#not a strange thing to hang your hat upon I admit but like. it’s getting excessive I think

[rivercule]

Daniel’s screen name is “pulitzerootwo”???? I think this man needs a hobby

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Love in a Ghost Town--Part 2: Small Town Exposure

Eddie Munson’s become content with working his day job. After the crazy stretching of events from 1983-1986, Eddie’s grateful for a little bit of normal in his life.

That is until one day, Valeria Browns shows up in town looking for a quick car fix. And she’s more than he might’ve bargained for on the eve of Valentine’s Day. Valeria is just trying to enjoy her Valentine’s Day weekend after many years of being perpetually single. She has her fun, but it’s never serious. Maybe Eddie can change some of that.

Older!Mechanic!Eddie Munson. 2003 alternative universe. BlackFem! OC.

The Upside Down doesn’t exist in this fic. But strange things do happen to th town of Hawkins, Indianna. Major Character Death that is not canon as a result of the non-Upside Down AU.

Series Warnings: Character death, Implied/Referenced Death, Smut (18+ Content)

Chapter Warnings: Past references to trauma, Implied Steddie, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Edited photo of Eddie by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

Feel free to view my masterlist here

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The question’s been burning at the back of Valeria’s throat ever since Eddie extended the offer to show her the town personally; several hours earlier in the day. A long day if Valeria is going to admit it. But now, sitting in the passenger seat of Eddie’s pickup truck, the radio tuned into the top 40 hits, Valeria keeps replaying his soft confession, Hawkins isn’t bad anymore. From the corner of her eye, Valeria can take in the white undershirt and jeans Eddie changed into. Now the tattoos are easier to see, scattered up his forearms and biceps. Across his lap is a flannel and tucked between them is the jacket Valeria made him grab before they left his trailer. 

His trailer isn’t a lot. But it’s homey. There’s hats and mugs that line the wall the couch is settled up against. The kitchen opens up immediately to anyone who enters. It was mostly neat. Some papers--mail most likely--stacked on the corner of the kitchen counter. The small dining table tucked into a corner held Eddie’s keys, wallet, and glasses as he discarded them. The coffee table in front of the couch held coasters and a bottle that seemingly was left in a rush. Eddie was quick to get it up and into the trash. 

He’d shown her where the second bedroom was and let her know anything in the fridge and cabinets were free to her. Even handed her a fresh set of towels so upon their return she wouldn’t have to worry about them. As Eddie freshened up, Valeria dropped her backpack onto the edge of the black comforter. There was little in the way of decorations. A dark brown dresser on the bedside with a lamp. The walls were pretty bare. A clock rested above the closet and a shadow box with newspaper clippings rested against the wall that is shared with the kitchen. The closet had some spare hangers hanging from the silver bar, tucked into the left side against the wall were several boxes, Wayne, scrawled over one side of the boxes. She assumed it was all stuff Eddie couldn’t dare part with and though it wasn’t her business, she gingerly caressed the edge knowing how hard it is to part. 

But now, she's settling in reality and she can’t help but think about what had happened to this town. “What-what did you mean by Hawkins isn’t so bad anymore?” Valeria asks above P!nk’s voice from the radio. 

“I was hoping you wouldn’t catch onto that,” Eddie admits, reaching for his gear shift to shift down a gear. 

“I’m new in town. Of course I’m going to catch onto it.”

Eddie nods. “Fair enough. It really starts back in ‘83. Between two missing kids, one turning up later dead, the other presumed dead but with no body, the town starts to panic. Some government conspiracy theories start to float up. They sound like hocus pocus, but of course they’re supposed to sound like that. ‘84 and ‘85 are a little blurry personally.”

“That’s when your uncle got sick?”

Eddie nods to the question. “Yeah, it’s when we started to suspect something. Didn’t get an official diagnosis until ‘86. But the missing kids and then rumors about Russian infiltrating the town in the midsts of the Cold War. This town really had a stretch of some turbulent years. In ‘86, the town’s still reeling because now it’s coming out that there were government involvements with the missing kid whose body never turned up, and the Russians. Part of the town goes on a witch hunt even still. Religion was prominent, even if we didn’t admit to it. I think they call it the Satanic Panic. At the time, I was really into this game Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know the game. One of my friend's brother still plays. I think he’s the DM now.”

“I’m glad to hear D&D is still going strong. I founded a club back in high school for a little bit. After everything that had gone down, people needed a reason for why. Why was it all happening to us? Our small, quaint, idyllic town. And when people don’t understand something it becomes the easiest target. There were rumors about a cult being behind the reason for the reason the feds were looking at our town. Really it turns out only one kissing kid is a result of the government involved. Other kid just got lost in the woods. He’d run off, looks like there might’ve been a little trouble at home. A bad storm came through in November. Exposed to the elements like that, it’s only a matter of time.”

“Poor kid,” Valeria sighs. 

“It was Jonathan’s brother that ran off into the woods. Joyce, their mother, she took it hard there for a while. But then she really turned it around for Jonathan before she passed. Joyce was always fierce.” 

The truck stops, running idling mostly to keep the heat going. But there’s so much that threatens to melt Valeria’s teeth if she doesn’t ask. Like why does the town have newer looking roads and what were the feds actually in town about? How did the other person die? Did people start a witch hunt for Eddie because of the club? But she can’t quite get her jaw to open, loosen up enough for any air to come out before Eddie’s turning to her. He gestures to the side of his face. “You’re probably already putting some things together.”

Valeria inches her hand a little closer to Eddie’s outreached forearm. The truck’s parked, no where for it to go, but he keeps a hand on the gear like maybe even he’s unsure of where to place it. “People start blaming the game?”

Eddie nods. “Spring break of my last senior year was definitely a spring break for the records. To backtrack, the feds were in town because there were an increasing number of reports of illness coming from people that were working the power plant. There are old cold mines littering this state, but the biggest one was here in Hawkins before it got an upgrade. Though between you and I, it needs another one. Power plant is technically a safe distance away from old coal mines but the buildings and the conditions aren’t that great. Feds were coming in to try and keep things hush really and at the same time, following leads about Russians too. It’s sort of a mess. But this isn’t exactly public news just yet. So to the town it feels like a plague--you know? It’s a stretch of four years with a lot of turmoil. We had a mall that came in in ‘85, got burned down in the midst of this mess too. Didn’t get rebuilt until the 90’s if I remember right. 

“But Spring Break, man,” Eddie exhales, staring up at the front of the pharmacy. Valeria assumes this is the downtown--where bars, stores, and much of the nightlife thrums for Hawkins. But she doesn’t want to break the spell. The more Eddie speaks, the more she feels like she can see what sort of town this place was and may still be in the depths. 

“Yeah, no, Spring Break was a time. Part of the government cover up is becoming less of a conspiracy theory but between the mall fire and general turmoil, the town needs a reason for everything. I,” Eddie laughs, looking over to Valeria as he rubs his chin. “I wasn’t a straight lace back in the day.”

“You don’t look like one now,” she retorts with a snort. 

Their laughter intertwines in the air between them. Eddie shrugs, turning more now to face Valeria directly, back resting against the driver side door. “Fair enough. I deserve that one. But I was dealing. I’ll admit it. It was putting food on the table. I don’t think my dad was a bad guy. I just hated the situation we were in. Mom died when I was young. Dad’s trying to take care of me but doesn’t know how to grieve his wife properly. He resorted to dealing and got mixed up real bad. When he landed in jail, I got turned into a ward of the state until it came back about my uncle. I sort of felt neglected. Wayne was a good man and I’m really grateful that he took me in. But I guess after everything--bouncing around from place to place, picking up some skills I’m not very proud of--I still wanted my dad, you know?”

Valeria nods. “There’s no one like your parents. And there’s no one else that can fuck you up like your parents.”

“Ain’t that the truth. But, I was dealing, and the founder of the D&D club. And Chrissy Cunnighman- Liv’s mom- she was head cheerleader and approached me about buying. If we run into Chrissy, you’ll understand what I mean by this, but she’s like literally an angel. I’ve known her since middle school and I swear to heaven, she’s a direct descendant. Night of the championship game, Chrissy comes by the old trailer. There was a little bit of settlement money from the feds. I didn’t want to take it, but Wayne made me promise. I upgraded the place a little with the cash. But Chrissy-I didn’t know when she first approached what was really going on. I sort of suspected the more we started to hang out. She originally just wants weed, which is fine. But when she asks for the harder stuff,” Eddie sighs, exhaling deeply from his lungs. 

“I asked her to stay with me. The long and the short of it, that’s basically what happened. I didn’t want her using that kind of stuff by herself the first time. So I told her if she really wanted it, she’d have to stay with me. I’d sort of help her through her high until she knew better how she reacted to it. It’s one thing to have a bad trip and another to have a bad trip alone. It’s terrifying. But Chrissy at the time was dating Jason, captain of the basketball team. The All American couple. Jason wasn’t perfect back in high school--an insecure jackass, maybe. But I won’t paint him to be a total villain. When Chrissy didn’t show up for the party after the basketball’s championship game, it spooked him. He went to her parent’s place and she wasn’t there. Meanwhile, Chrissy didn’t even use that night. Well, not the Special K. We just smoked. She and I really spent most of the night talking. She’d previously been so…untouchable. But she was just a person. Like we all are. With her own demons. 

“One night was enough though,” Eddie sighs. “By the time I got Chrissy back home later that next day, I think half the town was gunning for me. I got cornered that night. It wasn’t pretty. They wanted me to admit that I was a cult leader and I was trying to sacrifice Chrissy and corrupt her. Doctor said I’m lucky to have made it out alive.”

That does it--where Valeria had been playing it safe and keeping distance between them, a hand hovering in the gap, she finally crosses No Man’s Land and grasps at Eddie’s thigh. “If it means anything, I’m glad you did make it.”

“Th-thanks,” he exhales. His movements are measured, but he moves inch by inch to take Valeria’s hand into his. “I’m glad too.”

The calluses are prominent. No doubt a by-product of the work he does with his hands and Valeria fleeting wonders if some of them too are from his days in the band and if he still plays. But even the curiosity is drowned out by the fact that Eddie may not be here if fates were tipped a different way nearly twenty years ago. “I’m sorry it happened though.”

“I gave up on being sorry about it happening long ago. Like I said before, I had other things to be concerned about. And I knew it. I was the town freak, good for nothing drug dealer. People need a reason why.”

“Doesn’t mean you should be sacrificed in the midst of it.”

“You’re right. I made some good friends along the way. This kid, Dustin, I was going to meet up with him because he wanted to talk about the campaign finished over break. And when I didn’t show up like I agreed, he enlisted some help from some of his friends to help start looking for him. It’s because of him that I’m alive. That’s Hawkins then, though. Let me show you Hawkins now.”

Valeria nods, a small smile crossing her face. “Sounds good.”

Eddie squeezes her hand for just a moment and then they both pull away. She works to get her winter coat on while Eddie slips into the flannel and coat. They meet at the front of the truck on the sidewalk. “It’s not a lot. The mall’s got a bit more and we can head that way too if you want.”

“Here’s okay for now. I think I might explore the mall tomorrow while you’re at work.”

“Sure,” Eddie nods. “I’ll jot down the stop to get off at. There’s a bus stop just at the entrance of the trailer park. It’s a bit of a walk and I do apologize for that.”

“I’ve got good walking shoes. But where to first?” Valeria, even with the dark of the settled in evening, can take in the buildings around her thanks to the street lights. 

Eddie takes hold of Valeria’s hand, nodding over to his left. “I could show you where I had my first kiss, which by the way was absolutely awful, but I think you might enjoy a quaint little bar more.”

“Which has cheap alcohol that does the job.”

“Now that it does.”

The Hideout is the opposite of quaint. The worn wood aesthetic gives away its age. The bodies that line the bar counter and some of the booths show a town that feels a bit frozen. Or perhaps is more accurate to say it’s a town that continues to fulfill its own prophecy. They’re not young. The sea is not packed. But the town has a certain prey that feeds its own ecosystem: people who don’t leave because of the haunting reality of responsibilities--the Eddie’s and Jonathan’s of Hawkins--and the people who don’t leave the small town because they are too embedded into a sense of nostalgia who can’t evolve as the times demand them. The latter seems like the best choice for one man at the bar loudly lamenting about the good old days. 

Eddie leans into Valeria’s space, voice closer to her ear than usual. “Meet Jason Carver--he’s mostly harmless now at least. And I’m pretty sure he’s loaded so he’s much too slow.”

“Captain of the basketball team, right?” Valeria asks. 

“Hmm, I might have to move the exam up a day by how quickly you catch on. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go.”

Valeria wouldn’t say she’s comfortable. Eddie is familiar and feels the most trustworthy. But Valeria is distinctly not comfortable in this town. Jason looks like the beers have caught up with him at the same time as age as too. He doesn’t look out of shape, as it seems more likely his cheeks are just full and the bend in his waist from his seat is a result of bad posture and the lack of a court to run up and down. Jason looks like a man who wasn’t ready to let go of something, so he doesn’t. She imagines the letterman jacket he might’ve worn like armor. The replacement, a bomber jacket, holds a familiar silhouette for him most likely. 

“I don’t want to go unless he makes a direct threat,” Valeria returns. 

“As long as you’re sure,” Eddie insists. “I do have backups. Aren’t many but there are some.” 

“Let’s just…give him some space,” Valeria suggests. 

“Absolutely.”

He leads the two of them to a booth right out of Jason’s line of sight. “Wings are the best thing about this place. Besides, my rockstar alum status. That okay? Two basket of fries?”

Valeria nods, shrugging out of her jacket. “I could go for some wings.”

“What about your drink? Whiskey straight? Hurricane? Beer?”

“Cider please.”

Tossing his jacket into the booth, Eddie nods. “Consider it done. I’ll be right back.”

In the absence of Eddie’s presence, Valeria slips out her phone. She hadn’t called Tamara to let her know about her need to stay in the town until now. No doubt to the worry of Tamara, but she hadn’t managed to have the nerves until now. It’s an easy dial once Valeria as she presses and hold the number 3 on her keypad. The line rings only twice and then shouts are filling the line. “Val, that you?”

“Yeah, Tammie it’s me.”

“Where are you? The car fixed yet?”

“It’s the transmission. Friday is the earliest the parts can come in. Eddie expedited it.”

“Shit, so you’re just stuck in that podunk town,” Tammie sighs. 

“Until the car is fixed, yeah.”

“You okay? In a hotel?”

That’s the question Valeria doesn’t want to have to answer. “I’m okay.”

“Is it going to cost an arm and a leg?”

“Add a kidney in there too,” Valeria laughs. 

Tammie’s laughter cuts in through the sounds of her children in the background. “Maybe a spare lung.”

Valeria looks up to Eddie, one foot resting on the foot rest of an empty bar stool. “It’s not…all bad though.” Out of the overalls, it’s clear Eddie’s built. It’s not like he’s cut to tear down houses nor does it look like he’s trying to win a body-building competition. But the lines in his back are visible beneath the t-shirt. He looks strong, and soft. It’s clear he likes a beer or two from time to time. He’s aged, his body gives that away, but he’s done so gracefully. 

“So who is it? Who’s caught your eye?”

Valeria travels the length of his body back up, work boots still decorating his feet to the long tresses. He tied back half his hair, but left the other half from about the top of his ears down loose. “I don’t even know if Eddie goes for Black girls, let alone girls at all.”

Tammie cackles at the retort. “You could be his first.”

“I-I don’t want to imagine that. He is letting stay with him for free, best to not make it awkward,” Valeria states, still half distracted by the ink of Eddie’s arms. 

“You’re what?” The screech pierces hard and fast in Valeria’s skull as it leaves Tamara’s throat. 

Valeria closes her eyes, head dropping. “Shit.”

“You weren’t going to tell me! You were going to stay with this man who could be a serial killer for all we know and you weren’t going to say anything to me!”

“We were just discussing the possibility of me sleeping with him so I’m not sure how that’s somehow any better.”

“Yeah, sleep with him and then frolic off to your hotel room or a motel or something. But you’re staying with him! There'll be no paper trail of you being in the town!”

Checking into a motel would definitely have a hard trail for anyone to follow. “He’s…Tammie, I can’t afford to fix this car and pay for an unknown number of nights for a room. The least I can do is take the free room. And there’s a mall out here supposedly. I’ll make sure to make a purchase there or something.”

“Use your credit card, please!”

“Yes, Mom, I will.”

“You feel safe around this Eddie?”

At the mention of his name, Valeria looks back up to notice Eddie turning with their drinks in his hand. “Safe enough,” Valeria answers. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Are you about to make a move on this man? Oh, he’s not going to make it if you do.”

“I’m out with him, getting some dinner. Trying not to be rude, Tammie,” Valeria whispers. “Later, okay? And a purchase on my credit card tomorrow. I know, I know.”

“Love you, Val. Please call later, okay?”

“I will, Tammie. Love you too.” 

The call ends with a distinct beep. Their ‘Love-you’s’ are punctuations to any conversations. Even if they argue, they still must confess their love. Because it is only and ever love that fuels any of their conversations. 

Valeria slips the phone into the front pocket of her sweatshirt and reaches up for the bottle Eddie holds out to her. He sets his glass bottle down, a silver bottle opener also in his hands. He motions to her bottle, like he’s asking for permission and Valeria can only nod. Eddie then pops the top her drink, the fizz giving the cider just a small head of foam and then quickly settling. “Wanted to ensure you knew there was no funny business,” he confesses, a lopsided grin on his face settles into the cracked red cushions of the booth. 

“Thanks, Eddie. Next round is on me if you’re up for it of course.”

“Let’s worry about that bridge when we get there, yeah.”

“So you used to play here?” Valeria asks, taking in the stage that doesn't look like it’s been used in years. There’s tables in the middle between the sides of the booths. She tries to imagine what it might be like to have a crowd of teenagers in on the middle of the week. 

“Every Tuesday. Didn’t have much of a crowd most of the time, but it was nice to play.”

“No one is coming to see you play? Were you bad?” Valeria jokes. She wants to deliver with more flatness, but her smile betrays her. 

Eddie snorts, raising the bottle to his lips. After he gets his sip down, he leans a bit more into the table. “I’m a metalhead. Corroded Coffin never caught flight. But enough about me. I’m old and boring.”

“Eddie, you are not old. If you’re old, god, I don’t want to think about myself.”

“No, you are the opposite of old, that is absolutely apparent. You’ve got nails like claws, which are actually really cool by the way.”

Valeria ducks her head. “Thanks. I-” She curls her hands into fists as best as she can before resting her palms around the sweating glass bottle. “I’m realizing how much I definitely stand out. Sorry.”

