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#ghost reader
strawberry-fic8 months ago
wilbur soot with an s/o who blows up L'manberg and becomes a ghost headcanons
wilbur soot x gn!reader | in game
warnings: mentions of death, deceased reader, a few swears, a smidge of angst
a/n: ghost readerrr yeah!
requested by this anon :)
wilbur tried to stop Y/n, he really did. he didn't want this to fall on their shoulders, all he wanted was for them to be safe. but when they pushed the button, everything changed.
after begging wilbur to kill them, they lose their last life, and come back a few days later as a ghost. it shocks everyone, but mostly wilbur
it's not that he's unhappy to see you, he just...needs some time to get used to it
"you look like them, and sound like them,'re not them, are you. pieces of you are missing."
"y-yeah...i'm sorry..."
as soon as you apologise, wilbur feels bad. that sad expression breaks his heart
"no- i just meant...fuck, let's start over. it's nice to meet you, ghost-y/n. remember me?"
you explain that you only remember happy happy things, so of course you remember him. he made you so happy, how could you ever forget?
wilbur tears up a bit so you try and make him feel better
"take this! it'll make you feel better."
you hand him some yellow. it's a little bottle of yellow dye
despite being confused, he accepts the strange gift. he pockets it, and keeps it on him for good luck
you kinda just hang around wilbur, floating around and keeping him company
sometimes you ask him about the past, but then deicde you don't want to know. ignorance is bliss, after all.
"c-can you tell me about y/n? what were they like?"
"a-actually i don't want to know, i'm sorry...i'm sorry."
"it's okay. you don't have to worry about them. we can talk about this another time."
you start to grow on him, and even though you know you won't live up to alive Y/n, you try and make him happy, just like alive Y/n did
you don't just stick around wilbur, though, everyone is acquainted with you. they're still a little...weary of you, you did blow up L'manberg after all. but you have no memory of it, so can you really be held accountable for it?
wilbur, surprisingly, actually becomes quite fond of you. you are, after all, the only thing he has left of y/n. and you're all their good parts, too, their kindness, their humour, their loving nature. of course he misses y/n, despite their imperfections, but you aren't a bad substitute
the others start to trust you when you give out yellow, they see how nice you actually are. soon enough, everyone has little bottles of yellow, you hand it out to anyone who needs it
"phil, take some yellow. i know i can't make up for whatever y/n did, but...this will make you feel better."
"thanks, ghost-y/n. you''re a good person."
little snippets of memories start returning, and they, understandably, start to really upset you
"wilbur killed me because of something i did...but what did i do? i just...can't...remember..."
"hey, hey, it's okay." wilbur tries to console you. "y/n...was complicated. they only did what they thought was right. they weren't a bad person, they were just...lost."
"they sound like a bad person to me." you grumble without thinking
"my y/n was not a bad person. don't ever fucking say that."
wilbur is very conflicted because both alive-y/n and ghost-y/n are different faucets of y/n as a person but you were so...different to the y/n he knew and loved, you were only their 'good parts' but, as he soon realised, with your own imperfections too
but he loved y/n, dead or alive. he just hoped that wherever the rest of you was, the part that destroyed L'manberg and caused a war, was doing okay, and had finally found peace
one day, while picking yellow flowers on the outskirts of L'manberg, Wilbur asks why yellow was your colour of choice
"Your jumper, silly. It's the colour that makes me the happiest because it's the colour you wear."
wilbur is literally in shock, and without thinking, goes and hugs you tightly. it feels odd, you're there but you sort of aren't, but you hug him back as best you can
"i love you, wilbur. and i don't think i ever said it but...i'm sorry that you lost y/n. i know how much they meant to you."
you didn't expect him to say it back, of course you didn't. wilbur smiled into your neck, and squeezed you tightly.
"i love you too, ghost-y/n."
