weren’t ready to say and perhaps never will. You had lost the thing you held dear and you made a list. A list of the people who had ever hurt them and went to HYDRA. Told them you were a willing volunteer and that they need only pay you in bringing in the people on your list. One person for each success. 

You discovered your control over fear that way, by using it repeatedly on those who harmed your family. 

How the weight of what you had done still weighed on you. 

Then Shield found you, gave you immunity for what you did before, so long as you put those powers towards good and joined the Avengers. 

Loki understood loving your family, he wouldn’t admit it aloud but Thor was his brother and Frigga is mother. In all terms of the words, it didn’t matter if he hadn’t been theirs by blood, he considered them as such. 

He would lose his mind if something were to happen to them that appalled even him. 

Revenge was something he knew even better, he had felt it consume him as he picked up the scepter in it’s overwhelming rage and anguish. 

He had intertwined your hands as you laid together. 

“Rame.” 

“what?”

“It’s an old word in your language,” he explains, “It’s an adjective for something that is both joyful and chaotic at the same time.” he felt your shaky laugh beside him. Loki turned to see one tear streaming from your eye and your laughing face. He couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful you had looked in that moment.

“I think that describes us perfectly.”

“I believe so darling.” 

He was a goner since that day you came to the tower. 

It just took him this long to figure that out. 

---

After that you had somehow transitioned from that of tea and confessions in the safety of the twilight skies to that of library dates and stolen kisses where no one could see you. 

Loki also started to use a lot of old but beautiful words when conversing with you. 

The first night you spent together as lovers he described as Elysian. He had spent the rest of that night whispering that word to you. 

However it wasn’t always idyllic between you two. 

the God of Mischief and the woman who can literally manipulate the fear of others were bound to argue at some point. 

Usually it was something as simple as the opinions of authors or of tea flavors and even then it was more along the lines of bickering that ended with a sweet kiss. 

However, there were times where it was bickering. 

You had come back from a mission with a bullet graze on your arm and bruised ribs. You weren’t paying attention when a bullet grazed your right arm and an HYDRA agent snuck up on you and kicked you at your side. 

All things considered the injuries weren’t the worst thing you’ve experienced physically and Loki knew you could take care of yourself. 

Didn’t stop him from immediately rushing to the Med Bay when he heard that you had to stop there for stitches and bandages. 

“(Y/n),” he called your name as soon as he entered the Med Bay. 

‘I’m in here” you responded. Almost as soon as you had finished responding he pulled back the curtain to reveal where the doctor was finishing bandaging your arm and prescribing medication for the pain. 

She had nodded to you after getting the gist that the god wanted to talk to you alone. 

“What the hell happened.” You could see the anger practically coming off his body, if it was any other circumstances you would’ve found it hot. However, you knew now wasn’t the time or the place. 

“I got shot at-”

“No really I couldn’t tell.” He sassed, he often got like that when he was properly angry, You were the one who got shot at and you had yet to take the pain meds that the Doc prescribed so you weren’t in the mood to deal with it. 

“I’m not in the mood Loki,”

“Not in the mood?!” he exclaimed, “You were shot at and taken down. If Steven hadn’t been there, there would’ve been a bullet in your head!” 

“However he was and therefore I’m only merely grazed by the arm.”

“This isn’t something you can just brush away (Y/n)” He was seething. The mere thought of losing you was enough to almost bring him to his knees, and it was times like these where he knew that there will come a time where he will have to say goodbye to you. You were originally from Midgard, you were born mortal and therefore he will outlive you. When that day comes he has no idea how he would handle it. 

“Lok,” You softly spoke, you knew he wasn’t angry at you. He was angry because the reality of the situation was hitting him again. How mortal you were. You gently raised your hand to cup his cheek and gently brush your thumb over the tears that leaked out. Loki had fallen to his knees in front of you. 

There had to be a way, there had to be some way that he would never have to say goodbye to you. 

---

Thor had dragged Loki to Guy’s Night. Usually Loki would be vehemently against this, instead preferring to spend the evenings with you in your shared room. However Loki didn’t put up much of a fight this time. Instead Thor had to do minimal dragging of his little brother. 

Loki had only gone because he needed to talk to his brother about something in privacy. Something he couldn’t risk you or the others overhearing.

Thor had brought Loki and the other male Avengers to bar hop. Going to one bar after another, something that Darcy had taught Thor of when he first came to Midgard and Thor seemed to enjoy it. 

As the group of men walked Loki quickly cast a glamour to make it seem as though Thor and Loki were talking of something small and light. 

Thor quickly caught on after having learned now when his brother cast magic and turned to look at his brother. Ever since you had come back wounded from a mission he could sense something was off about his brother and it worried him deeply. Loki was never surrounded by fair maidens like Thor was back on Asgard, but there were a few who sought the comfort of Loki rather than Thor. His little brother was never interested in them however, you were the only exception. 

“Brother,” Loki started, the guys still laughing ahead of them in a group, “what I say to you next must stay between us and only us for the time being. Lady Jane or Sif or any of the others must not know. Understood.” His tone was serious, no room for any of his regular mischief to sneak in. 

“Brother I would never betray your trust.” 

“I am in love with (Y/n).” 

“Yes, this isn’t new news to me.” Thor said, although Loki never really said the word ‘love’ often he knew that in those rare moments either one of two things were to happen next. Either Loki will be sharing some heart wrenching and shocking news or Loki was about to stab someone. There was no in between. 

“Brother I plan on doing the Bonding Ceremony with her.” The Bonding Ceremony was more serious than that of marriage. Forming a bond ensured that whether it be your life or his, your souls would be bonded together. When one of you dies the other does too. 

Not many had heard of the Bonding since now it was typically frowned upon. Loki and Thor only knew it since Frigga was the one to teach them such things in case they ever found someone they couldn’t bear to lose. 

Loki had. 

Thor felt his footsteps stop. This would be the closest thing Loki could do to either grant (Y/n) immortality or to make himself mortal. This was the ultimate gamble. 

“Are you sure brother?” 

“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.” Loki firmly confirmed, “There will be no other love for me brother, she is it.”

Thor felt his heart swell in pride when he looked at his little brother. Loki’s eyes which were usually sharp and calculating were soft and full of a love that Thor only had a mere taste of. Thor didn’t doubt for a second that if something were to happen to Lady (Y/n), whatever force took her from him would surely pay the price. 

Thor clapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, bringing him back to reality. 

“Well then when do you plan on asking her?”

“Soon brother,” Loki said, “all good things come to those who wait.” 

---

Your powers were useless against the titan in front of you. With all your might you had tried to use your powers on him to no avail. While you were panting on the ground, weak and exhausted, the purple dickhead barely broke a sweat fighting off your attacks. 

His associates were easy enough to deal with, not nearly as immune to your powers as their leader. Most were crumpled in a ball sobbing or took their own life. Thanos almost seemed impressed with you, how you managed to take down a fair amount of his followers single handedly. 

If only you weren’t so emotional. He would have taken you as another daughter. 

You weren’t even meant to be there, Loki had tried to prevent you from coming with him and Thor on the search for their father. However, you weren’t much of a listener. 

After Ragnorok, Loki realized he waited too long to give you the beautiful emerald ring he had always carried with him since that Boy’s Night almost a year ago. He had been so afraid of rejection that he hadn’t considered how much time was passing and how fleeting life was. 

You both cried in each other's arms after you accepted. 

Then this douchebag had to come and ruin everything. 

“Wait!” Loki yelled as Thanos took one step closer to your exhausted figure. He took out the Tesseract that he had taken before Asgard was destroyed. 

“If you spare her life and the rest of the people on this ship I will give you what you came here for.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your fiance. His hair hid the majority of his face from your view, if it wasn’t in the way you would have seen the look of acceptance in his eyes. 

It wasn’t until you were too late did you notice the knife in his other hand. 

You wanted to scream at him, ‘you dumbass why would you try to pull a knife on this monster!’. You could only scream and try to physically fight the titan to let Loki out of his grasp and Thor was struggling against his restraints. 

When you heard the sickening crack of Loki’s neck as his soul left him. You felt the last piece of your compassion and love die with him. 

His body crumpled to the ground, unmoving and dead. Just dead. 

When you lost your family you had been filled with the flames of white hot anger. 

This time it was as though ice filled every part of your body, you were cold. There were no flames, just the icy feeling of loss. You could only stare at his body, nothing seemed to move. Not one muscle, no one took a breath. 

Then it came. 

The scream that was ripped out of you was inhuman and reverberated throughout the entire ship. 

All the restraint you put on the darkness inside you broke as you crawled to his body. You crumpled over his body, holding on to whatever warmth he still had for dear life. 

Meanwhile Thanos’s eyes had widened, the dark cloud that was leaking out of you had taken the entire ship. He barely could manage to see anything in it. The cloud seemed to capture any light and immediately darken it. 

Then the feeling he knew all too well came to almost overtake him. 

It was loss, pure unadulterated loss, and anger, and sadness. 

Suddenly he found himself on Titan again, more specifically the day it all was destroyed. How no Titan citizen was safe from the wreckage. Not even his family. All of his darkest memories played before him and nearly drove him mad. 

Thanos has never met a person quite like you. Not one so powerful. 

He wondered why you hadn’t shown this strength before? 

He wondered just how much you were holding back. 