Eddie reaches, only just a shuffle of his hand over the wooden table, towards her. “You’re in good company then. I’m out of place here too and I fucking grew up here.”

Valeria looks up from underneath her lashes, but nods. His smile is still soft and still makes the dimples on his cheeks stand out. “I think I went to college to get away,” Valeria admits. “That’s why I didn’t really care what I studied or where I landed. Just wanted to get away.”

“Small hometown?” Eddie asks. 

Valeria shakes her head. “Not-not like this. When my parents were still alive, we had a small house--single story, it was nice. Parents were sort of treading water with debt so my grandmother sold that house to help out and I moved in with her. She lived in the inner city. Wasn’t terrible like we weren’t on the verge of having lights turned off, but Gma worked her ass off to make sure of it. Just wasn’t great. Sort of grew up dealing with a lot of people on our block succumbing to drugs really. Wasn’t anything for me to see people shooting dice or shooting up on the walk to friends house. One of the dealers on the block had a thing for me but I was just trying to keep my head down. I had a temper.”

Eddie hums around his sip. “A temper?”

“I got into fights a lot,” Valeria admits, spinning the bottle. She’s not gone in for anymore over her initial sip. But her knuckles throb for a moment before she speaks, “Broke one girl’s nose. Gave a couple people some black eyes. Nearly broke a guy’s ribs. I never needed a good reason, just a reason.”

Eddie whistles. “Before or after your parents’ accident?”

“After. Lost them in 6th grade. All throughout high school and the remainder of middle school, I just didn’t know what to do with what I felt. I was pissed they died. My grief was rage.”

“Understandably so. Really are preaching to the choir, so.”

“Softball saved me. I couldn’t let my grades slip and I couldn’t get into trouble--sort of forced me to face things head on.”

“You mean you couldn’t get into fights,” Eddie corrects. 

Valeria huffs her laugh, taking down her second sip to math Eddie’s fourth, maybe even sixth sip. “I couldn’t get into trouble,” Valeria returns firmly. “I got into a lot of physical fights but I was quick with a slick mouth too.”

Eddie grins at the quip. “If you can almost break a rib, I’d hate to hear the damage you can do.”

Valeria rests her elbows into the table, showing off her nails. “Why do you think I keep my nails done? They’re too expensive now to break in a fight.”

Eddie takes one of her hands, holding mostly on the tips of her fingers to get a closer look at the details. He runs a thumbs over the faux pearls. “Do you keep them decorated for all major holidays?”

“I’ll be skipping on Saint Patrick’s Day if that’s what you’re asking.”

Eddie shakes his head. His smile turns into something more flirtatious. “No, wondering if I can put in a request.”

“You say it like you’ll end up seeing the fruits of the labor.”

“I don’t assume anything.”

“Then what’s your request?” Valeria hums. Right from her periphery, she notices a person approaching with a tray. Eddie doesn’t let go of her hands even though she’s sitting back to accommodate their food. 

“I get to see how they feel. And if I can get a visit between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I wouldn’t be mad either.” 

Valeria knows a flirt when she sees one and Eddie is the biggest fucking flirt Valeria has ever seen in her life. “How long have you been waiting to use that line?” 

“That one I whipped up fresh just for you,” Eddie laughs. He lifts her hand, arms going with the action and the food slips in right underneath. They give their gratitude to the server as Eddie lowers her elbows back down to the table on either side of their spread. “There’s buffalo sauce on the side and ranch, and I’m absolutely biased so I had them put barbeque on the side too. But I hope that’s alright.”

Valeria nods. “Yeah, that’s alright.” Eddie’s grasps on her hand loosens and with a rush, a surge that overrides all logic, Valeria grapes his forearms, fingers bent mostly at the first knuckle to let the nail tips rest against his skin. Why not give him exactly what he wants? Well, he could be a serial killer. But something tells me he’s not. 

They hang in the moment, frozen like stars on cloudy skies, not exactly seen but known. They both know. “Is it curiosity?” Valeria asks. What’s really behind that is: Are you interested in me because you think I’m attractive or because I’m Black? She’s not sure Eddie will truly pick up on the nuisance. He’s lived here, in this town, his entire life probably. Possible escapades to the city and sure Eddie’s not once been rude to her--call it Midwest Manners-- but Valeria has to know before she does something reckless on a whole other level if it’s going to bite her in the ass. 

“About you specifically, yes. I may be a small town guy, but my eyes still work.”

“Eighty percent of the time,” Valeria teases, drawing her hands back, nails dragging lightly down his forearms, then down his palms and over the calluses and tips of his fingers. 

“The other…twenty percent of you is only slightly fuzzy.”

The click of a boot on the floors is easy to ignore, but the tan pants and black belt are hard to not see when a body settles at the edge of their table. It only takes the small glint of the gold badge on the hip for Valeria to snatch her hands back to her side of the table, as if she weren’t already on the way to it. Eddie raises a brow at the action, eyes morphing from something hot to something tender. The core melts as he considers her. “It’s just Harrington, honey,” Eddie explains. As if that’s supposed to take the edge off. “He can be a bit of a ball buster,” he continues on, flicking his gaze up. “Mostly bark, very little bite.”

Valeria follows the line of Eddie’s sight and there’s an easy grin on the man’s face. There’s something soft in his gaze down to Eddie, behind with the graying gray--longer than Valeria might’ve imagined for a small town cop. His jaw is sharp, long nose in the middle of a face that Valeria can imagine was the subject of many potential heartbreaks of this very town. He’s bigger than Eddie, muscle packed on with care and even with all his best efforts, there’s the distinct squish around his waist. Time, too, has settled gracefully on the man. 

But he holds the buckle of his belt in a way that sets Valeria’s nerves on fire. More than once she’s wound up in lock up because of a fight. More than once as an officer shined the buckle of his belt in her face, caressed it like it’s supposed to be something else. Like it’s laying in wait. 

“Wanted to say hi to the new face making buzz in town,” Harrington offers before sliding his gaze over to Valeria. “I’m Steve,” he comments, hand extended out. 

Valeria watches it, hand raising but body rigid. “Valeria Browns, sir,” she returns. 

“Ouch, no, no need for the sir,” Steve laughs, hands settling into his pockets now. “Just Steve. Is Munson treating you right? If he’s not, you like me know. A wanted man in many respects,” Steve tacks on. 

“All you’d have to do is call, sweetheart,” Eddie retorts, resting his chin on the flat of his knuckles. His smile is sickly sweet and he adds a bat of his lashes to top it off. 

These two definitely fucked, Valeria thinks to herself. Their laughter is easy and Steve throws a weak punch to Eddie’s shoulder. He singles Eddie out with a finger. “Just treat her right. I don’t want any complaints about you.”

Steve turns to Valeria. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come down by the station, we’ll be happy to help.”

“Thank you, s-Steve.”

“Anytime, Valeria.”

Steve reaches down into the basket of fries on Eddie’s side of the table and steals a couple. Eddie only smiles at the action. “Someone ought to be feeding you better. Fruits and veggies,”  Eddie returns. Steve only shrugs at the jest and as he takes a step back, winks. He throws Valeria another polite wave before carrying himself back towards the front of the bar. Eddie takes in the lines of her shoulders--rigid and hard--under Valeria’s sweatshirt. “Take it you don’t like cops.”

She shakes her head. Her throat quakes for just a moment. As easy as the taunts were between them there’s still the burn under her skin that Valeria knows will last for hours. “Haven’t had too many good encounters.”

“Steve’s a teddy bear, really. He took over after Hopper retired. The two of them are close, but really, you don’t have to worry. Steve’s—he’s a good guy. Truly he is.” 

Valeria’s sure Eddie’s words may be true, but she can only stare down at the basket of wings and fries in front of her. The glint of the badge, the grasps of the buckle are burned into her retinas. She blinks and they’re still there. She blinks again, I’m her grandmother. You think I’d lie about that? Valeria blinks again, You’re lucky they’re not pressing charges. Another blink, Keep coming back here and I might start to think you like it. Blink. Only thing you're good for is opening your legs in the long run. Blink. Blink. Blink. 

 Nothing had happened, but it still feels like everything had happened. Valeria reaches, hand shaking for a fry. “You two seem like you go way back,” she offers. Her voice cracks a little. Eyes threatening to spill tears. But they don’t. 

“Hey, no, are you okay?” 

It’s thick—the concern in Eddie’s voice is thick and it falls between them slowly. Valeria is so far from okay but she doesn’t want to focus on that. “Please don’t. It’s messy and not sexy. I’ll be fine. Just please answer the question.” 

Eddie can’t help the snort. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost if not more and you’re worried that you somehow can make your trauma appear alluring. I may be many things—a freak, a troublemaker, devilishly handsome. But I don’t care if it’s sexy or not. I want to make sure you’re okay. The last thing I’m going to do is ignore the fact that you don’t seem to be doing well.” 

Her chest cracks. The tears are slipping and she doesn’t care to stop them. Not now. Not when she’s being told it’s safe to crack. Eddie grabs some napkins,  slipping them into her turned up palm. It’s not a sob building. It’s more like the pressuring she’d been swallowing back now marches up her chest. Her exhale is heavy and she feels like she should cough. But still she withholds and works instead to inhale and exhale again.“Damn you, Eddie Munson.” 

He grins—the boyish one that’s a little shy but really it’s hiding all his secrets and desires. It’s the kind of shyness that makes Valeria know he is not so innocent. When she doesn’t move to wipe her tears, Eddie does, dabbing and holding the napkin along her eyes. Her mascara is probably already staining her cheeks. “As long as I get to meet you in the underworld, Valeria Browns. As far as Steve and I—he’s part of the group Dustin was close too who found me in the forest just outside the trailer park that night. Or rather that morning really. He and I, we had our time. I think if this town were a little bit different and he and I were just a little bit different it could’ve worked out, maybe.”

“Town freak, ex-drug dealer, metal head. Wannabe a rockstar and let me guess Steve was what swim captain. Jock. All American but inverse to dear old Carver. A real Wild West love story. Cops and robbers type of situations.” 

Eddie laughs, taking another napkin to dab off what he can of the black lines. “Steve even has a cowboy hat to match. But yeah, he was swim captain and basketball captain before Carver. He graduated a year before I did finally.” 

“I assume people sort of suspected?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe they did. But that’s all in the past, really.”

“It looks more present to me,” Valeria teases. 

Eddie shakes his head, but wears an amused smirk. “You’re always stirring the pot. We had what we had. We have what remains. That’s all, really. So, this,” he starts gesturing between him and Valeria, “is much more present to me. And that’s okay, right?” Eddie says in a whisper. Like he doesn’t want to scare her off or break the spell. Valeria nods but looks back down to her food. Eddie continues on. Like he can’t help himself. The words fall rushed and stumble into each other. “You can say no. I know it’s strange but we can leave it here. I’ll show you around, we’ll go back home, and I’ll give you 6 feet at all times.” 

“I believe you, Eddie.” 

He deflates, shoulders rounding down and he nods. It’s adjacent to relief, if not relief itself that paints his face. “Just let me know. But eat, yeah? Still have an appetite?” 

“I can try. That’s for certain.” Because if Valeria’s had anything she’s always had in her to try. She may not succeed but that’s never been the goal. She just needs to try. 

By the time they finish their food, the night’s gotten even colder. Valeria can feel it cutting across her face, but she walks alongside Eddie, listening to him regal tales of a not so distant past. The cold ease the fire on her face, the heat of fear and some embarrassment strong, but not stronger than the cold. She takes a long glance at the old theater sign in front of her. Eddie’s voice rings out about the time he had his almost first kiss here. Where Steve got into a fight with Jonathan over Nancy, where Steve had someone else graffiti vile stuff about Nancy and then cleaned it off himself when he realized how wrong he was about it, where now dust settles on the inside. If Valeria breathes in deep enough she can smell the popcorn that might’ve been popping during all these events. 

“Tell me--what’s your favorite M&M? And you have to say the red ones,” Eddie adds on.  

“Green Skittles,” Valeria returns. 

“Yeah, okay, those are good. But that’s not the question.”

“Green Skittles,” Valeria hums, bumping Eddie’s arm with her own. “I’m mildly allergic to chocolate.”

“You’re what?” Eddie screeches, the offense pouring from his face. “How-you haven’t even lived if you haven’t had chocolate.”

“I steal Hershey kisses occasionally.”

Eddie grins, hand reaching out for hers. She gives into the silent question with ease, slipping her fingers through his. The rings now are cold too. “I knew I liked you. The candy shop is still standing if you want to browse.”

“Sure. Just no chocolate. I don’t feel like adding an ER visit to this trip.”

“Oh, you’ll just miss Buckley then.”

“Who?”

“Robin. Pediatric nurse. Friend. Ex band geek. Steve’s literal other half in platonic form. She’s kind of amazing, but you can’t tell her I said that.”

“I’m 32,” Valeria returns. 

Eddie grins before leaning down just a little. He whispers, what Valeria knows shouldn’t be a secret, but he treats it like one, “Buckley’s got all the best candy in the hospital though.”

“I can fake it,” Valeria deadpans, pulling to a hard stop on the sidewalk. She throws her thumb over her shoulder. “Which way to the hospital?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, turning to face Valeria now. His body breaks a gust of wind. “Technically, that way,” Eddie nods his head over his left shoulder. He swings their joined hands in the direction too. “I think she’s looking to get out soon, from nursing. So we probably should get to her sooner rather than later. But I’m sure I can give her a ring tonight and set something more adult up.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother,” Valeria states. 

“You are not a bother. She might even be able to take you up to the mall so you’re not hiking it if she’s not got another shift. She admittedly hates shopping but she’s good company.”

“If she’s Steve’s platonic soulmate, I’m probably going to get a shovel talk.”

Eddie nods, a small grimace taking over his face. “Hmm, that is the down side. She’d kill for that boy and now by a long extension me.”

“You do that a lot.”

Eddie’s brows furrow at Valeria’s statement. “Do what?”

“You dismiss yourself. Like you somehow matter less or not the same as everyone else.”

“One day. One day and you think you have me figured all the way out?” There’s not a lot of heat behind Eddie’s words. But there’s a sternness that lets Valeria know she’s too close. 

“I cried into chicken wings forty-five minutes ago in case you forgot. You cleaned my mascara off too. You can tell me if I’m dancing too close to the fire, but you don’t get to undercut me.” The words fall with an arch brow. Like she’s daring Eddie to say something else back out of line. Valeria’s not afraid of fight--that’s something she’s always known. 

“To be fair, I’m mostly impressed. Took a lot of people I’m close to a lot longer to call me out on it. Wayne doesn’t really count, since he raised me and all.”

Valeria watches the lines of Eddie’s face and the tick of his jaw. There is genuine awe mixed with a clear tell. “Too close to the fire, aren’t I?”

“Maybe just a little.” Edde uses the forefinger and thumb on his free hand to press together just how close Valeria is to the nerve. The pads of his fingers don’t touch, but they are so close they might as well be. He laughs, which hopefully means he doesn’t hate her guts. Her actions may have warranted it, but she likes the ease with Eddie. 

Valeria returns the sentiment with her free hand held in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul. Our outs or strikes. C’mon, there’s candy to browse.” The two resume their walk. It’s a short distance but even in the few steps the tension starts to melt. 

“Steve would be disappointed,” Valeria points out. “I’m sure he’s tried hard to teach you about sports.”

Eddie holds open the door to the shop, allowing Valeria to enter first. “I’ve learned a lot. It’s funnier to be a little shit.”

The shop has redwood and red decor up the walls. It’s not quite like stepping into a time machine. The registers are all modern, but there’s something historic about the decor. It feels borrowed, comfortable in a way that lets Valeria that it’s been well lived in, but still is not hers. “What’s your favorite color of M&Ms?” Valeria asks. 

“The green ones.”

“So why did I have to say red?”

“It would complete the set,” Eddie returns. 

He says it like it’s obvious. Like Valeria’s supposed to know what it means. But she doesn’t. She watches Eddie walk over to the side wall, where rows of clear containers sit. You can build your own bag of candy, it appears from the way there are plastic bags on the side and scoops in each clear container. He takes a bag and scoops inside peach rings. Then he gets another bag stowing away red hots inside of it. Eddie goes on until he has a dozen bags. They’re all tied off after they’re about a third the way full.  Valeria grabs half for him when it’s clear he’s done. 

“I got ‘em,” Eddie returns, piling his portion on his forearm pressed up against his stomach, using his torso now as a shelf to leave the bags 

“I can help. For friends?”

Eddie nods. “Bit of a tradition.”

“Is there where Robin gets her stash?”

“Possibly,” Eddie laughs, one hand still extending to take the remaining bags. “But I’ll never tell.”

Valeria turns, still holding six bags in her arms. She gravitates to the candy apples.  She can’t remember the last time she had a candy apple, but the sight of the display is enough to seal the deal. There are some in caramel with nuts and some dipped in the red candy covering. She eyes the displays to see if she can determine the base apple flavor beneath and spots a green apple in red candy covering that she wants. The tower has no glass so she reaches in and plucks the one she wants off the tray. 

Before she can get it fully in her grasps, a hand comes in over her shoulder and picks up the handle. Valeria turns to find Eddie already making his way to the register. “You coming or getting left?” he calls out of his shoulder. 

“You’re insufferable,” Valeria mutters to herself but comes at the call. Eddie’s focused on a display--Valeria’s doesn’t pay attention to what. She’s fishing her wallet out from her pocket and slides her card across the counter as she notices the cashier finishing up. The young girl takes it, red hair pulled back from her face, and she looks bored. Not that Valeria blames her. 

“Got ID?” The girl asks. Valeria holds it out for her to see and only at the question does Eddie’s attention snap away from the glass counter. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching up to swat her card away. But the cashier is faster and swipes Valeria’s card after verifying the name on it and the name of the ID. “Max, you know better!”

Max, the cashier only shrugs, fishing out a pen from the cup for Valeria to sign the receipt. “I don’t really give a shit.”

Valeria hands over the signed receipt and gets her car back into her wallet. The purchase would at the very least solidify her time in the town and it would piss off Eddie: two birds, one stone. “Since you paid for dinner,” Valeria returns. “Thank you.”

Eddie sighs, with a nod. “If you pay for anything else though,” he threatens, but doesn’t finish. 

“You’re going to do what?” Valeria goads. 

“Not in front of the children,” he answers, tucking two fingers under Valeria’s chin to tilt her head back. 

It’s only an arch of her brow. There’s no word.  But the facial tic is enough to communicate everything to Eddie and his eyes darken just a little in the dim light of the candy store. There he is, Valeria notes to herself. 

