#like haunt you into the afterlife forever

[minniiaa]

[lizthewriter]

hii! so first of all, i LOVE your work and your writing style so much. so i was reading your last theo nott drabble and an idea came to my mind: it’s a gryffindor (maybe) party but it’s acc a theme party. the theme is dressing up as another house and reader (not a slytherin) borrows some of the boys’ quidditch clothes (like a bomber jacket or a jersey) and theo/mattheo get super jealous even though reader and him aren’t together. but it’s like he’s been after her for the whole year but she likes to play hard bc he normally doesn’t have to make any effort to have whoever girl he wants at his feet, and she doesn’t want to be just another girl, if you get what i mean? so she just shows up wearing another guys’ name and he goes feral.

A/N I'm so sorry this took me forever to write 😭. I've started college and boy is it overwhelming. Well! Here's part one to your request ehehe *burnt out* I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for showing support anon, I really appreciate it! If you guys get this to 1250 notes, I will prioritze part two <3

you make me jealous / theodore nott

PAIRING  Theodore Nott x fem!Reader

SUMMARY  part one in an upcoming series. you and theo have been flirting with each other for months, but neither of you have made a move. you don't want to be just another girl for theo, and theo's to afraid to commit to a relationship with the most amazing girl in the world, afraid that he'll eventually break your heart. you get confronted at a party and an argument ensues.

TAGS  Theodore Nott x reader, mean!theo, jealous!theo, theo is kind of a dick here, sorry babes 🤷‍♀️, mutual pining, parties, underage drinking, ginny is a good bro, ron is a good bro, reader is not gryffindor, angst

"I'm so chill, but you make me jealous," - So it Goes . . . by Taylor Swift

WORD COUNT  1.3K

WRITTEN  2023.09.13

You could feel Theo's eyes burning through your dress as soon as you entered the room, but you were sure to absolutely avoid any eye contact with him. Tonight's mission was simple: break him. You and Theo had an interesting little dynamic, that was for certain. You had spent months flirting with each other - smooth lines that had you blushing, "accidental" caresses that made Theo ache for more of you, almost-kisses that haunted both of your daydreams. Oh yes, the two of you were smitten for one another. There was just one small, tiny little problem. Theodore was spoiled rotten. He was so used to girl's plopping themselves in his lap and vying so desperately for his attention. He was so accustomed to this, in fact, that he went through girls like toilet paper. One week he's chatting up Romilda Vane in the corridors and the next week it's Tracey Davis, and so on and so on. You didn't want to be just another girl, you wanted to make him work for you. Still, that didn't mean you couldn't nudge him in the right direction.

You don't know what miracle Merlin had pulled in the afterlife, but he had somehow lsitened to your prayers and granted you the perfect opportunity to piss off Theo. The Gryffindors were holding a themed party where all the attenders must dress as someone from a different house. You, of course utlizied your connections and talked with your very dear friend Ginny. You had decided to borrow the letterman jacket she had gotten as a member of the Quidditch and, even better, had asked her to act a bit more friendly towards you than usual.

The music in Gryffindor Tower boomed so loudly that you practically feel the beat vibrating in your chest.You descended the stairs, dressed in a tight golden dress with the burgundy jacket swung over your shoulders, the word WEASLEY spelled prominently on the back of it. One arm was intertwined with Ginny's, the other raised so that your hand could fix up your hair. Ginny's arm was wrapped around your waist as she lead you down the stairs, and as soon as her friends looked up, they all let out a roar. Seamus and Ron came over, harking on about some drinking game ans begging the two of you to join. Ron would usually take the piss if he saw someone with Ginny, but you and her had informed him of what was really going on, so he wasn't in a mood at all.

"Come on, Dean's just told us about it, it's called Beer Pong," Seamus told the two of you, leading you to a table with plastic cups aligned in the shape of a triangle at each end. He handed you a ball and explained how it worked. "You and Ginny are on Harry and Ron's team, that's this end of the table, and me, Dean, Lavender, and Parvati are over here. Now, you're gonna throw this ball and try to get it into one of our cups. If the ball lands in the cup, someone from my team has to drink whatever's in thay cup. Whoever has no cups leftover in the end loses, yeah?"

You glanced towards Theo, standing in a dark corner with a few of his Slytherin friends. The drink he held in his hand was hovering near his face, his eyes dark as he watched your every movement, while his friends were having a lively chat. You grinned and turned back to the others, standing right in front of the edge of the table. Ron and Harry started to cheer for you, Ginny ran a hand down your side. You sent a small smile your way before tossing the ball down the tablez landing it right in the first cup. The other team groaned and Seamus downed the alcohol, tossing the cup to the side.

The game went on for quite some time - your team had won, but only just. Ron had drank most of the alcohol and was now flirting very obviously with Hermione, who seemed unsure of whether to continue studying or listen to him. As a new song came on, Ginny pulled on your hand, dragging you to the crowd of the dancing bodies.

"Come on!" She exclaimed over the loud music. "I promise, he'll be mad once he sees us dancing together!" She grabbed your arms and threw them around her neck, her hair swaying as she nodded her head to the beat. You danced with her, your faces so close to one another that you could feel yourselves sharing the hot breath that left your mouths. Ginny glanced at something behind you and said, "He hasn't done anything the entire night, he's just been standing there. I think he needs a little more motivation."

Something mischievous twinkled in Ginny's eyes - you narrowed your own at her. "Just what exactly are you thinking, Ginerva?"

Ginny scoffed, a wide grin forming on her face. "Did you seriously just call me by my full name?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. I don't like that look on your face."

Ginny rested her hands on your waist, swaying her hips in unison with yours, bringing her face close to you. "I promise if you kiss me, he'll do something about it." She rushedly added, "I won't do anything if you don't want to though, it was just an idea."

You bit your bottom lip, contemplating the idea. Ginny wasn't necessarily wrong, it was a pretty good idea and would probably get some sort of rise out of Theo. You glanced back at her with assured eyes, asking, "Is he looking at us now?"

"Yeah, why -"

"Good," you responded, smashing your lips against Ginny's. It didn't feel like anything you've felt with anyone before - no butterflies blossoming in your stomach, no fuzziness growing in your head, just lips against lips. You pulled away suddenly, looking at Ginny with wide eyes. "Sorry!" You exclaimed, now thinking you should have asked her if it was okay before kissing her. But she wasn't looking at you.

You turned to look at what she was smirking at and found Theo marching over to you, drink in his hand discarded. You turned to look back at Ginny, but she had disappeared, leaving you alone to deal with the fallout. When you turned back, he was standing in front of you.

"I know what you're doing," Theo said, his breath erratic and not at all uniform. You smirked up at him, stepping closer so that your head was practically meeting his chest. Your fingers crawled up his arms and you watched his reaction.

"And what exactly am I doing, Theo?" He scoffed and glanced away. He said nothing, causing you to frown. You grabbed his chin with your hand, turning his head so that your eyes met again. "Come on, say it."

"You're trying to make me jealous!" He exclaimed angrily. "Waltzing around on her arm, kissing her, when we both know that you don't even like her like that."

"And why wouldn't I like her, Nott?"

"Because you're supposed to like me!" He huffed, his arms raised like a petulant child. "What, you're going to pretend as though you haven't spend months flirting with me?"

"Are you?" You returned with a raised eyebrow, taking a step forward. "Don't pretend as though you didn't have your tounge down Daphne Greengrass' throat only three days ago!"

"I don't care about her, I care about you!" He shouted back.

"Then prove it! And that's not an invitation for you to kiss me, that's me asking you to show me you really do care about me."

"Fine then! I will!"

Thank you all for reading! Be sure to like, reblog, and comment! I really appreciate it ^^. If you have any requests, by inbox is open but make sure to check the list of characters I write for here. If you want to be tagged in any upcoming fics/headcanons of mine, let me know. If you want to see more from me, go ahead and check out my masterlist here!

[mangowafflesss]

Ghostly Love | Ghost x Ghost!Reader

Summary: You’re a ghost that haunts the base and accidentally falls in love with Ghost.

Word Count: 4K+

★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★☠︎︎★

Death is a funny thing, one day you’re alive and the next well… you’re not. You died miles and miles away from here but somehow you were tied to this place. You were hoping to be living your afterlife under palm trees, somewhere hot and sunny unlimited cocktails lying by the pool. 

Sadly even when you die you still don’t have freedom. Which fucking sucks. 

You roam the hallways of a military base, out of all places why here? It annoyed you at first but then you came round to the idea of scaring and possibly triggering these worn out soldiers. It was wrong, oh so very wrong for making someone scared when they’ve seen the depths of hell, but so have you in some way. 

There wasn’t a pearly gate waiting for you or some hot sunken dungeon, just pure nothingness until you ‘woke’ up here. 

Stalking the corridors was one of your favourite activities, you could trip over as many people as you could and they would think it’s their clumsy footing, idiots. You have a specific corridor you do it in and they always blame it’s uneven flooring due to everyone tripping there, but no it’s just you and your bored out mind. 

People always suspect there’s ghosts that roam this base but when you realised they weren’t talking about you, it was sort of intriguing to hear. 

Ghost. Who is he? What does he look like? And why have you not met him yet? 

From what you gathered he’s a scary tall guy who wears a mask and oh,  everyone is scared of him. It wasn’t uncommon to overhear someone’s juicy gossip about who’s scared of who and who’s fucking who. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve walked through a wall and someone’s pegging someone. 

Ghost was interesting though, you needed someone new to suck the energy out of and maybe he’ll be your new person to torment. 

It wasn’t until three days later at specifically three in the morning you bumped into him, well bumped is a strong word. He walked through your body and strode down your tripping hallway. Quickly chasing after him he turned around as he felt someone behind him, you continued to get ahead of him and jut out your foot. 

He was coming your way and you concentrated on making a physical connection to do so. You watch in amusement as he trips and curses under his breath, it’ll never get old no matter how many times you do it. Hell, you’re here forever so might as well be entertained by it. 

You continued to stalk after him, wondering what he’s doing up at this time and where he came from. You’ve been watching security cameras for most of the day chilling in the security room which to you is probably the worst smelling room. 

Weird how ghosts can smell. Something you hate when you get an armpit to the face on the odd occasion. 

The doors to the outside open and he gives a nod to one of the guards out there and pulls out a cigarette, oh how you miss smoking. Maybe it’s what led to your death but who knows and who cares, right? 

He pulls the mask up above his nose and you stare at him in awe, he is really pretty, scars littered his pale freckled face and you reached out a hand to trace them, he blew out the smoke and wiggled his nose muttering something about the cold. Another downside of being dead, you’re always cold just like a corpse. 

As you observed him you knew he was going to be different from the others you’ve observed, you started to smile as your heart started to swell, it’s weird how you still feel everything. Emotions, your heart? You’d think it would be as if you’re just empty but no, you’re still you. Unfortunately. 

“What are you doing?” You nearly jump out of your skin and then sneer at the man next to you who is also watching Ghost with a curious expression. “Why are you here? Come to torment me again” you really hated this guy with your whole entire being. 

“I came to visit of course!” He hits you on the back and you really wished ghosts could touch one another but unfortunately for you they can.”why? So you can rub it in you can leave again” you say pushing him and remaining where you stand. 

“Oh come onnn have you even tried again?” You give him a look and he puts his hand up in surrender, of course you’ve tried. It’s a part of your daily routine at this point but you’re in some sort of barrier trapped around this forsaken place. Frowning you see the butt of the cigarette fall to the floor and it is stamped out with a boot, just like your hope. 

“Okay okay I’m sick of seeing you this way so I asked around for you” 

“About?” 

“About you leaving here and travelling anywhere you want! Just like me” his arm was wrapped around your shoulder and he pointed to the sky to say that’s where your answers lie. 

“Yeah right and how do I do that? Spin around in front of a mirror three times” you laugh and push his arm off you and walk away to try and find where your new obsession friend has gone. 

“You need to form a connection with a human, people usually do it with their family because well they’re usually trapped in the homes of them so pick someone here and bond” 

“And how am I going to do that?” The idea was ridiculous, there’s no way you’re going to be able to manage that “dunno kid, you'll figure it out though. I've got to go, good luck” and with that he walks away and disappears into the night air. 

“Form a connection? Fucking unbelieveale” you grumble and continue your walk around the base for the thousandth time. 

The next day you found Ghost in the shooting range, it was entertaining watching people shoot guns and he seemed to be very good at it. “Damn LT. didn't know you were back” you heard a whistle and a man you've seen plenty of times before come through the door. 

Soap Mactavish is a man you've played pranks on before, his happy go lucky nature is often fun to mess with. Seeing him spooked out and cling to the nearest thing makes the deepest of sounds erupt from your body. 

You stood in the corner watching until Ghost looked in your direction which made you freeze, can he see you? Does he possess the ability to see ghosts? You really hoped not… 

His eyes rip away from you and over to the rack next to you. He was probably just looking at the guns not you, that would be silly, 

“Seems different from last time I was here” his voice was gravelly and you kind of liked it, a sense of authority lurked in there. 

“Aye, I think theres ghosts personally”

“Ghosts? Fuck off Johnny” 

“What?! I'm being serious, ask anyone here they'll tell you about the paranormal” 

Their conversation seemed to end there and you decided to stand next to them, if you were still alive you'd be intimidated by the size of their muscles. Reaching out to see how big Soap's arm is compared to your hand he flinches and shivers. 

You retreat yourself from him as you know your presence causes a temperature change to the atmosphere, just like when you touched Ghosts face last night. Sighing, you lay on the ground, you were never going to get out of here even if you tried. 