Without a second thought he put the space stone in the gauntlet and gathered his remaining followers and left. 

He needed away from you before your darkness engulfed him completely. 

---

You were still cold as you, Thor, Rocket, and Groot made your way to Nidavellir. You sat next to the blonde God of Thunder, who was in no better shape than you were in. 

Apparently when the Guardians found you, Thor had been holding onto you, he was probably the only reason why you didn’t freeze to death in space next to Loki’s corpse. 

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the emerald ring resting on your finger, it amazed you how it wasn’t lost in the middle of that havoc. You looked at it for a second, briefly it was a symbol of you and Loki’s love and commitment. Now it was just another cruel reminder of all you’ve ever loved and lost. 

You barely remember Thanos attacking, you just remember crawling over to Loki’s body and holding onto him as tightly as you could. Trying to bring him back to life. 

You felt Thor envelop you hand with his own and tightly hold onto it. You knew what that meant without needing to communicate with words. 

Revenge. 

Thor will avenge his brother and you will get revenge for your lover. 

It was a promise. 

---

“BRING US THANOS!” You and Thor screeched. You were in the smack in the middle of the battle in Wakanda. Already you saw faces you haven’t seen in years. 

Steve now had a beard which was weird, but cool. 

Your hands outreached and darkness sprung from them. The darkness enveloped at least the first 30 beasts in front of you, choking them the same way Thanos had choked Loki. 

You and Thor had trained during your spare time on each of your powers. 

Thor had truly become a force to be reckoned with, especially with his new axe. 

You had further developed the powers you had once been terrified of. Learning to embrace the darkness and the fear of others, letting it fuel your powers further. 

Even Hela would be terrified of you. 

You followed Thor’s lead, you never being too far behind him taking out enemies left and right. You only strayed when you saw Wanda being cornered, after helping her you quickly located Thor and followed him. Not bothering to stay and chat. 

The air seemed to chill as you felt Thanos’s energy. 

Thanos just came to the party. 

You and Thor made an immediate beeline to him.

Thanos was just about to snap his fingers when Thor threw his axe in his chest. 

Thor drove the axe further into the purple dicks chest as you let loose almost every ounce of darkness in you to invade Thanos’s senses. disabling him from feeling everything but fear, anguish, torment, everything you had ever felt. All of your loss and darkest thoughts. How you imagined torturing him. Replaying pushing Gamora off the cliff again and again, watching in third person, never changing course. All the people he had ever loved, a pile of dead bodies all over the cliff. 

“I told you,” Thor said as you allowed Thanos to see and hear your brother in law. “you’d die for that.” 

Thanos mumbled, you were too focused on torturing him to see his hands start to move. 

“You should have gone for the head.” You noticed all too late before his fingers snapped. 

At first you felt nothing, until you slowly saw your fingertips begin to crumble into dust. 

You welcomed death. 

---

You thought you had died, however, you opened your eyes and saw a portal. 

“Darkness,” You turned your head and saw a man with a red cape and a weird looking necklace around his neck. 

“Only my enemies call me that.” You retort, your hands already beginning to move. 

“I’m not your enemy,” he assured, “I’m Doctor Strange, you’ve been dead for 5 years and I came to you personally to ask for help.” 

“Why?”

“Because without you Thanos will win again and the alternative timeline isn’t so cheerful and I would like to try to avoid that.” 

“I meant why should I trust you.” You didn’t need much convincing, you would love to have a second chance at killing Thanos. You just needed to know you could trust this man. 

“You should trust me because the Universe depends on it.” He arrogantly said before adding, “plus we both know the only other person who hates Thanos as much as you do is Wanda. In fact I’ll need both of you.”

---

Strange told you to follow T’Challa and he will lead you to where you and Wanda will defeat Thanos. 

Sure enough there Thanos was, and Wanda landed right in beside you. 

“Nice of you to drop in.”

“And let you have all the fun, never.” Wanda replied, her eyes glowed menacingly at Thanos. 

“You took everything from me.” Wanda said. 

“ And you will pay for what you did.” You followed. 

“I don’t even know who you are.” Thanos said. 

“You will.” You and her say at the same time. 

Thanos had tried to no avail to stop your advances to him. Wanda’s red magic enveloped him as your darkness invaded his senses, showing him his future self that you had fought. 

“Wanda!” you yelled, capturing the red heads attention briefly. 

“Go for the head.” 

Her smile was chilling as her magic changed from picking apart his armor to slowly ripping his head off his body. 

Red magic gathered at his throat and ran through him as though he had been made of butter.  

Thanos’s head rolled on the soot covered ground, his eyes lifeless but his scared expression forever etched onto his features. 

---

After their leaders demise his armies ceased and it was fairly easy taking care of them after that. 

After the battle you reunited with Thor, time had clearly not been kind to your brother in law. He was bigger now, and his hair was longer and he reeked of alcohol and B.O. 

You spent the next few weeks taking care of him and catching up on what you’ve missed during the past five years, although you didn’t really want to. 

While for you the past five years seemed to pass by like a good night’s sleep, for everyone it dragged on. 

Thor had been living in his guilt and grief for five years while for you it was still fresh. 

Part of you wished you hadn’t returned, the only joyful part of coming back was ending Thanos with your own hands. 

You went to New Asgard with Thor, you didn’t really care about staying behind after the battle. Tony did the same thing, he went back home to his family with Peter. 

You looked out to the sea of green grass before you, a blanket under you, a cup of fresh tea in one hand and another tea right beside you. 

You instinctively made two teas, one for you and one for the ghost of your Loki. It was a hard habit to break. Twilight engulfed the sky as a Mary Shelley book laid face down on the blanket next to Loki’s tea. 

You could almost feel him next to you, and if you closed your eyes you swear you could hear him move next to you. 

“Hey Thor.” You greeted without looking. He often came to check on you around this time of day. 

“Lady (Y/n),” He greeted as he sat next to you opposite where Loki’s tea was. 

“I suppose you heard about my departure tomorrow.”

You had, You heard he named Val King of Asgard and was planning on leaving with the Guardians tomorrow to travel across space. You were sad to see him go but happy that he was finally moving on. 

You nodded. 

‘You could come with us.”

His offer was tempting, an adventure across space would’ve sounded like a dream come true to you.

“No matter where I go I’ll still think of him,” you said before turning your gaze to the blonde god. “For you it may have been years ago, but I still feel his absence as intensely as a knife in the heart. I don’t mean to disregard your mourning for your brother, but it’s still a fresh and bleeding wound.”

You twirled the emerald ring on your finger, a habit you did when you thought of him. It was the only physical thing you had left to remind yourself of him beside a few pictures you had taken. 

There was a long pause before either of you spoke again. 

“My brother was a complicated, mischievous man. Always scheming, he kept people at arm's length.” Thor said, “I don’t think he felt like a belonged anywhere, until he met you.”

Your heart broke. 

“You brought out a man that I thought long dead in him. You gave me back my brother and our mother her son. Loki was going to Bond with you.”

You stared at him in confusion, Thanos’s attack had been so sudden that Loki didn’t fully explain what Bonding was. 

“Our mother taught Loki and I most things. She once taught us about a wedding ritual that was ancient but typically frowned upon on Asgard. Your souls would become Bonded until one of you died.” Fresh tears rolled down your face as he continued. “It was the closest thing that Loki could do to either give you immortality or to make himself mortal. He couldn’t stand the thought of being without you, even for one day.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Loki loved you more than he had ever loved anything,” Thor put his hand respectfully on your shoulder, “He would never want you to suffer one day with or without him. You and I are too much alike sister in law,” Tears littered his mismatched eyes. “We both lost all that we had ever loved, our family being the hardest loss among them. I don’t think they would want us to sit and let life pass us. Instead they would want us to live it to the fullest with little regret for them.”

Thor made sense, if the roles had been reversed you wouldn’t have wanted Loki to continue to live. To live as though he was living for you as well. 

For the first time since he died you cried. Sobbing uncontrollably into Thor’s shoulder. 

You missed Loki, and you knew you would never love anyone the way you had loved him. You know there will be a lifetime’s worth of restless nights and grieving ahead of you. But Thor had a point, you needed to drink the rest of that tea, look away from the twilight skies, and put away the book. 

You needed to live. 

If not for you then for him and your family. 

---

After that Thor helped you pack and soon you were off on your own adventure. 

Making sure to live everyday, with little to no regrets, the emerald ring safely secured on a chain around your neck.