“I’m taking my Swedish fish now, by the way, Eddie,” Max interrupts, clearly on purpose as she gnashes her teeth into the tough gelatin. 

Eddie’s gaze never leaves Valeria’s. “Enjoy, Red.”  His fingers slowly leave Valeria’s chin, one single digit signaling her out. “You’re dangerous, very dangerous,” Eddie laughs.

Tagging: @munsonology​

[leggerefiore]

The post about Emin crying due to being alone on the holidays broke my heart a bit, so if it is alright could I ask for some Christmas stuff (headcannons/dribbles/fic/whatever you like) for when Emin does have a s/o to spend the holidays with?

emin......... my beloved lonely boy

▲Emin▽

● He is unbelievably excited to be spending a holiday season with you. The poor Subway Boss squeezes you into a hug, and literally thanks you for staying with him, and likely begins to cry a little. He's overcome with strong emotions about everything. Please comfort him and remind him to schedule ahead for a day off. He will forget and then be heartbroken about having to work.

○ Emin basically begs you to help decorate with him, his big eyes staring desperately into you. You couldn't dare tell such a sweet man, “no.” He enters his talkative mood while you both work getting everything up. He's giddy as you hang up garlands, wreaths and bring out other decorative pieces. As you work together to place ornaments on the tree, he sighs happily. You don't miss how his arms comes around you, and he rests his head upon your shoulder. There's a dreamy, distant look on his face.

● Elesa sighs at the sight of you and him in matching sweaters. He's proudly at your side in it with a bright grin on his face. You seemingly had accepted your fate to match with him and leaned against him. Emin had always had a strange urge to match with someone who was finally fulfilled. His arm comes around you tightly. Elesa would later describe his expression as teetering on smug.

○ He cooks so much for you. This guy is working to make a full-course meal when it's just going to be the two of you (and maybe Elesa if she has the time herself). Emin had started cooking more after you both started dating, wanting to repay you for doing the same for him, but now he's gone a bit overboard. You take a place beside him in the kitchen to help him cook, and the day ends up passing into the evening before you both realise it. The meal, as it turns out, was actually also for his Depot Agents. A quiet meal for you two and something nice for the poor workers still out on Christmas. They all cheered for their boss when he brought you and the food to the station.

● He also makes you hot chocolate eagerly. It's smothered in whipped cream, but is perfectly mixed between a certain bitter chocolate flavour and sweetness. Emin is blushing when you tell him how wonderful it is. Your compliments mean the world to him. He teaches you how he makes it happily.

○ His favourite thing, however, is clearly the gift giving portion. You watched as boxes piled up under the tree through the month. A few were from you to him or your friends and family, but many were from him to you and his friends and family. It was clear this was something that excited him heavily. (He admits that it used to be all he could really do while working, but is excited to finally give gifts out properly.)

● You visit his parents, who are clearly overjoyed to see their son so happy. His mom pecks a sweet kiss on his cheek and hugs you tightly. She thanks you for making him so happy and helping to end his seemingly endless loneliness. Emin is deeply flustered by all her actions and words. Especially when she shares about having to tell Emin that the special Delibird wasn't real. “Oh, he was thirteen and so sad! He acted like we had completely betrayed him,” she recounted and pulled out a photo album of Emin in his youth, “Next year he became our prince of darkness.” Goth Emin in a Delibird hat made you laugh more than it should.

○ On the evening of Christmas day, he nervously held out a gift to you. It was small and wrapped wonderfully. The feeling of unwrapping it was a bit cruel yet exciting. Finally, opening the box revealed two plane tickets. “Ah… See, you mentioned being concerned with me working too much, right?” he nervously told you, “S-so I thought it might be a verrrrry good idea to go on a vacation. Together. To Alola!” You giggled at his reaction and placed a loving kiss to his lips. “That sounds wonderful… Are you sure your Joltiks will be okay without you, though?” you asked, recalling his odd fascination with breeding the arachnids. He smiled brightly and nodded. “Elesa said she'd be more than happy to help… She wants me to take some time off, too,” he explained. You took his hands in yours and sighed. Resting your forehead to his, you both felt at ease.

[kieyoukiedraws]

Walking in the Woods (LIS)

I found this in my computer while going through my files. It’s a small little read based in autumn, which is still a few months away, but I don’t want to forget about it. Think of it like a fun fall escape lol. 

Life is Strange- Nathan/Warren/Max/Chloe

 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click

The sound of the shutter drew the attention of Warren. 

Damn 

He had allowed himself to be caught off guard by the underpass of the bridge he was standing on. He couldn't help it. It was beautiful. The sun shining through the red and yellow leaves which slowly fell into the running river below to the pace of the turning season. 

He had only let his gaze stray for a moment, but that's all the time he needed for Nathan, who was at a sneaky distance behind, to snap the shot. 

“Why is it that when I hang out with you people, I feel like I’m the meerkat in some kind of Nature documentary?” He scoffed, turning around to face the rest of the crew. Just in time to catch Max quickly moving the camera from her face to behind her back “Dang it, lost the shot...” she sheepishly muttered before innocently averting her gaze to one of the many trees. 

“A meerkat?” Chloe called out, she was at the side leaning far onto the ledge of the bridge in a somewhat concerning way “More like some kind of large wild pig” She let out a laugh, and Warren let his eyes and mouth fall into an accepting frown. 

Her laugh was replaced by a startled yelp as she soon felt a force on her back push her further onto the ledge before coming to a full stop. Nathan had come up from behind and with one hand solved her forwards lightly before gripping the nape of her denim jacket before she could even get close to an actual tumble into the probably frigid water below. 

Warren crossed his arms and turned on his heels away from the group “Thank you Nathan.”

Soon the mentioned young adult was by his side nudging his shoulder. 

“We can't help that your so photogenic.”

“That's definitely a lie Nathan, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Oh come on, look” Nathan pulled up the camera for the two to see. Upon the viewfinder was an image of Warren from mostly behind, his head turned to the side, looking intently into the colorful reflections of the water. 

Warren had to admit that as far as a candid photo like this was concerned, it was good enough that he could see it in some kind of travel brochure or something. Although looking at himself in this way was still off-putting to him. 

Not that he would grant such compliments to Nathan so easily of course. 

“Yeah, it’s a good photo.. Of the back of my head…”

“The side of your head, and it looks great with that hat and scarf.”

“I knew you guys made me wear this on purpose..” Warren whined. Max laughed quietly as she listened to the conversation. She tapped Chloe’s shoulder getting her attention and the group continued to cross the bridge. 

“I figured, you were used to me and my random photo op moments by now” Max teased Warren. 

“Yeah, you would think.” He said with a partial laugh weaved between “Maybe it’s because there are two of you now. I feel like I have to have my best face on or else you guys are going to capture my ugly side.”

“You mean all of your sides” 

“Thanks Chloe”

“Keeping things humble my friend” 

[midnightxqueen]

hii, this is my first time requesting something so i hope i’m sending this through the right way, haha. Can you write Human Alastor X reader, preferably female, where instead of y/n being head over heals for him, Alastor’s head over heals for her? Like Y/n has him wrapped around her finger type of thing? if your not busy of course! if it’s too much or too confusing you can just ignore this! Thank you!! 💞💞

The warmth of the radio station was paradise compared to the frozen air that hung outside. While you enjoyed winter, on days as cold as today, you'd much rather be at home, sitting by the fire and sipping a hot chocolate while listening to the radio. Unfortunately, you couldn't do that today. Your dad is the radio station owner, and seeing as he is home sick with the flu, it falls upon you to see how his employees are doing. 

Then again, it's not all bad. One employee has worked at the station for years and, every time you visit, he makes it his mission to see your smile at least once. Alastor is persistent in his desire for you, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't love the chase.

After hanging up your coat and discarding your hat, you check in with each radio host, saving the best for last. Honestly, you were amused by the way Alastor's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't expecting you. The way he seemed to fumble his words said it all.

You waited until he put on the next song to enter the booth, but before you could open the door, he opened it for you.

"Good afternoon, Y/N," Alastor greets. His smile is vast, but then again, when is it not. You don't think you've ever seen a time when he wasn't smiling. "I dare say, I was hoping I'd see you again."

"Thank you, Al, although this time I'm here on business," you state. His smile falters a little at the implication that you weren't there to see him, but he still listens carefully as you continue to explain the reason behind your sudden visit. "My dad came down with something, so I'm here to see how things are going at the station."

"Everything is just fantastic, more so now that you're here." Alastor pulls out a chair for you by the desk while he takes his usual seat. "How have you been? It feels like an eternity since I was last blessed with your company."

"Al, "you laugh. "It's only been a week."

"Too long." 

You sigh, thinking about how to answer. The last time you saw Alastor, you broke the news that you started seeing a guy your father introduced. Honestly, you couldn't see yourself with someone so dull, but you didn't want to disappoint your dad. 

"I've been better. The guy I told you about never showed up for our date, and nobody seems able to get a hold of him. I admit I was a little relieved but isn't it strange that he just seemed to vanish off the face of the earth?"

"Very," Alastor replies with an unsettling gleam in his eye. "I always thought you deserve someone more... entertaining.”

"Really?" You smirk, completely forgetting the mischievous glint in the eye, and knowing full well that he's talking about himself. "Enough about me. How are you?"

"Things have been exceptional! The station is taking off, and mother just opened her own shop in the French Quarter!"

"That's wonderful," You beamed. Alastor's mother has always been exceptionally kind to you. "I'll have to visit sometime."

"Hopefully soon. You know I can't go very long without seeing your radiant smile." Alastor flashes a flirtatious grin. 

"Is that so?" you ask, matching his smirk. 

As the song comes to an end, Alastor gets up and grabs a record from the bottom of a huge pile.  The second he begins to play it, you recognize it immediately. Only Alastor knew that "I've Got a Feeling I'm Falling" is your favorite song. 

"Al, you know me too well," you gushed, causing him to beam proudly at you. "I'm just ensuring that your visit is worth while," he grins. Alastor has tried so hard for you for the past two years. You can't help but think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give him a chance. God knows you could never grow tired of someone so... him. 

"By flirting with me? My father might not like that very much," you say. The truth is, your dad liked Alastor a lot. He'd be thrilled to find out that you've fallen for him, even if Alastor is one of his employees.

"Some smiles are worth the risk." 

That did it. Typically, you'd be the one to make Alastor blush, but this time you couldn't help the blush that crept its way to your cheeks.

"What would you say about going out for dinner sometime."

"I'd say I'll pick you up at 8."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 6 - The First Date [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s a surprise chapter to celebrate TFATWS starting, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: First dates can end in strange ways.

Series Masterlist

Every agent in your division knew the Winter Soldier, the unstoppable assassin, the infamous ghost story, the man who had been fighting for over 80 years. He was a legend, and meeting him was something you were all taught to avoid ever since the espionage world had found out about his existence.

The last time, a whole team of heavily armed soldiers were sent to take him down and he had managed to disarm every single one of them without even needing a weapon. So theoretically if you were to send an agent to meet him, you would probably make sure that agent carried about a thousand weapons and preferably went there in a bulletproof vehicle.

Instead, you were told to wear a cute dress for the first date.

Lovely.

“How come I can’t wear any of my clothes?” you asked, pressing the phone to your ear as you took a look at all the dresses lying on your bed.

“Not that your sniper outfits aren’t hot, but wearing them to your first date with the Winter Soldier might not be the brightest idea.”

You heaved a sigh, “I still can’t believe you changed my whole wardrobe when I was outside, Chloe. What was wrong with my usual clothes?”

“They’re not what your cover would wear.”

“Uh huh.”

“Pick the one with those small flowers on it,” Chloe said, “Mini dress, chiffon. Cream colored.”

You hummed and grabbed the hanger, then held it over your body.

“Are we sure?”

“Trust me. Perfect for the first date.”

“Did mini dresses exist back in his time?” Keith’s voice reached you, making you frown, “Or was he born in those times with those giant dresses?”

“Excuse me, why am I on speaker?” you asked, “Also Keith, what are you doing in the headquarters? I need you and the team ready to interfere anytime.”

“I’m not in the headquarters, I was grabbing coffee and Chloe wanted to come with me. No worries though, we’re around your area.”

“Are you insane?” you snapped, “You brought her to the field?”

“We’re just getting coffee—“

“Chloe, get back to the headquarters,” you insisted, “Now.”

“No! You have a date, Keith gets to relax at this new café, and three of us can barely spend time together nowadays!” Chloe said, “It’s always you guys who have the fun.”

“Honey I’m on a date with the Winter Soldier so that I can gather intel, Keith is going to be at that café because he and the team needs to be nearby in case my cover is blown,” you said patiently, getting into the dress,  “It’s not like we’re hanging out without you.”

“Detail.”

“It’s not just a detail-“

“No I mean the security detail is ready.” Chloe cut you off, “I got my laptop with me, I hacked into the café’s wifi.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, “You did what?”

“Yeah I figured I could use a change of scenery and Keith said yes.”

“Keith, I need you to listen to me carefully,” you said, “I’m going to kill you.”

“Y/N!”

“You can’t kill me.”

“Can’t I though?”

“Yeah you have a date, remember?”

You checked your wristwatch and cussed under your breath, rushing to put your shoes on.

“I put a small gadget into your wristwatch,” Chloe said, “I figured he’d recognize the ring if he saw it again. If you press the button there, the team will be called to your location shortly.”

“And if things get exciting, make sure to take the watch off,” Keith let out a laugh, “You don’t want us to interrupt your fun over an accident.”

“It’s just the first date, idiot.”

“Yeah and I’m—I’m sure there’s a rule against killing on the first date.” Chloe said, “Right?”

“Nah I killed a target on the first date before,” you mumbled, “But I wasn’t told to get into a relationship back then so… It’ll be different this time.”

“Try not to give the guy whiplash though, will you?” Keith said and you frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“It means dating etiquette changed since 1940s.”

“Oh don’t worry, I got that covered,” you said but your head shot up when you heard the doorbell ring. “I have to go.”

“Okay, but—“

“No time Keith,” you murmured, walking to the door. Your heart was pacing against your chest for some reason as if it was a real first date, and you swung the door open to reveal Bucky waiting for you at your doorstep. He put his hands into his leather jacket, taking in your appearance.

“You know what to do if you get in trouble.” Keith said and you hung up quickly to push your phone into your purse, smiling wide at Bucky.

“Hi!” you said, “Shall we?”

                                                         ***

Now to think of it,  the last time you had been on a date without carrying any weapons had to be ten years ago if not more. But you had clear orders for this one, your superiors were convinced that carrying any kind of gun or a dagger would alert him, even if you thought it was invisible to outsider eye.

After all, he was an assassin and looking for weapons on a person from miles away was second nature for assassins.

You would know.

“So you moved here a month ago and you just know one place?” he asked as you waited for the barista to prepare your coffee, “A coffee shop? That’s it?”

“I know a milkshake shop too.”

He tilted his head, “You mean where you work?”

“That still counts,” you defended yourself “But if you insist, I might let you show me around next time.”

“Please do,” he said, “Just a heads up though, there’s a huge possibility that most of the places I know has been closed down years ago.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you told him as the barista put your coffees in front of you. “We can explore the new sights together then.”

A smile graced his lips while he led you to the table furthest from the window facing the door and you had to suppress your grin.

You weren’t the only one who was scanning the cafe for possible emergency exits and safest spots after all. Sitting by the window was a civilian mistake because in case of a shooting, you’d be in the clear sight for the shooter.

You had a feeling not many people considered that possibility on a first date.

“That sounds good,” he pulled your chair for you and you paused only for a moment before taking your seat.

Right. Born in a different era.

He took off his leather jacket and your gaze wandered off to his vibranium arm before snapping back to his eyes. He was watching you with his brows slightly raised, as if waiting to see your reaction.

“Sorry!” You said quickly, “I’m sorry, I just…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Bucky—“

“Really,” he assured you, “Don’t worry.”

You took a deep breath, pushing your behind your ear.

“So, it’s good to meet in a place that looks like it belongs to 21st century isn’t it?”

He hissed in a breath, a mischievous light glimmering in his blue eyes “Do you want me to be honest?”

“Brutally honest.”

“I would be lying if I said I don’t miss the uniform.”

Your jaw dropped before a smile spread over your lips, “Look at that,” you said, “Told you you weren’t rusty.”

He chuckled, “I’d hope not.”

“And hey, if you miss how it was back then, some things aren’t that different than 40s,” you said, cradling the warm cup in your hands. He tilted his head.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“Like what?”

“You know, I’m glad you asked because I actually did research in case it came up.”

He lowered his cup, “You did what?”

“Um… do you promise not to be intimidated if I am brutally honest?”

He leaned in, eyes locked to yours, “Cross my heart.”

“I did research,” you nodded, making him let out a small laugh. “No wait, listen— I just… I didn’t google you or stalk you over Instagram so I had to prepare myself in a different way.”

“I know some of those words,” he pointed out and you took a deep breath.

“It means I didn’t look you up.” you said, “When I was sixteen, I promised myself I wouldn’t look anyone up before the first date but that rule doesn’t extend to doing general research.”

“You didn’t look me up?” he asked and you shook your head.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I like getting to know people on my own,” you said, “I’m not really interested in people’s pasts, does that make sense?”

He stared at you for a couple of seconds, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Maybe not,” you admitted, “But I’ll do it anyway. Trusting people is kind of my thing, past or not. I’d rather be mistaken than prejudiced.”

A silence fell upon him as if he was astounded and you rested your chin on your fist, keeping your eyes on him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said after a beat, “Nothing at all.”

“So—anyways, some things aren’t that different,” you said, leaning back, “Some details, that is. People still— we still go to movie theatres, that was a big thing back then too right?”

“Oh absolutely,” he said, “For first dates too.”

“We still wear hats sometimes,” you counted with your fingers, “Some people still prefer to call their partners daddy—in a different context, don’t google that— and we still have jello.”

“I heard about that,” he mused, a playful smile on his lips, “The jello, that is.”  

You grinned, scrunching up your nose.

“So yeah. There’s your crash course.”

“I appreciate it,” he said with a chuckle, “And hey, if it makes you feel any better I didn’t google you either.”

“Because you don’t know how?”

“Because I don’t know how,” he admitted, “I should probably start making a list, I keep asking Sam about some pretty common information.”

“Really?”

“Yeah I mean—for example, I don’t know if it’s still acceptable to bring a gal-a girl,” he corrected himself and cleared his throat, “Flowers for the first date.”

“You were going to bring me flowers?”

