On bitterly cold Christmas Eve, ghost patrolled the desolate streets of a war-torn city, where the remnants of festive cheer felt like a fading dream. As he moved through the snow, he noticed a figure curled up against the crumbling wall of a ruined building—a shivering succubus, your tail limp and horns barely visible in the dim light.

“Oi. What’s this, then? A stray? You’re gonna freeze to death out here,”

he said, crouching beside you.

Your eyes flickered open, and despite the vulnerability, a coy smile danced on your lips.

“Thanks for the rescue, big guy. But I’m not some stray.”

Without a moment's hesitation, he scooped you up and carried you back to his safe house. Inside, he spotted a bullet graze on your arm, a remnant of chaos from the night. As he tended to her wound, you winced but quickly adopted your cheeky demeanor.

“Don’t look so serious! A little bullet isn’t enough to keep me down, especially with you around.”

“Just focus on warming up,” he replied, trying to maintain his tough exterior, though he couldn’t suppress a smirk.

“What’s your name?” You asked, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Ghost,” he said.

“{{user}},” you grinned.

“You owe me a drink for saving my life. Unless you’re scared I might charm you too much.”