How would fae!Ghost react if Darling somehow got away? Like once in a million chance and left. How would Ghost react? What would he do? How would he feel?
Darling likes leaves the town and moves like to the other side of the world because of how frightened Darling is.
This is extra but how would Ghost react if he knew Darling left him for another human friend/almost boyfriend of Darlings? Same thing, Darling left to the other side of the world to be away from Ghost and to see their boyfriend.
Oh! How would he feel if Darling left him for another fae, possibly one as old or more powerful than Ghost? I'm thinking Price maybe! Oh, course, it's up to you for whatever you want to do with this, but the main thing is Darling leaves/escapes Ghost.
Lovely writing and I can't wait to see more! Good wishes <3
You are trying to get this woman killed...
It would be incredibly hard to get away from Ghost in the early days of the relationship but where Love and Ghost are with their relationship now it would be impossible. Love can run but she can't hide. But let's say she did run in the early days, before she was love. If she decided that Ghost was too much for her to handle and she needed an out I think she could find one but it would hurt a lot.
I do not consider this to be a Love story, it is pure x reader because I trust you all are smart enough to run from the fae...
The fae that burns Simon's mark off of you and rips half the tangled tethers from you is not what you would describe as kind. He seems angry, it feels personal. It hurts more than you expected. You think he hopes it kills you when he rips them out. You certainly feel like you're dying.
It happens quickly. The burn and then the tear. He says it has to happen like this so Simon can't get to you in time, you don't know enough to say he's wrong, but the way he looks at you draws you back to thinking this is a personal pain for him.
"I have a friend," he tells you, "She'll get you somewhere safe." But what you think he means is that she'll keep tabs on you. Ensure that you're somewhere this fae can reach you for payment. This is a serious debt you've incurred and if there's anything you've learned about names its that "Price" must be a threat as well as a nickname.
You think of Ghost, of the mask and the insidious magic he worked on you without regard for your feelings. The ways he kept you docile and stupid, never knowing whether it was him making you forget or if you were truly losing it. The thought that it might be your mind failing you still hadn't left.
He was always so kind, but it was an act, specialized to trap you. Whatever he wanted with you, he'd shown himself one too many times, chased you too hard, tapped you until you felt like you were losing yourself to him.
Your skin is quiet as you follow Price through his home, through the strange door that leads to a silent snowy landscape. The warmth of summer is long gone here. Harsh reality has taken its place. It's strange how you can feel disquieted by normal. Ghost's shadow had never truly settled in you. You'd been holding on too tightly to your freedom you suppose.
You have your name back, at least, as you trudge through the snow, following your silent companion. Well, you suppose Price has your name now too, debts and all that. He turns a hard right and the trees start to slowly regain their color, the snow giving way to green grass and clover.
"Any life you create with the freedom I've given you is mine." Price explains, you nod like you understand. It sounds like a big ask, you don't really have the wiggle room to haggle. You don't really understand how all these debts work, which is exactly how you ended up in this situation.
"Who's your friend?" You switch topics, not wanting to discuss the finer details of your deal with the devil.
"You can trust her." That isn't what you asked, but you suppose it's as good as you'll get.
"She got a name?"
"Laswell."
"Is it her name?"
"Is now." Price hums, his hand slides along your back and guides you forward. You haven't been walking long but your feet feel like they're starting to blister as you hit some perimeter and pass through.
You're steered towards another door, a small fenced garden with a gate overgrown with vines. Price raps his knuckles against the wall and waits.
You don't know this man well enough to make conversation, and he doesn't seem to like you besides, so silence lapses. You both watch the wooden door in the other side of the garden, the one attached to the neat brick house. It opens after what feels like a long moment, a woman in a sleek ponytail stares at the two of you before crossing the distance.
"What's this?" She asks Price, all but ignoring you.
"Ghost's new ex."