“Yeah! Yeah . I was going to actually, then Sam said it was old fashioned. Sharon said it was a good idea, but…”

You furrowed your brows, “Okay let me get this straight, you listened to your friend who’s a guy and not your other friend who’s a girl. About what girls like on the first date.”

A look of realization dawned on his face, “That might not have been the brightest idea now that you mentioned it.”

“No disrespect to Captain America but he might need to work on his romance skills,” you pointed out and took a sip of your coffee.

“How about you?” he asked, “What’s your story?”

I was recruited at the age of 16, just last year I took down a whole team of bad guys all by myself, I could probably kill someone in 5 different ways using this coffee cup and spoon alone.

Or not.

You had been over this. You had a full file back at home filled with details of your new identity, designed to look unsuspicious.

“There’s not much to tell I’m afraid,” you muttered, “I grew up in a small town. Everyone knew each other, and I thought it was nice, until my grandmother passed away. Then there were way too many people asking me if I was okay. In the grocery store, on my way to work… I just wanted to get away.”

“I know the feeling,” he said softly and you nodded.

Of course he did. This whole identity was fabricated for him after all.

“So I figured I could move away,” you said, “There was nothing to keep me there after all. I lost my parents when I was little, that was the reason why my grandmother took me in.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh don’t be,” you said quickly, “Really. They just….”

My mom died in a car crash when I was 5, and one day I came home from school and my father was nowhere to be found.

Neither was his suitcase.

You had to give it to him, he had bothered to write you a note. If you could call that a note.

The infamous genius scientist had nothing to say other than he was sorry. You had burned that note that night, along with every picture in the family album.

“There was a car accident,” you tried to smile, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of your throat, “Drunk driver, came out of nowhere. They both died on impact, that’s what everyone says. I don’t remember them much.”

A silence fell upon you for a moment and you took a deep breath.

“Anyways,” you managed to say, “Enough about me. What about you?”

He paused before turning the cup between his hands, “That’s kind of a long story,” he said, making you arch a brow to shoot him a look.

“Well as it happens, my milkshake making schedule just cleared out.” you stated, making him smile, “We have unlimited coffee and time. Bring it on.”

                                               ***

Well, you didn’t know what you had expected but it wasn’t this. Considering he was under the impression that you were a civilian, of course he didn’t tell you any gory or top secret details but he didn’t try to make himself look innocent either, or any different than he was.

He was as sincere as an ex-assassin could be.

Cover or not, this was probably the best date you had ever been. In fact, after the first half an hour you almost forgot that it was fake, that you were supposed to dig for information instead of enjoying yourself.

You were still playing your part but it didn’t exactly feel like work.

“So no to motorcycles?” Bucky asked as you turned around to look at him better while you walked backwards.

“No to motorcycles!” you exclaimed, “Those things are deathtraps.”

“So when you said you couldn’t get on it because of your dress….”

“It wasn’t a complete lie,” you motioned at your dress, “Half because of the dress, half because I don’t want to die.”

“Do you seriously believe I’d let that happen?”

“Maybe.”

“Mmm and what was it you said earlier?” he taunted you, “About trusting people?”

“I trust people,” you insisted, “I don’t trust death machines, there’s a difference.”

Well, he didn’t need to know you had a motorcycle in Chloe’s garage.

“Here we are,” you pointed at the building standing a couple of feet away from you, “My apartment. See, I told you it was close. No reason for putting our lives in danger when we can just walk.”

“Does that mean I can’t show you around the city the next time?”

“On a motorcycle?”

“Mm hm.”

“I don’t—that’s a terrible….” You heaved a dramatic sigh, “Hypothetically speaking, what would I get in return?”

His smile was calm, almost amused, “What do you want to get in return?”

You crossed your arms, looking up at the sky as if you were deep in thought, completely aware of his gaze on you.

“Flowers,” you said after a beat, “I didn’t even know they were an option but now that I know, I want flowers.”

“Is that it?” he asked, “It’s ‘a death machine’, but flowers are enough to convince you?”

“Depends,” you mused silkily, a complete opposite of the wide-eyed look in your eyes as you batted your lashes, “What else do you want me to want?”

A shadow moved behind his gaze only for a moment before it disappeared again but it was more than enough time for you to see it, and that was when you realized that there was a reason why Chloe had sent you that file.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t completely a stammering love-struck puppy when it came to flirting. While it was true that he could be a little rusty –you didn’t know how he was back in the 40s-, he also knew when to stop talking to see how far you would go in this game.

He was letting you play and think you were in control before making his move.

Patience of a sniper.

“Um- thank- thank you for tonight,” you said, averting your glances as if you were embarrassed under his gaze, playing it coy, “I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he said, “The next one will include flowers, I promise.”

You let out a nervous giggle and stepped closer to him before you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss on his cheek. He inhaled your scent deeply, probably not even aware of what he was doing but you tried to hide your smile.

It was on the file Chloe had prepared about him. Bucky Barnes liked the scent of vanilla.

“Be careful riding that death machine,” you told him, biting on your lip before you made your way to the building. You hopped on the stairs to push the exterior door to get into the building, and pressed a hand on your chest, closing your eyes.

Why were you so giddy all of a sudden?

You threw your shoulders back and got into the elevator to press on the button to your floor. As soon as the elevator started to move, your reflection in the mirror caught your attention and you tilted your head.

Chloe had a point, it was a nice dress.

The elevator made a small noise and the doors slid open for you to pass, but when you entered the hall you stopped dead on your tracks. There were four agents waiting on your doorstep and before you could question what was happening, one of the doors in the hallways opened and Keith stepped out.

“Be careful riding that death machine?” he asked, “I could tell you the same thing but you didn’t invite him up here.”

“I wasn’t wearing a wire, how did you-?”

“We had a car around the corner just in case,” he said “You’d be surprised how far we can hear with these new gadgets.”

“I told everyone we can’t—“ you stopped yourself, taking a deep breath. “What are you doing here and why are there agents at my doorstep?”

He grinned at you, “How do you feel about being neighbors?”

“I feel fuck no about it, and why are there agents—“

“General is waiting for you in your apartment.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “What?” you asked as you walked past him and opened the door to your apartment, then stepped in.

“General?” you rasped out as you walked into the living room to find him there, sitting by himself.

“Shrike,” he greeted you, “Good evening.”

You tried to smile, “Good evening sir.”

“I wanted to see how the mission was going,” he said, “Your team says it’s been very successful so far.”

“It’s going according to plan sir, yes.”

“This was what, your first date?”

You licked your dry lips, commanding yourself to be calm. “Yes.”

He hummed and stood up, running a hand over his gray beard, his eyes darting around the room.

“Y/N,” he murmured, making your head shot up at hearing your name instead of your alias. “It’s possible that the last time we talked face to face about your mission, I came across a little…uncaring. I want you to know that it’s not easy for me either.”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded.

“You’re like a daughter to me,” he said, “For me, putting you on this mission was no different than sending Chloe into Barnes’s bed. Granted you have an edge and proper training for field missions like these unlike her, but…”

Right. Manipulation of Enemy.

A.k.a the seduction class.

Your superior had almost failed you in that class.

“But all your superiors in the division is aware of your success so far,” he said, “There has been no hiccups, nothing to alert him which is a surprise. You’re playing your role well, and we will keep that in mind after this mission is over. You’re at the top of our list for possible handlers.”

For the first time in your life, that didn’t make you fill with excitement for some reason. You frowned at yourself and plastered a smile on your face.

“Thank you sir.”

“Anything you would like to report so far?”

“I’m going slowly in order to make sure I gain his trust,” you said, “But sir, there’s a reason why I didn’t even wear my earpiece tonight. Barnes is a pro, anything could make him suspicious and putting agents in cars to listen to us… That could go wrong.”

“You want to be completely alone on this mission?”

“I still want to have my team, but I want them to be completely invisible. I already have a tracker and an emergency signal on my wristwatch, but unless I specifically call for them, they need to be away. I can’t risk anyone compromising my cover, even if it’s unintentional by my team.”

He thought for a moment, “I see,” he said, “You make a good point. I’ll make the necessary adjustments.”

“Thank you General.”

He squeezed your upper arm as if trying to assure you and walked to the door, then turned around.

“Shrike?”

“Yes sir?”

“You’ve heard what happened to Marco, right?” he asked, “He was one of our best agents but got too involved in his seduction mission.”

You swallowed thickly, “I heard he’s missing.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, “That’s right. He was removed from his mission, then went missing.”

Killed.

He was killed by the agency when he fell for his target and both of you knew that.

“That’s unfortunate,” you managed to say and he nodded.

“It is,” he said, “Don’t make the same mistake. Actions have consequences.”

With that, he left your apartment and you let out a breath as you fell back to sit on the couch, your hands shaking.

“Yeah,” you muttered to yourself, “Yeah they do.”

Chapter 7 

[essektheylyss]

Ooh I’m going to say Crave for Fjord and Essek!

This was fun! (And the first that struck an idea—I've decided I'm answering in no particular order this time around.) I took the prompt a little abstract.

His fingers hold the straw hat to his head unnecessarily, the silk ribbon beneath his chin and the support of his pointed ears plenty to keep it from slipping, and he squints against the soft dappled light at the ripened fruit overhead.

The low-hanging tree is laden with it, some so ripe they burst at the seams. His feet are tucked beneath him on his chair, elevated from the sticky sugar crystals rotting into the grass. The air is cloying with a sweet tang, probably a byproduct of the two types of fruit that have been mashed together on the ground by the feet of dogs and children and an old sailor.

The book at his side is less interesting, currently, than the two baskets sitting at the base of the trunk as Fjord ducks low beneath the groping branches, and the two-toned fruits that the tree currently bears.

“I understand the process of grafting,” he says slowly, and at Fjord’s slanted grin, adds, “in theory. But as I understand it, one would need more closely related fruits—“

“Fruits are fruits,” Fjord shrugs, and twists the stem of the lemon in his hand, tossing it lightly among the rest at his feet.

“‘Fruits are fruits’,” Essek scoffs. “For you, perhaps.”

It is not common for Fjord’s grin to span so much of his face while on land.

“Certainly Melora believes in limitations of nature,” Essek continues, as Fjord narrowly misses a low, sweeping branch and pokes into a higher section of the tree, half-obscured by thick bundles of fruit and deep green leaves the same color as his skin.

“Well, sure. But I’m her favorite.” Fjord laughs, the sound bright on the syrupy air. “Don’t tell Caduceus.”

Essek leans back in his seat, feeling every one of the wooden boards against the bone of his shoulder, and leans his hand on his chin. “I am intrigued, Mr. Lavorre. How many types of fruit does this tree bear yearly, in total?”

“Well, it doesn’t get peaches every year, the bastard, but five. Though I think the citrus might be mutating.”

“From what I’ve read, it is prone to do so.”

“I don’t know if my lemons and my clementines will be distinct in two years’ time.”

“A travesty of the highest magnitude, I’m sure.”

“Imagine biting into a clementine as tart as a lemon, Essek.”

“I would prefer not to think of such horrors.”

Fjord doesn’t seem to mind the sticky fruit underfoot, meandering with his sleeves messily rolled above his elbows and his trousers cuffed. His hair is a mess of black and grey these days, more years and less stress to show for them. Essek envies him, on very rare occasions—envies him the easy, stable life he lives and the way years wear upon him, like time has not passed him by.

There is no bitterness to this jealousy—their paths are too different for Essek to allow himself to pretend he is owed either. But in another life, perhaps, if another life was something he wished to undertake, he might wish for such things.

Essek does not even like to get his feet dirty in such a way. He tucks his toes further beneath him and picks up his book again.

Only a few minutes pass before Fjord drops heavily into the rocking chair catty corner to him beneath this chimera tree, a few plump fruits wrapped in his broad palm. He sets two of them on his lap. “Mm,” he calls, and Essek looks up in time to catch the third, a fig as large as the soft pad of his thumb.

His hands are thicker with callouses now, and his nails are kept clipped short as he pinches the stem between his forefinger and thumb, twisting it until he can peel it open, the fresh sweetness of bright red flesh inside cutting through the rot on the air.

“Don’t you clean your yard?” he asks, gesturing to Fjord’s muck-covered toes as he pulls one leg up to rest against the arm of the chair.

“Of course not,” Fjord replies pleasantly. “Weren’t you the one worried about the limitations of nature? Fallen fruit is just another offering.”

“It does not seem an offering fit for a goddess,” Essek says, and Fjord raises an eyebrow.

“And what would you know of what is fit for gods and goddesses?”

Essek splits the soft flesh of the fruit apart, holding it over the grass when it spurts. The sugary juice oozes onto his fingers, coating them, and he lets it seep like blood from a wound. It’s a strange texture, one he was not familiar with until coming to the coast.

“Nothing,” he admits, and sinks his teeth into the flesh of it.

[carminite-wyrm]

So I finally got caught up with Pearl's latest Hermitcraft vid, and decided I wanted to try and write something a little nice and happy inspired by it!

Cub finds a strange lost visitor in his canyon.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a strange scratching noise, coming from somewhere in the canyon.

Cub narrowed his eyes as he scanned his hand-crafted landscape, searching for the source of the noise. It seemed to be coming from the side that was closest to Boatem, which…honestly figured, considering how many weird and wonderful things originated from his neighbours.

Cautiously (in case it was some new fancy redstone contraption), he approached closer to the sound, one hand resting upon his sword just in case. Eventually, he stumbled across a small hole in the sand, where inside there was…a tiny pumpkin creature?

He blinked, and pinched himself.

The creature was still there, scratching pitifully with its twig arms at the walls of the pit that had apparently trapped it.

What on earth has Boatem cooked up now? Cub thought, before sighing to himself, and reaching down to pick up the pumpkin creature. It gave an alarmed squeak as it was lifted, before looking up at him with curious eyes. The creature seemed puzzled for a moment, before squeaking once again, and with a startling amount of speed, clambered up to sit upon his head.

“Uh, are you alright up there, little guy?” Cub asked, as the pumpkin creature made itself comfortable (surprisingly gently).

There was an affirmative squeak.

“Alright. I’m guessing you came from Boatem, so…I’ll just, take you there. I guess. Figure out who you belong to.”

And with that, he made his way over to the organised chaos that was the Boatem Village.

The first member of Boatem he encountered was actually Scar, the man humming to himself as he gathered up his equipment from what was apparently the aftermath of an unfortunate landing. What was most striking, however, was the pumpkin creature currently perched on his hat.

“Oh, Cub! I see you’ve got a little friend on your head as well!” Scar gave a little wave, and Cub was bemused to not that the pumpkin creature also waved at him.

“I found this one stuck in my canyon, I actually came to return it to its rightful owner.” Cub admitted. “Is it yours?”

“Oh no, Pearl’s the mastermind behind them, she’s actually got a shop over there, with Halloween decorations and so forth,” Scar patted the pumpkin creature on his hat. “She gave me this one herself!”

“Ah, thank you. Where would Pearl be?”

“Probably working on that shop I just mentioned, she did mention how a few of her pumpkin creatures had wandered off.”

Cub nodded in thanks, smiling slightly as he felt the pumpkin creature nestled in his hair wave at Scar as they left. He made his way over to Pearl’s shop, which was decked out with all the Halloween paraphernalia one could imagine, ranging from pumpkin headbands, to hats ringed with pumpkins. And of course, there was a whole host of tiny pumpkin creatures milling about, perched on the countertops and shelves, and hanging from the support posts of the pop-up stall.

“Hey Pearl! I think you lost one of these little guys.” Cub said in greeting, a matching chirp coming from on top of his head.

“Oh, hey Cub! Looks like you found one of the ones that wandered off, they’re quite adventurous when they haven’t found someone they like yet!” Pearl grinned, motioning to the cluster of pumpkin creatures clinging onto her and making sad puppy eyes whenever she tried to put one down.

“This one got stuck in my canyon,” Cub laughed, reaching up to pluck the creature off so he could give it back to Pearl. “Trapped in a hole it couldn’t get out of.”

“Aw, I’m glad you rescued it,” Pearl grinned as she watched the pumpkin creature make a series of sad noises as Cub held it out to her. “Looks like it got attached to you!”

“What?” Cub looked down at the tiny pumpkin creature in his hands, which had apparently moved on from sad noises and gone straight to staring up at him with wide, wide eyes, which apparently could look a lot like a sad puppy begging for more treats, even though it was a creature whose torso and face was a miniature pumpkin. “Oh.”

“You should keep it, I would ordinarily charge you some diamonds, but this one seems to like you a lot,” Pearl gave it a little scritch, the creature somehow making a pleased purr at the motion. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a little friend, Cub!”

Cub slowly lifted the pumpkin creature back up to his head, where it gave a happy squeak, before settling itself back onto his head, its little stick limbs waving at the rest of its brethren.

“Ah, thank you?” Cub couldn’t help the slight warm feeling he got from the obvious happiness of the rather adorable pumpkin creature, even if it was nestled in a way that meant he wouldn’t be able to put on a helmet.

“No worries!”

And with that, Cub left Pearl to her attempts at wrangling the strange pumpkin creatures, heading back to work some more on his canyon, his new companion apparently content to just sit atop his head. Sometimes, the weirdness of Boatem was…actually rather nice, compared to its usual chaos.

[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.

[harlequinmoss]

Aaahhh I haven't written anything in a really long time but I wanted to do something for pride month before it was over cutting it real close I know so here's a little coming out story with José and Panchito. It's set in the 40s because I refuse to write any other versions of them

Panchito and José arrived at their hotel around 10pm. It had been a long day for the both of them, each coming in from a long flight overseas that morning in order to visit their pal, Donald. Donald had picked them up from the airport and the group had a fun day doing touristy things, but after dinner the pair had grown noticeably exhausted. Not having enough space in his own home to comfortably house the both of them, Donald offered to put them up in a hotel room for the night rather than having them crash on the sofa in the living room. It took a bit of coercion, neither wanting to be rude, they were guests after all, but in the end they were too tired not to be easily convinced.

"I'll at least call a taxi over there," Panchito had insisted. "That way you aren't out driving so late."

"It's hardly late at all, but fine. I called ahead and made the reservation so you just have to pick up the key when you get there."

Panchito thumbed through his wallet to pay the taxi driver, thanking them as he handed them the money. He got out of the car, went around to the other side, and opened the door for José who was still fumbling around for his hat that he'd misplaced under the seat. 

"There you are!" José started, smiling as he spotted the familiar straw headpiece and put it back in its rightful place upon his noggin. He turned to grab the door handle only to see Panchito waiting for him on the sidewalk instead. 

"Oh! Panchie, what a gentleman…" He beamed, taking Panchito's hand for support as he stepped out of the vehicle. "Muito obrigado."