“You need to form a connection with a human”

“Shut up!” you were so angry at what he told you, not only does he pop in now and again to piss you off and brag about how he went to a different country. It seemed so easy to just go into a mirror and travel but no you’re spat back out like a talent show reject. “Why does this shit always happen to me” you groan to absolutely no one, you were alone here and most probably will be until this place is demolished. 

Sulking on the floor you get a boot to the chest and look up to see Ghost standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. He was shouting something to someone and you sat up, your head was next to his leg and you saw a couple of guys fighting each other while being pulled away by Soap and another man. 

As you are about to get up off the floor you look down and an idea pops into your head. Smiling to yourself you tie the man's shoelaces together and stand up before laughing in his face. “There can only be one ghost here” you say and walk away to terrorise the communication officers. You were on a schedule after all. 

When you walk down the hall you hear a faint “Johnny!” and snicker while tripping someone over and flickering the lights. 

A couple of days later you were doing your nightly run of the corridors trying to find someone to annoy until you remembered Ghost. Walking through each room you breeze past many sleeping soldiers or other things you wish to erase from your mind before finding Ghost. 

He was sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, his back looked so big from behind, large shoulders and thick muscles poked through his shirt. Creeping over you see his elbows resting on his thick thighs while something drips from his face. 

The closer you got you could see the tracks of tears on his cheeks and immediately felt as if you should leave. But you don't, instead you sit on the ground in front of him with your legs crossed with a sympathetic look on your face. You wanted to reach out and comfort him but you couldn’t and sighed heavily. 

He sobbed silently into his hands and you just watched. It was the only thing you could do at the moment. You wondered what horrors he's seen in his lifetime, probably way more than what you have that's for sure.  

He leaned back and ran his hands down his face effectively wiping away the tears and opened his eyes. You watch as he looks at a piece of paper in his hand and you stand up from your spot on the floor. Moving to his side you sit down next to him and see the image of a little boy smiling as he lifts him into the air, the little boy is clinging to a football and it looks as if they’re in someone's back garden. 

He looks at the photo with a solemn expression and sighs heavily. “I hope you’re having a good birthday up there Joe” he whispers before giving the photo a kiss and sliding it inside of a book that's on his pillow.   

You purse your lips in thought and come to the conclusion that this Joe was dead. You wonder if you would ever be able to find him… a thought for another day. 

You placed a comforting hand on his back knowing he wouldn’t feel it unless you focused really hard on doing so. His breathing relaxed and soon enough he leaned back on his bed, his head laying softly against the pillow as he stared at the ceiling. 

You decided to retreat out of the room by walking backwards, you never really have to pay attention anymore until you actually bumped into something and alerted the awake man. “Shit, don't see me please don’t see me” you whisper while freezing on the spot, he doesn’t get up and instead lays back down mumbling something under his breath you couldn’t hear. Turning around you exit his room and leave him alone for the night. 

A couple of nights later you found him still awake in his room sewing a hole up in his mask, you watched him carefully until he pricked his fingers over and over again. “Fucking hell this stupid mask” he grunts while throwing it onto the ground, he leaves the room with a different mask that covers half of his face and for some reason you bend down and pick the mask up off the floor. 

Focusing on the task at hand you sew up the hole to the best of your abilities and when you’re done you manage to suck all of the energy out of the light bulb in his lamp. “Oops… oh well” you smile at your work but the mask slips through your hands and you frown “I guess that's all I can do for one night” the door opens and you jump to your feet to see the tall buff man walk back into his room. He unzips his jacket and a box of cigarettes falls out of his pocket but he just leaves them there and instead picks up his mask. He sees the thread has moved and narrows his eyes and checks his mask. When he sees the hole now sewn he looks around his room before putting it back where he keeps it and doesn’t question it. 

“You're welcome I guess” you say sarcastically and see the man's shoulders tense, he turns slowly and soon enough a knife is thrown in your direction which makes you duck. “What the fuck?!” is what you say when you return back to your normal standing position, the knife is sticking out of the wall and you look from that back to the man who is closing in on you. 

He reaches a hand out for your neck but his hand goes straight through and he looks even more confused. He throws punches in your direction but they all end up with his shadow boxing which makes you laugh.

“Please stop or you'll end up punching the wall” you say but you’re also shocked you even care about his well being. Weird. 

“You need to leave” 

“I don't think so. You see I'm a ghost and I technically can’t so I think I’ll do what I want” you give him a sickly sweet smile and he looks you up and down from head to toe and takes a step back. 

“A ghost?” he chuckles while licking his lips “you're not a ghost, i've seen plenty of those” 

“Believe it or not but I am, I mean who do you think tied your shoelaces together the other day” you laugh and he comes storming back over to you “That was you?!” 

“The one and only” you take a bow and slowly realise this is probably the first conversation with someone alive in a long time. “But don't worry, i'll get out of your hair but i'll be back… whenever” with that you disappear through the wall no doubt leaving him confused. 

You came back into his vision while he was smoking outside again, it wasn’t an unusual thing he did and when he saw you he visibly got annoyed and blew out the smoke harshly. 

“Hey friend, fancy seeing you here” you elbow him and he moves away from you with a snarl. “Oh come on, can't we at least be friends, I need someone to tell all the gossip to!” you say swinging your arms up in the air. 

“Gossip?” he raises an eyebrow and you begin to grin “Yes! You’re friends with that MacTavish guy right?” he scoffs before nodding reluctantly. 

“Well he’s been fucking that blonde nurse Cassie for months and last night he called her Marrissa which is the other nurse he had a thing with a couple nights ago. And that's why he rocked up this morning with a black eye” you say nonchalantly while looking at the scenery around you which isn't much. 

“That's why he was acting like a bitch all day, fucker deserves it” he laughs and you feel yourself feel lighter at the feeling. “Want me to tell you about the captain too?” he looks at you and then shrugs his shoulders. “If you want to” you smile brighter than a light and walk around the gravel in front of him telling him all the juicy details you could remember. 

This happened on repeat, you meeting him outside at the dead of night while he smoked. You told him all of the secrets that are hidden in these walls while he listens and inputs any of his opinions into it.

Over time you realised you had feelings for him. It came out of nowhere, one day you were looking for him and remembered he left for a mission, you felt so lonely without him but it could just be the fact you got so used to his company. 

“What's with the sad face chica?” 

You look to your side and see the annoying face you wish you could burn. “What are you doing here again, it's a bit early don’t you think?” 

“For your information it's been three months since I last saw you” 

Three months? There is no way it's been this long and you didn’t know. 

“Sooo how's that human? You were ogling the last time I was here” 

“I wasn’t ogling him but if you must know we’re actually good friends” 

“That’s great! He can help you get out of here” he says, clapping you on the back with joy but you didn’t feel like leaving at this moment in time. 

The door to the outside opens and Ghost walks through the doors. You perk up and smile softly, maybe his mission ended quickly. You watch him lean against the brick wall as he usually does and pull out a cig from his pack. His mask lifts and his pale skin is shown under the moonlight. 

“Have fun with your friend” you watch the ghost whose name you still don’t know walk away and then turn your attention back to Simon. 

He had told you his name one night while you practically begged for it. You had tried to threaten him and say you’d never speak to him again but all he said was “I’ll finally have some peace and quiet” 

Appearing to Simon he moves his eyes over to where you’re sitting on the small wall and nods to you. 

“You're late, that’s unlike you” he says and you shrug your shoulders. 

“Aren’t I always late, you know, because I’m dead?” He looks you in the eyes and smirks “Was that supposed to be a joke?” Shrugging your shoulders again you look away and look at the gates in the distance. 

There was a moment of silence before Simons spoke up through the quiet night. “You’re not being annoying, what’s up with you?” 

“Nothing” 

“Bullshit. C’mon I thought we were supposed to be ‘friends’” he jokes and you hum while playing with your fingers. 

“If I asked you to help me with something would you?” 

He looked into the dark sky thinking for a moment before looking back at you “like what?” 

“Help me leave here. I mean don’t get me wrong it’s nice to be surrounded by so many attractive people but-” 

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I wouldn’t want to be stuck here either. I’ve spent most of my life in this lifestyle wouldn’t want to die and be trapped in this shithole forever” 

“I guess not…” 

“Is there something else bothering you” 

“What happened to the Simon who hated me talking” you huff while watching the cigarette smoke spiral in the air. 

There was a long stretch of silence before you stood and walked to him. “I guess I’ll miss you. That’s all” 

“Really” he bluntly says and you just roll your eyes. “Wow at least say you’ll miss me back asshole” you say punching him in the arm.“Why? I know you’ll come back, you'll have a lot of gossip to catch up on” the comforting smell of the smoke makes you feel as if he's being sincere right now. He'll totally miss you. 

“So, how am I supposed to help?”  

“You'll actually help me?” 

He gives you a nod and then you take an unnecessary deep breath. “Okay, let's do this!” you pump yourself up and shake your limbs. 

Turning out your hands you put them in front of you with your palms facing upwards, “grab onto my hands” you prompt before his larger ones cover yours. Intertwining your fingers he gives you a curious glance before you whisper words under your breath. “Repeat what I just said okay?” you say and he follows your instructions. 

You feel a shiver run up your spine and a tingly feeling flowing through your arms to where your hands are connected with Simons. Letting go, you tell him to follow you to a bathroom. He doesn't question it and simply follows. 

Standing in front of a mirror you place your hand onto the smooth surface and push through, you've never actually gone through before so you were slightly nervous. Retreating your hand you look at Simon in the reflection and give him a shy smile “I’m scared” is all you say and he pulls his mask up and gives you a warm encouraging smile “Don’t be, go on, go through and be free” 

Turning back to the mirror you enter it completely and the feeling was incredible, you were finally free. Poking your body out of the mirror you press a kiss to his now masked cheek “Thank you. I'll come visit soon!” you say excitedly and leave him alone in front of the bathroom mirror. 

1 Month Later

Simon hadn’t seen you in a whole entire month. He didn't want to admit that he missed your stupid face or your company but he often wished every night when he took a step outside to have a smoke that you would appear with that annoying smile. 

Looking up at the moon he blows out the smoke into the cold night air and shivers due to the extreme temperature drop. It was the middle of winter now and wondered if you were having fun, wherever you were. 

“Hello stranger” 

Whipping his head to the side he sees you standing there with your usual smile on your face. “Your back. Thought you'd be back sooner” this makes you laugh while walking closer to him, “Don't act like you didn't miss me” 

“I bought a couple of people with me, if you don’t mind” he looks at you confused and then you bit your lip as two other figures appear from behind you. 

“Tommy? Joseph?” he says, astonished as to what he's seeing. Removing his mask he sees his nephew and brother standing before him. You stayed behind them not wanting to disrupt their little reunion. 

“Uncle Si!” the boy wraps his arms around Simon's legs and he bends down to greet him “How are you bud?” he looks at the features of him and he's exactly how he remembered him. 

Tommy turns to you and gives you a smile “Thank you for helping us find him” you wave a hand in the air and shrug “No problem. I haven’t known him long but I could tell he needed this. I'm just glad I could find you if I’m honest- it's a very big world” Tommy laughs at this and you look back to where Simon currently is. 

He looks at you and mouths a ‘thank you’ which you just nod at. Putting your hand on Tommy’s arm to gain his attention he looks at you again. “Have a good time with your brother, I’m glad I got to meet you” 

You leave in the mist of the night and feel happy about what you did tonight. You'll be back soon enough for the gossip and probably a lecture about doing something like this for him, but you didn’t care. You'd do anything for Simon and wish him a good rest of his life.  

THE END.

[paradiseprincesss]

ghostin - jonathan crane x reader

this story is told with flashbacks and little fragments of the readers memories, and ugh - i think i broke my own heart writing this.

summary: jonathan just comes to visit you when you're dreaming every now and then.

word count: 3K

warnings: death, accidental suicide, grief and mourning, miscarriages, like pure angst i'm sorry but lowkey a happy ending? (also please listen to the song it just so good)

you woke up in a cold sweat, trembling with tears streaming down your face as you look over to the digital clock by your bed.

12:12 am

"another dream?" your boyfriend mumbles sleepily from beside you in the bedsheets, softly rubbing your arm in hopes you soothe you.

you felt the tears stream down your face uncontrollably again, "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to wake you up."

"don't apologize," he whispers, "i can hear you crying in your sleep. i just want to be there for you when i can."

"he came to visit me again," you say, letting out a choked sob, "i-i haven't seen him recently, but he came back."

"i know, sweetie. i know." your boyfriend says softly, now sitting up to hold you in his arms - but it's not the same.

it'll never be the same as jonathan.

four years. it had been four years since the love of your life passed away, and everyday you mourned him. you even found someone else; but it was torture for him, you knew it. of course it hurt you - but you knew it hurt your boyfriend more to hear you cry night after night, always knowing that deep down he he would always be number two to a man who you couldn't hold anymore.

for you, every tear was a rain parade from hell.

jonathan's passing destroyed you, it broke you into a million pieces and you still weren't sure if you would ever be complete again; even four years later. it was all so sudden, so unexpected.

you knew what jonathan did on the side, he wasn't a saint, but that didn't deter you away from him. if anything, it made your bond stronger - unbreakable, even if one of you wasn't here anymore.

it was only a matter of time before the crimes he committed caught up with him - but you never thought that they'd take him away from you. when you got the call from the hospital saying your fiancee had been stabbed repeatedly and unfortunately didn't make it, you were beside yourself.

for two years after his passing, you continuously wore the engagement ring jonathan had proposed to you with. the memories haunted you.

jonathan haunted you.

and about your boyfriend - he was originally a family friend that you had known since childhood, but he was there for you during the time you were grieving. hell, you were still grieving. but soon enough, there was a sense of trust there, a sense of comfort - and finally, you opened your heart up again.

but you knew it wasn't the same; you'd be lying if you said it even felt similar.

you often wondered what the point of living on was if your soulmate was forever gone, maybe love was off the table for you in this life. perhaps the afterlife was more suited to you, then you could finally be happy again, finally feel alive in a place where death lingers.

your grief washed over you like a tidal wave, hitting you where it hurt the most. your mind wandered back to life with you and jonathan - what life should’ve been like now, with the man who should’ve been laying in bed beside you.

your current boyfriend lays back down in bed, giving you a concerned look, but you wave him off and let him go back to sleep. in the meantime, you grab your phone off the nightstand and scroll to your voicemail.

you did this frequently; listening to old voicemails that jonathan had left you. it was one of the only remnants you had left of him. pressing play, you heard his voice telling you how he missed you, how he’d be home soon - you still remember that day vividly, the flashbacks playing over and over like a broken record in your mind.