[sagamemes]

the sheridan tapes  📼  part one.   here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes.  tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝  jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you?  ❞

❝  makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me?  ❞

❝  darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain.  ❞

❝  i don't think he was a werewolf.  ❞

❝  i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says  ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’.  ❞

❝  i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena.  ❞

❝  my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment.  ❞

❝  [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time.  ❞

❝  so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then?  ❞

❝  well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts.  ❞

❝  there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year.  ❞

❝  so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once.  ❞

❝  it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it.  ❞

❝  i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while.  ❞

❝  it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee.  ❞

❝  i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens?  when the earth is gone?  ❞

❝  glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then.  ❞

❝  knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening.  ❞

❝  that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept.  ❞

❝  it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again.  ❞

❝  he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up.  ❞

❝  i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today.  ❞

❝  nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer.  ❞

❝  guess there really is no such thing as bad press.  ❞

❝  i have no idea what a writer’s  ‘ process ’  usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this.  ❞

❝  see what i have to deal with?  god… siblings, am i right?  ❞

❝  what can i say?  i have a soft spot for gothic architecture.  ❞

❝  computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes.  ❞

❝  they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions.  ❞

❝  that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth.  ❞

❝  you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it.  ❞

❝  one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void.  ❞

❝  the simplest explanation is almost always the right one.  ❞

❝  i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have.  ❞

❝  no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else.  ❞

❝  i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day.  ❞

❝  but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine.  ❞

❝  given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it.  ❞

❝  i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey.  ❞

❝  calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself.  ❞

❝  just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come.  ❞

❝  one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal.  ❞

❝  sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then?  ❞

❝  something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court.  ❞

❝  one of the neighbours must have called 911.  ❞

❝  my infamous accident. it almost killed me.  ❞

❝  i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me!  ❞

❝  could you shut the door on your way out, please?  ❞

❝  uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.  ❞

❝  the fire that i said went out?  yeah, it just started burning again.  ❞

❝  so i asked him to lie.  ❞

❝  it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs…  ❞

❝  apparently, the press had a lot of questions too.  ❞

❝  i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth.  ❞

❝  oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to  ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or,  ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ?  ❞

❝  i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again.  ❞

❝  i… think i’m going to turn around now.  ❞

❝  well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change.  ❞

❝  will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair?  ❞

❝  no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness.  ❞

❝  i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson.  ❞

❝  why do you always think there’s something wrong?  ❞

❝  ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble.  ❞

❝  so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it.  ❞

❝  i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape.  ❞

❝  maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors.  ❞

❝  no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in.  ❞

❝  well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now.  ❞

❝  i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it.  ❞

❝  i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus.  ❞

❝  i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going.  ❞

❝  before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call  ‘ unexplainable ’,  ‘ supernatural ’, or  ‘ paranormal ’.  ❞

❝  i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired.  ❞

❝  okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly.  ❞

❝  [name] lied his ass off to save yours.  ❞

❝  a crash like that does funny things to your head.  ❞

❝  i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing.  ❞

❝  any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke.  ❞

❝  i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine.  ❞

❝  strange how something so dead can be so beautiful.  ❞

❝  it hated me:  hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am.  ❞

❝  lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories.  ❞

❝  oh good, you’re still here!  ❞

❝  reviewers absolutely grilled it:  said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means.  ❞

❝  i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches  ❞

❝  i told her, tonight.  ❞

❝  for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything.  ❞

❝  i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one.  ❞

❝  i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night.  ❞

❝  i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing.  ❞

❝  i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that.  ❞

❝  unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either.  ❞

❝  i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find.  ❞

❝  it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least.  ❞

❝  your place is waiting for you.  ❞

❝  yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know?  one day at a time.  ❞

❝  oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh?  think you can freak me out?  ❞

❝  trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off…  ❞

❝  and tell my sister i'm sorry.  ❞

❝  oh god, it's cold.  ❞

❝  the night sky really is beautiful out here.  ❞

❝  tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar.  ❞

❝  i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now.  ❞

❝  it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all.  ❞

❝  can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do.  ❞

❝  i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case.  ❞

❝  god, these things smell of weed.  ❞

❝  yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know?  ❞

❝  [name] is dead. that's all there is to it.  ❞

❝  no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day.  ❞

❝  a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars.  ❞

❝  my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law.  ❞

❝  personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them.  ❞

❝  damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway.  ❞

❝  well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image.  ❞

❝  i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went.  ❞

❝  i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic.  ❞

[wolffe-simp]

A Sass in the Ass (Fluff?)

Note: I honestly had so much fun writing this, despite a cat in my lap so enjoy!

Warnings: Sass Overload, Sass-off, damn Wolffe roll those eyes harder, just a bunch of clones being kids, just a bunch of kids being clones, (Y/N) about to throw hands, Chaotic!Clones, few swears

(Y/N), Fives, Tup and Echo decide to wake up on the sass train and cause a little mayhem on base, what could possibly go wrong?

To most people, everyday is just another day, yesterday was then, now was today and tomorrow is just lurking around the corner. Nothing was special about time when it came to the lives of normal people, they just lived life as they usually did, in the safe, protective shadow of the Republic army. They lived without the knowledge that they were in fact, relying on a bunch of bloody children in mens' bodies. As they lived their normal lives, somewhere among the towering building of Coruscant, lay the clone barracks, a place that seemed quite from the outside until....you walk through its front doors.

"Get back here!"

"Who ate my kriffing yogurt?!"

"Ew, she licked me."

Chaos erupted in the mess hall, many voices overlapping each other, each sentence as chaotic as the last and in the midst of it all was a certain commander who quite frankly, was so done with everyone at this kriffing table. Cody stabbed at his food while Tup wrestled with (Y/N) who was trying to lick the tear tattoo from his face after he said "pfft, you wouldn't lick me." to which proceeded to the female proving otherwise.

Fives was ranting and raging about his toffee yogurt going missing which (Y/N) had brought him from her homeworld, which Dogma had snuck under the table and was currently eating. All while Waxer and Boil chased Kix around the hall, trying to stop him from killing Echo over a joke about people paying electricity bills and life support to which the 501st medic flew into a rage but Cody wasn't entirely sure what had been said. So he just blankly stared at his troopers chasing Kix, chasing Echo, wondering when he would have to stop babysitting them all. He wanted to just walk away, take his food to his room and scream into his helmet but he knew he couldn't leave them unattended, because General (Y/N) was far from capable of being the "adult".

"Ack! Gross! That was my ear!" Tup suddenly shrieked.

(Y/N) jumped away from him, spitting, gagging and making dying noises as her fingers clawed at her tongue. It seemed that the general and Tup had been wrestling sloppily enough for the female to accidentally lick the inside of the arch troopers ear. The sight, almost made Cody crack, almost.

"Why did you move your head? Ew, it tastes so bad, Tup you are definitely not a yummy boy." (Y/N) cried dramatically, causing Fives to stop his ranting about his yogurt.

"Exqueeze me?!" Fives squealed dramatically, putting a hand on his hip and clicking the fingers of his other hand while his voice went up and octave or five. "I don't know who you think you are but my vod is scumdidilyumptious, you harpy."

"Harpy! That's not what yo donor was saying to me last night."

"Bish, that man is dead, Windu went all Queen of Hearts on his ass and said OFF WITH HIS HEAD."

"Damn, must have just been one of your hotter brothers."

Just as Cody was about to slam his head on the table, a tray of food was suddenly slammed down in front of him, causing the commander to lift his head. At the sight of Wolffe's face, he couldn't have been happier, maybe with the other commander here, things will start to calm down. Wolffe was joined by his troopers as well, Sinker, Boost, Comet and Warthog. The pack was well known for their composure effectiveness and sometimes their.....PHUT!.....explosive anger.

Warthog had barely sat down when an empty yogurt pot came flying at his head, hitting him square in the head. His head snapped in the direction of a now terrified Dogma, the two staring one another down until Warthog suddenly sprung from his seat, chasing a now screaming Dogma from the mess hall, followed by Fives who had now found the culprit to the yogurt theft.

"Wolffe, I beg you, save me." Cody pleaded to his fellow commander.

Wolffe chuckled deeply, stabbing a piece of leathery meat with his fork and shoving it in his mouth. Deep down, he was highly amused by the situation, he and his vods had been watching the chaos from the lunch line, wanting to come and watch Cody suffer under the weight of the chaos.

"Sorry Cody, this just isn't my area of expertise." The 104th Commander apologised with fake sympathy, swallowing his mouthful.

"No, his area of expertise is ending up in general (Y/N)'s quarters." Sinker snickered from next to Boost.

Wolffe groaned and rolled his eyes as Sinker and Boost laughed, thinking of all the ways he could punish them for making that comment.

"Wait, (Y/N) and Wolffe?" Echo panted out, coming to a skidding stop, holding his side from a stitch. "pfft, would never have guessed...."

Before he could say anymore, he was suddenly tackled to the ground by Kix, the action surprising Waxer and Boil to the point where they tripped over the now wrestling 501st troopers, creating a clone dog pile.

"No idea where you are getting your information Sinker but Wolffe isn't my type." (Y/N) huffed from her spot, having recovered from her recent accident with Tup.

"Funny, that's not what you were screaming last night." Wolffe retaliated with a wolfish grin, amber eyes glinting with a mischievous look.

Cody choked on his food, Tup fell off his seat out of shock, laughing along with Sinker and boost who were in absolute hysterics while Comet just looked on in confusion, clearly oblivious to the conversation because of how focused he had been on his food.

"Funny, you were on the bottom, acting like a puppy getting all the love and attention he had been begging for hours to get." (Y/N) Sassed.

"Your such a pain in the ass." Wolffe grumbled, rolling his eyes again.

"No, I'm a sass in the ass."

"Dank Farrik! Can a man not eat in peace?! Can you all just shut up....for two...kriffing minutes." Cody exploded, finally having enough.

"By the sith Cody! You trying to throw hands? you don't have to be so rude about it, you could have asked us to stop." (Y/N) exclaimed.