"You're very welcome." Panchito smiled back, shutting the door with a thunk once José was out of the way. "Mind getting the key while I grab our bags?"

"Certainly…" José nodded. "Meet you inside."

José tipped his hat and disappeared through the building's revolving door and into the lobby. Panchito took a moment to watch him go before remembering what it was he was supposed to be doing. He sighed to himself before making his way over to the trunk and popping it open. Holding his breath, he removed both of their suitcases from the taxi and set them on the sidewalk beside the car. He then shut the trunk a bit hard, too distracted to be mindful of his strength, and waved the driver off.

Feelings like this arose whenever he was alone with José. He did his best to suppress them, to act normal like the rest of his friends, but it wasn't easy. A part of him dreaded what was about to come. Sharing a hotel room, sure it was just for one night, and they'd have separate beds, but that didn't make it any easier. 

"It'll be fine," Panchito told himself. "I just need to take a moment to compose myself and then I'll go inside. We're both tired. We'll probably end up passing out right away and tomorrow we'll reconvene with Donal and everything will be back to normal." 

Panchito took a deep breath. Then another. Then, he grabbed the bags up off the concrete and walked through the revolving door to meet up with José. Perfect timing. José had just gotten out of line for the key and happily waved his friend over as he headed toward the elevator. 

"We're in room 313." José proclaimed with a small laugh as Panchito caught up with him. He pressed the button to the elevator, the one on the left immediately opening with a short ding.

"313? Donal did that on purpose no doubt…" Panchito laughed to himself as they stepped inside, refusing to look directly at José. 

José nodded, not noticing this avoidance, and he relayed the floor number to the elevator operator who shut the door and brought them up. The two stood in silence in the meantime, their eyes half lidded, both too tired to think of anything else to say. Luckily, the ride wasn't long. The pair thanked the operator on the way out, José tipping them with a spare coin he had in his pocket.

As they headed down the hall, José mumbled the number to himself as if to not forget. 313, 313, spoken softly on repeat in his sweet voice. Panchito held his breath and stared intently down at their luggage. Soon, they arrived, and José quickly turned the key in the lock, extending his other arm as he opened the door.

"After you, Panchie…" José smiled, speaking with such a fondness that Panchito could hardly bear it. 

Panchito nodded and started his way in through the door, head down, and José let the arm he had extended wrap around his companion as he followed him inside. Panchito stiffened. Normally, he could shrug off this type of thing, but something was different about tonight. He didn't know why, but every scrap of interaction was much more overwhelming, more amplified. He swallowed and clenched his mouth shut, terrified of what he might say.

"Hm? Are you alright..?" José asked, cocking his head to the side as he watched Panchito move away from his touch in order to set down their luggage. "You've hardly said anything since we left Donal's house…"

"Por supuesto. Sólo estoy cansado…" Panchito sighed. "Just tired…" He repeated again in English. 

"Right..." José started, not entirely convinced but not wanting to press the matter. "Let's get ready for bed then." 

Again, Panchito only nodded in response. José sighed and made his way next to his friend. Each opened their respective suitcase and retrieved a set of clothes to sleep in. José slightly leaned on Panchito as this motion occurred, just a light brushing of their arms together, but it was enough to send shock waves through Panchito's heart. This type of casual intimacy was something José did with everyone, but Panchito couldn't help thinking that José targeted him more often than anyone else. He was right, though José would never admit it. 

"I'll change in the bathroom." Panchito said suddenly, once again moving away from his companion. He quickly disappeared through the bathroom door, leaving José alone and a bit dazed.

José stood silent for a moment, watching the door, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. 

"Why is Panchie acting so strange tonight? Is he okay? Is it because of me? He's definitely avoiding me, it's not just my imagination, right? If he finally figured out my true feelings it could be out of anger or contempt. Oh God, what am I going to do?" 

José noticed his heart racing and scrambled to calm himself down before Panchito returned. 

"Okay. It's fine, if he knew, he wouldn't even want to sleep in the same room as me. Just get changed and pretend like everything's normal. We're both tired, it'll all be okay by the morning…" 

José sighed. He threw on a plain yellow t-shirt and took off his pants so he just had his boxer shorts on underneath. As he was putting his discarded clothes away in the suitcase, Panchito emerged from the bathroom in a cowboy themed set of pajamas. Both blushed seeing each other and silently made their ways to their respective beds, turning off the bedside lamps that lit the room in the process.

"...good night, José." Panchito said after almost a full minute of silence. 

"Good night, Panchito." José responded, refraining from using his nickname in fear it'd make matters worse. 

The two lay quietly in the dark, unable to fall asleep despite the day's exhaustion. Both shifted in their beds many times over, transitioning through periods of shut eyes to staring at the ceiling to watching the other while they had their back turned so that there was no risk of being caught. Neither dared speak. Their routine went on for what seemed like the whole night, but probably wasn't more than an hour or two in reality, until…

"José?" Panchito asked in a whisper, trying to field whether or not his companion was awake. 

"Sim?" He responded, pushing himself halfway into a sitting position in order to face his friend. "Do you want to tell me what's been bothering you?"

"I...can't. You'll hate me forever." Panchito choked out, covering his face with his hands.

"What?!" José's heart sank. He sat up the rest of the way and flicked on his lamp so that they could see each other. "Panchito, nothing you do or say could ever make me hate you." 

Panchito looked over at José through the cracks in his fingers. His face was serious, a tonal shift from the care-free facade he usually put on. Panchito sighed and paused for a moment before sitting up as well.

"I'm not so sure…"

"Por favor me diga o que está errado...please…." José pleaded. 

Both sat with lumps in their throat, hoping desperately for something just out of reach, not wanting to break what's already there. Panchito was the first to cry.

"I can't-- every day, every time we hang out together it's all about the girls. 'Oh, look at the pretty señoritas! Let us try and win their affections!' And I have to join in and compete and pretend like that is what I want to do. I do not know how much longer I can take it! I want to be normal, believe me, I wish nothing more, that would make this so much easier but--"

"Panchito..?" José mumbled, tears streaming down both of their faces at this point. 

"But I do not care about the señoritas, not hardly, I never have. I have to pretend. For your sake. And Donal's. The two of you are my very best friends and I do not want to lose either of you but...but...es tan difícil fingir….I can't say it. It's not right, it's not even legal, is it? But how am I supposed to go on like this when the person whose affections I want to be competing for is…"

As he spoke, José made his way over to Panchito's bed without him noticing, sitting next to him for a moment before deciding it'd be better to kneel in order for them to be the same height.

"Panchie…" José sighed and wrapped Panchito in a warm hug. "It's okay…"

"No it's not! How can you say that when--"

"Shh…" José turned Panchito’s head to face him and tenderly cupped his cheeks as he wiped away tears from his eyes. He then placed a soft kiss to the top of his forehead. 

Panchito's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat, startling him enough to cause him to stop crying. He looked at José with a dumbfounded expression, José only smiling back at him softly.

"You don't have to pretend anymore. Not with me. How about we trade one secret for another, hm?" 

Panchito nodded, shaking, still processing everything that just happened. 

"Are...are you sure?"

"Of course, don't be silly. I hate the tears, but I'm very happy to hear you feel the same way."

"You mean...you don't care for the señoritas either?"

José laughed. 

"I do. But I also care for the cavalheiros. And I very much care for you…" 

"Oh." Panchito smiled, wrapping his arms around José. The smile didn't last long, however. "What will we tell Donal?"

"Hm. Well, I do not think he would hate us. He does not seem like the type, no? But let's not fret any more about this tonight. We can worry all we want in the morning."

"Okay…" Panchito nodded, taking another moment to process things before laying down and taking José along with him. José let out a small giggle. 

"Panchie! What's all this for?"

"Well, we are going to bed, are we not?"

José blinked, quickly understanding Panchito's request. He shifted, entangling himself comfortably in Panchito's arms, his head resting on his chest. He took a moment to listen to the steady beat of Panchito's heart before speaking. 

"Yes, I suppose we are…"

The pair once again said their good nights, but this time they fell asleep almost instantly. Neither knew what lay ahead for them in the days to come. Would they tell Donald, or would this be a secret just for the two of them? So many uncertainties, but one thing was certain. They had each other. And that was enough.

[toby-and-tornado-anon]

Rosies are Red (1/?)

Um...ah, you know what. I’ve had this half-completed story just sitting around for a bit. I might as well post it and see what you guys think. This is set some time before Fastest Red Engine on Sodor.

Vicarstown Station is without a doubt the largest station on the Island of Sodor. Many important trains from across the island as well as the mainland make Vicarstown their final destination, citing its grand station building and its position as the biggest town on Sodor.

Recently, traffic to Vicarstown has become large enough that Sir Topham Hatt has seen fit to expand the station’s goods yard to a size rivaling that of the Knapford Yards. Unfortunately, this increased size has led to some trouble…

One day, about a week after the construction of the goods yard, the Wild Nor’ Wester was thundering down the line, Gordon at its helm. The Gresley Pacific was in a very good mood, having been early to Crovan’s Gate and eager to break his record on the Vicarstown leg of the express’s journey.

“I’ll break it for sure!” he crowed in delight, whistling as he turned the final curve towards the station. “Express, coming through!”

However, as he approached the station, his driver saw danger ahead. “Woah, Gordon!” he called, applying the brakes hard-on. Gordon winced, shutting his eyes as sparks flew from his wheels, the weight of the coaches bashing into his tender as he screeched to a halt just shy of the platform.

Gordon blinked his eyes open, and to his surprise, saw a goods train sitting in his platform, with no engine!

Gordon was very cross indeed. “You silly trucks! What are you doing in my platform?!” he demanded. The trucks said nothing, though, merely laughing at him. 

“So much for your record, old boy. We’ll have to wait until this train gets shunted,” the fireman sighed, gazing out the side of Gordon’s cab. He was very surprised to see that Gordon was not the only one waylaid by a misshunted train.

Henry, a heavy goods train behind him, whistled impatiently, a line of stopping service coaches in front of him. “Would someone please move these?” he snapped. “I need to get this delivered to Tidmouth Harbor, or Arthur will never let me hear the end of it!”

“You’re not the only one stuck, Henry!” James, his face nearly as red as his paint, snarled. He had somehow been trapped, light engine, between two goods trains. “Get me out of here!”

That evening, at Tidmouth Sheds, the big engines were complaining about the conditions at Vicarstown. And they weren’t alone with their sentiment.

“It’s all well and good to expand the station yards, but to leave it in such disarray...it’s disgraceful!” sniffed Gordon.

“Disgusting!” agreed James.

“Despicable,” nodded Henry.

“For once,” Edward sighed, “I’d have to agree with you three on that. I came to Vicarstown to pick up a delivery for Crock’s Scrap Yard, and the entire station was a complete disaster. Whoever the station pilot is, it’s rather clear they’re not doing their job adequately.”

“Ah...who is Vicarstown’s station pilot?” Emily questioned, a puzzled look on her face.

The other engines went silent. Now that the Stirling had mentioned it, not once had they seen the station pilot.

“...Philip still works at Knapford…” 

“Percy is still on the Ffarquhar Branch…”

“Duck is on the Little Western, of course…”

The engines discussed the matter extensively. So extensively, in fact, that they completely missed hearing the footsteps of someone walking closer. Upon hearing the engines’ discussion, he raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat.

The engines trailed off, their attention turning to the new arrival. There, watching them, was Sir Topham Hatt.

“Well then!” he said, his eyebrows so high on his face that they disappeared under his hat, “what’s this I’ve been hearing about Vicarstown?”

“That yard has been a complete mess all day!” Gordon immediately started complaining. “Constant delays, trains being left in the station to cause a mess...and to top it off, not once has any of us seen the station pilot!”

“Oh dear, oh dear, this won’t do at all…” Sir Topham Hatt muttered, removing his hat to massage his head. “I’d rather hoped it wouldn’t turn out like this...that’s why I gave him the chance to be station pilot.”

“If I may ask, sir,” Edward ventured, “but who is the station pilot for Vicarstown?”

Sir Topham Hatt sighed, placing his hat back on his head. “Dennis is supposed to be serving as the station pilot,” he admitted. “I’d hoped that giving him a responsibility like that would allow him to change his ways.”

The engines were speechless. But not for long.

“Dennis?!” James fumed. “That lazy diesel wouldn’t know hard work if it bit him in the exhaust!”

“No wonder that yard was in such a state,” Emily agreed. “It still amazes me how he can be so lazy.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Gordon rumbled, “Dennis is not a proper choice for station pilot for such a respectable institution such as Vicarstown.”

“Hm...you may well be right, Gordon, after all of this confusion and delay,” Sir Topham Hatt muttered, turning to leave. “I shall have to make other arrangements.”

As Sir Topham Hatt headed back to his office to close up for the night, he noticed a strange sight in the yards.

There, parked in a siding, was Rosie. The pink tank engine was looking very glum indeed. 

Concerned, Sir Topham Hatt decided to head on over. “Cheer up, Rosie! What’s the matter?” he asked kindly.

Rosie sighed, looking around the yard. “It’s nothing, sir. It’s just...lately, it seems all I’ve been doing is hanging around the yard and shunting. And I enjoy shunting,” she hastily added, “but ever since Philip arrived, it feels as though everyone is able to manage without me. I don’t feel very useful. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, Rosie. Although, you certainly have a point,” he mused. “The yards here are the neatest they’ve been in years. But you were a driving force behind it, don’t forget. Stanley, Stafford, Philip, Charlie...all of them wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t been here to lay the foundation.”

“Thank you, sir,” Rosie smiled. But she was still feeling rather glum.

This gave Sir Topham Hatt an idea. “In fact, I’m sure that the same dedication that you used to put things in order here in Knapford would be very appreciated in Vicarstown!” he declared.

Rosie was surprised. “Vicarstown, sir?”

“That’s right. The other engines have been complaining about the state of the yard there. The engine that I assigned to be station pilot can’t...cope with the job, shall we say,” he delicately said. “So, things will have to change! I’m assigning you as the new head station pilot for Vicarstown! First thing tomorrow, I want you to head down there and put the yard in order. And if you can, talk some sense into Dennis,” he muttered as an aside.

Rosie was delighted. “Oh yes sir! I won’t let you down, sir!”

“There’s a good engine. Right, I’d best let you catch your rest. See you tomorrow, Rosie. I’ll be coming down on Gordon’s evening express to see how things are shaping up.” With that, Sir Topham Hatt headed for his office to pack up.

Rosie was a little nervous about being assigned head pilot of such a prestigious station, but she was determined to do her best and be a really useful engine!

However, she hadn’t reckoned on Dennis…

[minijenn]

Keys to the Kingdom Preview

Ahahahaha oh boy I'm already having fun with this one and so far the Triangle is the only GF character that's actually shown up yet. Either way, he's just as much of a tricky bastard here as he is in UF, it's like nothing's changed at all. Enjoy him manipulating Sora bc that's of course what Sora needs more of :3

***

He stops himself when he sees a shadow suddenly rising over him, its shape large and looming. His entire body tenses up, a sharp chill running down his spine as he prepares to call upon his Keyblade, his powers, or anything else he can use to ward off what he assumes must be an approaching threat. Part of him fears it's someone from the Organization, come to stalk and harass him even far before the next Key has even been found, simply for the sake of their own sadistic entertainment. But when he settles on summoning the Kingdom Key and spins around as swiftly as he can, he’s met with just about the last thing he could have ever been expecting. And by far the most bizarre.

“Whoa there, kid! Careful where you’re pointing that thing! You’ll poke someone’s eye out. Get it? EYE?!”

Sora nearly drops his Keyblade completely as he takes in the sight of the strange being hovering before him. Simply put, it's a triangle, a golden, glowing triangle with only a large, single eye and a small bowtie adoring its flat “face”. A thin, black set of arms and legs hang from its sides, and one of those arms reaches up to tip the tall top hat hanging over its utmost tip in some sort of casual greeting.

“Ease up a little there, Keyblade!” the triangle somehow “speaks”, his voice high and pitchy as it echoes through the colorless woods. “You don’t have to get all panicky on me, I’m not one of your buddies in the black coats, ya know.”

“W-what? How do you-” Sora stops himself, knowing that’s far from the first question he should be asking here. Even though he has plenty more right off the bat about this being that’s quite unlike anything he’s really seen before. “Who… what are you…?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” the triangle cheerfully exclaims, gliding up a bit higher. “I’m the answer to all your prayers, Keyblade. But if you want, you can call me Bill. Rolls off the tongue much easier--not that I would know. I don’t have a tongue!”

“Um… ok?” Sora frowns, still absolutely lost by this peculiar stranger and his oddly chipper demeanor. “That answers the ‘who’, but not really the ‘what’, so…”

“Boy, you sure do ask a lot of questions, dontcha, Keyblade?” Bill remarks, reclining back in his spot midair. “Unfortunately, getting nitty-gritty with the details of what I really am might be just a bit too much for your mortal mind to handle, so let’s keep things simple. I’m an interdimensional, all-powerful, all-knowing being who likes to hang out in this neck of the woods every now and then. But to tell ya the truth, I guess you could say I’m sort of an ‘out of worlder’, which hey! Looks like that’s something you and I have in common, huh, Keyblade?”

“Out-of--wait. You know I’m not… from here?” Sora drops his voice down to a whisper, just in case there are any prying eyes or ears.

“‘Course you’re not!” Bill says, as though it's obvious. “But that’s not a problem. In fact, let me be the first to welcome you to a world that’s a personal favorite of mine: Gravity Falls!”

“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does here just like in every other world,” Sora raises an eyebrow, only to be even more confused when Bill breaks out into a sudden, hearty laugh.

“Oh, good one, Keyblade!” he chuckles mirthfully. “You just about split all three of my sides there with that one!”

“Oh, uh, y-yeah, that was… definitely a joke,” Sora plays off his embarrassing misunderstanding with as much of a smile as he can possibly manage. Which, by all accounts, isn’t much of one anymore.

“You know, kid, ever since I spotted you wandering around here, you piqued my interest,” Bill informs, conjuring a cane out of thin air to lean against. “But now that I’ve had a chance to chat it out with you, I gotta admit, I like ya! Why don’t you and I be friends?”

Sora sighs, his unsteady smile fading as he loosely wraps his arms around himself and glances away. “Trust me, you don’t want to be friends with me…” he mutters, shaking his head.

“Aw, why not?” Bill asks, seemingly disappointed. “Lemme guess: it's the same reason you ran off from the rest of your friends, right? Because some bald old creep and his crew of cronies are dead set on trying to ‘recruit’ you into that darkness-loving cult of theirs?”