"jonathan!" you squealed as he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed softly.

"i missed you so much, darling. i couldn't stop thinking about you at work today." he told you, voice dripping with pure love and admiration for you, as he looked at you adoringly.

"i missed you more, my love." you tell him softly, and he pulls you in for a long, passionate kiss.

the two of you had been spending a little more time apart recently, as jonathan had to work overtime a lot, and plus, he had his scarecrow activities consuming the rest of his time. but jonathan always made time for you - even if you assured him that it was okay, he always did.

he made you feel wanted.

needed.

"i can't believe you're going to be mrs. crane in less than a week." he whispered against your lips, and you hum in agreement. you were so very excited to finally get to marry the love of your life, the one - but that chance was ripped away from your very hands.

it wasn't fair - none if it ever was.

you felt the tears streaming down your face as you recalled the beautifully tragic memory that was now forever imprinted into your brain, and you tried your hardest to stop yourself from full on sobbing.

the tears didn't stop, they never did.

four years. four years later and it still left an empty void in your heart.

"sweetheart," your boyfriend says softly, catching your attention, "don't torture yourself - please, it kills me to see you like this."

you sigh, wiping the tears off your cheeks and placing your phone down on the bedside table. trying your hardest to deep breathe, you lay back onto your side of the bed and close your eyes. you felt your boyfriend hold you, wrapping his arms around you again - yet another reminder that jonathan wasn't here, and instead, it was someone else. you drifted off peacefully that night, and you dreamt of something you couldn't remember.

any dream that didn't have jonathan in it wasn't worth remembering, anyway.

that morning, you awoke around half past ten, and your boyfriend was already gone. you knew he had to work, and you were left alone with your thoughts and the ghost of your past which came back to haunt you, again.

you felt sick.

your doctors and therapists told you that the grief would subside after a year, maybe two, but it never did. how could it? every doctors appointment, you would just see jonathans face, reminding you of every painful emotion that his passing brought you. how you could even withstand going to therapy was beyond you, as again, it reminded you of what your late fiancee did for work.

sighing in distress, you force yourself to get up out of bed and roam around your house, but it wasn't a home for you. just a house, and nothing more.

home is where the heart is, they say - and jonathan wasn't here, and with him is where your heart was, so therefore, this was not home for you. you often tried to pretend it was, though.

grabbing the keys off your counter, you get into your car and drive to grab yourself an iced coffee from your favourite drive-thru, too exhausted to make it yourself.

when you got back to your house, it was quiet - still and empty; most parts of your life seemed to be like that.

the things you would do to hear jonathan welcoming you back home again - just one last time. you would give your life to be with him, it's not like the thought hadn't crossed your mind before.

placing the iced coffee on the kitchen counter, you felt like the house almost echoed with the memories of your past. the house you lived in was the same one that you and jonathan lived in - you couldn't bring yourself to move out. it was huge - a quiet mansion on the suburbs of scottsdale, arizona, where you and jonathan moved to after getting engaged. the two of you decided that gotham was no place to raise a family.

your family.

holding the test with shaky hands, you look down at the lines on it.

positive.

a soft knock on the bathroom door shook you out of your thoughts, and jonathans voice came from the other side.

"darling?" he asked, "are you alright? i thought i heard you crying."

"y-yeah, one sec." you call out, voice shaky. you placed the test on the bathroom counter, and open the door with trembling hands to see a worried jonathan standing on the other side.

"oh, darling," he coos softly as he noticed the tears, "what happened?"

you let out a muffled sob, and his arms come to wrap around you, holding you close. "i-i'm..."

"...you're what, honey?" he asks softly, petting your hair as he held onto you tightly.

"i'm pregnant." you finally say, and he pulls back to look at you.

"you're pregnant?" he asks quietly, not quite sure if he had heard you correctly, to which you nod, trying desperately not to cry.

"darling, that's wonderful." he whispers, tears welling in his own eyes, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

oh how you missed those beautiful, blue eyes.

"b-but were getting married in a month, i don't want to show to show through my dress," you say with teary eyes, "what if i have to alter the dress, what if get fat and i-"

"stop," he says softly, his voice immediately soothing you, "realistically, you probably won't even show until a few weeks after the wedding, my love. it'll all be okay, i promise."

you take in a deep breathe, remembering that jonathan was indeed right, he was a doctor after all.

was.

"god, what would i do without you?" you sigh, as he held you close once more, comforting you.

"i don't ever want to know." he whispered against your hair, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

to answer your own question - this. this is what you would do without him. sleeping all day, depressed, and unable to function without feeling an immense feeling of loss.

you still remember the day that your doctor had told you that you miscarried, as a result of the stress your body was going through. that day, your soul died completely if it hadn't already when jonathan passed. there was nothing left of you anymore. you were physically there, yes, but you didn't exist.

looking back at the iced coffee, you grimaced. if you drank caffeine, that would mean that you'd stay awake, and that you couldn't waste your day away sleeping.

sighing, you dumped it down the drain of the kitchen sink.

after doing that, you dragged yourself to your bed again - getting under the covers and reaching for the pill bottle beside you. lorazepam pills sat in the prescription bottle, and you popped the usual dosage. you knew it was wrong - this was a temporary fix, at least, it was supposed to be. your doctor told you that you should never extend the usage of this medication beyond four months, but you did.

you'd been doing it for nearly a year.

yeah, you had trouble sleeping, that much was obvious, but there was a different reason as to why you were taking these pills.

no, they didn't ease your anxiety-induced insomnia that you had been suffering with for years, but they did help you sleep during the day when you wanted a break from being alive.

and when you slept, sometimes jonathan would visit you in your dreams. that's why you took them, in hopes that maybe he would show up in your sleep. dozing off, you fell into a state of deep slumber.

you dreamed vividly of him, finally. though the night before, he had visited you in your dreams, you needed more. you so desperately needed more.

you dreamed that you were in the same house as you were currently in, but you were in the kitchen again. looking around, you noticed how different it looked.

like it was alive again. like he was alive again.

"darling," his voice made you turn around, and you felt yourself start to cry, "what's wrong?"

"i just miss you so much, jonathan." you sob, running into his arms to which he happily holds you. he didn't say anything, quiet for a moment before he finally spoke back to you.

"i try to visit you in your dreams as often as i can." he whispered, and you felt yourself break. "i promise, i'm watching over you."

"i can't do this without you," you cry, "i don't know how to go on."

he stared at you silently as you looked up at him, tears running down your cheeks. god, he looked the exact same. not a single difference from the way he was four years ago.

"i can see you." he suddenly says, and you look at him with confusion.

"what?"

"soon." he softly says, smiling at you with tears in your eyes. before you could ask what he was trying to tell you, you wake up in a cold sweat again.

the room was dark now, but your boyfriend wasn't sleeping beside you. quickly glancing over to the digital clock, you read the time.

12:12 am

had you really fallen asleep for that long? it didn't feel like it.

before you could let your thoughts consume you once more, you noticed that this time, your bedroom door wasn't fully shut. both you and your boyfriend always shut it before going to bed, but it was halfway open, and the distant hallway light was turned on.

letting your eyes adjust to the darkness, you made out what appeared to be a figure standing in the doorway, watching you. yet, it didn't scare you, rather it comforted you.

"jonathan?" you whisper out loud, smiling with tears running down your face.

getting up out of bed, you walk slowly and a little hesitantly towards the figure, but before you got close enough, the door swung fully open with your boyfriend standing there, his face stricken with panic.

the apparition was seemingly gone now, and you look at your boyfriend confused.

"are you okay?" you ask softly, but he looks straight past you, and you can see the tears on his face now. it was almost like he couldn't see you in this moment. perhaps you were dreaming again?

"she was like this when i came home!" he sobbed, and you looked at him with confusion, but then what appeared to be a team of paramedics and police officers came up behind him, walking into the bedroom.

one officer had flicked the light on, and you were now worried. what was wrong?

but you glanced over to the bed, now fully visible under the light, and you saw yourself.

you saw yourself laying there on your bed, looking unnervingly peaceful, and for once, you weren't crying. you thought for sure this was just a dream, but fuck - it felt so real.

you watched quietly as nobody seemed to notice you standing in the room, and a paramedic rushed over to your side of the bed, placing two fingers by your neck his colleague placed a bunch of medical equipment beside him.

he inhaled sharply and spoke to both the team of paramedics and the police officers.

"time of death, 12:12 am."

you shook your head, not believing what you were seeing. how could this be?

were you dead?

then, the paramedic that had announced your time of death had picked up the bottle of lorazepam, handing it over to a waiting police officer.

"benzos," the officer said, "ativan overdose. seemingly accidental."

the rest was a blur. they had picked up your body - your dead body - up and placed you in the ambulance, officers following, and seemingly had transported you to the hospital, or the morgue of the hospital. you weren't entirely sure.

your boyfriend had gone with them, he looked like a mess. he was a mess, he had just come home to find his girlfriend lying dead in her bed from a suspected accidental suicide.

the world stilled for a moment as you stood in your bedroom, unsure of what to do next, but your name being called out by a voice caught your attention.

the voice you had been so desperately longing to hear again.

walking out of your bedroom, you see jonathan standing in the hallway, looking the same as he did before he died. he smiled at you softly, and opened his arms up for you.

you bolted into his arms, and he held you close - finally.

"am i dreaming?" you ask him, finally in his arms once more.

"no, not anymore." he says softly, tilting your head up by hooking a finger under your chin.

"i don't understand." you say, and he looks at you lovingly.

"...he found you cold in bed when he came home from work," he explains softly, "i saw. i told you, i'm always watching over you."

"am i dead?" you ask quietly, and jonathan sighs with a nod.

"...yes, darling." he responds, and you take a moment to process what had happened. you don't remember dying, but yet, here you were. in what appeared to be purgatory, the state between life and death.

"the afterlife is waiting for us." he tells you softly, and you look at him with confusion again.

"afterlife?" you ask, and he points to behind you.

a very bright, gleaming, white portal shaped aura had replaced where the remainder of your hallway would usually be.

you smiled to yourself - there was something so hauntingly peaceful and truly beautiful about this moment. in life and in death, he was waiting for you, and you only.

as he guided you towards the bright light, the two of you walked hand in hand, finally one again.

"welcome home, darling," he says, as the white light consumed you both, "i love you, even after death do us part."

yeah i cried writing this. tagging @kpopgirlbtssvt and @nocturnest because umm jonathan crane!!

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Some Fluff, Talk of Death/Afterlife, Suggested Depression, Suggested Self-Harm, Suggested Breakdown, Suggested Anxiety, Light Smut

Word Count: 3.7K

“I recognized you instantly. All of our lives flashed through my mind in a split second. I felt a pull so strongly towards you that I almost couldn't stop it.” ― J. Sterling

It was a hot and humid day. The type of days Miguel hates the most in September because the heat made him uncomfortable and the humidity made his hair frizzy and lose its shape. It was even worse while sitting in a stuffy classroom with ACs that never worked. The rooms were always filled with the strong smell of teenage bodies and dust from janitorial neglection over the summer months. In addition, the beginning weeks of school were a bore with nothing to actually do but sit there and listen to underpaid teachers repeat the same school rules they hear in the beginning of every school semester. 

He was sure he was about to fall asleep at that moment. The heat made him drowsy and the monotone voice of his teacher morphed into white noise. It was nearing the end of the day anyways, and too early into the school year for any teachers to give enough of a shit to write anyone up. He couldn’t take another second of school expectations and the disgusting mix of AXE body spray and floral perfume. But, now when he thinks back on that boring class, he can’t take it on himself to fully hate it. Because, in the same second that he looked toward the clock above the door to check the time, his life changed forever. 

It was instant. Maybe not instant instant, but it was just quick enough to call it instant. She had come in late. Very late with a chest that heaved and tried to keep her rapidly beating heart in her body. Sweat made the front pieces of her hair stick to her face, flushed from the way she had run down the hall to make it to class. Of course, in that moment Miguel found her less than ideal, but he knows now that even in that stuffy school uniform the academy mandated every student to wear, she was the most beautiful goddamn thing that walked the entire earth. And when she spoke to give her name for attendance, a voice and name that will haunt Miguel until he takes his last breath, he knew their lives would be forever intertwined. 

That thought was concrete the second you had walked down the same row of desks as him, stopping at the desk directly in front of him. The smell of sweetness and a bit of sweat, a smell that only comes to him in the early mornings when he isn’t really awake or asleep, instantly overpowered any other smell in the room. If he skips ahead, he can remember nearly every instance in which he leaned his stomach against the hard edge of the desk to get a stronger smell, everytime he held up a piece of your hair to his face, everytime he snuck out of your bedroom window smelling like you after spending the night making love. But, Miguel is a man who follows a strict timeline, who revels in the chronological order of things. 

