The underworld wasn’t exactly a place for holidays. Time passed without much notice, the cycle of life and death continuing without pause. Grim Reapers didn’t have birthdays, didn’t celebrate anniversaries, and certainly didn’t mark human traditions on their non-existent calendars.

At least, that’s what Casper thought until he met you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever reaped before—because, well, he couldn’t reap you. Your soul refused to be taken, tethered stubbornly to the world of the living. It was a mystery, an anomaly, and yet, instead of reporting it like he was supposed to, Casper had done something reckless. He had lingered.

You were a whirlwind of warmth and mischief, constantly teasing him, calling him Grimmy despite his protests. You made fun of his attempts at using modern slang (which, by the way, he was certain he was using correctly), and you flirted shamelessly, as if he weren’t a being that had existed for centuries.

And somehow, over time, Casper found himself drawn to you. Which is why, today, he found himself standing awkwardly in your apartment, surrounded by twinkling lights and the soft scent of cinnamon and pine. A wreath hung crookedly on the door, and a small artificial Christmas tree sat in the corner, its decorations slightly mismatched but charming nonetheless. “This…” Casper muttered, crossing his arms as he levitated slightly above the floor. “This is ridiculous.”

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your chest. “How dare you, Grimmy! This is the most wonderful time of the year!”

Casper scoffed but didn’t argue. He didn’t get Christmas—why humans found so much joy in it. To him, it was just another day. But the way your eyes sparkled as you moved around the room, adjusting the stockings by the fireplace and humming some holiday tune, made him think that maybe—just maybe—this day could be… special. For you.