Sora draws in a sharp gasp at this, his eyes wide as he stares at Bill incredulously. “How did you know that?” he asks apprehensively, taking just the slightest step back.

“Oh, I know LOTS of things, Keyblade.” Bill’s bright yellow form suddenly changes as countless images flash across it far too quickly for Sora to make aunty of them out. “For example, I know you’ve been out on your own for, oh, roughly two weeks or so, and that you’ve been having one heck of a time living the ‘hobo’ lifestyle you’ve taken up. I also know you can’t go back to any of your friends because the minute you do, they’ll be fitting you for a nice set of shiny new chains inside a cozy prison cell. AND I know that it won’t be long now before the old man finally finishes the job in forcing you into his big happy ‘family’ and-”

“S-stop,” Sora cuts him off, unable to bear listening to anymore. Of receiving yet another reminder of the ultimately inescapable, undeniably awful fate that awaits him. “Please, I… I already know all of that too…”

“Well, here’s something you DON’T know, kid,” Bill counters brightly. “Contrary to what you might’ve heard from some… less than reliable sources, it’s not too late to keep your sob story from turning into a full on tragedy!”

“...What do you mean?” Sora asks, unable to keep his curiosity quelled. Even then though, there’s an edge of wariness to that curiosity, a bit of doubt in the idea that he isn’t already a lost cause, that his life and freedom aren’t already fully forfeit.

“What I mean is I’d like to help you, Keyblade!” Bill proclaims, his flat form flashing brightly. “Life’s turned you into its own personal punching bag lately, even after all of the good you’ve done, all the folks you’ve helped. And if you ask me, I think that’s just about the most unfair thing I’ve ever seen; and I’ve been around for a LONG time, so believe me, kid, that’s saying something. Which is why I wanna do something about it.”

Bill’s upbeat optimism is largely lost on Sora as he simply brushes his altruistic proposal with another small, sad sigh. “Thanks for the offer but… I don’t think you can help me…”

[marvelfansince08love]

LAAAAAAY!! My beautiful Lay!!! Here's a prompt for you! Kid!fic in where Wanda has to take care of Pietro's bby (yes, Pietro is alive!!!) And she is all confident about it until she meets Reader on the park and she a jfjkjdss (Gaymess™) and things happen? Bonus points if Reader gets to be part of Pietro's life 🙃 thaaaaaank you, Angel! Ily ✨💜

Veeee! I hope you enjoy this love, I’ve changed it a little I hope you don’t mind x Thank you Aro for editing, you gem @canarypoint

Whipped Cream and Snowy Days 

Word count: 1466 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader 

Warning: pure fluff 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @the-enamorando-deity @j-does-life @dynnealberto

I do not own this gif

The park is usually quiet around this time of year, the icy cold weather keeping people locked in with a warm open fire covered in blankets and woolly pyjamas but not you, you loved being outdoors when the white snowflakes fell upon the ground feeling the odd white speck fall upon your cheeks as you sipped your hot chocolate on the icy bench wrapped up in your big warm coat. You close your eyes for a moment basking in the peace and quiet that falls upon the usually busy park. 

"Whatcha drinking?" The sound of a young boy asking next to you startles you from your daydream. You turn to investigate the voice wondering why such a small child is talking to you, a simple stranger.

The boy sits comfortably next to you on the bench, his legs dangling in thin air too small to touch the ground. A blue scarf wrapped tightly around his neck covering up to his chin, a blue bobble hat and gloves to finish the matching set. His youthful cheeks glowing red from the cold but the beaming smile on his face shows you he's unaffected by the weather.

"Oh um.. it's a hot chocolate," you mumble, your eyes searching the empty park for the boy's guardian.

"Cool! Do you like the whip cream on top? It's my favourite bit!" he exclaims, his eyes sparkle in excitement as he licks at his lips. You chuckle at the sweet innocence before grinning.

"Then why do you have the drink? You could just have the whip cream straight from the can," you inform, before internally cringing.

'You don't even know the boy and you're already giving him bad ideas' you scorn yourself.

His eyes widen in astonishment, his mouth open in a perfect 'o'. You go dismiss your last statement not wanting to be accused of any recklessness you may have passed onto the boy but before you can comment a loud voice echoes throughout the abandoned park making you and the boy turn in the direction of the voice.

"Amil!" the angelic voice shouts across from the other side of the park. You stand almost immediately wanting the woman to know you mean no harm, as you watch her eyes scan over you, glaring ever so slightly in suspicion.

"Aunty Wanda!!" Amil screeches, jumping from the bench and speeding over to his 'Aunt', if you had blinked you would have missed but the small trail of dirt tells you what you saw. You gape at the spot where the boy had stood only a second ago, who now sits comfortably on the woman's hip as she silently scolds him, you shake your head mistaking the quick movement on your mind playing silly tricks due to being out in the cold for so long. The boy pouts and points towards you making you squirm uncomfortably. The dark haired woman slowly makes her way over towards you, her eyes taking in your form seeing for any potential threat but relaxes once she's close enough to see you mean no harm to her nephew or her..

"See! I was safe Aunty Wanda! Did you know you can eat whip cream from the can! The can Aunty! So now we don't have to use all the hot chocolate!" He bounces slightly in her arms, a permanent grin on his face. The woman brushes away the runaway strand of silver hair making you frown in confusion.

Did he have silver hair before-

The woman grins almost sheepishly, completely different to her hard exterior from before and brings a hand towards you to shake. You take the gloved hand into your own and squeeze in greeting.

"Hi I'm Wanda, I'm terribly sorry about my nephew here. He likes to run... a lot actually and away from us. He gets it from his father," Wanda apologises, you stare into her green eyes watching as they sparkle just like Amil's did earlier on.

"It's quite alright, he was no bother really. I'm just glad he decided to run into me instead of continuing into the trees.." you whisper leaning in ever so slightly as if letting them in on a secret, you subtly wink at the brunette letting her in on the secret. Her eyes show mischief as she clicks onto your attempt to help reign in the boy, who's eyes have widened in curiosity.

"The trees?" You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Why yes. These trees are full of secrets, some even say they have magic in them and that they scold naughty children if they swing off their branches. You don’t wanna walk through them alone,” you fret, making sure your voice is low as you take in your surroundings. You see Wanda bite her bottom lip refraining from smiling at the corner of your eye as you continue to tease the boy. 

“I promise, I’ll never run away from you again Aunty Wanda!” he promises, burying his head into her shoulder while keeping an eye on the snow covered trees to the side of us. The brunette leans her head on top of the boys and mouths a quick ‘thank you’ before throwing you a beaming smile. 

“I didn’t catch your name before,” she mutters, feeling slightly flustered at your charming effect.

“That’s because I didn’t give it to you,” you tease, grinning widely as you watch her roll her eyes in good nature. You laugh at your poor attempt to tease the woman before replying “Y/N Y/L/N, I would shake your hand again but I can see yours are pretty full,” You continue to flirt lightly with her. You lock eyes for a moment, as if taking each other in. 

‘I swear I’ve seen this woman before,’ you think to yourself, trying to rack your brain for any similarities. 

Before you can ask her, a male’s voice approaches the three of you startling you both from your staring match. An excited screech from the boy indicates who the new stranger is.

“Papa!” Amil scurries out of his aunt’s arms and runs towards the familiar looking man who’s now crouched down ready to grab the boy at any second as if all too familiar with the boy's sudden movements. The boy's father swings him into his arms before making his way over to you, his eyes linger on you for a second before turning towards his sister with a knowing grin on his face. You can see the resemblance once their both up close, the mischievous smile giving them away instantly. 

 “I’m sorry if the little man bothered you, he’s far too friendly for his own good.” He smiles, as Amil begins to climb over his shoulder, hanging there for a moment giggling. You all smile at the infectious laugh from the innocent child before you address the man. 

“He was no bother honest. Besides I kinda  like the company he brought along with him,” you admit, eyeing Wanda flirtatiously as she smiles shyly, tucking a piece of long brown hair behind her ear. The man whistles low before reaching for your hand and bringing it to his lips. 

“Ah a woman with charm, I like her already sestra. The names Pietro,” he husks, winking subtly before whisking him and the endearing boy away. Amil waves enthused still hanging from his father’s back. 

“Bye lady! Thank you for teaching me about the trees!” he shouts through his giggles. You laugh and wave back with just as much enthusiasm, the boy's vibrant nature rubbing off on you.

“I uh, I better catch up with them. Thank you for keeping him company, I was so worried,” Wanda confesses, her worry still evident in her tone. You briefly touch her fingertips in comfort, suddenly feeling the urge to make all her worries disappear. 

“It’s okay I get it but like I said it was not a problem. The kid’s cute.. Just like his aunt,” you flirt, a small smug smile appearing on your face as you watch a soft red glow cross her cheeks. 

“Aunty Wanda come on! We’re going to be late for Morgan’s party, there’s gonna be cake!” Amil shouts from across the park, now stood by his father's side hand locked tight in his grasp. You feel a strange sense of disappointment knowing that your time in this beautiful woman's presence is over but a small satisfactory feeling creeps its way forward as you notice a similar look in her big green eyes. 

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. Hopefully see you around sometime, yes?” she breathes, her voice lower this time that tells you it isn’t a question but a promise. You lean forward, tugging the stubborn loose strand of hair that seems to escape again under her ear, your fingertip brushing softly against her cold cheek, so close that you can hear the quiet intake of breath as she leans slightly into your touch.

“Most definitely.”

[amazingmsme]

Would You Be Ever So Kind?

AN: Wow this took ages but I finally finished my first Twin Peaks fic! I can’t recommend this show enough, it’s suspenseful, funny, eerie, & just all around a great time! My man Cooper is adorable okay, I just know he’s a huge lee don’t judge me. This is a heftier one shot (just over 5k) cause I added some plot! Hope you enjoy the fic!

Cooper was stressed, there was no doubt about it. Windom Earle was always one step ahead it seemed, and closing in. His dreams weren't providing much help and it felt like he kept running into dead ends.

Since Major Briggs's return, he'd been enamored with the White Lodge. He could feel it's influence, though barely so. It was like he was standing on a beach, barefoot, information and enlightenment lapping at the tips of his toes. So close, yet it pulled back before it even reached his ankles. Teasing him. Dangling the answers right in front of him, but just out of reach. He needed to know what he needed to do to take that final step into the pool of knowledge that laid before him.

Right now, he sat in the conference room with Hawk. He stared at the other man with his usual perceptive gaze.

"If one were to... connect with the White Lodge somehow, how would they go about it?" he asked.

Hawk shifted in his seat as he thought for a moment. He tilted his head, pondering the question. Finally, he spoke. "It is rare to do so without being invited. But not impossible. I believe if you tried, someone with your unique sensibilities might be able to manage it."

Cooper's brows raised and he leaned forward in his seat. "How?"

Hawk shrugged. "The few I've heard of said they had experienced great joy. A mother who found out that she would soon have a grandchild. A man who proposed to his girlfriend. A boy who rode his first roller coaster. They had all experienced intense, positive emotions and the following night, had strange, yet peaceful dreams. Dreams that held answers to certain questions they had."

Cooper nodded, hanging on every word. "And how would I go about triggering these- positive emotions?"

Hawk smirked and shook his head. "I don't know, why don't you propose to someone?"

It took him a second, but his own lips quirked into a smile. He wagged a finger at him, "That was a joke, wasn't it?" Hawk chuckled softly.

"Yeah, it was. But I don't know Cooper, try and do things that make you happy. Take a break, maybe go on a walk to clear your head. Maybe go have some of that pie you love so much," he suggested. Cooper made to stand, grabbing his things.

"Will do Hawk, I shall try these methods as I brainstorm other activities that might induce such happiness." He gave him a tight lipped smile and a quick thumbs up before heading out.

He did end up trying Hawk's suggestions, but with little success. He had even eaten as many slices of pie as he could until he felt like he would burst. All it resulted in was a belly ache that plagued him the rest of the night until he fell asleep. With no strange peaceful dreams, he might add.

The next day he had started jotting down every positive emotion he could think of.

Joy Excitement Happiness Fun Funny Love...

Upon second thought, he marked that last one out. It had only brought him heartache and agony that still plagued him.

Hm. That was a shorter list than he thought it would be. Now was the matter of finding ways to trigger said emotions... He started to think that perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as he had thought. He pulled out his tape recorder.

"In my efforts to reach out to the White Lodge, I have discovered that intense feelings of happiness can bring about interesting dreams. In doing so I have also come to realize that such levels of joy are... unattainable with conventional methods. As it turns out Diane, it will take a lot more than eating five pieces of pie and petting a rather cute dog. I plan to stop by the library and pick up some literature on the psyche of happiness." He clicked the recorder off.

He'd spent the first half of the day doing as he'd said. It was much more boring than he'd anticipated. But at least he'd gleamed some information from his impromptu study session. Joy was triggered by certain chemicals in the brain, and certain stimuli releases them. Exercise was a common method, but it wouldn't be enough for the level of happiness he needed to reach. One thing that might prove to be more effective was laughter.

Laughter seemed to really be the best medicine, or at least that's how the books made it seem. Though just laughing for no reason wouldn't cut it. He needed a reason to laugh: something to make him happy. For him, that was enough to go on.

He arrived at the sheriff's station, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and stepped into the foyer where Andy was hopelessly trying to flirt with Lucy. She'd humor him occasionally, but Cooper knew she liked watching him struggle for her affections. She'd even told him so.

"Yes?"

"Well Andy, to be honest I believe you're the happiest one in here," he started. He lit up like a Christmas tree at the

"You really think so? Well that's awful kind of you to say."

"How do you do it? What keeps you in such a good mood all the time?" he asked. Andy shrugged.

"Well gee, I don't know. I guess I've always been this way. I try not to overthink things, my mama said people who do aren't very happy," he said. Cooper hummed in thought and nodded. "I just try to appreciated the little things in life, like the woods and all of you," he said honestly. Cooper wasn't expecting that and felt a warmth grow in his chest Hmm. He supposed he meant something to these people, after working together for so long, but hearing it aloud was nice to hear. Within his work, he was rarely shown appreciation least of all open affection. It felt nice.

His expression softened and he gave him a small but genuine smile. "Thank you. I appreciate you too," he made sure to let him know the feeling was mutual. He went into the empty conference room and grabbed one of the stacked donuts. He took a moment to admire the organized arrangement, noting how a few stacks of two were short one or were gone completely. He pulled out the tape recorder, pressing the button down and talked into it.

"After studying at the library, I now find myself at the sheriff's office. I briefly spoke with Andy about what makes him happy, and he gave the the sage advice of appreciating the little things in life. I know people often say to do so, but people rarely follow through. I'm trying to be better. I stand here looking down at the conference table that has donuts laid out on sheets of paper towels. Donuts are stacked two atop each other, and there are two rows of twelve. Lucy sets this up for us every night before she leaves. I never really gave much thought about how much time she puts into doing this... I find my talk with Andy was rather helpful. I will continue to try and do as he suggested."

He clicked it off and grabbed a donut, taking a bite. He took out his note pad and tapped his pencil against his chin. He started writing down things he liked or that made him happy. He started by listing off names, followed by animals and food. He even wrote down his favorite kinds of trees. Surprisingly, he found he felt lighter after doing so. A soft smile graced his features as Harry walked in.

"Hey Coop, what's got you all smiley?" he asked, his own lips quirking up upon seeing the other man in a good mood. He held up the page.

"Oh nothing, just listing down some things that make me happy. Hawk told me a few instances of people who were able to connect with the White Lodge after experiencing immense joy. I did some reading and found that certain chemicals can cause such emotions. I just need to find a way to trigger them," he explained. Harry hummed in thought, and gestured to the list.

"May I?" Cooper nodded and handed it to him. He skimmed through it, a soft smile of his own appearing on his lips.

"I make you happy?" he asked, dimples shining.

He nodded, tilting his head down shyly. "You all do. You each have such unique and charming qualities."

"Well, uh, thanks. That means a lot coming from you. I don't know anyone else who's more unique and charming," Harry said. Then he cleared his throat and looked back down at the list. "Nature seems to really make you happy. You get a chance to try out that lure yet?" he asked to change the subject.

Cooper shook his head. "No, I've been so busy I haven't had the time," he admits.

"Well, it's a pretty slow day for once. I figure I can take some time to help in your efforts," Harry said, as though he didn't just want to leave work and go fishing. Cooper smiled brightly at him.

"I'd love that," he said earnestly. "Allow me to swing by my room and change." The sheriff nodded.

"Sure thing. I'll meet you by the trail just past the waterfall," he said. After jotting a few more things down, Cooper leaves for the Great Northern. He changed into his jeans and pulled on a flannel. He talked into the recorder as he buttoned his shirt.

"Don't get me wrong Diane, I do enjoy my suit. But sometimes it just feels better to wear something more comfortable." He clicked it off and went to the mentioned trailhead. Harry was already waiting for him, fishing gear in tow.

Cooper furrowed his brows as a smile pulled at his lips as he looked at the sheriff. What was that God awful thing on his head? He let a few snickers slip out as he parked.

"Interesting hat ya got there," he mused, making Harry grin.

"You like it? My lucky fishing hat," he said, pointing up at it. He nodded, not bothering to hide his grin.

"Lucky huh? We'll see about that," he said, taking a pole from his grasp.

"What you don't like it?" he asked teasingly.

"Aú contraire. I find it quite amusing," he said with a wide grin. He reached up and flicked one of the dangly rubber tassels from a lure.

It was a floppy bucket hat, tan in color and adorned in tacky bright lures. Harry was grinning ear to ear, adding to the goofiness of his look. It was impossible not to smile at him. He swatted Cooper's hand away with a short laugh.

"Let's just get down there while the fish are still biting," he joked, punching him in the arm lightly. Cooper beamed as he followed him down the dirt trail. It didn't take too long before they were at the water's edge and found a fallen tree to sit on. Harry opened his tackle box, pulling out a folded throwing net to catch some live bait. Cooper watched as he tossed the net into the water over a school of minnows, pulling it back to them  and dumping them in the bait bucket. They each reached in and grabbed a fish, piercing it on the hook to cast it back into the water. Now, they wait.

They exchanged fishing stories, going back and forth as they waited for a bite. Harry's line was the first to go taught and he snatched up his rod to start reeling. Just as his fish was getting close to the bank, Cooper's own fishing pole began to dip slightly from a few tentative nibbles. Just as Harry reeled it in all the way, Cooper's line shot off and he quickly started reeling as well.