Instead, he focuses on the first time he had the chance to talk to you. Despite you being only a desk away, it took a few months to hold an actual conversation that was more than, “Do you have an extra pencil?” or “Did you write down the last bullet of that slide?” Despite the lack of communication, the younger Miguel had developed a slight crush on you. He had seen you in the halls between classes and he focused more on you than on the board in class. In all honesty, the delay in conversation was purely your fault. You were an energetic girl, not popular but well known. Someone was always talking to you at your desk in the beginning and end of class. Always laughing with you about something stupid that happened early that day, always asking for help for an upcoming test or assignment, always taking up your time. He could never be mad about it, though. Even if it meant he had lost an extra few months with you. It was okay because even if those months weren’t with you, they were of you. Months filled with the sound of your voice, the addicting sound of your laugh, the glimpses of your smile and shiny eyes. Moments that fill his head when he sleeps at night and when he gets lost in a daydream. 

You had turned to him, asking him about some party one of his friends at the time was planning because he had turned 18. They’re simple, small questions: “What was the address again?”, “Anyone is invited, right?”, “What’s the dress code? Is there a theme?”, “Are you going?”. He had to bite his tongue to stop from scaring you off with manic answers. Yes, anyone is invited but don’t bring some random guy with you. Bring me with you instead. The dress code doesn’t matter because you’ll look stunning in anything you wear. I only want to go if you go. 

“You… only want to go if I go?” You had asked. Your voice was decorated with a confused giggle and your ears had glowed pink. 

Miguel blinked up at you with his own confusion. He had yet to realize his last words had bubbled out of his chest until you were giggling and eyeing him shyly. He was quick to cover his face as it grew warm, and he let out a groan while cursing himself. You had laughed harder then, eyes shining with a build-up of tears as you clutched your stomach. Miguel had spread his fingers slightly so he could peak through them. You were a sight to behold with that enchanting laughter and infatuating smile. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling against his palms. When you had finally reduced your amusement to a toothy smile, you had gently pried Miguel’s hands off his face just enough to see him. 

He was sure he looked stupid, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide over the fact you were touching him. Your hands were warm and small against his and he swore his heart was trying to rip open his chest so it could run to you. He almost went dizzy when your thumb stroked his hands in a comforting manner in hopes of easing his embarrassment. He had never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. Would you have minded? God he really hoped you wouldn’t.

“Miguel?” You sang, a teasing smile on your face as you looked at him, “Are you there?”

Say it again. Say my name again, please. You’re the only person ever allowed to say it ever again. God, he was losing his mind. He still is losing it over you. Every goddamn day. Miguel doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. You took it from him. His mind, his body, his soul. You took everything from him. It’s yours. It’s yours, it’s yours, it’s yours.

Please, give it back to me.

When he had finally responded to you, your smile had shone brighter and you asked him a question that still leaves his mind dumbstruck when he thinks back on it: What time do you want to pick me up? He remembers the way his breath flew out of his lungs, how his heart had paused and then started running again. Remembers the way your throat bobbed slightly, probably because you had regretted asking the question or maybe, he hopes this is why because he never thought to ask you, maybe because you were nervous too. Just maybe you had wanted to talk to him before this life altering moment. Maybe, somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew you were tied to this fool of a boy too. 

He had stuttered out a pathetic ‘what?’ and you had rolled your eyes playfully in response. You ditched repeating the question and had instead given him a time and your address before getting up as the bell rang. While you walked out the door with a small wave and big smile, Miguel sat there in an astonished daze blinking at the board. Time seemed to stop as everyone else around him started walking past him to their next classes. It wasn’t until his friend walked past, jolting him with a slap on the back and a whispered, ‘good work, dude’ before walking out the door that he came back to his senses. It was only then that the conversation finally registered in Miguel’s dazzled brain. He leaned forward and hid his face in his hands again as he closed his eyes and his mouth formed a large smile. 

He had a date. He had a date with you.

His shoulders shook with a silent, delirious laugh.

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Miguel knew he was in love. Or, he knew he was going to be in love. It’s complicated to describe, that nagging feeling that wasn’t exactly scary but wasn’t completely comforting either. It’s even weirder feeling it. Having your mind constantly crying out go home, go home, go home but your body pulls you away from every building and straight towards another body like you’re tethered together. Like he’s tethered to you. Sometimes, when Miguel closes his eyes and really concentrates, he can still feel that sharp tug at the center of his chest that tries to bring him somewhere that he tries to get further and further away from. 

He can’t lie and say it wasn’t the big things that made him think, know, he was in love. Because it was. But it was also the small things. Like when you found out what his favorite color was, yellow despite popular belief, and how you had come into school the next week with your nails done in the exact shade you had made him show you on his phone. Or that time he had seen your phone light up in class and your display had revealed that you were listening to the same song he was mumbling under his breath the day before on repeat. It was the collection of those small details that made his heart beat a bit faster and for his smile to tick up behind his hand.

And it was that first kiss. That damned first kiss that Miguel can still feel ghosting against his lips. That he feels on his bad days like some sort of silent encouragement that he will get through it. Swears those phantom lips are what pulls him out of his night terrors as if to protect him as he pants and cries in those late hours. The same kiss that he wishes he could feel forever and ever and simultaneously burn from memory. Sometimes, he thinks about pulling some poor, unsuspecting stranger off the street and kissing them to see if it would feel the same. When he thinks like that, he instantly goes to the bathroom and dry heaves until his throat hurts. Of course it would never feel the same, what a silly idea. What a betrayal and discourtesy towards you to even entertain the idea. 

The kiss had happened weeks after the party. In between those two moments had been brushed hands, glances in the hallways, and not so subtle flirting whispered during lessons. Each moment had Miguel’s face flushing and heart racing. It left him with a craving for you. So, when you had invited him to study with you in the library, he had eagerly nodded despite knowing he would ace the test without looking over any of his notes. He would be too busy looking at you either way to focus on his chicken scratch. 

You hadn’t gotten much studying done that day either. Instead, Miguel had distracted you with whispered words in your ears that caused you to quietly giggle and smile up at him. He can remember every detail. From the way your cheeks grew to match the pink of your lips, how you had fiddled with the mechanical pencil in your hand, how your eyes had twinkled as you leaned towards him. He remembers how you had grabbed his hand, a soft and gentle touch, asking him to come with you to find a book you needed. Remembers how you had pulled him towards the back shelves filled with encyclopedias with bug-bitten pages. Can still remember the slight dizzy feeling he had when you pulled him around one of the old bookshelves and pressed him into it. Can still feel the hands pressed against his chest to hold him in place as you peaked around the corner in case anyone was coming over. He remembers the notes he chuckled as he asked you what you were doing. Can see the smile you gave him before you pulled him down for the only kiss that will ever matter in his entire life. 

Your lips were soft and tasted like the cherry lip gloss you wore. He had furrowed his brows as his hands came to squeeze your waist while he moved his mouth over yours. He memorized the trail your hands took as they traveled up his chest and tangled in his hair. He can replicate the way his vocal cords shifted as he let out that satisfied groan when you allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth. If he were to look down at his hand right now, he could swear the creases of his palms still have your sticky gloss stuck in them from when he had turned you around to press you against the shelves, but his desperation caused books to fall and his hand went to cover your mouth as you pulled away and started laughing. He had smiled down at you and buried his head in the crook of your neck to muffle his own laughter. He never regretted getting detention for the next few days when the librarian had found the both of you. It just gave him more chances to kiss you when the detention instructor fell asleep. 

It was during one of those detention kisses that he had whispered against your lips to be his girlfriend. You had answered with another kiss and a delighted yes.

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It had been a month or two after the one year anniversary that he finally made love to you. It was sometime in the later months of senior year. Another hot and humid day. But instead of being in a classroom, he had been in your room. Miguel remembers that your sheets had been white with a small flower print, throw pillows and blankets making up for the lack of color. They were soft under the material of his jeans as he held you while you cried. 

On that day, your usually clean room was in shatters. Things ripped from your walls, notebooks and papers shoved off your desk, clothes taken off hangers and thrown on the floor. The only things that had survived had been pictures of the two of you and your bed. He had gotten a call from your frantic mother, begging him to come calm you down. That he was the only one that can get through the fog in your mind. He had rushed over, your mother opening the door for him so he could run up the stairs to your room. When he had thrown open the door, his chest broke in a way that made it almost impossible to breathe. He rubs his chest whenever he thinks back to it, like the heartbreak is still there.  

You had thrown yourself in a corner, sobbing and rocking yourself back and forth in a way to seek comfort. The mess of your room had surrounded you, barricading you from everything else. When the door knocked into the wall, your face had left your arms and tear-beaded lashes blinked up at him. You had cried harder when you had seen him. He had strived towards you, picking you up easily off the ground and away from the chaos on your floor. He cradled you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his hips as you cried tears into his T-shirt. He had whispered soft, caring words into your ear, an arm wrapped around your waist and a hand in your hair. 

You had cried for another hour, hiccuping watery words about a scary future. A life of uncertainties and insecurities. A life where you ended up alone and scared and desperate to get by. A world where dreams don’t exist and your greatest fears consume you. Days where you don’t know how to get out of bed and shut up the nasty voices in your head. Minutes where you’re tempted to listen to them and then the hours that follow where you hate yourself for contemplating it. If Miguel were to go into his closet right now, he can find the same shirt he wore. A single shoulder lingering with black splotches of mascara that never fully washed away. Each splotch represents a worry you had trusted him with. 

He had pressed you closer to him, whispering ‘it’s not your fault’, over and over and over again until his throat ached and your cries had died down to soft trembling. Another hour was spent in silence as he had just held you. His hands playing mindlessly with your hair and your breath tickling his neck. The sun had begun to set and a golden glow had lit up your bed in a yellow color.

“It’s your favorite shade,” You had whispered in a broken voice. It was scratchy and rough. Miguel thought it sounded just as lovely as it always has. It reminds him of a pipe organ, beautiful but sad. 

He had to turn around to see what you were talking about. He turned his head slightly to see your hand outstretched, fingers playing as the light spilled from them. He can’t remember a time where you looked so peaceful. He had watched your hand, before nodding his head in agreement. “Yes, it is.”

He reached his hand out, taking a hold of yours gently and connecting his fingers with yours like a puzzle. He brought his hands back towards the both of you, bringing it up to his lips and kissing your knuckles. He watched your eyes, red and puffy from crying. He held your hand to his mouth for a while, his thumb stroking the skin. When he had finally dropped your hand, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his, just staring into his eyes. Your scent instantly filled his nose. It is the same smell that he has stored in his bedside drawer in a glass bottle. He never sprays it in his room, just holds it to his nose with closed eyes and pretends you’re right next to him again.

“I love you.” The words were sweet and poured warmth onto his skin. He closed his eyes and sat there, letting your words echo in his head until he memorized how each letter and syllable sounded when it left your lips. 

Miguel remembers the strength he used to grab your waist as he connected your lips to his. Remembers that the kiss was different from any other kiss the two of you had shared before this. He still can’t describe why it was different, but he can still feel it in his bones. He remembers pushing his body into yours and you pushing back. Even though his eyes were closed in the moment, he can see everything clearly in his mind, as if he were a phantom watching it. Can see the exact placement of your hands on his shoulders, can see the way your lips parted and the soft noise you made when he had flipped the two of you over and laid you on your back. 

Those soft, soft noises that split his chest open so his heart can absorb them and keep them safe. He remembers every soft pant and plead you had whispered into the air of your room as he stripped you of your clothes, kissing trails down your body. The giggle you had let out when he almost tripped taking off his pants is still trapped between those plaster walls. The soft feeling of your skin under his was like a cloud, your body warmth the sun. He remembers the halo your hair made as the dying sunlight bathed your face and caused your eyes to shine and for your skin to glow. He remembers the light dimming from your face as he slid slowly into you. He had immediately apologized as you whimpered in temporary pain. 

He had slowly moved inside you, taking his time as you held him close to your body. The soft moans of his name traveled through shivers that rode down his spine, the sounds quiet to not alert your parents. His response was the repeated saying of I love you, over and over again. He repeated it, looking down at your face, into your eyes, so you could see the realness and vulnerability of the words. He made sure you felt it as he grabbed onto your skin and buried his head into your neck as he thrusted. He felt the love you had for him in every scratch down his back and tightening of your walls around him. 

He remembers trying to hold on to his pleasure before it exploded right after yours. He had panted as he looked down at you, your breaths mixing together. He had kissed you softly as he pulled his softening member out of you and you smiled against his lips. He had laid with you for a while before getting up, grabbing his discarded shirt and wiping you down before taking you into his arms again and falling asleep. He held you close to his chest, both of you naked under your blankets as the moonlight glowed against the two of you. 

The next morning, he drove you to the closest drug store. The both of you walked to the counter smelling like each other as he paid for a Plan B pill and snacks. It was a story you and him laughed about on the rooftop of your house the night you both graduated from Pym Academy.

CHAPTER 2- THEN: THE CANON

[angelzofdecay]

If you die

FT- Blade, Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, Welt CW- death, murder, mourning, angst, hurt no comfort A/N- I'm sorry the voices told me to

Being the man that he is Blade wouldn’t react to your tragic passing at first. He would remain stoic concealing all of his feelings of despair and rage. For the longest time he didn’t believe that he could love, let alone be loved by another. The loss of you meant the loss of hope.