And that was how Rex walked into the Mess hall to the most blinding sight, mashed potato straight to the face. The captain groaned and wiped the sloppy mess from his face, eyes going wide at the scene in front of him. Kix and Echo were wrestling on the floor, Waxer and Boil trying to pull them apart. Tup, Wolffe, Comet, Sinker, Boost and (Y/N) were all behind upturned tables, using them as cover as food was thrown their way, also throwing food from their positions. Dogma ran in front of him, still screaming as Warthog gained on him, shouting profanities. Jessie, who had been accompanying him, walked in after him and laughed at the scene before deciding he wanted a piece of the action before they were all caught and punished. But what shocked him the most, was seeing Cody standing in the middle of the madness on one of the tables, letting out war cries as he flung food left and right. Most of the other clones in the hall were either taking cover or retreating. Taking inspiration from them, Rex decided to slowly back out of the room and turn tail, pretending that he hadn't seen it, he was so not putting up with this shit today.

[jeonstellate]

classified files: compromised identity — file i

adaira jace is taken by the avengers into custody after interfering in a mission, which ultimately brings back things she’d rather forget.

⎊༄ platonic!tony stark x original character (ft. platonic!bucky barnes x original character)

⎊༄ brief depictions of panic attack and imprisonment; mentions of kidnapping, murder, torture, and brainwashing

⎊༄ paragraph format — 0.7K words

masterlist | cf: ci masterlist | next file

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

AJ sighed, another prison to escape from.

The holding cell the Avengers put her in was rather small. Too constricting, even. It didn’t help that it was simply too similar to the prison she had just escaped from, with its circular shape and glass front. Years’ worth of unwanted memories started to crowd in her mind — and she was beginning to have some trouble breathing.

She could see the faces of her kidnappers. How their cold eyes stared as they mercilessly murdered her mother. How they took and drugged her after she tried to wake up her mother’s corpse. How the symbol stitched to each of their breast pockets was seared on her mind from that point forward.

A skull with six tentacles.

She was back at the laboratory again, prisoned in her designated chamber. The scars that had adorned her otherwise flawless skin stung, as if she was reliving the days they were made. The bionic part of her wrists ached, both itching to feel her real hands attached once more. She remembered, no matter how hard she tried not to, the logo painted on the wall before they put her under.

A skull with six tentacles.

For five years, the symbol hunted her nightmares. Its hollowed eyes stared at the depths of her soul, filling her in with fears and longing. It took everything she ever had: her family, her freedom, her identity.

AJ was shaking. The memories of the darkest depths of her past was far too overwhelming. She was underwater. An anchor was tied around her ankles, effectively preventing her from saving herself. She wanted to scream, to let all her sorrows out, but she couldn’t. Not when it would just make her situation worse.

So, instead, she forced herself to welcome a HYDRA-filled slumber.

AJ was screaming, but she didn’t know.

At least not before she opened her eyes to a cluster of people that formed in front of her cylindrical prison. They were all looking at her with expressions she knew quite too well: faces of confusion, of sympathy, of reluctance, and — above all — of fright. She couldn’t blame them, especially not when she was also terrified of herself; of what she could do.

The dreams she had moments prior were fading fast, but the fear they brought to her veins still lingered. The look on her victims eyes as life faded behind them were something that never failed to hunt her whenever she closed her eyes. It was her hands that crushed their windpipes, but it wasn’t her choice who lived or who died. She felt weak — vulnerable, even.

None of the Avengers dared to speak. Too afraid to tip the thin ice they were currently standing on. They were all familiar to her somehow, partly because their faces were all over the news every now and then.

“I know you.”

She wasn’t referring to them, no — she was referring to him specifically. He was standing the closest to her cell, looking the least skeptical. His body language said that he was ready to bust her door open to keep her close and provide comfort, yet, at the same time, it also said that he wasn’t exactly sure why he would do such thing.

After all, he didn’t know— couldn’t remember her.

However, she remembered him perfectly. He was sporting a long hair and a silver metal arm back then, an obvious contrast to his currently short hairdo and black-and-gold arm, but she was still absolutely certain that she knew him; that it was him.

Her friend who, like herself, was a victim of the skull with six tentacles. He was used for their advantage — brainwashed and made into a killing machine, like she was. He would comfort her whenever she remembered anything, and would often calm her down with an empty promise of escaping. Then, together, they would forget.

“You’re Win. The Winter Soldier.”

AJ curled up into a fatal position, quite overwhelmed with the hastening disappearance of her recently-made memories.

It had been almost a full day since she was confined inside her cylindrical prison somewhere in the Avengers’ Tower. Although she was left alone for the most part, she was growing uneasy as moments ticked by. She had missed her next dosage of medicine by several hours now — and it didn’t help that her last one was almost twenty hours ago, either.

Although she continued to suffer the effects of her lack of dosage, she had no desire to scream nor cry. Her whole life, she was taught to show no emotion nor to show any weakness — even if she was hurting.

“Who are you?”

“Your worst nightmare.”

[paradoxolotl]

Are there any quotes or moments from any of your fics that you've had to leave out of the final product? Like, deleted scenes. If so, do you feel like sharing?...(Particularly Inked Truths because I'm obsessed with it. I fell in love with BoM, read it multiple times. When I found out you were doing a prequel I was very excited and have not been disappointed since.) (I also love TftR but it makes sad.)...Absolutely no pressure. If you don't want to answer please just ignore this, I'll understand.

Truths for the Roof didn’t lose anything but Inked lost a bit. Really, it was just redone to flow better and fit the characterization better, or moved somewhere later on in the series. I’m more likely to add then take away. It’s pretty rare I scrap something completely, and usually find somewhere else to put it, even if it’s a different fic. But originally BOM was very different. Andrew was medicated and Aaron knew Neil Josten from class.

Here’s a scene that was reworked in Ink Blotted Memories ~

Aaron did his best to avoid Andrew after that. He made himself busy at work, hauling dishes back and forth and hanging out with the bouncers on his breaks. When they were home Andrew was usually shut up in his room or outside smoking which made avoiding him all the easier, giving Aaron space to dick around on the TV or be in his room. Nicky still tried to involve both of them in stupid bonding activities like family dinners and movie nights. When they did happen, it was tense and uncomfortable, mostly filled with Nicky’s inane chatter. Aaron purposely did not look at his brother on these nights. He was torn between wanting Andrew’s acknowledgment and wishing he had never found out about him.

He marked his days with video games and his nights with alcohol and cracker dust, counting the days until he could once again use school as a distraction.

And the entire original Brother of Mine, which I rewrote most of when I got partway through ~

Aaron could still remember lying in his bed in his mother’s house, body bruised and hurting, wishing to have someone who could help him. Someone to make things better. To stand with him and hold him up when he was so close to crumbling. Learning about a long-lost twin felt like something out of a movie. An answered prayer. Finally, Aaron would have someone, a brother, who he could talk to. He imagined late night talks and secrets shared between them. They would have a bond so strong that nothing could come between them.

Andrew’s response of ‘fuck off’ had felt like a back-hand across his face.

Still, he held out hope. He was told to try again in the Spring, and that was what he planned on doing. Even when Andrew was sent to juvie, Aaron held onto his hope of a brother who would care about him. They were twins after all, how hard could it be?

The first time he had met Andrew face to face, Uncle Luther beside him and a metal table separating them, Aaron’s idea of what their relationship would be went up in smoke. His face was looking back at him, but there was no expression, no emotion at all. A blankness that revealed nothing of what he was thinking. It was hard to make eye contact with Andrew, his eyes sharp enough to be cut on. Andrew didn’t speak to Aaron at all that first visit; he just stared at him with a flat glare the entire time.

And yet he still came to South Carolina to live with Aaron. Aaron desperately wanted for Andrew to open up to him when they lived together. He thought he had to, now that they shared a room. He also hoped that home would get better, now that Andrew was home. Maybe mom would get better, would stop being so stressed. So angry.

It only took one incident for Aaron to believe Andrew was untouchable. They were in the backyard so Andrew could smoke, both sipping from a bottle of vodka Andrew had acquired. He had only moved in a week ago, and so far, things had been quiet. Aaron had no new bruises, but Andrew’s blank stare made him warry. The slam of the front door had made Aaron flinch, Andrew’s cold eyes tracking the movement. Aaron could hear their mother calling for him, her words tight with anger. Remembering the pills he had swiped earlier in the day, he swallowed back the lump in his throat and went inside.

He remembers her screaming. He remembers the pain of a hand across his cheek. Then there was Andrew, her wrist gripped in his hand, twisted far enough to make her bend at an awkward angle. It was then that Aaron saw the first expression on his twin’s face, and it terrified him. His lips had curled back in a snarl, his eyes bright with an anger Aaron had never seen before.

It was that night that Andrew had offered Aaron a deal. They would stick together, just the two of them, and Andrew would protect him. Aaron believed this was the answer to what he had been asking for. Finally, he wouldn’t be alone. He made his promise to Andrew.

Months passed, and Aaron was still collecting bruises. It was almost worse now, to have a witness to his suffering. Someone who had promised him protection but couldn’t stop everything.

Then, the accident where Aaron was left with only Andrew. Just the two of them.

The funeral where Andrew’s arm was in a sling, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, and a strange gleam in his eye as the dirt was poured on their mother’s grave.

Nicky coming back from Germany, taking them in.

Moving into a new house and Andrew installing a lock on his door.

The agony of being locked in that bathroom, withdrawal clawing his body to shreds.