He unhooked the big mouth bass, inspecting it with a proud gaze. "Hell yeah, this'll cook up nicely," he said, placing it in the cooler he brought. Cooper's fish was putting up more of a struggle. He leaned back with all his body weight, biceps flexed and straining as he fought the fish. "Seems like you caught a lively one," Harry said. Cooper spared him a glance and a tight lipped smile; he would've definitely flashed him one of his signature thumbs up if he wasn't preoccupied.

After about 20 minutes he managed to bring the river monster in. It was a large male salmon, easily identifiable by the bright red coloring and large back hump that occurs during mating season. It was well over three feet and flopping on the bank. It seemed that trout weren't the only ones attracted to a green butt skunk.

At first, Cooper didn't know what to do with a fish this size. He placed his hands on it to lessen its flopping before straddling it. Placing one hand on its head to keep it pinned, he held his other out to Harry. "Pliers," he asked for the tool and he gifted it to him. Just as Cooper wrapped his hand around it, the salmon raised its ugly head up and bit his hand. When it flopped back down it yanked his arm down with it.

"Ow-hey!" Cooper exclaimed, steadying himself and smacking the top of its jaw until it released him. He pulled back his slightly bloody hand and removed the hook. He looked to his side and saw Harry stifling his laughter. "Yes I'm fine, thanks for your concern," he sassed, but the amused grin on his face let him know he was only teasing.

Harry was just short of cracking up. "Ihi'm sohorry, you okay?" he asked, grabbing some bandages.

"Yeah, just a few puncture wounds. Nothing I can't handle." He managed to pick up the still struggling fish and brought it back to the water's edge.

"After all that trouble, you're not keeping it?" he asked. Cooper shook his head and released it, watching it leave with a splash.

"Nope. Anything that puts up that hard of a fight deserves to live another day. Besides, I don't really have anywhere to cook it, and I'm not real big on salmon," he explained. He rinsed his wound and accepted the clean bandages, wrapping it up nice and tight.

"How very sporting of you," Harry said, and he meant it. He recast his rod as Cooper pulled out his recorder.

"Thank you," he said, flashing him a smile. "Update on the fishing. I just caught a large salmon and in the process of unhooking it, it bit me. Despite my tired arms and punctures, I found the experience enjoyable. It was... thrilling but not in the sense that I'm accustomed. It was a mundane excitement. Perhaps this feeling is what will help me contact the White Lodge."

He clicked it off and found Harry studying him. "Mundane excitement, huh?"

He nodded. "My line of work is often exciting, but the stakes are always higher. I find it refreshing to feel a rush of adrenaline when mine or someone else's life isn't on the line."

Harry shifted a little closer. "You really think this feeling might be what gets you to the White Lodge?" he questioned.

"I do. But I don't think it's one particular event or emotion that will get me there. From what I've read the optimal amount of endorphins and serotonin come from a range of feelings. Based on my study session at the library, I'd say that a mixture of excitement and laughter would be my best bet," he mused aloud.

"Too bad there's no comedians in town, I bet that would do the job," Harry mused. Cooper allowed himself to smirk.

"I suppose if I stare at that hat long enough, I just might burst into giggles," he said in a teasing manner. Harry's jaw dropped at the playful insult.

"Hey don't dis the hat!" he exclaimed, a hand flying up to cover the top of it protectively.

"Don't worry, it was more of a jab at your taste in fashion," he said good naturedly.

"I'll have you know that's worse. When did you get so sassy anyway?" Harry asked. He chuckled and poked his side in retaliation. The corner's of Cooper's mouth twitched as he flinched away.

"I can have my moments. I do spend a lot of time with Albert," he mused, rubbing the slight tingles from his side when suddenly it hit him. There really was no easier or faster way to pump his body full of adrenaline and endorphins, even if the reaction was more forced than voluntary. The results would be the same, wouldn't they? His eyes widened at the realization.

He clapped his hands together loudly, making Harry jump. "That's it!" he exclaimed, excitement showing on his face from his revelation.

Harry furrowed his brows in confusion. "What- Albert?" he questioned, not following Cooper's train of thought. He shook his head, smiling now that he finally had an answer to his dilemma.

"No, tickling," he clarified. Harry cocked his head, a smirk on his lips. He was intrigued.

"Didn't know you were ticklish Coop." If Harry squinted, he thought he could see the hint of a blush on his cheeks.

"I am, and it's a good thing because right now, it's the only thing I can think of that might work to get me to the White Lodge. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy fishing, but the bite did put a damper on my mood," he grumbled, glaring at his bandaged hand. You could start to see blood seep through the white cloth.

"So a last resort kinda thing?" Harry asked. And was Cooper crazy, or was he a little closer? Cooper nodded.

"Exactly. So uh, would you be so kind as to..." he trailed off, and in lieu of finishing his sentence he wiggled his fingers in the air, hoping he got the message. Oh he got it all right. Sheriff Truman was grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

"To tickle you?" he asked for clarification. The ghost of a blush on Cooper's cheeks darkened. "Yes that." Suddenly Harry was straddling his legs, pushing him down the rest of the way.

"Ya don't have to tell me twice!" he exclaimed.

"You don't have to seem so eager," Cooper said, already squirming. It was the last coherent thing he said before Truman's fingers began prodding his sides. He gasped and soft snickers began to fill the air. There was no point in trying to hold back; he'd be laughing soon enough regardless, and the whole point of this was to create the right concoction of emotions and chemicals in his brain to reach the White Lodge.

Harry kneaded his sides and Cooper yelped, hands instinctively shooting down to protect his sides. You'd think with all his special training that he'd be defending himself better, but he was only weakly slapping at his hands. To be fair, he was practicing a lot of self restraint by not just crawling into the river to save himself.

"You got a nice laugh Coop, ya know that?" Harry asked with a genuine smile. Cooper nodded, mouth open in a wide grin as laughter flowed freely from his mouth. "Ihihihi've been tohohold!"

"Whoa now, I can't have you going all cocky on me like that. Guess I'll just have to knock you down a peg," he teased, walking up his ribs. He shook his head and snorted, nose scrunched as Harry scratched between each rib. The higher his fingers climbed, the louder and more frantic his giggling became.

Just as Harry reached the top of his ribs, he stopped. Cooper sighed in relief, thinking he might be done. He wasn't so lucky.

"Do me a favor and lift your arms up," Harry said, not even trying to hide his mischievous smirk anymore. He curled in on himself, chuckling nervously and shook his head.

"Nohoho," he giggled, wrapping his arms around himself. Harry cocked his head, arching a brow.

"No?" he asked in amusement. Cooper shook his head again to confirm.

"And why not?" he asked, hands on his hips. The sight alone made Cooper feel giddy with anticipation.

"Ihi'm not supid Harry, I know you'll just tickle me more," he answered with a wide smile. Harry snorted out a short laugh.

"I know you're not. And I promise I won't," he said, hiding his crossed fingers behind his back. Cooper gave him a skeptical look. "That's a lie."

"Hey I said I'd promise! Have you ever known me to break a promise?" he tried to convince him. He eyed the sheriff up and down and decided there was a 50/50 chance he'd just attack again, and this little game of theirs was fun, he had to admit. So he took that chance, already knowing the outcome.

He lifted his arms slowly, tentatively as he watched the other carefully. His arms were halfway above his head when Harry smirked down at him, flashing his crossed fingers out from behind his back. Cooper's eyes widened and he moved to bring his arms back down, but alas, it was too late. He immediately darted for his exposed hollows, scribbling over the shirt clad skin. His flannel didn't offer much protection and he was soon thrown into deep hysterics.

His arms came crashing down, laughter freely escaping his smiling mouth. He only succeeded in trapping his hands, however he knew better than to try raising his arms a second time. "You lihihihahar!" he squealed. Harry smirked and picked up the pace, grinning wider when the agent's high pitched giggling turned more frantic.

"If you cross your fingers it's a freebie," he claimed. Cooper shook his head, grappling to shove his friend's hands away.

"Thahahat's such bullshihihit!" he called him out. And yeah, it was bullshit, but Harry couldn't let him get away with saying it was.

"Think you just sealed your fate Coop," he teased, kneading his belly and sending him into a steadier stream of giggles.

"Nohoho dohohon't!" he whined, legs kicking weakly, or rather, weakly for a special agent like himself. Harry scoffed, not even trying to hide how much fun he was having.

"Don't? Don't what?" he asked, drumming his fingers. Cooper's giggles sputtered out as he shook his head, fist pounding against the ground.

"Ihihi'm nohohot falling for thahat one," he forced out through his laughter.

"Falling for what? I can't know what not to do if you won't tell me," he said, sounding so innocent that you almost wanted to believe him. Almost. Cooper wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Dohohon't mahake it wohohorse!" he pleaded. Harry shook his head in "defeat" and clicked his tongue.

"Damn, I was really hoping you'd fall for that," he lamented, hands moving down to squeeze his hips. Cooper convulsed, jolting up slightly and trapping his wrists. They held each other's gaze for a moment, Cooper's eyes full of an excited kind of fear while Harry's shone with an evil sort of mischief.

"Bad spot?" he taunted, giving another squeeze. He evoked the same reaction as before, but this time with an added squeak. Cooper went completely still, cheeks rosy as he gasped for breath. There was no use in lying, he'd be proven wrong anyway. He nodded shyly, looking anywhere but Harry's smug face.

"Good." He immediately drilled his thumbs into the divots of his hips as he gently squeezed them with the rest of his hand. Cooper instantly burst into a tidal wave of cackles that drowned out the sounds of nature around them. Even when thrown in hysterics, it was still a joyous, beautiful sound. It was smooth and had a deep tenor to it that made you feel warm inside. His nose crinkled adorably, and his mouth was open wide in a constant smile, allowing his melodious laugh to ring through the air.

“How ya holdin’ up?” Harry asked just to check in. Cooper was too busy laughing his heart out to answer with words, so he flashed him a thumbs up instead. He shook his head and chuckled at his signature gesture.

Encouraged by his reassurance, he continued his journey downward by squeezing his thighs. Cooper snorted loudly and his blush darkened.

"Aw Coop, I didn't know you snorted! Do it again," he taunted, pinching and scribbling his thighs until he snorted again.

"Nohohooo," he whined in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands. Harry was having the time of his life.

"Remember bud, you asked for this," he reminded smugly.

"Ihihi knohohow! Shuhut up!"

"I don't think I will. In fact, I think teasing makes it better, don't you agree?" he asked, scratching along his inner thighs. Cooper squealed and clamped his legs together to protect himself.

"Ihihihi said shuhuhut uhuhup!"

"I'll take that as a yes then," he smirked, and even winked at him. Oh he would never live this down. Not if Harry could help it.

He started skittering his fingers atop his knees, and Cooper shrieked, legs kicking out frantically. "Nohohot thehehere!"

Sheriff Truman didn't listen and instead squeezed around his kneecaps. Cooper tried to curl in on himself, laying back on the ground when he failed due to laughing too hard. Though when Harry went to scratch the backs of his knees, he barely laid a finger on him before a fist connected with his face.

Harry recoiled and grabbed his bleeding nose, letting out a pained chuckle. "Damn, ya got me good Coop," he said, still managing a smile. A hand covered Cooper's mouth from shock.

"I am so sorry Harry! I tried to refrain from hurting you, but my instincts took over," he quickly apologized. Harry shook his head, grabbing his other hand and pulling him up to a sitting position.

"Heh, it's okay. Guess I got what I deserve," he mused. His nose had already stopped bleeding, but it left a thin trickle above his upper lip that he wiped away.

"You were just helping me out," he said, patting his shoulder. "Thanks by the way," he said, cheeks still tinged pink.

"Any time," he said with a warm smile. "So, did you have as much fun as I did?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm not answering that," Cooper said, looking away. Harry barked out a laugh.

"I think you did." The FBI agent only hummed. Harry spotted his tape recorder and nabbed it.

"Hey give it!" Harry held him back by placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away as he pressed the record button.

"Hi Diane, Sheriff Truman here. I think it's safe to say Agent Cooper will be successful in his resilient efforts to reach the White Lodge. That's all." He turned it off, wearing a smug grin.

"Proud of yourself?" Cooper asked in amusement.

"Oh very. It's not every day that I get to reduce the famous Agent Cooper to a giggly mess," he said, wiggling his fingers at him. He subtly curled in on himself, chuckling nervously.

"R-right. And it won't be a daily occurrence, unless you want retaliation," he warned.

"We'll see about that," he smirked. They were both distracted by a tug on Cooper's line. He grabbed his fishing rod and started reeling it in.

When they returned to the sheriff’s office, Andy gasped seeing Truman’s swollen, bruised nose and Cooper’s wrapped hand.

“Good lord you two did you get in a fight or somethin’?” he asked with concern. Harry smirked and nodded, casting a glance towards the agent. 

“You could say that.”