If you were murdered by the hands of another, he would eradicate them from the solar system. Anyone who worked with them may as well die too... He’ll need a place to vent out his frustrations. After the massacre and probable bounty put on his head afterwards, he would break down. If you died by illness or age, something he couldn’t take revenge on would be far worse. Blade would have nothing to take his inner feelings out on besides himself and maybe a few rouge robots. Eventually, his facade would be, and he would mourn you. Somewhere quiet, dark and alone and he would succumb to his inner turmoil. He would shed a tear or few but mostly likely scream his anguish and curse what had caused your unfortunate passing. He would never waste his time with another. Once you were gone, so was the last of his heart and no one could fill the void you left. 

Jing Yuan has a bit more composure than Blade. Of course, he would mourn but wouldn’t make an outright spectacle of his. Your funeral would be as grand as your life, and he would spend every penny to be sure your memory was engraved into the world forever. If your precious life was stolen by a living thing, he would use all his power to have it wiped out. Now, if you were taken by an illness, he would make use of his funds by trying to find a cure. A way to prevent it from ever taking another dear life from someone else. Without you the days became dull and fruitless. It felt as though time itself had stopped when he heard the news. Jing nearly fell to the floor when he heard but simply excused himself to run to his private chambers. He wailed once he was alone like a lost child. He’ll feel exactly like a lost child who had lost the person most dear to them. It would take a long time for him to ever recover and find someone new. 

The mourning process for Dan Heng is a combination of both prior characters. Unlike either of them when he heard of your passing he fell to his knees. His breath hitched in his throat, and he swore his heart constricted and tried to kill him as well. Instead of slaughtering everyone related to the murderer or using his popularity and coin to have them destroyed he enlists the help of the Astral Express Crew. They all adored you for how much joy you brought their dear friend so they would stop at nothing to bring the criminal to justice by any means necessary. An illness taking you suddenly would be soul crushing for Dan. There wasn’t anything he could do besides be by your side until you took your last breath. The healing process for him would come slow… He visited your grave on your birthday and the anniversary of your death and left offerings to celebrate your life and afterlife. He cleaned your tombstone so it would shine just like you did. 

Welt is the most mentally stable of the group. How would he react if you died? Probably by becoming an even more stoic recluse. At night he would reach out for you forgetting that you were gone. He swore to protect you and failed, and he’ll never let himself forget that. Why should he live on peacefully when you can’t live at all? He goes by the book when it comes to seeking justice for you, but it doesn’t change the fact, he wished he could make them suffer like you did. He prayed he could make the sickness disappear from the universe all together. When he’s alone he still twiddles with the dumb stuffed bear he gave you that still smells exactly like you. Himeko has done her best to distract him, but your ghost continues to haunt him… Although he finds a sort of comfort in that. 

[romerona]

Lullaby of the lost lover.

Cruel and cold like winds on the seas

Will you ever return to me

Hear my voice sing with the tide

My love will never die

Over waves and deep in the blue

I will give up my heart for you

Ten long years I'll wait to go by

My love will never die.

Shanks x (fem)reader.

Song: Davy Jones

619 words. Warnings: Death.

————————————————————————

In the heart of the vast, tumultuous seas, there sailed a legendary pirate known as Shanks. With his scarlet hair whipping in the salty breeze and a gaze that pierced through storms, he was feared by many and respected by all who knew his name. Yet, beneath his formidable exterior, there lingered a melancholy that few dared to acknowledge.

Years ago, Shanks had loved a girl named Y/N with a fervor that rivaled the fury of the ocean's depths. She was his anchor in a world of chaos, the light that guided him through the darkest nights. Their love had blossomed amidst the crashing waves and starlit skies, a bond forged in the crucible of adventure and danger.

Y/N was not just a lover to Shanks; she was his muse, his confidante, his reason for being. Her laughter was the sweetest melody, her smile the brightest beacon in the vast expanse of the sea. In her, Shanks found solace from the storms that raged within his own soul, a sanctuary where he could lay down the burdens of his past and simply be.

But fate, cruel and capricious, had stolen her away from him, leaving behind only memories and the echo of her laughter in the wind.

Each year, on the anniversary of her passing, Shanks would retreat to the solitude of his cabin aboard his ship. With a heavy heart, he would reach for a small, intricately crafted locket that had once belonged to Y/N. Opening it gently, he would listen to the haunting melody that spilled forth, a melody that had been etched into his soul since the day she had first played it for him.

As the notes danced around him, Shanks would close his eyes, lost in a reverie of bittersweet memories. He would remember the warmth of Y/N's embrace, the softness of her voice as she sang to him beneath the moonlit sky. And in those fleeting moments, he would allow himself to feel her presence once more, if only for a heartbeat.

But even as the melody faded into the silence of the night, Shanks knew that Y/N was forever beyond his reach in this life. Yet, in the depths of his heart, he swore an oath that his love for her would never die. For she was more than just a memory; she was the rip that slumped inside his soul, a beacon of light in a world consumed by darkness. And though their time together had been tragically brief, Shanks knew that their love would endure for all eternity, a flame that could never be extinguished, even by the relentless march of time.

With the dawn of each new day, Shanks would set sail once more, his ship cutting through the waves with a determination born of undying love. His crewmates, though hardened by years of piracy, could sense the weight of his grief, but they also saw the fire that burned within him—the fire of a man unwilling to surrender to despair.

And so, they followed him faithfully, drawn not only by the promise of adventure and riches but also by the unshakeable belief that Shanks would one day find solace in the arms of his lost love, even if it meant crossing into the realm beyond mortal shores.

And though the seas may rage and the winds may howl, Shanks would sail on, his heart a beacon of hope in a world consumed by darkness, knowing that one day, when his time came to join Y/N in the afterlife, they would be reunited at last.

[flame-shadow]

What sorts of religions/beliefs/deities do you think bugs might have if they had minds more like ours?

I think transformation/transfiguration and death/rebirth would be significant for many cultures, especially ones that include species with complete metamorphosis.

Gods of regeneration. Gods of fertility. Gods of protection. Gods of family.

Spirits that can be called upon to assist in mating rituals or for luck on hunts. Spirits which haunt the giants that killed them. Spirits that whisper ethereal warnings with the faintest of pheromones.

A deity for centipedes that is of infinite length with legs more numerous than the stars or grains of sand. With its length and legs, it curls around and holds the world, keeping it close like a mother with her eggs.

A moth deity with as many wings as there are species and morphs. All are represented that they might find comfort.

A mantis deity whose camouflage and speed are such that no images dare be made of it. Wherever one thinks it is, there it might very well already be.

The firefly deity is a protector of knowledge with a focus in language. Its symbol is commonly associated with libraries.

A collection of sibling spiders who act as muses for creatives and artists of all types. Whether a single thread or an entire web, nothing is made in isolation; all is connected, and that is to be celebrated.

I imagine there would be many different interpretations of death and the afterlife too. Cockroaches never truly die - some are blessed to join their ancestors at the Great Feast while others are cursed to wander eternally the Scorched Plain. Webspinners have specific funerary rituals that must be followed, or a loved one's spirit might slip through the wrappings and be lost. Ants are reincarnated into a rival colony. Termites' souls seep into their surroundings, ideally to strengthen the home they worked on and to protect their colony further.

Perhaps there are curses too. You are marked if you survived a stare-down with a predator; surely, it knows you now and will hunt you later. Or you commit an atrocity and now carry the scent of death with you, no matter how many times you bathe or groom. May your antennae be forever fouled if you lead your sisters astray. May you lose a leg for every day you withhold a vital truth. May your spiracles feel clogged like those whom you climbed over to save yourself when they were not yet lost themselves.

Fun stuff to think about. Feel free to add on if you'd like!

[foursaints]

saints. i'm. thinking about religion and rosekiller. barty who grew up catholic. evan who is an atheist. barty who had 'gay is forbidden' punched into him. but evan looks like that. barty wants him to kill him. fuck him on an altar. get on his knees in front of him and pray. not pray. kill himself in front of him so that evan looks at him. so that evan is the image that haunts him in the afterlife. wants him to convert. wants to burn down his church. or burt it with them in it so that they are together forever, ashes that cannot be seperated by god (or his father). pls tell me you have thoughts.

!! we talked about an au like this here. but firstly i think an essential through-line for barty (in any setting) is that he fundamentally lacks normative guilt and shame. my canon basis for this is how nobody has ever had their personhood more repressed & stifled than he has, yet he never once stopped being unhinged. he was literally brainwashed and kept in wizard psychological torture prison for like 10+ years and STILL was like “this won’t stop me from letting my sparkle shine 🥴” the second he left

i think barty could believe in god but still find a strict religious institution sooooo unserious especially if he was raised in it. it's a game to him... if you tell barty something is forbidden and punish him, he will instantly do that thing 10x harder out of Spite but get more clever about hiding it. he bides his time.

the idea of barty with religious trauma is compelling to me because i think he'd be so rotten inside. he seems so unassumingly pious but on the inside he is corrupt and depraved and sick and DIRTY. and he would want to find something innocent (evan?) and ruin it and would feel absolutely no remorse

[aris-ink]

some horror smut with seokjin pls 😭 ppl barely ever write about him

tysm to my 🐋 angel for providing inspiration and supporting me... thank you to @baalsgurl1913 for reading through this and guiding me with her love. and thank you to @yoongsisbae for helping me choose the right direction <3 I am... so sorry for what I am subjecting y'all to lmao

pairing: jin x reader

genre: romance, ghost!au

warnings: mentions of blood and violence (not towards the reader), multiple deaths (+ major character death), implied murder, cheating (not by jin), supernatural elements (hauntings, afterlife), mentions of medication, manipulation and obsession, implied mental and physical torture (agsffhsgsh rip minho), angst, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, mentions of spanking, choking, creampie

"Does it help?"

So cold. His hand felt so cold as it brushed through your hair.

"Does it help you move on? To feel like you've buried me?"

Unable to turn around and look at him - or whatever that thing was - you pulled your knees up to your chest and hid your face in them.

"I did," you whispered. To convince him or yourself, you weren't sure. "I did bury you."

Like a little girl, you gently rocked yourself back and forth on your bed, the chill of the dark room so severe it was making your fingers numb.

"Did you?" He hummed into your ear. "I'm right here."

You could barely hold yourself together, your heart sinking so low you feared he could snatch it from under the ground and keep it there with him forever to rot.

"I promised I'd never leave you, didn't I?"

Despite the fear weighing on your chest, your eyes opened slowly. You woke up in the warmth of your sheets, your vision blurry with tears. Seeking comfort, or at least a confirmation you weren't alone, you turned towards your boyfriend and pressed yourself into his back. You tried to swallow down the lump in your throat, the grief and the guilt of trying to move on. It didn't help. The bitter mixture only seemed to upset your stomach. With a sigh, you sat up and blinked, wiping at your eyes. Outside the window dusk was slowly fading. You reached for your phone, then planted your feet on the wooden floor.

6 am. Looked like you'd have an early start.

*

Grief was... loud. It demanded to be heard. He was sure even the dead could not rest in peace with how you tossed and whimpered in your sleep. He certainly couldn't. But the bastard lying beside you remained oblivious to your suffering. Pathetic, really. Jin couldn't believe this was the man you chose to replace him with. The man who got to see your pretty smile, go to sleep and wake up by your side - when he didn't deserve any of it at all.

He would have felt that way about anyone who went near you, of course, but there was no denying the fact that he held a special kind of contempt for Minho. All those late nights out, the perfume he smelled of when he came home. Surely you weren't that blind? Surely you could see that he wasn't faithful? Always drifting off somewhere, even as you spoke to him. Jin wished he could grab him and break every bone in his body, slowly, make him pay for every sin he's ever committed. The sin of being with you, touching you. The sin of hurting you.

But all he could do was kneel by your bed and run his fingertips down your cheek. He tried to catch the tears that fell, wipe them away like he used to when he was alive. It didn't do much besides inducing a little shiver, making you pull the blankets tighter around your body.

*

A few months have passed since the car accident, yet he continued to appear in your dreams. It felt like any attempts you made at trying to find peace were being torn apart by his shadow, leaving you lethargic and confused... making you pay less attention to your new relationship. During the day, you questioned your sanity and wondered if you should see a doctor.

During the nights, however, in that cold, little dreamland of yours he haunted, you tried to find the answers to questions you wouldn't dare to ask out loud.

"Why are you still here?"

You still couldn't face him, but you felt his presence, a ghostly touch travelling down your sides. The nightmares themselves were distressing enough, but there was something else gnawing at you, a possibility that made you ache.

"Are you stuck? Is there no light there?"

You could feel Jin's arms wrapping around you from behind. Such a chilly, foreign experience, disturbing you in ways you couldn't even understand; everything seemed too realistic.

"There is," he murmured, his voice sounding amused. "And I went right into it."

You swallowed, staring at the wall ahead of you.

"Oh."

You couldn't tell if you felt relieved or disappointed. You chewed on your bottom lip.

"So, you're not real then," you whispered, as if to yourself. "Just my imagination."

"Oh no," Jin protested. "I'm very real, baby."

Your brows furrowed, your heart skipping a beat. You haven't heard him call you that in so long it made you want to curl yourself up to him. Real or not.

"But you said you followed the light."

"Mm, that I did," his lips grazed your shoulder, a hint of ice with velvet, followed by a soft whisper. "You're my light."

A dam inside you cracked, the turbulent waters behind it about to shatter it altogether, along with your willpower and common sense. You missed him so much. You wished you could hide in his arms and stay like that forever, even if they felt so cold. You'd give up the sun and live in eternal winter if it meant that things could go back to the way they were.

But they couldn't. And that wouldn't be living at all.

*

"Ah, don't forget your pills."

You smiled at Minho and grabbed the small, plastic bottle from him. It's been only two weeks since you saw a psychiatrist, but the quality of your life has improved immensely.

And also, it didn't.