The slow isolation at school, Andrew refusing to let anyone close.

Nicky’s assault and the mandated therapy.

That awful laughter and empty smile.

And Aaron had to wonder if instead of his prayers being answered, he had been cursed.

~~~

Things began changing the spring of their freshman year of college.

When they first joined the Foxes, there was a clear divide between Aaron’s family and the others immediately. Any interactions ended in spitting insults at best and violence more than not. The others feared Andrew and his knives, circling their group like alley cats. Not that the three of them were much better. Nicky constantly antagonized the others, and the twins’ general lack of effort to get along definitely rubbed a few people the wrong way. The Columbia trips solidified their isolation from the others. Honestly, Aaron couldn’t care less about getting along with his teammates. He would leave them alone as long as they did the same. He was here for a degree, not friends.

Now, they had officially been knocked out of the championships. Not that Aaron could bring himself to care, but games days usually also meant Columbia, and Aaron desperately wanted to get off campus. Between the upperclassmen, Day’s bitching over the season and Nicky’s whining, Aaron was looking forward to drinks, crackers, and music loud enough to lose yourself in.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t go without Andrew. His twin was currently perched on his desk by the window, smoking and staring out at the campus, fingers rapidly tapping. Normally they would already be packed up and gone by now, but they hadn’t gone once in over a month. At first Aaron thought it was because of exy, but then Andrew would disappear from the dorms for hours at a time, much to Day’s frustration. The only reason Aaron even noticed this as odd was because his brother rarely left Day alone. He never told them why they stopped going, or where he disappeared to, and any complaints fell on deaf ears.

“Come on Andrew!” Nicky whined, “We never go to Columbia anymore!”

Andrew’s laughter made Aaron’s jaw tick. “Oh, poor Nicky, don’t you know that no means no?”

“But why not?” Nicky was still going.

Aaron didn’t know why Nicky thought he could reason with Andrew. Unless you were Renee the best result from interacting with him would be victim to a cutting insult or dismissal. Worst case you’d need stitches.

His phone buzzing in his hand distracted him from the conversation happening. Looking at the screen, he felt a wave of relief wash over him, soothing the tension in his shoulders.

Katelyn

You played great today! It’s too bad the season is over

Katelyn was an instant balm to Aaron’s anger. It was still new, this thing between them. They had met in their intro biology class and had spent many late hours at the library studying. She had been the first person at Palmetto who had bothered to get to know Aaron for him, not just as ‘Andrew’s twin’. At first, he was a sullen asshole, but her endless patience and positivity snuck past his defenses and made a place for her in Aaron’s very bones. The only issue was they had to sneak around; Aaron couldn’t risk Andrew finding out about her.

Glancing up to make sure Andrew was still distracted with Nicky, Aaron settled further into his beanbag.

Aaron

Whatever it’s just stickball

Katelyn

Still, I’ll miss watching you ;)

Aaron had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the smile off his face.

Katelyn

How’s Columbia?

Aaron

Wouldn’t know we’re still in the Tower

Katelyn

Think you could sneak out for a bit?

We’re in that bar with the turtle

Nicky’s yelp brought Aaron’s attention back to the room in front of him. Andrew was still on the desk, but Aaron caught the glint of metal as a knife was put back in one of his armbands. His eyes followed Nicky as he retreated to the bedroom, face split in his usual grin. When the door closed behind Nicky, Andrew’s eyes snapped to Aaron, pinning him to his spot. Aaron glared back, daring Andrew to say something to him. To say anything.

Instead, Andrew flicked his cigarette out the window, slammed in shut, and left the dorm completely. Aaron wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not.

He sat there for a moment, fingers tapping on his phone. If this was going to be following his typical pattern over the past few weeks, Andrew would be gone for hours, and wouldn’t notice if Aaron left. He would just need to be back before Andrew. Really, it wasn’t that hard of a decision.

Aaron

Be there in twenty.

Katelyn

<3

Grabbing his jacket, Aaron hurried out of the dorm, eager to get away. Even if it wasn’t Columbia, even if it was with the Vixens, any time with Katelyn was worth it.

Aaron didn’t look up as he left the Tower. If he did, he might have seen a heavy stare and two lit cigarettes.

~~~

Summer came, and somehow Betsy had convinced the courts to change Andrew’s medication. Something about an incorrect diagnosis or dosage. Aaron wasn’t sure how they thought an Andrew off the pills would be any better, but no one asked him for his opinion.

The upside was that Aaron had weeks free of his oppressive twin, and he could spend as much time with Katelyn as he wanted. It was the first time in years Aaron felt like there was no weight pulling him down, like he could finally breathe.

It was in those few perfect weeks that Aaron came to a decision.

He couldn’t lose this.

~~~

Andrew had come back from Easthaven reverted back to the emptiness of when Aaron had first met him. He had barely said a word to anyone since he came back, simply leveling that bored glare at them whenever someone tried to speak to him. Whenever Aaron saw him, he was fiddling on that damn flip phone, barely acknowledging his surroundings. Even the upperclassmen had noticed his attachment to the device.

It was during a meeting before the first game of the new season that someone finally snapped.

“Damn it, Andrew, what are you doing?” When Kevin got really angry, his face flushed. Right now, he was approaching tomato.

Andrew snapped his phone shut, “Nothing.”

“Bullshit, you need to focus. Our first game is tomorrow, and we are nowhere near ready.”

“Maybe,” Andrew drawled, “instead of worrying about me, you should focus on what you’ll do when you see Riko again.”

It was a low blow, but effective. Kevin immediately fell silent, his skin changing from red to white so quickly Aaron was surprised he didn’t faint. Edgar Allen had joined their district after Kevin announced that he would be joining the Fox line-up. Last year Kevin had showed up, hand bloody and broken, looking for sanctuary. Apparently, Riko had broken his hand in a fit of rage. Kevin had tried to sue, but with the connections and money behind the Moriyama name, it was ruled as an accident. The public backlash of that along with Kevin’s transfer to the Foxes had caused several headaches last year.

“Jesus, Andrew,” Nicky whispered.

Andrew opened his phone again. No one else tried to speak to him for the rest of the meeting.

~~~

It was a new bet among the Foxes: what Andrew was doing on his phone. Everyone agreed that it was pretty clear he was texting someone, but the question was who. Some believed it was a secret girlfriend, while others were still convinced Renee and Andrew were together. Others thought it had to be something illegal.

Aaron knew what he thought, and he silently watched and cataloged information away.

~~~

The season was going terribly. They were winning games by the skin of their teeth and they were more divided than ever. Seth and Kevin couldn’t stop fighting, their newest striker was a nervous wreck, and Andrew didn’t give a shit.

Their last game was against the Ravens, and they had been destroyed. Now, Wymack and Dan were looking for a win.

They were in the locker room getting ready for the game when Andrew’s phone began to ring. Aaron didn’t recognize the song Andrew used, but he knew he normally used the default setting for his ringtone. Andrew picked up before Aaron could think too much on it.

“What?”

At this point everyone was staring at him, not even trying to act like they weren’t eavesdropping.

Andrew scoffed, “Junkie,” he said before snapping his phone shut, tossing it into his locker, and slamming it door closed. A moment later he was stalking out of the locker room.

Silence was left behind in his wake until Nicky broke it, “So it isn’t a girlfriend?”

When the team was gathered again (...missing...)

~~~

(...missing...)Today though, Aaron needed to talk to him.