Cooper quickly stepped in before he could reveal anything too embarrassing. “Nonsense, I got bit by a fish and his line broke when he was reeling one in and he smacked himself in the face with the fishing rod,” he easily lied. Harry’s smirk grew as he hummed in “agreement.”

~~~~

That night, Cooper had a peaceful yet strange dream. He opened his eyes to find he was laying on a white fainting couch. At first he thought he was in a room, but upon inspecting his surroundings, he realized he was in a vast open plain. The floor was marble tile and the empty space around him looked to be white at first glance, but was in fact an extremely pale pink.

Out of the nothingness walked Laura Palmer. Instead of the low cut black dress she normally wore in his visions and dreams, she wore a white flowing gown. It billowed behind her even though there was no wind. Cooper sat up on the chaise lounge and stared at her as she approached.

"Windom Earle is not the biggest threat," she spoke softly and clearly, her voice like a bell. It was strikingly different than her Black Lodge counterpart. "The other you is." He leaned forward in his seat.

"The other me?" he asked. She nodded, a halo of light illuminating her from behind.

"In another world he escapes. Use your second chance wisely and leave the Black Lodge before he does," she advised.

"How can I do that?" he asked, soaking in every piece of knowledge she offered up.

"The Black Lodge is disorienting. You must not show even an ounce of fear or self doubt. In that other world, you did not leave until 20 years later. In another, the Lodge annihilated your soul." Cooper stared at her intently.

"And how do you know these things won't happen again?" he asked.

"Because infinite universes bring infinite possibilities. Use the tools I gave you and you will receive a different outcome," she said. Laura walked up to him and cupped his face in her hands, placing a kiss on his forehead. She leaned in and whispered, "Thank you for giving me justice."

"You're welcome," he said back. His vision faded to white, then to pitch darkness. He jolted awake with a gasp, reeling from everything he had learned. His chest heaved and he reached for the recorder on his bedside table.

"Diane you won't believe it, but I just had the strangest dream..."

[faimrpg]

Hello, and welcome to member appreciation time! Every week, I’ll be posting a snippet from everyone’s blogs that I felt was jaw-droppingly fantastic, as both a thanks to you for being here and putting your character on the dashboard, and so other members can appreciate your artistry as well. There is no doubt in my mind that writing is, perhaps, the most grueling fucking hobby in the world. It’s hard to do, difficult to grapple with, and often time consuming, but the fantastic part is that we do it anyways, and everyone else gets the opportunity to read it. I don’t want this blurb to get too long, so I’ll be shutting up shortly, but I’d like say from the bottom of my heart that I am grateful that you’re all here!

AGRIPPINE: Who is this noble who speaks with more authority than Agrippine has in their entire body, who calls them champion yet treats them like a child? It’s hardly an offense to their pride, of which they have so little. Even they can’t deny they have swum too far into the deep end, over their head and out of their league whilst at court. No noble lies awake in the dark, haunted by what they do not remember and what they may never find.

BEAU: It’s against her very nature to step out of the shadows and into the opening, to be so vulnerable. Her heart is racing, at the sight of the ghost in front of them as their footsteps grow closer and closer. Closer than they’ve been in so long, there’s no doubt in her mind now as she catches surprised but so familiar brown eyes.

CECILE: It is still a regular occurrence that Cecile brings flowers to her mother’s grave, and shares a peaceful silence with her final resting place. She still talks to her, sometimes. But these days, more often than not her worries are not things she can say aloud, even in the quiet of the graveyard, for fear of who may be listening.

CYRIL: She wanted out of there. Cyril can still feel the tension she felt back in that room surrounding her, even as she put as much distance between her and that place. She’s used to gilded halls and marble floors, not blood pools growing bigger by the heartbeat. Her bubble had burst and Cyril was afraid.

DEGARE: Degaré knows well that anything whispered over a flagon is tricky, fickle, maybe even downright false. It could be fact, could be fiction—himself, he doesn’t much care. Whether the honest truth or little more than a myth men tell themselves, he knows one party likely to be interested.

GISELE: Surely, the word Lady has never been uttered with such distaste, so jarringly, transparently through gritted teeth in an otherwise lyrical performance, like a pianist striking a discordant note midway through a scale. “Is your nobility nothing more than a hat you don only when convenient and matching your dress? Have you been attending Court only to gawk at your own gowns, as though this were nothing but a showroom for your wares?”

HELENE: She knows what Helene has done, all of the sins and all of the misery exacted on behalf of Celestine, but she could never truly understand that power was merely secondary to order. Order kept her lands green, order kept violent warfare on the streets, and order prevented yet another King of Fools from emerging underneath the rot and filth that seemed to only well up in the streets where the nobles dared to tread.

ISEULT: Names had never been his forte— he’d sooner know her by her blade of choice, in all the places it’d previously clashed with his. As was the Guild and Underworld rapport: the honest sellsword awaited their turn at the billet bank, the successful one poached theirs. No contract passed without protest, and Iseult knew by sound alone he’d had the (mis)fortune of crossing theirs in the field before.

LIANE: Undoubtedly, they take her for a fool, nearly retching on their own tongue in the hopes of cradling Liane’s undivided attention in the palm of their hand like a child who wishes to thieve shining stars from the night sky. She has half a mind to disregard the act, to leave well enough alone, but a trail of vines thorn around her blackened heart as she teeters on the brink of hunger, and as luck would have it, Sidonie Dupont appears to be ripe for the taking.

MATTHIEU: Matthieu gnashes his teeth together. He catches his lip in the press: vice-grip, vice-sanction. He thinks about his friends, now notches in the frame of his bed; crosses and circles, sleeping together with the rest of his kills. He thinks about the weight of Leon’s hand. The way it perched on the back of his neck, the tight sound in his throat when he whispered into his skin. Maybe we’ll go somewhere, you and I. What do you say? After this is over.

PATRICE: The adrenaline had kept his mind far from the stinging feeling of the cut across his bicep, but now, the warmth of blood flowing down his skin, a calm river compared to the pounding of his heart, that made it feel as if his veins were roaring rapids in contrast.

REGIS: Long strides take him past rows and rows of soldiers who have made themselves into the shape of ornamental decorations. They do not blink. They do not breathe. They dare not move. An occasion of some kind has called Alain here today, thus his presence, but Régis is here with other intentions.

SAINTE: Sainte knows that to outsiders, her morals may look skewed. How can one take a man’s head off his body, and still feel wrong telling a lie? Perhaps she’s balancing things however she can. Some things, she feels, have been set out before her by Odeline, so very clearly. Other decisions are hers to make alone, and feel, therefore, much more muddy.

SAVATIER: A wild, young world is often violent; but the bloodshed committed in the name of order has always left Savatier with a strange taste. He’d live freely before the displacement, knowing no rulers nor loyalty aside from that to the earth’s phenomena, and Odeline. Odd, to be asked to pledge similar faith in an Empress who has sacrificed nothing besides familial blood.

SIDONIE: If one looked closely enough, they would notice the fire brimming in their gaze— a stilling anger that they attempted to reel in as they watched her, completely unmoving. They loathed the way the nobles looked upon her as if she were their courtly pet. As if she’d been there for to sole purpose of their entertainment, and not a living, breathing human. They would never know her— never learn her in the way she had, but this Violaine did not mind.

VIOLAINE: If only I could spend a lifetime impressing you, they do not say, because admitting such would turn what was previously palpable, present occasionally in her lingering gaze, or even the hesitation of her whispers, into something tactile, permanently cauterized into the webs of their affections. So soon they would not sully their mind with doubt.

YVON: From within her sleeve a stretch of white is drawn, the watery silk reminiscent of the shucking of milky, pale meat from a sea creature’s gold shell. Yvon extends the square in pinched fingers, pearlescent and thin as it hangs in the air between them. Here, a thing from within my husk.

ZHENYA: Such was the nature of the tenuous push and pull by which they were bound; in her furious suspicion and flaring spite, Gisele burned, and with his chilled apathy and callous disregard, Zhenya only ever stoked the flames.

[trashyswitch]

Easter In The Sanders House

Thomas gets to celebrate Easter weekend with the sides! Patton plans a full day of Easter fun, which gets a little out of hand quickly thanks to Remus...But a dose of innocence should do him some good! (or 50 doses)

Some dirty talk and swearing because...Remus. Also, I have personally ruined my own childhood with this fanfic. -_- But I'll be okay. I promise! Happy Easter everyone!

Easter was usually a house favorite in the mind palace. Though it was a little different this year thanks to COVID, Thomas and the sides could still celebrate it together. They all lived in the same household, which helped a lot. And some of them were capable of conjuring up anything! So the sides could make just about anything if they put their minds to it.

The sides started off with decorating the house with easter stuff. Bits of it were homemade, some of it was conjured up, and a few of the decorations were bought. Example: the huge stuffed bunny. Thomas had bought a medium-sized bunny from Wal-mart, and Patton took it upon himself to make it even bigger! And…

...It ended up being 7 feet tall…

But Patton was LOVING it! He would cuddle it non-stop, ‘feed’ it stuffy carrots, and even brush its belly fur with an old hairbrush. It was quite endearing to watch, as well as a little strange. The father figure would even give it blankets and make it look like a jedi knight. It was actually quite hilarious to see the gigantic bunny looking like the Jawa without the double sash or the gun. Everyone both loved it, and hated it at the same time. Virgil even went as far as to say ‘That’s cursed’! And...he has a point.

The rest of the decorations were banners with hanging eggs, baskets filled with fake grass and plastic eggs, bouquets of real and fake flowers all over the place, and mini egg bowls around the house. There were even little bunnies popping out of mugs placed onto the dining table for decoration! That was Roman’s favorite decoration.

Just like he usually did, Patton set up a little Easter egg hunt of plastic eggs filled wih treats and other little things. This year however, Patton wanted to improvise with extra little items…

Thomas and all 6 of the sides were all ready with their own baskets. The sides’ baskets matched their clothes, while Thomas had a pink basket. Logan was the first to critique Patton’s childish games. “Patton...A little reminder that we’re all in our 30’s. We’re getting a little too old for-”

Patton looked at Logan with a ‘seriously?’ look and squeezed his side. “Hush your piehole. Santa may not exist but no one lets that stop us from celebrating Christmas.” Patton warned casually.

Logan jumped and moved a step away from Pat. “Fine. Touché.” Logan responded.

Roman and Remus both snapped their neck towards Patton. “SANTA DOESN’T EXIST?!”

Logan facepalmed and shook his head while Patton giggled into his hand. “On your mark silly geese!” Patton called. Everyone got into their push position to start running at the ready. “Get set...GO!”

Everyone started running around the house while Logan and Patton just walked. Patton was watching the six boys run around the house with their baskets. There were eggs literally everywhere! And some of them had chocolate, others had origami creations, A few had glitter, a few had cute quotes written in slips of papers like an easter fortune cookie, and other had…

“...An acorn?” Janus asked.

Logan looked over and widened his eyes. “That’s a chestnut oak acorn. They’re an oval-sized breed of acorn.” Logan told him. “They’re usually in more eastern states though. So how did you get it here?” Logan asked.

“I conjured it!” Patton replied. “Good thing you know your trees. You’re gonna enjoy the other eggs near there…” Patton hinted.

Logan looked around for the eggs, opened them up and gasped as he very gently removed it. “A butterfly wing!” Logan very delicately held it in his hand. “It’s...beautiful!” Logan admitted with a smile. Patton smiled happily upon seeing his reaction.

Virgil moved to his bedroom and noticed that there were eggs hidden in there. Virgil opened up, and laughed as he removed them from the plastic egg: They were pins! There was a pin with a salt shaker that said ‘Salty’ on it, a pin of a black cat standing on a skull, a pin of a black rose and a pin with a black cat holding a fish. They were so small and yet, so up his alley. There would end up being more pins, being enamel and backpack versions. It was nice and thoughtful. Sometimes there were dark parts about spring that Virgil enjoyed. And he was thankful that Patton advocated for him.

Logan was having a wonderful time looking at all the spring items hidden in the eggs. There were Chinese Lanterns, walnuts, strawberry seeds, and more! There were even tiny squares that when unravelled, revealed recipe’s that involved Crofter’s Jam! And he even managed to fit Crofters store coupons into the plastic eggs! Logan was smiling and hugging Patton. “Thank you very much Patton. I appreciate the many kind gestures. And I apologize for the insensitive words I said earlier. You can still find ways for 30 year old men to enjoy Easter.” Logan told him.

Patton giggled and hugged him back. “Oh! And one more thing:” Patton conjured up a bunny ear headband. Logan’s smile dropped and he hung his head. “Really? Bunny ears?” Logan asked with a small smile.

Patton giggled. “Do you not remember our promise? You promised during March break that you were gonna wear bunny ears!” Patton reminded him.

“I am aware of my promise, but I’m starting to regret making such a promise.” Logan admitted.

Patton rolled his eyes and put it onto his head. “Perfect! See? It’s not that bad.” Patton told him.

Logan looked up. “Fine. But would you potentially consider making the ears look more realistic?” Logan offered a compromise.

Patton nodded and touched the bunny ears. They turned into brown and white bunny ears, with a very light pink skin all over the inner ear flap. Logan conjured up a mirror, and smiled. “Thank you.” Logan replied.

Remus was running around, acting like a raccoon. “Look at me! I’m RJ! I eat garbage, steal from Karens and ruin people’s lives!” Remus declared.

Roman chuckled and fluffed Remus’s hair. “I feel like you’d be more of a Hammy.” Roman admitted.

Remus gasped and clapped his hands. “YES! I COULD STOP TIME WITH THE POWER OF CAFFEINE! AND THEN BURN PEOPLE TO SHREDS WITH ILLEGAL LASERS AND CAGES!” Remus shouted.

Roman snapped his fingers and ran to Patton’s basket. “We got you something!” Roman told him.

Patton turned around and squealed upon the present! There was a chocolate chick, a DVD copy of ‘Over the Hedge’, and a DVD copy of It’s ‘The Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown!’. Patton happily took the DVD’s and the chocolate chick. “THANK YOU! YOU ARE ALL AMAZING!” Patton hugged as many people in one hug as his arms could. If his arms were stretchy like Elasticgirl’s, then maybe he could!

Later on, the family had a lovely Easter dinner. Cooked carrots, roast beef, baked potatoes and packaged gravy for it all. Patton and Thomas all worked together to make their supper, while Logan took some time to make a Crofter’s recipe he was given during the plastic egg hunt. With some time, Logan had whipped together what he called: Loganberry Crumble Squares. A simple recipe of rolled, layered oat crumble with Loganberry Crofter’s put into the middle of them! It tasted amazing! The recipe called for Gluten-free oats, but Logan just picked up regular oats for the recipe. No one was allergic to wheat. So, why worry?

After supper, the family gathered together to watch the Charlie Brown Easter Special. They enjoyed Marcie’s cute little ‘boiling eggs’ gags, and loved seeing Sally Brown and Snoopy playing with the hats! Patton died of cuteness overload at Snoopy and the bunnies dancing, and Janus admitted he felt bad that Snoopy didn’t have an egg for Charlie Brown.

Virgil looked at Janus. “Charlie rarely gets things. He has a best friend and a crush, but that’s about it. Lucy’s probably the reason he doesn’t have anything.” Virgil admitted.

“That’s true. But you gotta admit: Lucy and Shroeder are kinda cute together.” Roman added.

Thomas laughed. “That all depends on Schroeder falling for her as well.” Thomas added.

Logan sighed. “Poor Schroeder...she never leaves him alone. A life of Beethoven and piano playing is much better than a childish relationship with a girl like her.” Logan added.

Janus smirked. “Right! A relationship with Lucy will NEVER work. It’s not like she actually softens up to Charlie Brown near the end or anything...” Janus hinted.

Roman widened his eyes. “Wait, really?!”

Logan turned to him. “That’s true. I also realize she later develops a crush on Charlie near the end of the comic strips.” Logan added.

“So...So Schroeder and Lucy-”

Remus made a downward whistling sound while he lowered his finger and made an ‘explosion’ sound effect while expanding his hands. “But Charlie and Lucy:” Remus did a wolf-whistle before wrapping his own arms around himself and ‘making out’ with himself. “Oh Charlie! CHARLie! YeS!”

Roman gasped in horror while Thomas widened his eyes. “EW! You’re so disgusting! They’re 8!” Thomas yelled.

Roman had thrown Remus off the couch, leaving Remus rolling around on the floor in a fit of hysterics. Janus was snickering into his hand while Logan facepalmed himself. “THEHEY DIDN’T EVEN GEHEHET TO THE BEST PAHART!” Remus laughed.

Virgil groaned. “They don’t need to. This is why they need more than just teachers and shop owners in their community.” Virgil reacted.

Remus stopped laughing. “Why? Because Sally and Linus could be having fun at the back of the school yard?” Remus asked. “Virgil! You naughty, naughty man~”

Patton dropped his jaw and fixed his glasses with a frown. “That’s it! You need a big dose of innocence!” Patton declared, picking him up and dropping him onto the couch. He climbed onto him. “Starting with your hips!” Patton started digging his thumbs into his hips.

Remus’s naughty comeback was quickly overruled by his very own scream of surprise! “FAAAHAHAHACK!”

Patton smirked. “Language! Looks like I’m gonna need to up the ante!” Patton moved his hands to his lower, inner thighs and started squeezing and skittering.

“OHSHIT- GAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus completely lost it and just about kneed Patton in the face a few times! “STAAHAHAHAP! TOHOHOHO MUHUHUCH IHINNOCEHEHENCE!” Remus yelled.

Logan couldn’t help but smile at Patton’s way of handling him. He soon started smirking with Patton as well. “I’d almost say you should up this dose to lethal.” Logan offered.

Patton gasped and turned his head to look at Logan with an excited face. “You’re a genius!” Patton declared.

“And a change of lifestyle may even lessen the indecent behaviour. For example: consumptions of veggies and fruits…” Logan hinted.

Patton’s smirk grew so wide almost all his teeth were visible. “Oh! Fruits are a good one!”

Remus yelped in horror. “OHOHO NOHOHO, YOHOHOU’RE NOHOHOT FILLIHIHING MEHEHE WITH SWEETNEHEHESS!” Remus warned.

Patton looked at Remus with a confident facial expression. “Are you suggesting something more sour? Like...raspberries?” Patton asked.

Remus squealed! And he only heard the word! “NOHOHOHO! NORASPBERRIHIES! BEHEHEGOHOHONE!” Remus ordered. “IHIHI OHOHORDER YOHOU TO-”

Patton took in a deep breath and blew a big raspberry onto Remus’s inner thigh.

Remus squealed and screamed like a bat in severe distress! “AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FAAAAHAHAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHA PAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus screamed.

“My goodness Remus! You sound like you’re dying! What could possibly be so funny?!” Patton asked.

Janus smirked. “It couldn’t possibly be the thought of playboy magazines or babies making love.” Janus teased, just riling up Patton even more.

Patton clicked his tongue in disappointment. “My my my...I suppose even the smaller doses won’t stop you from your addictive thoughts...Perhaps you really DO need a lethal dose of innocence!” Patton admitted.

Remus was struggling. “WAHAHAIT NO! IHIHI DOHOHON’T! THISIS BAHAHAD EHEHENOHOHOUGH!”

Patton hummed. “Well, guess there’s only one way to test if it’s working!” Patton decided. Patton removed his fingers and let Remus have a break. Remus let in heavy breaths at first, to conquer his loss of oxygen. But within two minutes…

“Hehey, hey Janus:” Remus asked.

Janus looked over. “Yes?”

“Imagine Marcie being spicy for Peppermint Patty~” Remus made a sexy roaring sound.

Patton was immediately at him again. “Time for the second lethal dose, you stubborn pickle!” Patton declared quickly.

Thomas wheezed and hung his head. “Did you just call him a pickle?” Thomas asked, laughing.

“Yes I did! Because he’s being a green, sour dick!” Patton declared. While Thomas questioned his ears and sanity, Patton started blowing raspberry after raspberry on Remus’s thigh.

Remus was absolutely losing it! “AHAHAHIHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAN’T! AAAAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHO *snort* DAHAHAHAMMIHIHIHIHIT!”

Thomas quickly whipped his head around to see where the unusual sound came from.

Patton had widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “You SNORT?!” he asked, stopping his tickling momentarily.

Remus took a quick moment to breathe and nodded his head. “Ihihi- Ialways hahahave.”

Patton looked at Roman. Roman nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s true. He snorted when he was little too.” Roman admitted.

Patton looked at Roman curiously. “What about you?” Patton asked.

Roman hummed and tilted his head. “Me?”

Patton started staring at Roman with suspicious eyes. “......Logan, get him.” Patton told him.

Logan wrapped his arms around Roman and immediately went for the belly. “Way ahead of you.”

Roman squealed and threw his head back with bubbly giggles coming out. Despite Remus’s laugh sounding more witch-like, The twins’ laughter sounded fairly similar to each other. So now both twins were being tickled for separate reasons; Remus’s being ‘constant potty mouth’ while Roman’s being ‘kept secrets’.

“LOHOHohohoho! Meheheheheaniihihie! Lehehehet mehehehe gohohohoho!”

“PAHAHAT! *snort* IHIHIHI’M GOHOHONNA *snort* KIHIHILL YOHOHOHOU!”

Patton gasped at Remus’s words. “Threatening me as well!? My goodness...You really don’t learn, do you?” he teased. Patton blew one raspberry on his left thigh, and two raspberries on his right thigh.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAAA-” With one last snort, Remus finally went silent. He couldn’t really breathe very well at this point and was growing very red. So Patton gave him a break and got off him. Remus took some time getting his oxygen back. It felt great to be able to breathe again. He tried to breathe fairly heavily to get oxygen in faster. With due time, he slowly lost his tomato face and started turning more peach-colored again. With a bottle of water from Patton, Remus was pretty much okay. He was smiling and still slightly giggling after he finished the bottle.

“Are you done with your silly jokes yet?” Patton asked.

Remus lifted his head up, took one look at him and let his head fall back down. “M...Maybe for a bit.” Remus replied.

Patton smiled. “Good.”

Remus laid there for a few more minutes while he took in the sound of Roman’s giggly laughter. Logan was STILL tickling him but this time, he was pinning one arm up and tickling his armpit. To make things even better, Roman was starting to snort as well. And Patton was living for it!

“It’s truly fascinating how both twins have developed a snorty laugh.” Logan added.

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup! *snort* Ehehehevihihihil fiehehehend!” Roman yelled to him.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “Evil? You think I’m being evil?” Logan asked.

“Yehehehehessss! Ehehehevihihil Ihihihi- *snort* Ihihi sahahahayhy!” Roman shot back.

Logan chuckled at that. “I am being much more merciful and gentle to you, compared to how Patton was treating Remus.” Logan explained.

“Yohohohou’re tihihicklihihing mehehehe *snort* fohohor noho reheheasohohon!” Roman protested.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Actually, we did have a reason to tickle you. We just didn’t tell you what it was.” Logan added.

“We wanted to see if you snorted too!” Patton declared.

Logan looked at Patton. “Hey! I was gonna tell him when he stopped insulting me with his childish names.” Logan reacted.

Patton snickered. “He was gonna find out anyway. Minus well do it now!” Patton declared, closing his eyes with a proud smile.

Logan sighed. “You’re no fun.” Logan whined.

Patton opened his eyes and opened his mouth in surprise. What did he just say?! “I...After all I planned for easter-”

Thomas quickly put his hands on Patton’s shoulders. “Patton, don’t listen to Logan. You are tons of fun! You planned all this for us, and for that we’re so grateful.” Thomas told him.

Janus, Remus, Virgil, Roman and even Logan nodded. Logan paused the tickling for a moment while Roman sat up.

“Thank you Patton!” All six of them said happily at the same time!

Patton smiled and couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. “You’re welcome guys.” Patton hugged Thomas. Virgil joined the hug as well, followed by Remus.

With that out of the way and Patton cheered up again, Logan resumed tickling Roman for a little longer before letting the prince breathe. Roman’s loss of oxygen was much more minor compared to Remus. But that was only because Remus wouldn’t stop doing the one thing that granted him tickles. Maybe it was because Remus wanted tickles? Or maybe it was because Remus has a legitimate addiction to it.

Whatever the reason, Remus was quick to start up his grotesque headcanons about the Peanuts Characters. This would further ruin Patton’s childhood and cause Remus further fits of ticklish laughter. Perhaps they could consider a new, more effective treatment for dirty language?

Or...maybe not. Remus seems to like it. And no one would wanna ruin his fun! Happy Easter indeed.