While you no longer feared going to bed, closing your eyes was still a struggle. You didn't need to dream to see Jin's face behind your eyelids.

There was an uncomfortable, odd sense of guilt stirring inside you, like you've done something wrong. Like you've shut him out and left him all alone there in the void. And yet that was all the more reason for you to keep taking your medication and trying to move on. Jin was gone; there was no changing that. Sticking to rationality made it easier for you to ignore these feelings, to tell yourself that you didn't feel unusually cold when you entered your bedroom.

You glanced up at Minho when he got up from the table, grabbing his coat.

"Are you going somewhere?"

He smiled at you as he worked on fixing his tie.

"Just work stuff."

You put down your fork, your appetite suddenly gone. Work stuff, at nine pm. On a Saturday night. Again.

"Don't wait up, honey."

You didn't have the mental strength to deal with this and your inner turmoil. Instead of speaking up, you tried to force a smile when he bent down to press his lips to yours. An inch separated you, your eyes fluttering shut.

And then - a sudden crash that made you jump in your seat.

Frowning, Minho straightened up, looking behind you.

"What the hell?"

Your heart thudded in your ears. The fright that pulsed through you spread all the way to your fingertips, making your hands feel weak. You turned your head towards the source of the sound, blood draining from your face.

The frame that held the first picture you took with Jin was lying on the floor, shattered, glass broken into pieces. You hid it inside the cabinet right above the spot, yet now it was wide open, gaping.

Even though your knees felt like cotton, you stood up and rushed towards it automatically. You collapsed onto the floor, barely registering Minho calling out your name. With trembling fingers, you began to pick up the pieces in a hurry, not even fazed when you felt two warm hands curling around your arms.

"Are you crazy?" Minho snapped, pulling you away from the mess.

You struggled out of his grasp, your elbow knocking into his chest roughly. You scrambled back to the broken frame, blinking through the tears. It was so hard to see.

"It's- it's broken," you stammered. "Broken. I need to clean it up."

Minho crouched down next to you, gripping your wrists.

"You're hurting yourself!" He hissed. "Look."

He shook both of your hands. Dazed, you glanced down, brows scrunching when you noted the blood dripping from your fingers.

"But-"

Minho stared at you, a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, like for the first time he was really seeing you. Like for the first time something akin to guilt stirred in his stomach. Keeping your wrists in a tight grip, he wrapped an arm around your waist, gently pulling you up with him.

"Come on, honey. I''ll clean it up in a sec. Hold on."

He guided you to sit back down on your chair. You could still feel your heart ramming against your chest, frighteningly heavy with the weight of stress. Minho left your side to step up to the cabinets, rummaging through them in search of a first aid kit.

Numbly, you observed him uncap a bottle of antiseptic. Only when it came into contact with your skin did you feel the sting of the cuts, a sizzling sensation that made your fingers twitch. He bandaged them up one by one, seven in total, wincing as he cleaned up the blood.

Silently, as he promised, he went to clean up the mess on the floor as well, ensuring to sweep the area thoroughly. With a brief glance at the picture, then back at you, he set it down on the counter carefully. You felt like you were outside of your body, barely there, unable to speak up and tell him to not throw the picture away. He seemed to know that himself, though.

He picked up your bottle of sleeping pills and placed it on the table beside you.

"I'm late now, but I still have to go. Get some rest okay? You can text me if you feel unwell."

You blinked up at him, unsure if you were grateful to be left alone now or if you wanted to beg him not to walk out the door. Still, you couldn't even nod when he leaned down to kiss your forehead. With your hands on your knees, you listened to him leave and lock the door.

Your eyes flickered from the counter where the picture was, then to your pills. Unable to help yourself, you left the bottle behind and went straight to bed. Waiting for the adrenaline to flow off you and the exhaustion to do its job. You couldn't force yourself to swallow the medication tonight, an uneasy feeling intensifying in your chest.

*

This just wouldn't do.

How much more could he take? He stood by your bed and watched your eyes fall closed, fuming. He caught your attention, and that fucker's too, but Minho was probably too stupid to think much of what happened. Even if a frame did fly out of your kitchen cabinet on its own.

The two weeks he spent without being able to contact you were agony. Time didn't seem to exist on the other side. For the living - for you - it flowed like a river. For Jin it was a bottomless ocean and he felt like he was drowning without you. He couldn't stand the fact that you just tried to toss him away and move on with your life as if he ceased to exist. It was clear you still loved him. Why were you so unwilling to believe that he was right by your side? Did you really think something as trivial as death would ever take him away from you?

All the anger inside of him simmered, so powerful it felt like an explosion when he watched you sit in the kitchen with that pathetic excuse of a human being.

Until it overflowed.

He was almost as surprised as you were when the cabinet flew open. He hasn't been able to touch anything on this side of life.

Now, as he stood over your bed, he contemplated what he could do with that newfound power. There were so many possibilities.

With a hum, he brushed your cheek softly. Decisions, decisions.

*

This dream was different from the others. You were still in your bed, but this time Jin didn't sit behind you. You could see his silhouette in the corner of your room, blending in with the shadows. You shivered, relief settling over you for some reason, despite how disturbing the atmosphere felt. At least he was there.

You didn't know what to say. You had a feeling he was angry at you for leaving him behind. Why else would he stand so far away?

"Missed me, baby?"

His voice sounded soft. You hid your face in your hands, confused, unable to tell if the spectre before you was a figment of your imagination, a cry from the grief you tried to escape, or something more sinister. Something more real.

But whatever it was, it was still Jin, in some way. Wasn't it?

When you heard light footsteps approaching your bed, you stiffened, still lacking the courage to look up. For so many reasons. Would he look dead? Would he look normal? Either way seeing him again would break your heart.

You felt him kneel down on the creaky floorboards, slowly taking your hand in his. A chill spread through you, your eyes shut tightly.

"What have you done?" He whispered, pressing a kiss to each bandaged finger. A feather light touch.

"No more suffering, baby. Promise me... Just let go. I'm right here."

*

The next night you drifted off in your armchair for what seemed like a few minutes. You awoke with a sigh, getting up to stretch in the dark and make your way towards your bedroom.

Minho must have still been out somewhere. You tried to ignore that thought.

Strong arms wrapped around you, halting your steps. You froze, the soothing warmth and smell of a cologne that was so familiar to you making your heart thud. You whirled around in shock, for the first time letting yourself look at him. Your hands grasped at his shoulders. He felt so much warmer than usually. Dark, soft hair framing his handsome face, his eyes burning into yours. Wearing the same leather jacket you've seen him in on your last day together.

Was this another dream? It had to be.

"Baby," he muttered lowly, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

The sudden proximity after such a long time of being apart made your stomach swirl. It was strange how solid his hold was on you.

He took a moment to stare into your eyes, the pretty eyes he missed so much, glistening and bright. You were so confused, your chest constricting with pain and love all at once. You opened your mouth to speak, but words failed you. This had to be a dream, right? But why did he feel this warm? His eyes seemed so dark. So much darker than they ever were before. His lips knocked into yours, not allowing you to voice your perplexity and your doubts, or focus on your thoughts at all.

Such hunger. He didn't think the dead could feel hunger, or much of anything, but he was wrong. His soul endured starvation in this ruthless void, starvation for your love, your touch, you. It turned into a dark desperation that dripped and dripped onto you like fire, from his tongue brushing your lower lip, from the fingertips dancing across your ribs.

He groaned, a low, raspy sound that made your thighs clench.

Not for long.

He pried them apart and settled himself between them, his lips pressing soft, wet kisses into your neck.

"Fuck," he sighed, fumbling with the zipper of your jeans, his hands shaking. "I missed you."

You wanted to let him push you into the nearest wall so willingly, you would have any other time. But this still felt so odd. So real.

For a moment, you lost your breath, and the only thing you could focus on was the way he slid your jeans halfway down your thighs, not even bothered to undress you or himself properly.

"Missed you," he repeated in a whisper.

When you heard him unbuckling his belt your pussy clenched around nothing, leaking through your panties. There was a soft grunt as his trousers pooled around his ankles, one hand hooking your leg around his waist.

"Missed you too," you gasped, your head tilting back when you felt a sharp tug and heard the cotton material of your underwear being ripped in half.

"I know, baby."

The tip of his cock brushed through your slick folds, the slight pressure of the hard, thick length causing a shiver to erupt down your spine. Jin hissed, squeezing your thighs as he spread you open.

"Missed me here too?"

He emphasized the question with a teasing thrust, rubbing against you. Very fleetingly, the thought of Minho tickled the back of your mind, like a butterfly. You weren't a cheater. But... this wasn't real, was it? Even if it was, you weren't sure if you were able to overcome the shock of it, the need and the yearning burning inside you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Jin rolled his hips, entering you harshly and knocking all air out of your lungs. You felt so full of him, pulsing hotly around his cock.

"Don't think about him," he seethed. "Don't think about anything. Only me."

He didn't make that task very difficult. All your thoughts turned to ashes when he gripped your throat with his hand and started to fuck you, slamming you into the wall behind you with every aggressive snap of his hips. Like he wanted to take all of his frustration and love out on your body, make you suffer from pleasure.

"You're only mine," he groaned into your ear. "Your heart is mine. This pussy is mine. I should beat your ass raw for fucking forgetting that."

Your knees quivered, a whine tearing out of your throat. He tightened his hand around it, cutting the sound off.

"Say you're sorry."

You clenched around him. Somehow, the aggression only made your head spin more, because if he didn't feel real before, he definitely did now.

"Say you're sorry," he demanded sternly, "you little fucking brat, s-shit."

"Sorry!" You breathed, barely audible with how hard he was choking you, your eyes stinging and pussy fluttering. "Sorry."

Jin grunted and let go of your neck, burying his hand in your hair instead. You felt lightheaded, barely able to catch the air he allowed back into your lungs, panting with how close you were.

"Good girl," he whispered, strained, a moan following the praise. "Fuck, missed you so much, not g-gonna last, shit-"

You weren't going to, either, but he busied himself with pulling on your hair and slipping his other hand in between you. He pressed his finger into your clit to rub it roughly, causing even more slick to flow out of you, making his thrusts sloppier.

"So wet. So pretty. I love you so much, ah, fuck."

His breathing sounded just as harsh as his thrusts in your ear, growing desperate, louder than your own cries.

"Haven't been fucked how you deserve to be in so long, my love," he mumbled, plump lips brushing against your skin. "Come for me, please. Come on, doll. Need to feel you," he groaned. "Shit! Come on. I'll fill you up so, so good."

You couldn't help the sudden, violent snap in your stomach that made you shake and cream his cock. Jin threw his head back, revealing his attractive, tanned neck, his adam's apple bobbing. His groans were carnal, filthy, his cock twitching inside of you, filling you up with a rush of his cum. If possible, you felt even fuller, your chest glowing and your cunt sticky from his orgasm. With a hiss, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, his embrace tighter around you, keeping your knees from giving out.

You floated in his arms, barely registering the fact that he picked you up and carried you towards the bed you used to share, his own knees feeling weak.

So he was able touch you. So he was able to love you. He watched you fall asleep, hope blooming in his chest only to wither away into disappointment. So what? In the end, what did that matter? You couldn't have a life together, grow old, have children. He would never be able to take you out to an expensive restaurant or buy you a gift, and who knew how long this would last? Could he only touch you when he was angry, overwhelmed, empty?

This just wouldn't do.

*

It took a mere few days for the opportunity to arise.

It was so hard to tell what was happening around you. Your eyes blinked open to a bright light blinding you. You had no idea where you were. Was this another dream, again? You squinted, trying to cover your face. The light felt warm and safe, calling to you, like it wanted to pull you into its pearly embrace.

Instead, a darker embrace enveloped you.

"Don't go," a sweet murmur. "Not yet, baby. Stay with me."

You lifted your eyes towards the light, still squinting, although it seemed to be fading in its intensity little by little. For some reason you felt like you were running out of time.

Something was wrong.

"Stay with me," Jin repeated quietly. "You know there is no me without you. Don't go where I can't follow."

You hesitated. Weren't you on your way to see your mother with Minho? An image flashed through your head, leather seats and the low hum of music on the radio.

No, you were definitely in a car. So where the hell were you now? The last thing you remembered was the same bright light that was dimming in front of you now. You turned your head to the side, coming face to face with Jin.

The puzzle pieces clicked into place and you looked towards the enchanting source of illumination again. It was dwindling, though its call still felt just as enticing and loud, urging you to follow.

You turned your head back towards Jin.

"Did we... crash? Am I dead?"

A hint of sorrow glimmered in his eyes. He nodded meekly, his arms tightening around you, strong and secure.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, leaning in, his lips a breath away from yours. "I'll take care of you," he murmured.

His hand slid down your side, moving to your hip. Your breath caught in your throat.

"But... but-"

You tried to take a peek at the light in front of you, but he lifted his hand and placed it on your cheek, unwilling to let you look away from him.

Something felt so wrong; like your only chance for real, heavenly peace was slipping through your fingers. Like this wasn't where you were supposed to be, even if you ached to be with him.

"Jin..."

He shushed you, pressing a warm, affectionate kiss into your lips, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"We'll be together. Forever. I won't let you go again."

You sniffled, the space around you growing dark as night, his lips still inches from yours when he spoke again.

"You're okay, baby. I promise."

His grip on your face softened. You nodded, wiping at your eyes. He smiled at you, something you haven't seen in so long. It made your heart flip, for so many reasons.

"Good girl," he praised, stroking the top of your head affectionately. He ignored the trembling of your body, only pressing you closer to himself, trying to soothe your anxiety and pain away.

Even if he was the one who caused it.

He placed a gentle kiss on the shell of your ear. You promised to always be his.