The chances of Andrew brushing off any attempt Aaron made to speak to him were high, so Aaron waited until Andrew would have to acknowledge him. On Wednesday, when Andrew walked into Reddin, Aaron was waiting for him.

~~~

“Fuck off,” Aaron growled.

Josten had that stupid smirk on his face, his finger tapping on his test score. It wasn’t even that Aaron did bad. It was that Josten did better. He always did better in this stupid class. Aaron hated statistics, but apparently Josten was a math major and took every opportunity to show him up.

From day one Aaron had disliked him. He had plopped down beside Aaron, ratty clothes and shaggy hair, and called him ‘the second Minyard’. Not only was he a complete ass, but he was completely unnerving. His eyes were a blue so pale they were almost glacial, and his face and arms were covered in slashes and burn scars.

Once, Aaron had overheard someone call him ‘Scarface’, and Josten had just asked, with a terrifying grin, if they were looking for some to match.

And Aaron was stuck in a room with him twice a week.

Josten tsked at him, still tapping at his score. “What? Still second?”

“Fuck off,” Aaron really wasn’t in the mood.

He just hummed, pulling his phone out, a god damn flip phone, and spent the next few minutes ignoring the review happening. Aaron could barely focus as Josten texted away; each click grating on Aaron’s already frayed nerves.

Aaron wasn’t even sure how Josten did so well; he spent most of the class doodling in his notebook.

[dostthouhavenochill]

Performance

Rating: Gen

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix)

Word Count: 2.6k

Characters: Alucard, Greta of Danesti, Sypha Belnades, minor OCs (mentioned)

Relationships: pre-Gretacard, Trephacard (mentioned)

Warnings: none

Summary: Alucard muses on how life has changed since the head woman of Danesti, now Belmont, and her people have settled about his home.

The clearing was relatively quiet that afternoon, with the odd settler or two roaming around, enjoying a moment’s rest after doing their part in the rebuilding effort for the day. The setting sun warmed Alucard’s skin as he sat against a large oak tree. Strong winds shook the branches above his head, sending bursts of orange and red drifting about him. He brushed errant leaves out of his basket and plucked out a dark spool to finish his mending.

Aaliya and Rahim, bless their hearts, were the most rambunctious out of all of Alucard's children. So it came as no surprise when a few hours ago, Rahim came to him with pieces of what used to be a stuffed horse, “His name is Sumac, Father!”, wailing his dark eyes out. Alucard promised to make time to mend him by the end of the day. The toy was a well-loved thing, with stains and misaligned stuffing, all evidence of a boy who took his friend everywhere he went. The horse’s reddish-brown fur was now a muddled sepia and its once cream mane and markings now gray. Alucard just about had his fill of bloody horses, but he could make an exception just this once.

He wasn’t resting alone though. After depositing lumber and stone for Solomon and his building team, Greta settled beside him. She only dozed off a short while ago, but not before giving a knowing chuckle at his project and a snark about how he was finally as used to people as people were used to him. Absolutely maniacal. He couldn’t find room to complain.

So much had changed in just these last four months. Alucard would be lying to himself if he said that it wasn’t jarring to go from months of solitude to human interaction and back again, a hellish cycle that always seemed to end with him alone. But with the settlement of the people of Danesti, now Belmont, that cycle had been broken. Funny, considering how he had been hesitant towards the idea.

Except hesitant wasn’t an accurate description. Initially, Alucard had to wrestle with his desires for both solitude and companionship. As much as he longed for the latter, Alucard wasn’t prepared for its magnitude. Saint Germain, for all his scheming, offered a reasonable solution to a suffering people. Only that reasonable solution left Alucard feeling bare and scrubbed raw, as if the entirety of the world made itself at home in his ribcage before even giving him the courtesy of undoing the frog of his cape first.

Those first nights after the battle was when the enormity of his hospitality truly began to set in. He lamented the loss of his solitude. Protection, knowledge, and safety-he would never hesitate to offer, but with so many rooms holding so many personal memories, he’d unintentionally left his soul bare to all. He remembers all but dashing ahead of Greta while showing her the food supply to hide his makeshift companions from her teasing, scrutinous gaze.

But...it was nice.

It had been so long since the halls were alive, filled with laughter and with people milling about the halls. It hardly ever seemed like he was alone now. His role as champion along with Greta’s say-so granted him a founding role in Belmont and as such was bombarded with questions daily; someone asking for aid, someone asking for instruction, someone...just asking how he’s faring that day.

From beside him, Greta, with her arms crossed, snored softly. Alucard let out an undignified chuckle. For someone who had such hasty and scathing observations about settling at Castlevania, she seems quite content.

Greta wasn’t wrong when she called the Castle cold. Alucard remembers plenty of nights alone, abandoned, shivering and craving nothing but someone, anyone, to ease his loneliness. His mother. His father. Belmont. Sypha. Anyone. But after Sumi and Taka’s betrayal, Alucard began to appreciate the aura Castlevania emanated. It’s dark, cavernous windows and ominous silhouette, looming and judging those who came across it, a warning sign to all. It stood imposingly with cautionary tales skewered at its lip. Greta was simply experiencing the emotions Castlevania intended to elicit from oncomers; the cold, fear, and danger.

Even so, after everything that’s happened, Alucard couldn’t help but feel a sense of welcome and warmth in those dark, cavernous windows.

The windows that led to the study where Adrian spent years on years learning a multitude of languages, preferring the ones with lots of “s’s” because of the way it slithered off his tongue.

The windows that led to the southwestern dining room, where an infantile Adrian nearly chomped off his mother’s finger whilst she tried to stop him from swallowing a frozen carrot he’d been teething on.

The windows that led to the science hall, where he, Sypha, and Trevor spent the last few blissful days of their union getting drunk and blasting off various spells into the ceiling to see what would happen.

Yes, there had been plenty of warmth in the Castle, even before it had been graced with the people of Danesti. Almost every room he can recall with a smile and a fond tale. He’d had to convince Greta, he thinks. He can already imagine it; the disbelief on her face when he tells her he learned to shapeshift into a dire pup in a conservatory, a room filled with foliage and beakers and sunlight and all sorts of breakable things. And he can imagine telling her that Lord Dracula himself had to call for aid from his wife when their son burst through a window and pranced about nude in the outdoor sun. He can imagine that curious wrinkle in her brows before she thinks of something, immediately says it, and rarely regrets it.

He can imagine telling her so much about his childhood. About Vlad and Lisa Țepeș. About growing up the only dhampir, to his knowledge. He can imagine telling her so much about his past and about, ahem, possibly their present; what’s changed since he met her and what’s stayed the same. The tangled but firm bundle of feelings she’s elicited from him. He’ll have to ask for her time one day, one day when she isn’t exhausted from doing the work of half a dozen persons in a few hours time and taking a well-earned break.

Alucard was broken from his musings when he saw Sypha striding up to him in the distance. In the midst of Sypha’s pregnancy, her passion and spitfire were amplified. As such, she had enough of all the side looks and loaded barbs between them all.

They had talked, Trevor and Sypha and Alucard. They talked about feelings, about abandonment and betrayal and neglect, about Trevor and Sypha’s child also calling Alucard father. About how it was almost too soon to make such a leap, feelings too raw. About sentiments that could have, perhaps should have, been properly expressed before fucking off across Europe. About regrets and pain, about trust and building it back up. It wasn’t ruined, but it was worse for wear. Nothing that some regular maintenance wouldn’t help.

Alucard almost stands to offer Sypha a hand, but she politely declines, saying that if she gets down, she won’t get back up as easily. Besides, she was only here for a quick thing. Then, she took note of the sleeping Greta, and lowered her voice, saying, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so still before.” Alucard was inclined to agree. With her coat draped over her lap, and her head lopped to the side, Greta looked at peace. The tasks of a head woman were never-ending, it seems.

“What brings you out here, then?” Alucard asked, once he was able to drag his gaze away from Greta’s sleeping form.

“Rahim was looking for you,” she cocked her head, giving him a puzzled look. “He said that you would help him find some sumac?.” Chuckling into his chest, Alucard ties off the thread on the poor thing's left haunch and passes it up to Sypha.

“I believe I stitched together all the bits of his Sumac as best I could.” Alucard wonders if Sypha even heard him over all her soft albeit consistent cooing.

“Alucaaaard. I never knew you were so good with a needle,” she spoke as she ran her fingers lovingly through its sullied mane. “With the state of Trevor’s socks, he could learn a thing or two from you.”

And then the most terrifying thing happened; Sypha got The Look. To the casual observer, looking at the duo of Belnades and Belmont, one would think that the former was the sensible one. And they wouldn’t necessarily be wrong. However, what the casual observer typically fails to notice is that Sypha, for all her grace and intellect, was at least half as crazy and twice as impulsive as Belmont himself. Arguably, she was at her worst when she got mischievous, and the only tell for that was a distinct Look; one where her impossibly large eyes sparkled and her lips twitched like a kitten holding onto a canary for a little too long.

“You knoooooow,” she began, sounding like a child all too eager to tell an adult about some fact they recently learned, a fact that they had no business knowing. “It's never too early to start preparing things for the baby-books, clothes, toys and things. Perhaps little Trefor would appreciate something personal from his Alucard. Mayhaps if you had any miniature dolls of his parents lying about,” her bright eyes squinting in mischief, “Or something like that.”

Alucard would’ve liked the earth to swallow him whole or for a wayward night creature to snatch him away into the woods. He would’ve liked a multitude of things, but he was stopped by a soft snort coming from behind him. He turned to see Greta trying and failing to suppress a smirk.

With her eyes still closed, she gave up her storybook act and said, “I’m sure sunshine here could pull something off. Yours and Trevor’s resemblance is quite striking.” Sypha howls with laughter, calming herself only after Alucard throws her a glare, all the while blush painting his...well, everything. He sighs, turning back to Greta.

“I hadn’t known you were such a fan of my needlework.”

“Well, I hadn’t intended on saying anything.” Greta barely got her last word out before Alucard rounded back, still mortified.

“Quite unlike you. I ought to be worried.” Greta cracks open an eye at that, playfully raising an eyebrow at the dhampir.

“I thought you were asleep,” he said indignantly.

“I don’t know what gave you that impression,” Greta closed her eye again, crossing her arms behind her head, “ I was merely resting my eyes.”