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angel-anoetic5 months ago
c!JackManifold x gn!Reader - Spiritual
Genre: Angst, sad, /rom
Warnings: Mentioned character death, sad
Anon asked: first of all YESSSSSS i dont see enough jack manifold on here he is so S tier. secondly, can i just request angsty stuff with jack having an s/o but they pass away during the manburg war. then later on when jack comes back from death and starts his villain arc they just show up out of nowhere as a ghost, like ghostbur but they show up way later then he did. the only person they can remember is jack. basically jack with a ghost s/o.
Hello!! I completely agree. I started writing these bc I could not find anything on some of the members!! I'm on an angst arc so you are in luck. I wrote this loosely based on information I got from the Dream SMP wiki, so not too accurate but not too bad. Here it is, I hope you enjoy <3
"Jack! Don't let them get away, Wilbur's orders!" You yelled before taking off after the duo going into the woods.
"Y/N! Be careful, you're at risk, remember!" You ignored him, focusing on Sapanp; Dream had split off, likely to lead Jack in another direction.
You were tired of it. Tired of all the crap that Dream and Pogtopia had put you and Jack through. This was your time to get revenge. Eventually, Sapnap was trapped against a large mountain, you staring him down, his chances of escape slim.
"I've been waiting for this." You sneered at him. There was a glint in his eye, then a sharp pain in the back of your head. You hit the ground with a grunt, the pain spreading through your body.
"Should've listened to Jack." Dream snickered. With two final swings, you were done for. The pain spread through you on a deeper level. This wasn't the same as losing your first and second lives; this was harsher, more painful. It wasn't just your life that was draining but also your soul tearing away from you.
"Y/N!" Jack fell beside you. Dream and Sapnap were long gone, nowhere to be seen. Jack held you against him, tears running down his cheeks.
"I'm so so sorry, love. This is all my fault." He sobbed out. You reached weakly to wipe his tear, cupping his cheek.
"Jack, this is not your fault, okay? Do you understand?" He nodded slowly.
"I have to go, but I love you, Jack Manifold. I love you for infinity."
He grabbed your hand, squeezing it close to his chest, whispering, "I love you Y/N, till the end of time." With that, you took your last breath, your eyes closed, and you disappeared from Jack's arms, leaving behind only your armor, a potion, and your ax. The yelp and screams he let out that day haunted the forest themselves. His person, gone.
[ Two years later ]
"Don't worry about it, we'll get him next time, alright?" Niki tried to comfort Jack. Their plan to finally get rid of Tommy had failed disastrously. Jack was pissed, fuming that something that had been so perfectly planned could go so wrong.
"I know, but we had it set up, how did it go so wrong? It doesn't make sense." Jack rubbed his head.
Niki stopped walking and faced him. "Look, it failed but that's alright because we are going to have way more chances to do what we really need to do. So stop whining and just think about the next plan, alright?"
Jack looked at her and smiled, nodding in response. Niki had been the most supportive one of Jack ever since your death. She had been the only one that could get him out of the woods and into Jack and your shared home. She had made sure he ate, slept, showered, basically mothered him just to make sure he didn't go too far. After the Doomsday War and Jacks' experience in Hell, they had only been brought closer due to their mutual hatred for Tommy and Dream. The two people Jack blamed ultimately for your death.
"I know. Thank you, Niki." They continued the trek to Jack's home, however, when it finally came into view, they hesitated.
The front door was open. Jack and Niki looked at each other.
"Who knows where you live?"
"No one. Only me, you, and..."
Niki nodded, "I'll take the front, you go 'round back." They went off.
Niki held her sword at her side, ready to swing at any sudden movement. As she walked into the house it seemed nothing had been too badly disturbed.
Then she heard it. A faint voice singing a soft song. It was coming from Jack's bedroom. Niki went up to the door, listening closely to see who could possibly be in the house. She couldn't help but think how it sounded just like you.
She pushed the door open, withdrew it, and held out against the intruder.
"Who-" She gasped and the sword clattered against the ground. You. It was actually you. You had less color, an almost gray tint surrounded you. But it was you. Niki knew that for sure.