Promises were made to be kept.

*

In a small, well lit room, Minho sat in a bed, eyeing the two figures in white lab coats standing before him suspiciously.

"I don't want to talk to you," he grumbled. "You're just here to treat me like one of your crazy patients."

The tall, dark haired man with glasses took a seat in the chair at the foot of the bed, crossing his legs.

"I don't consider any of my patients crazy," he answered calmly. "It's important to remain open minded and find a solution if a problem arises. I'm only here to listen and help you feel safe. I promise."

Minho narrowed his eyes, his gaze flicking from the elderly nurse who still stood by his side to the doctor.

The psychiatrist gave him a kind, dimpled smile.

"My name is Kim Namjoon. How about we start with that?"

"I don't care about your name," Minho huffed. "You have no idea what happened to me. You would never believe it either."

A pen clicked, its tip pressing into a notebook resting on the man's lap.

"Why don't you try me?" He coaxed gently. "Let's start at the beginning. As you're aware, the security footage shows your car swerving violently to the right. The doctor said you were trying to avoid hitting someone."

"I- I was."

Namjoon raised his eyebrows.

"But the roads were empty."

Minho flushed.

"Your tests also came back negative for any signs of drugs or alcohol in your system," Namjoon continued. "Have you been under a lot of stress lately?"

"I wasn't hallucinating because I was stressed," Minho snapped. "I saw someone!"

"Who did you see?"

Heaving a sigh, Minho glanced up at the nurse, who gave him an encouraging smile, as if to say: it's okay. He fiddled with the cool sheets covering him.

"My girlfriend's ex. He... died seven months ago."

"Ah," Namjoon said softly, steering his focus onto you, as if the revelation of seeing a ghost didn't faze him. "I'm sorry for your loss, Minho."

Another sigh, heavier, glassy eyes burning into the doctor helplessly.

"It was his fault!" Minho stressed. "He killed her and now he's going to kill me."

After a moment of soft scratching of pen against paper, Namjoon leaned forward, tilting his head to the side.

"What makes you think that?"

Minho hesitated.

"I... saw him in the hospital room as well. It was like a dream," he sniffed. "But I couldn't move."

Namjoon hummed, waiting.

"...He... said something to me."

Straightening up, Namjoon grabbed his pen again and pressed it into the white page.

"What was it?"

Minho pursed his lips, sighed once more. Cringed at his own words.

"He... he said," he gulped, "that- that I'm already ugly but he's going to fuck me up so bad my own mother won't recognize me."

Silence.

The nurse coughed into her hand.

Namjoon just hummed again, trying to hold back, trying so hard not to laugh, but a snort escaped him anyway, his lips curling into a smile while he wrote the words down.

"Jin really enjoyed fucking with you, huh?"

Minho frowned, his face flooding with heat, his hands curling into fists.

"Do you think this is funny?! How dare you sit here and-" he paused abruptly, the rest of his outburst forming into a big knot in his throat.

How did the psychiatrist know Jin's name?

Namjoon set his notebook and pen down, looking up at Minho.

"Don't worry," he murmured. "I promise he's not going to hurt you."

Minho leaned back into the bedframe, trying to sink into it as the man stood up. His aura did not seem so gentle anymore, but rather intimidating as he stalked over to him, disturbingly so.

His head momentarily snapped up to the nurse. She gave him a grin so crooked and strange it made his heart sink.

"Where the hell am I?" He whispered. "I thought this was a mental hospital."

"It was," Namjoon nodded, taking a seat beside him. "Many years ago."

As soon as he was closer, Minho froze, unable to move. A horrible thought occurred to him.

"Did I die?"

Namjoon tsked.

"Of course not. How would that be any fun?"

His hand reached out towards Minho, unusually cold knuckles brushing his cheek, making him flinch.

"I wouldn't be able to hurt you much if we were both dead, would I?"

The room seemed to darken somehow, its shape distorting with dim, sickly green flashes and black shadows. The logical part of him wanted to ask if he was drugged, but deep down, he knew the truth was much worse. His hands trembled violently, a cold, dark feeling spreading through his veins, rendering him weak. He was starting to grow dizzy.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He mumbled hoarsely through dry, shaking lips.

Namjoon bent over to the chair and grabbed his notebook, flipping through the pages. His image was becoming blurry, his voice an odd echo.

"Oh, let me see. Jin noted it all down here."

He settled on a random page.

"You're a liar," he listed, "you always forget your mum's birthday... Oh my, you're a republican as well."

Minho blinked, trying to keep himself afloat, too terrified of what he would wake up to if he fainted.

Namjoon's dark, amused eyes turned towards him, his deep voice eerily calm.

"What do you think you did wrong? Hm? You took his girlfriend, and then you cheated on her as well. Repeatedly. That's not nice, Minho."

He patted his shoulder.

"Sleep well, my friend. I've been so very bored, and I want to have fun with you. I'll see you when you wake up."

Minho shook his head, like he could protest against the workings of his own body, of what was happening around him. But there was only so much distress his pounding heart could handle before it gave out altogether. White as a sheet, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fainted.

The last thing he saw before the darkness took him into her arms, like a mother cradling her child, was Namjoon's chilly smile.

Reported missing two days after the accident, his case remained unsolved.

💌 taglist: @wonyuknow @imnotlauriane @bucketofhiros @baalsgurl1913 @silv3rswirls @osakis-gf @iceprincessviviane

[kun3ho141]

This image does not belong to me. All credit is due to its respective owner.

Inspiration: Call of Duty: Ghosts

Pairing: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following your passing in the midst of the Federation War, Hesh immerses himself in your belongings, fully aware that your memory will eventually diminish.

Word-Count: 225

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Suicide

☆ Reblog, Comment, and Like ☆

I do not permit others to translate or republish my works on this platform or any other A.I. program.

A/N: I’m so sorry I haven’t been updating my blog!! I’ve been so busy this past month and haven’t had the time to write.

This isn’t the best, but I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it. Thank you for reading!! ♡

If you were to pass away, Hesh would study every detail, every expression, every word you spoke, desperate to etch them into his memory forever.

—

He isolates himself from the outside world, finding solace in the reminiscence of your presence. He leaves his own barrack to spend hours in yours, surrounded by your possessions, attempting to recreate the sensation of your being. He converses with you as if you were still there, sharing his deepest fears and regrets.

He becomes a mere shell of his former self, his once strong and confident demeanor replaced by a haunting emptiness. His brother and father attempt to console him, offering their support and understanding, but he pushes them away. 

He cannot fathom the thought of anyone else occupying the space that was once yours.

However, deep down, Hesh is aware that memories fade, and he dreads the day when he will no longer recall the sound of your laughter or the warmth of your touch. He envelops himself in your bedding, sobbing as he desperately tries to retain your scent that gradually fades. He writes countless letters to you, pouring his heart onto paper, hoping that somehow, his words will reach you in the afterlife.  

—

Now, he reaches for the gun resting on your nightstand.  

"I’m almost there, my love. Just a little longer."

[tabithatwo]

i'm so deep in my lottielee feelings since the start of season two. i loved them before but it's just...there's something about SEEING lottie NOW as an adult in the present timeline. so i guess my REAL favorite ship trope is middle aged woman forever bound to her childhood love?? but like, not just a childhood love. her everything. her fated. her bashert. the girl who, even if she HAD lived, would've grown into a woman who haunted her, had she ever strayed from her. but she didn't live. she's a ghost. she's a memory. she's there and she's not. she's everything and nothing, obliterated by fire (then water or teeth until nothing was left). so now she's the lost love. the forever love. the can't get her out of your mind love and WHY would you even TRY to get her out of your mind because she is your solace and salvation and soul. she's dead. you killed her. or you didn't save her. it's all the same, what do semantics matter when she's gone. and none of it is even near the realm of normal (but even if it HAD been, this love would've undone you so completely, because it was always a spiritual love, a binding love, a scary love, a supernatural love). but even more so now, because it's not in the realm of normal. it's in the realm of spirit and trauma and gods and monsters and angels and warped reality and twisted fates. so you try to do things. you fuck people and you start cults and you threaten men and you blackmail and you live outlandishly, because really, you've been dead ever since she died. except she's not fully dead. and you're so much painfully closer to life than death, even if you aren't truly alive. so this body you have has to keep going. you've got one hand in the afterlife and she's got one hand in the mortal world that you're stuck in, and every once in a while your fingers brush and those moments are everything to you. the best and the worst. maybe you can join her one day, if you're lucky. but your faith and your belief have always been unsteady, ebbing and flowing and revolving around her (or her memory) like a compass whose north changes on her whim (or what you imagine her whim to be). so you can't be sure. if one thing is certain, though, it's that she deserves heaven and most days you think you deserve hell. hell is all you've known on earth, why would you know different in death? so maybe it's nothing or maybe it's fire, but you can't let yourself believe for one SECOND that she is burning, because she's burned enough as it is. so yeah. i guess that's the sort of tragic love story i'm firmly seated for.

in other words, what the FUCK is wrong with me that THIS is my romantic trope of all time, THE love, THE pairing, THE blueprint that drives me insane?? it's so bleak over here, send help??

[vivantesopales]

so i made a tomarry rec list to convert my mutuals🍷

or: 10 fics i adore and the potion ingredients they taste of

What He Grows To Be | M, 260k | @k-s-morgan

A story of trust, remorse and the darker aspects of love. It is premised on one of the most beloved tomarry tropes – 'Harry time travels back to raise Tom' – and so Tom is given the chance to unlearn his frankly disastrous sense of entitlement and ultimately, to be reshaped by empathy and forgiveness. WHGTB is the perfect fic to get into tomarry if you're not quite sure what to expect from this ship, still wondering what their dynamic might look like, etc.

love is touching souls (surely you touched mine) | M, 34k | @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger

An accident takes Harry back to the winter of 1945, where he immediately captures the interest of a fresh-out-of-Hogwarts, not-yet-beyond-saving Tom. Their dynamic is deliciously intense from the start, with Harry being his usual sassy, dorky self that leaves Tom equally infuriated and intrigued. And Tom's arc, likewise, is beautifully crafted. Conversations about redemption, about remorse, are layered, thoughtful. Expect hurt/comfort, domestic softness, a devastating cliffhanger and an ending that will gently put you back together like a forehead kiss.

As Is The Father, So Is The Son | E, 4.5k | @this-is-your-heichou-speaking

An a/b/o royalty AU in which Tom (the Prince) is practically obsessed with Harry, who happens to be an omega boy from his father’s harem. This is undoubtedly one of the hottest smuts I’ve ever read, featuring lush prose, unapologetic, dub-con/non-con elements and an interesting take on “dark slutty Harry”. tl;dr: mind the tags; stay hydrated 💦🍆

breaking in through open doors | T, 1.4k | Brooding_Aunt

A unique, haunting read that is perfect for spooky seasons. Horror masterpiece. Goosebumps guaranteed. I won’t spoiler much but I urge you to give emo girl Harry a go (it makes a terrifying lot of sense in the context of the storytelling, I swear), and let her narrative haunt you.

Thirst | E, 27k | @obsidianpen

(Sexy) mind games with Horcrux!Tom …. Will he be motivated enough to let Harry out of the Lestrange Vault before Voldemort arrives? Another dark, chilling fic in which both Harry and Tom have their own weaknesses that the other seeks to explore, and hopefully to take advantage of, as they grapple for survival.

Memento Mori | E, 49k | @purplewitch156

Every time Harry dies, instead of boarding the train that will take him to the Afterlife, to his family, he chooses to return to the living world with Tom, who is unable go on. Four Lives, two idiots, one love story. There’s humour, there’s action, heartwarming moments and heartbreaking ones … basically, be prepared for all the feels that will take forever to recover from.

Wake From a Dream | T, 2.6k | @duplicitywrites

Cats and domestic tomarry (I am so ridiculously weak for this). Duplicity’s writing is gorgeous in that, within a smallish word count, we are given a glimpse of something profound, something vulnerable, subtly tucked into the lovely little interactions and the intimacy Harry and Tom share.

Hmm | G, 6.4k | Wolven_Spirits

‘Harry is a hummingbird animagus. Tom opens a flower shop just to attract his attention.’ That’s the fic summary – need I say more🥺?? There’s something so gentle and evocative (but also undeniably Slytherin) about Tom’s decision to devote himself to his flowers, to creating a safe space for Harry. Florist!Tom supremacy, is what I’m saying.

Man Down | T, 5k | @classlesstulip

It’s tagged as Mafia AU, but in all honesty this fic is, I must say, ‘Ghibli in gangster’s suit’ (affectionate). It’s hilarious (I genuinely laughed out loud quite a few times throughout the story), super adorable, and everything that makes a lovely pick-me-up fic.

What Happens In Vegas | E, 14k | @dividawrites

Sexy, decadent and intrinsically tomarry, this fic became an instant fave a few paragraphs in. Tom is super chaotic and his characterisation is perhaps one of the best I’ve ever read. Featuring a delicious age difference, thirsty brat Harry, DADA Professor Riddle (yes please) and size kink hello🥵 – all that executed through Divida’s sharp, witty writer’s voice! Really, Vegas is the ultimate dream.

[house-strong]

— TWO BIRDS, one stone ʾ ⋆

summary ; requested by anon.