“And your heart rate?” Alucard bent an arm against his leg, resting his chin in his palm and gazing at her through lidded lashes. “If I had poorer hearing, I would have almost certainly mistaken you for a sleeping person.”

Greta raised a single finger. “Almost. Key word: almost.”

Rolling his eyes under closed lids, Alucard said, “You would make an excellent performer, you know.”

“I am a woman of many skills.”

“Indeed. One day, I imagine you might even be able to successfully imitate a rock.”

Greta effortlessly lands a hit against Alucard’s thigh. There’s no real force behind it. It’s the same friendly banter they’ve always shared, the same heat that fills his chest, the same stir it causes in his gut, and the same burn to the spot she touched.

“Smartass.” As she draws her hand back, the smirk on her face never drops.

Alucard, chuckling and chest warming, cocks his head back to Sypha to ask if she needs anything else from him and is surprised to see an intensity in her widened eyes. Wide as they were when they first entered the Belmont hold, large and curious and flickering as she combed through every book she could find, devouring any new information at her grasp with a thrilling quickness. Before the embarrassment at being perceived settled in his bones, Greta spoke up, this time to Sypha, making her eyes softer than usual.

“How are you and the little one today, Sypha?”

“We’re well, thank you,” Sypha takes her hand and rubs it across her slowly increasing bump, giving the head woman a pleased grin. “I see you’re taking a well-earned break.”

“Nothing wrong with a little rest,” Greta shrugs, relaxing further back against the bark. Her brows get that curious wrinkle, however, and she says, “Especially for those of us with child who’ve been running about since dawn.”

Alucard takes solace in the fact that the air around Sypha tingles ever so slightly and he is, for once, not subject to embarrassment. If Greta sensed Sypha’s chagrin, as she almost certainly did, she didn’t make it known, aside perhaps from the cute crinkle around her eyes and nose.

But Sypha recovers much faster than Alucard ever has, giving Greta a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t up and about until after the sun broke.” She then releases a long sigh. “But between Trevor, Khadijah and the other healers’ constant fretting, you’d think I was on my last legs instead of giving life.”

Mischief incarnate would do well to take note of Greta of Danesti, with a hand propped under chin, a single digit tapping her cheek, and a dangerous glint in her burnished eyes. “Foolish of them, then, to disregard the woman who battles night creatures regularly and moved an entire fucking castle as incapable of anything.”

“Foolish indeed!”

Alucard cast a sly gaze towards Greta, naughty of you to rile her up like this-Belmont is sure to get an earful later. Coy is never a word he would’ve ascribed to the head woman, but the curve of her lips and flutter of her lashes had him reconsidering.

Sypha says her goodbyes and goes to return the horse to its rightful owner. Stopping short, she looks back to Greta and says, “I don’t think you have much room to talk, however, Head Woman Greta of Danesti-now-Belmont-who-wakes-with-the-sun-and-slays-night-creatures-and-carries-lumber-and-.”

Greta ducks her head, sending the Speaker off with a wave, “Enough of that, Belnades.” She lowers her hand, her brows creasing as she says, “Thank you and be well.”

As Sypha departs, Greta settles back against the tree. With nothing to keep his hands busy, Alucard joins her in relaxing in the setting sun, hands folded in his lap. Being immortal, the dhampir never needed excessive amounts of sleep to function, per se. Perhaps he would just rest his eyes and enjoy the company. 

Alucard sighs as the cool breeze passes through his hair and picks up fallen leaves, carrying them across the clearing. Then he sputters as one flies straight into his mouth. The dhampir gets no warning as Greta’s soft hands pull his hair aside, causing him to jump slightly. Her slender fingers pick out the foliage from his hair and shoulders before tossing them to the ground beneath them.

She can’t stop herself from letting out one last chuckle at Alucard’s expense. “Are you sure you don’t have anything better to do that loaf about with me, sunshine?” Her tawny eyes held still against his. Alucard arched his head back against the tree to appreciate her gaze.

“Nothing in particular springs to mind,” he doesn’t bother smothering the smirk growing on his face, “Besides, as I understand it, Khadijah has ordered you to loaf about after your mishap two nights ago.”

That earns him quite the eyeroll. “Khadijah, the worrywart, would order me to loaf about if I tripped over a stick.”

“Tripping over a mere stick?,” he lilted, “ I’d think he’d need to examine your head if that ever happened.”

Another thwack. Another burst of heat. Only this time, Alucard held fast, catching her hand before it could completely fall away. Greta startled at his reflexes, her head teasingly cocked aside as her eyes flicked from his to their joined hands. Before he lost his nerve, Alucard placed his other hand atop hers, giving it a soft squeeze and resting it in his lap. “I’m sure. I’d much rather be here than anywhere else.”

[just-a-creep-babe]

Hoodie Yandere Alphabet ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Commissioned by anonymous, thank you so much! 💗💝💗

~Requests are closed~

Masterlist: x

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Despite everything, ya boi isn’t really that affectionate. He doesn’t like being vulnerable cause he doesn’t wanna risk the control he has, so any affection usually comes in the form of sickly sweet teasing & mocking. Like he’ll drag a knife/gun up & down their body while cooing about how pretty they look when they’re all scared & helpless beneath him, and that’s about as affectionate as he gets

But he is, admittedly, a huge softie in the mornings when he’s half-asleep & also when he’s a little woozy from blood loss. In that case, he won’t be so afraid to smother his darling in plenty of kissies & cuddles :3 And once he’s got a grip on them, it’s damn near impossible to escape; boy’s got some thicc 👏ass 👏muscles 👏 just perfect for trapping his squirming darling against his broad chest, even when he is just waking up or injured 👀

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Mmh he won’t actively make an effort to cover them in blood or anything, but he does appreciate how those streaks of scarlet look on their skin. He sometimes likes cutting them when they’ve misbehaved, and he especially loves whipping them until the blood starts beading up, but other than that, he’s prolly more of a fan of bruising. Too much blood can make too much of a mess, which just isn’t worth the effort in his opinion. He’s a clean boi uwu

Still, despite that, he’s not afraid of getting his hands real dirty every now & then when the occasion calls for it ;)

And on the other hand, if he gets injured while he’s out, he‘ll picking at his wounds & stitches until blood gushes out just to smear it on his darling. It brings out this kinda possessive side of him when they’re covered in his blood—his mark. He also enjoys how kinda fucked up it is—and bonus points if it freaks his darling out too :)))

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He’s pretty damn cruel tbh. He enjoys hurting them physically, but he also absolutely adores messing with their head. He’ll act sweet & caring one second, then flip the switch & start mocking them for thinking he might actually be a good person. He likes being unpredictable with his cruelty too—it keeps them on edge. If they expect him to ridicule them, he won’t, and if they let their guard down & start believing he might genuinely care this time, he’ll be extra cruel~

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Oh, he definitely would. He’s smart enough to realize that what he’s done isn’t right, and he‘s probably beyond redemption at this point, so why not? Homeboy knows he’s going to hell anyways, he might as well enjoy the ride & do what he pleases ;p

He does many-a things against their will, and like I mentioned, he loves mind games & generally messing with their head, to the point of possibly breaking them. He’s also certainly not against dishing out punishments too. Whether or not they deserve it is sometimes questionable, but he’ll find a way to gaslight them into thinking it’s prolly their fault regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He doesn’t like being vulnerable with someone he knows won’t reciprocate said vulnerability. Boy’s just not about taking those unnecessary risks. So he doesn’t really let himself show any kind of emotions towards them. And this mans is fucking excellent at hiding what he’s feeling, and tbh, as a yandere, it just makes him all the more downright terrifying

The only time he might start opening up is when, again, he’s tired/injured & his defences are down, or he thinks his darling might be falling for him & their relationship is getting,, kinda more serious/genuine. Even then, it’s a slow process, cause opening up to someone isn’t exactly a familiar concept to him

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Oh, he loves it when they fight back. They can’t make things too easy for him now, can they?~ He likes when they aren’t afraid to show a bit of spunk; it only makes things all the more entertaining~

And besides, he knows that when it boils down to it, they can’t overpower him, so it’s not like he’s got anything to be afraid of anyways. They just end up looking super cute all flustered & upset trying to fight him off—all bark & no bite~

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

The whole thing is definitely a game. He wants to see if they can outsmart him—it gives him a huge rush & brings out this competitive side of him. He knows he’ll win in the end, ofc, but still, boy loves his little fucked up tricks & mind games, especially when his victim’s as cute & precious as his little darling~

When it comes to escaping, he’ll even go as far as to purposely letting them leave, just so he can leave traps around the forest & see if they can make it home—or if they end up crawling back to him. Make no mistake however; if they somehow, against all odds, manage to escape, he’s not gonna let that be the end of it. In fact, he’ll probably grow even more obsessed with them because they actually outsmarted him. The game would only really begin at that point 😈💀

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I don’t think there’d be one specific event that’d be the worst experience. If anything, the constant manipulation & gaslighting would wear them down over time and really fuck ‘em up in the long run. Just the whole experience of being his captive would leave some lasting trust issues, to say at the very least

But yeah, he isn’t one to get too physically violent unless it’s they’ve really misbehaved so they aren’t likely to experience any emotional outbursts/near-death experiences. He plays the long con & would rather fuck up their life by twisting & warping their perspective so bad no one could undo it. Not that they have much of a chance at returning to the real world w/o him, anyways. Cause, like I said, even if they escape, he’ll likely keep watching them from the shadows before reclaiming or killing them. They’re either stuck with him, traumatized for life among the normal population, or they’re dead, plain & simple

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Well, he’s got about a thousand back-up plans if they ever manage to escape that’ll lead them right back to his arms, but other than that, he doesn’t really,,,, know or care about the distant future?

Part of him realizes he might not always have his darling, while the other part of him’s convinced nothing could possibly tear them away from him. He’s kinda just betting they’ll eventually cave in, accept their fate & admit they love him back. At the same time though, he doesn’t want his little game to end, and he doesn’t want them to become complacent, so to speak. Despite all his careful planing ahead, he’s not really sure what he wants in the long run :/