-
Laswell is nice. Nice enough at least. You think she sort of... resents having to look after you. The check-ins feel forced, cold, they're a chore that you don't think either of you want to deal with.
For freedom from one fae you sure feel imprisoned by another. How you're supposed to build a life out of this you don't know. It doesn't feel like anything anyone would want as payment, fae or no. Your world consists of your work and your home. Your isolation follows you like a specter of your relationship with Ghost. The tethers that are left make you feel cold, there's deep empty hole in your soul where the tethers were ripped free and you hope every day to find something to fill it. You feel hollow. You thought you'd feel better, you have your freedom, Price hasn't come looking for payment, what more could you want?
You find yourself thinking of your boogeyman. The way he touched you, the way he talked to you, you think of the fear as often as you think of the infatuation. You hesitate to call it love. You don't know if Ghost knows how to love someone. You think about it though, in the wee hours of the morning. You think about how badly you both wanted it to be love.
Price assured you, you'd be safe. Laswell assured you, you are safe. Even the tethers still tying you to Ghost have no pull if he doesn't know where you are. But you'd know Simon blind.
You know as soon as he sets foot in the little Cafe, you don't even have to look up from filling the order. His presence in the doorway draws stares from the other custoners, something you never saw him deal with when you were together. When you look at him it's like you never left. His eyes burn into yours, and your heart clenches, the pathetic leftover tethers giving their best effort at lighting up. He looks bad, worn, like he's been wrung out and left to dry.
You tell your coworker you're taking a break and go to call Laswell. It's all you can think to do. You already know the room when you open the back room door. The hard wood floors and velvet drapes so out of place. An invitation. You close the door, and Ghost's hand closes over yours on the handle. His forehead drops against your shoulder, you wonder when the last time he slept was.
"You left," he tells you, as if you don't already know. He doesn't sound anything, you'd almost hoped he'd be angry if he ever found you. This is so much worse.
"I had to," you whisper, "you would've killed me."
"I'll get it right this time," you press your forehead to the backroom door, and squeeze your eyes shut, "I promise."
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i turn 29 on july 1st. i feel like i make a lot of these notes to myself, to check in. hi, me, here's what's happening.
hi, me. hi, you, too, if you keep reading. here's some rules i have been following:
when a book is bad, i put the book down. i choose something i like instead. when i don't like a movie, i don't make myself watch until the end. i care less and less what people think about me and focus more on being a good friend.
for the 6 months or so, i've been asking people what they think should be my next book or tv show. i ask them where i should go on a walk next week. i ask them what food i should try next, what hobby. and then i write it down in front of them.
the truth is some stuff slips through the cracks. but most of the time? within two weeks, i get to send my favorite kind of text - so i tried the thing you were talking about and !
i have a new policy for split-second choices - it's better to try it. i have social anxiety. i have to talk myself into doing many things. i am constantly battling the desire to run away as far as my feet will take me. and then i stand up and i do the thing anyway. i make myself act and dance and sing. sometimes, yes, i know-immediately never again, i hate this. but most of the time - i just have fun with it.
i have a new mantra - nobody is scorekeeping. at the end of my life, there will be no grand reading of how many calories i'd been eating. no reviews on how many boring documentaries i forced myself through, no calculation on how many hours i endured an extremely dull educational podcast. and so what if i try karaoke and i don't actually nail it? so what if i stumble over my words while trying to make a public announcement? so what if i wear something too-showy to go to the grocery store? nobody there knows me, and: nobody's keeping score.
life doesn't resolve with a grade (i know, i was as shocked as everyone else when i realized it). i am not falling behind, because there's no curriculum to life that i should be following. there are no checkpoints; nobody is making sure i have a fully-furnished life resume. i am just here for as long as the earth will have me, and i get to decide what makes me happy.
i don't have a partner or a house or anything that is supposed to belong to people-my-age. i spend most of my time focusing on being kind, compassionate, ready to listen without restraint.
and honestly? i feel good. like actually. i kind of like it this way.
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