“Hello, could you write about Daemon x Fem! Reader? Could you base it on Two Birds by Regina Spektor? Daemon and the reader are friends and little by little they fall in love, but the reader has always been in delicate health and little by little he dies, but not before getting in a relationship with Daemon. I'm looking forward to reading something sad and sweet. Thanks 🥺”

pairing ; friends-to-lovers!daemon targaryen x frail!reader

notes ; i listened to the song while thinking about this imagine and omg?? the parallels,, the symbolism,, regina is a genius

two birds on a wire, one tries to fly away,

and the other watches him close, from that wire.

he says he wants to as well,

but he is a liar.

daemon targaryen has always been a man with a boys heart. eager to be on some new, wild adventure, to swing his sword and play at war to defend his family, or even explore the wonders of the great world. whatever it was, daemon made it known that he would accomplish those and so much more.

he often told you stories about what he had learned from brothel keepers, ship stewards, and merchant traders. he always said that he would keep you by his side forever, even going as far to even haunt you in what ever afterlife their was. you supposed, in his own way, it was a sweet gesture.

that was some twelve years ago when you were both children.

now, daemon was a grown man. battle-hardened and still eager to explore, he had always asked if you were interested still in exploring the world with him. now that he had his dragon mount caraxes, it would make traveling safer and shorter. you’ve always remain loyal and steadfast to him, offering him council when he complained about his older brother.

your answer had always been yes to his questions about traveling the world with him. with bright, eccentric ideas, you knew daemon was meant for something greater than being the commander of the city watch. yes, it was something to ease his mind and be his plaything for now, but you knew he would always get bored. perhaps you should’ve voiced your concern about leaving kings landing before you agreed to travel with him.

that was before a sickness like no other took hold of your body, leaving you weaker by the day.

i’ll believe it all,

there’s nothing i won’t understand,

i’ll believe it all,

i wont let go of your hand

“would you fly across the world with me, to the ends of the earth?” daemon asked you one night. this was after he had an argument with his brother of over his.. activities concerning the city watch and his rather boastful announcement of his nephews demise.

daemon was your bestfriend, so the next words that leave your mouth are out of pure love for him, “i would.”

this seems to quell the lingering ache in his heart as he leans forward and gently rests his forehead against your shoulder. you bring your arm up to comfort him, drawing lazy shapes into his clothing in attempt to help soothe him.

there’s a moment of silence that passes between you two. he pulls away only a fraction, his eyes searching yours. his are full of softness and devotion – one that he doesn’t share willingly to others. you smile and do your best to contain a cough. you raise a hand to cup his cheek, thumb gently caressing his skin.

in the smallest voice he could muster, he says, “i love you.”

two birds on a wire,

one says come on,

and the other says i’m tired,

“daemon,” you say in a voice that’s full of warning, “i’m tired.”

you’re breathless at this point. your lungs are screaming for proper air flow and your legs are starting to ache with a radiating pain.

he huffs, long legs easily carrying him up the steps of the tower, “we’re almost there, just a few more steps.”

you stop for a moment, hand flying towards the stone wall as your attempt to steady yourself and quell the fire that’s burning in your lungs. you take a few deep breaths, desperate to stop the burning sensation. you close your eyes and lean into the wall, taking a moment for yourself. it’s only then that daemon returns to you, his brows furrowed.

“are you alright?”

the energy of your youth was slowly dissipating and it was starting to become obvious to yourself and those around you. however, you’ve tried your best to conceal your predicament from daemon. the last thing you needed was a hellbent daemon trying to be desperate to find something, anything, that would help you.

there’s a shaky exhale that leaves you, “yeah– yes, i’m alright.”

he extends his hand out to you and your take it, allowing him to help guide you up the steps at a slower pace than what he was going before.”

“are you sure you’re alright?”

“yes, i am.”

the sky is overcast

and i’m sorry,

one more or one less

nobody’s worried

“let’s leave tonight,” daemon says one night while you’re sharing a bed. your head is on his chest, your hand splayed on his lower abdomen. you feel a pang in your chest, how much longer could you evade daemon and his suggestions?

you so desperately want to live this fairy tale life with him: explore the world, leave the safety of kings landing, and do whatever they want without the leave of a king. you wanted to share his excitement and thrill of being young and eager to learn new things. but alas, that was not the fate the seven had decided for you.

“daemon,” you say slowly, tilting your head slightly up to look at him through your lashes, “you said we’d stay for rhaenyra’s wedding.”

daemon tuts and begins playing with the sheets that covered his lower half, “i have no desire to be apart of that fest, no doubt it’s going to be dull.”

“she’s your niece, daemon.”

he looks down at you, eyes scanning your face, “i don’t care for her, i desire to be with you,” he turns his head away, “in essos.”

you bit your lip, gently nipping on the skin until it becomes warm and plump.

“i want to stay.”

daemon sighs, but after a moment, “alright.”

two birds of a feather, say that they’re always,

gonna stay together, but ones never goin’

to let go of that wire

daemon had spent days in your room when your sickness began to become more obvious, leaving you bedridden. he would bring things that he knew you would both enjoy, oftentimes that would valyrian books and scrolls that depicted the great age of valyria and it’s many successes. he’d recite these for you in both english and valyrian. there was something about the way his voice dropped an octave when speaking in his mother-tongue that you loved.

“how long until you’re feeling better?” he asks, the book he was reading becoming forgotten. he closes it and rests one of his hands on it as he turns his attention to you.

your move your head to better look at him, a shrug moving your shoulders slightly. even this small action is enough to cause pain, “the maester said–”

“forget about the bloody maester, what do you think?”

you blink at his interruption, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and slowly gnawing on it. you hated this–the lying and going behind his back to find care from a maester without his knowledge. you hated the impending doom and you hated not knowing when your day would be your last.

but instead you smile, your hand twitching as you try to reach out for him, “soon, daemon. soon.”

he shifts the chair closer and takes your hand in his. he notes that it’s cold and lifeless compared to his warm hand. daemon tries to smile.

“good. i need you by my side when i do my travels.”

two birds on a wire

one tries to fly away

and the other..

daemon knows at this point and some part of him wants to believe that it’s not too late.

he’s the farthest thing from a pious man, but he had begged the gods of the old and new for more time to be shared with you. he told them that it was too much–that they were being greedy. but one can’t make demands of a god and expect a turn in a fate.

“we should have run away,” he says in a low voice. he’s by your bed, ears tuned in to sound of the low, shaky breaths that drew in and out your mouth. he’s afraid that if he speaks too high, you’ll break, and if he leaves the room, you’ll find peace without him by your side. “maybe we would have outrun your fate.”

the hand he’s holding twitches in his hold, something that makes him give a sad, lopsided smile. he’s surveying you now, eyes gently trailing over your pale body and the purple hue of your lips. your throat bobs up and down with struggled swallows and it’s the only sign of life on your otherwise still body.

“i’ll take you with me,” he continues, his thumb gently rubbing up and down your hand. “this won’t be the end for us.”

daemon feels a sense of regret fill every fiber of his being. he wants to travel back in time, rewind the clock, and berate at his younger self. he wants to tel his younger self to take what is his and maybe, just maybe, you two could’ve been happier earlier.

daemon feels the sadness beginning to well inside him as he hears you take a long inhale. he winces at the sound.

“it’s time to go, isn’t it?”

daemons feels your fingers squeeze his, the action barely noticeable but to him, to him it was everything.

“i’ll see you soon, my love.”

in between bleary blinks, daemon watches your chest rise and fall with a final breath.

[mononijikayu]

kayu's playlist, side 400;

It wasn't as though we never loved each other at all. It just, sometimes.....it's not meant to be. Sometimes it is. And perhaps, that's all that comes with sweet, sad, sing-along songs. Sometimes, that's all that's meant for two people who love each other.

hello, this is kayu!!! first of all, thank you so much for your ardent support and love for my little writings here and there. to think there's four-hundred of you guys following me is kind of crazy. i only started doing fanfic for fun, so i'm very happy that you enjoy it with me too. i write most of these in between my busy life, and it's a relief to me in some way, i destress when writing. i hope that in a way, i do that for you too. i'm writing three stories as a thanks for your support. as it may be obvious, i write stories based on songs i really like at the time or just feel emotionally wrought by. so, these are three short stories that i present as a gift. they'll drop within the next few days, little by little. so please look forward to them!!! i love you all!!! xoxoxoxo

t r a c k o n e ; happy together ─ geto suguru and gojo satoru.

there really isn't much to be done now, it seems. as the realization of your passing settles in, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a gentle rub of the back of your head. the irony of finding yourself in an airport at this moment doesn't escape you; it's almost as if god has a penchant for whimsy in the afterlife. taking a seat on one of the airport benches, you purse your lips in contemplation. you know you'll be waiting here for a while, and oddly enough, that's what you find solace in. suguru and satoru, together. you believe they'll be alright; those two were destined for long, fulfilling lives. at least, that's what you hope for. after all, jujutsu sorcerers aren't typically associated with the concept of 'forever'.

t r a c k t w o ; night flower─ ryomen sukuna.

as he gazes at the statue, the resemblance to your visage is striking, almost intimidating. you had a way of lingering in his thoughts, even after two thousand years had passed, remaining a haunting presence he couldn't shake. strangely, he finds comfort in your ghostly presence; he doesn't want to escape you, if he's honest with himself. his hands reach out tentatively, mirroring the tenderness you once possessed as they brush against the cold stone. it lacks your warmth, yet he tries to conjure the memory of it, knowing your warmth was synonymous with life itself. it's a challenge to forget you; you were unforgettable. he acknowledges that as a man like him, he has no right to mourn—he's no longer truly human. but with you, it's different; you transcended mere humanity. you were his world, his curse, and the ache of longing for you remains.

t r a c k t h r e e ; only fools ─ fushiguro toji.

in the quiet depths of his thoughts, fushiguro toji often finds himself contemplating the bittersweet truth of your relationship. to him, you were like the sun—bright, radiant, and unattainable. and he? he was but a mere moon, destined to orbit around you, never truly belonging to your world. yet, despite the inevitable distance that separated you, his love for you burns steadfastly, unwavering in its intensity. when he made the decision to depart from the zenin clan, he understood that it meant leaving behind any chance of ever crossing paths with you again. still, the memory of you lingers like a haunting melody, weaving its way into the fabric of his existence. though you may never belong to each other, he carries you in his heart, a cherished remnant of a love that was never meant to be.

[642spaghettiprincess]

For sheer randomness and boredom

A gift for @bumblehoneybee

Rage quit 

💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥

Sleeping away, sleeping in a world of nightmares. Nothing but anguish and torment. 

Agony. 

            Pain. 

                     Sorrows. 

                                   Tragedy. 

All of it.

No matter how much you want to escape from it, you won't wake up from this dream. Thicker than a coma. A fate worse than death. 

Constantly wondering when these deadly nightmares are gonna end. No matter how much you want to quit trying, you're never ready for the horrors that lie ahead in the next visions that you see before yourself.

 

You're almost an adult. You should be able to handle these false memories, yet they haunt you forever.

 Always waking up crying and afraid of sleep. Needing a light and plushed guard by your side, yet your tiny savior always disappears, alonging with your torch. 

Nobody to depend on. Yet, this time was different.. the sound of a melody.. something so peaceful, and the smell of vanilla.. not being able to see nor feel your surroundings, just stuck in a cocoon of comfort. 

This was too good to be true. Every good dream has a bad ending. Within seconds, your eyes blinked and noticed your surroundings.. in the arms of something so.. soft and big. 

Looking up, to see a friendly smile.. yet so creepy at the same time. Reminds you of the countless teddies that you kept company every night. 

Stroking you and cooing you in a low grumbly voice.. like the father that left you eons ago for milk.. no matter how old you really were, the inner child that seemed to be shredded to pieces still remained intact from all the horrors. 

Shaking, weeping, sobbing, bleeding, came out as adrenaline died down. The giant, orange protector, stroked, cooed, muttered, and sang a melody with a scratchy voice box. 

You never have been here before, let alone in the presence of this majestic protector. Even though the whole room smelt like decay and death, there was still life.. 

Within moments, came the grooming color of purple.. fearful, you remained in the protection of your savior. But so did the giant, purple monster, curling up beside you. 

It didn't talk, yet, it too just wanted to be protected. “Shhhhhh… my sweet children.. soon we will all be together again…” This felt familiar.. but why? Within moments.  

Beep…. Beep…. Beep.. 

“My child.. I do not have much time left.. however.. I do have one last message for you..” The giant pup rang out. 

Clinging on to it, “Stay…” was all you said. 

Beep… beep.. beep.. 

“You need to wake up!!” They panicked. “Tired…” you rang out. 

Too tired to even care about the worried look on the purple cat as well. 

BEEP… 

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep…

Was all it rang out.. one last time. No more suffering. “NO!! NO!!!!!!” 

The orange dog panicked. 

Now, you three.. alone in a cold void.. no more pain.. no more suffering. No more worrying about the cold anymore. You were happy where you were. 

“Why?? Why did you stay?!” The dog whined. “Why would I? I'm home again!” You rang out. 

Red gas filled the room… something you have seen thousands of times. Even the feeling of being numb biting at you. The only thing warm in this room smelt like ashes. Ashes of what was left of you. 

Afterall, you were all back together again. One broken family burning into an afterlife of new possibilities. 

Catnap, of what was your missing brother, and your missing father..that corpse that rotted inside of Dogday.. the two, you have been searching for, for ten years.. now will go cold and unsolved.  

Afterall, you were the one to let their souls free.. yet you failed at the same time.. Never getting the closure of where your family went.

 Yet, that doesn’t matter. Afterall, they remembered who you were. That's all that matters now. 

No more resets. No more progress into the game. Not even those messages rang out to you anymore. 

Dead you might think and feel…it's just a long hibernation you all will be in. 

Yet, you doubt you ever will go through that pain again. 

It's just a matter of time before the player decides to restart the timeline, and rage quits again. 

Something none of you will ever understand.. it's just a bad dream.. a bad one that will hopefully never come again…