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly), he’s not one much for jealousy. In fact, he’d definitely let Masky, at the very least, play around with his darling because ya boy knows sharing is caring 😏😉

Yet despite his easy-going nature, there are time when even he, himself, isn’t immune to those sharp pangs of jealousy & possessiveness. It’s more of a mental thing than a physical one, though. Like he’s fine with letting his darling be around others, as long as everyone knows they ultimately belong to him, but if he catches hint that his darling’s thinking about someone else, then he‘ll be none too pleased.

He wants their thoughts to always be about him; and whether in a positive light or a negative one, he doesn’t care which. So he’d find some way to punish them or gaslight them until they can’t think of anyone else anymore. They should know they’re all his, no excuses

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Hm, Hoodie’s generally a reserved person, and that doesn’t change much around them tbh. He won’t be as quiet as he is around the other creeps, but he’s def not the type of yandere to gush about how much he loves his darling & how much they mean to him & stuff

Sometimes, he can even be,, kinda cold & stoic. He enjoys confusing them, so he might act like he doesn’t care about them & their presence is a burden—like he didn’t actively choose to kidnap them. He might range from acting like a cuddly murderous teddy bear to a detached blank slate of a person. Typically, when he puts some distance between him & his darling, it’s cause he wants them to fill the gap. He wants to see how far he’s twisted their mind to have them crave his acceptance, despite all the terrible things he’s done to them. So not only is he mentally unpredictable, but he’s also physically unpredictable too

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He probably just,,,,, wouldn’t go through any courting. He knows that if he wanted, he could easily slip his way into their life like everything’s normal, since he does look like a regular dude, but that’s not really what he’s about

If anything, he’s more the type to stalk them for a few weeks, even months, slowly making his presence more & more known until they know something funky’s going on. At that point, either they’ll snap & hunt him down, or he’ll just break in & take them. Either way, he’ll wanna have his fun even before kidnapping them—none of that trying to impress them bs

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yeah, they are, but mostly cause he’s just so quiet & reserved that people don’t expect him to be so sadistic behind closed doors. Anyone that doesn’t know him well prolly thinks he’s a big ol’ softie, which he can be when he wants to, but they severely underestimate him. The creeps that know him a little better have an inkling of an idea as to what his true colours are, but he’s just so damn mysterious & elusive that it’s hard to get a good grasp on what he’s truly like. Only Masky and maybe EJ know what he’s really all about 👀😳

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Ooh, he’s got a whole arsenal of punishments. There’s the regular physical ones like tying them up & sorta just,,, leaving them there for a while, there’s spanking, whipping, cutting—y’know, the typical punishments you might expect. He might also starve them or deny them warmth & human contact until they’re begging for his attention. He’ll also emotionally manipulate them & gaslight them until they feel super bad for doing whatever they did. Boy just likes playing a whole lotta mind games w his darling, what can I say? 🙃

Tbh, he can get pretty creative with his punishments if he’s in a sadistic mood. And he likes to keep his darling on their toes, so there’s no knowing what he might do to them. Sometimes the anticipation of the punishment is worse than the punishment itself :”)

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Hmm... it depends how bratty they’d get. If his darling is the type to fight back a lot, he’ll take away most of their rights. No outside time, no getting untied, limited bathroom breaks, the whole shebang. But if they’re a bit more on the docile side, he’ll actually be pretty lenient. Like he’ll even leave the doors unlocked & let them go out whenever they please, so long as they come back before their curfew. The more obedient they are, the more rights they’ll have, so a lot of it depends on them tbh

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Hoodie’s a pretty patient dude by default. And for his darling of whom which he adores so dearly? Oh yeah, he’s got plenty of patience. That doesn’t mean he’ll let them get away with misbehaving tho; it just means he won’t get upset when/if they do misbehave. He’ll never snap or yell at them or anything. This boy’s got a wild sense of control so, despite everything else, at least his darling doesn’t have to be afraid of him getting mad & going manic 👉👈

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If ever his darling manages to leave or successfully escape, it’s cause he let them. Either he lost interest or he wanted them to return to their lives while he watches from the shadows. If he decides to keep them alive even after releasing them, he’ll still keep tabs on them, maybe popping in every now & then to remind them that their time spent with him wasn’t just a horrifying dream

If they die, however, and it wasn’t on purpose, he’ll be pretty upset. It’ll maybe be the only time he’ll have an outburst—when no one’s around to see it, ofc. But boy will just explode in a fit of rage & regret. He’ll completely wreck the room, taking out all of his aggression on the things around him—and boy won’t hold anything back. He might even inadvertently end up self-harming in the process too :”c

He’s not usually one to feel guilt, but he’d definitely blame himself for their death. He’d try to focus on his work to distract himself, to the point where he’d almost become a shell of a person. It’d take a good few months/years before he’d get over it. But I mean, he has killed some of his pretty close friends before, so he’ll prolly recover just fine. What’s one more body of his loved one to add to the count? :)

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Nah, not really. Aside from blaming himself if they accidentally die, like I mentioned, nothing really makes that mans feel guilty. He knows what he did is wrong, he just,, doesn’t care lmfao 😅

And he probably wouldn’t let them go, either, unless he gets bored of them. But even then, the chances of letting them go instead of killing them are about 50/50; boy really just Does Not Give A Shit™️

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Homeboy used to be a super sweet dude that wouldn’t hurt a fly, but Slender’s influence kinda brought out this twisted, fucked up amoral side of him. He already stalks & kills people for a living, so what’s the harm in bringing his work home sometimes, ya know?

He just wants to watch a cutie squirm in his possession—it makes him feel alive. Not to mention, those cat-and-mouse games go a long way in providing stress-relief from work. He just wants some good ol’ fashion fun & entertainment, can you really blame him? ;)

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Honestly, he,,,, he kinda likes it 😳😳 Lowkey gets off to seeing them cry ngl, it just gives him this fucked up kinda rush. If he sees them curled up and crying, he might go up to them & caress their face, cooing his usual deceit, or he’ll grip their cheeks & lick the tears off as a way of mocking them

He might cuddle or comfort them if he’s feeling particularly sweet. If they’ve been bad, however, he’s more likely to leave them crying in the corner w/o paying much mind to them. Screaming’s a similar case, too, except he might gag them & let them scream until their throat’s raw. Only if they’ve been good will he give them some positive attention uwu

How he reacts to them isolating themselves depends. If they’ve been good, he’ll find a way to coax them to stop, usually via some kind of manipulation, and if they’ve been bad, he’ll just,,, let them do as please. If they keep isolating, only then will he start losing patience. He’ll find some way to force them out of it. This includes, again, manipulation of all sorts, withholding food & warmth from them, all that “fun” kinda punishment stuff. But he won’t apologize. At that point, it almost becomes a game to see who caves in first, and homeboy will not lose

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

While he does love his darling, they tend to be more of a plaything to him. And he might not stick to just one singular darling over the course of his life. He might let some go, or he might get bored & kill some others; it all depends on their chemistry. He gets obsessed with all of them, ofc, but he might legitimately care more deeply about some than others. In fact, the ones he really cares about, he‘ll even let himself be more vulnerable towards. But if he’s vulnerable w someone & eventually grows bored of them, he’ll kill them w/o releasing them, cause he doesn’t want anyone knowing his secrets. It can be difficult to do if he still loves them, but he’s gotta do what he’s gotta do

The whole thing’s really all just a game. It’s only if/when he manages to find the perfect victim that he’ll keep them forever. Someone who’s not too docile but who also isn’t afraid to fight back. They’ve gotta be pretty smart, resourceful & entertaining, too. He wants them to end up falling in love with him, but he also doesn’t want them to stop fighting him. It’s only once he finds the truly utmost perfect darling that he’ll keep them all to himself forever and ever~

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Oh god, he honestly,, doesn’t really have any weaknesses. If his darling wants to escape, they just gotta hope he’ll let them go. Either that, or they gotta find some way out of his twisted game. Even if they manage to escape, he’ll keep tabs on them, so they’ll never truly be free. Once he’s got his sights on someone, the only escape is death tbh :/

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Oh yeah, for sure lol

He’s a pretty damn sadistic boi uwu. He’d hurt them physically and emotionally; boy just doesn’t care. How much & how often he hurts them all depends on how well behaved they are 🥴

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Hm he’s not quite the type to worship his darling. He adores them & thinks they’re damn precious, but he likely won’t put them on a pedestal or anything. The only chance he’d grow to revere them is if they outsmart him & prove themselves time & time again in his little games

He also doesn’t really care what his darling thinks of him. He knows he’s a bad person & probably doesn’t deserve their love. He’s accepted it, really. But it won’t stop him from gaslighting & manipulating them until they possibly fall for him. Love just becomes part of the game at that point ¯\_(ヅ)_/¯

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He likes to thoroughly think things through before making any decisions, so he’s likely to wait a good few weeks/months before making up his mind. He just wants to be certain before putting too much effort into things, ya know?

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yeh, he probably would. If they can’t handle his mind games, they’ll break one way or another. But honestly, how cruel he is depends a lot on his darling. If they‘re nice & obedient, he’ll be sweet and rewarding as long as they don’t bore him too much, so breaking isn’t likely at that point. But if they’re super defiant, he’ll be much harsher, and if they keep ignoring his warnings, things will keep escalating until they break or he just kills them skdjkdls. He wouldnt want his perfect darling to break though, cause that’s just no fun. Boy realizes a lot of them are likely to break because he’s not exactly,,, the kindest of yanderes ( ͡ᵔ ͜ʖ ͡ᵔ)