"Who are you?" You looked at her confused.
"You-you don't recognize me?" Niki was hurt. You and she had been close. Then it dawned on her. It was Ghostbur all over again.
"Niki what happened? I heard the-" He stopped once her saw you.
"Jack!" Your voice echoed with excitement as you rushed towards him. He was almost knocked back by you, wrapping your arms around him. He tried to do the same, but he couldn't seem to grab you. His arms just went through your figure.
He looked to Niki, who was just as dumbfounded.
I'm definitely making a part two to this. Way more domestic stuff, I promise!
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clanwarrior-tumbly3 months ago
Anon here from the garcello x ghost s/o request
I thought of when garcello dies he just sees all other kinds of ghosts including his s/o 馃椏
Out of all the places in the were drawn to the legendary "Ghost McDonalds", as your fellow spirits called it.
It was the same as any McDonalds on earth, but no worker was underpaid and no customer was snobby or rude. It truly was paradise for anyone who walked--or floated--through its doors.
Time and time again, you'd come here to dine. It did feel quite lonely without, well, him around.
You felt bad that you had to leave him so soon...long before you were ready to go.
But you stopped visiting him for a bit, as every time you did..all you could see was him in grief. Always smoking the pain away and never talking to anyone. And when he didn't smoke, he'd lay in bed crying into the early hours of the morning, hugging the pillow that once belonged to you.
It wasn't wasn't fair at all.
Maybe he could feel your presence, and in turn made him feel even worse. was best to leave him alone for a while.
All you could hope was that he'd move on or find someone to love least find the help he needed.
But you doubted it.
"What can I get for you?"
"The usual. Thought you'd know me by now." You smiled as the cashier looked up and recognized you.
"Ah..of course I do, [y/n]." They input your order into the machine. Fortunately money was no issue in the afterlife, so they simply handed you the receipt after confirming your purchase.
After thanking them, you moved aside so the next person in line could pay.
"Yeah I'll get a large fry, large iced tea and McChicken."
You perked up at the voice, eyes widening as you saw their green and white ghostly form.
That voice, hair, and hat...
"Will that be all for you today, sir?"
"Yep, I'm-"
The man glanced over, confused at who called his name. But the moment his eyes met yours, he gawked in shock. "[Y/n]..?"
It was him.
He was here.
Garcello practically snatched the receipt as he floated over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. His face was snuggled into your neck, hiding the tears that soon overflowed. "I-I missed you.." He managed to mumble.
You smiled tearfully as well and held him close. "I missed you, too, Gar-man. Your...form is different from these other ghosts. H-How did you-?"
"I'll tell you everything once we eat..j-just..let me do this for a second.." He squeezed you tighter.
After the initial reunion, and shooing away the few ghosts who gathered in awe, you and Garcello got your meals and went to a table.
As you ate, he explained how he ended up here: a demon offered him money for exchange for killing a target with a cigarette embedded with magic.
But after seeing that said target had a whole life ahead of him, Garcello refused to go through with it. He smoked the cigarette, which infused him with its powers but ultimately killed him in the end, turning him into a ghost made of pure smoke.
You were stunned, though you smiled at his selfless act. He always did put others before himself.
"You and I..did have our own lives ahead of ourselves, but I guess it doesn't always work out."
He nodded as he munched on his McChicken. "Without you..I felt like I had nothin' left in life."
You frowned slightly. "..Gar-"
"It's true. Nothin' could've changed my mind."
Although you wanted to argue, you realized there was no point in that. Neither of you were going to return to earth, so why mourn over what you two could've been?
You just sighed. "Well, I can't be mad at you forever. You're stuck with me."
Garcello chuckled in response. "Yeah, wouldn't have it any other way. only wish is seein' how that little man's doing. Hope he's alright now."
"I'm sure he is...didn't you say he actually saw you? And you sang two more duets before that cigarette eventually snuffed you out?"
"Huh..interesting guy. What about his girlfriend?"
There was definitely a lot for you two to catch up on. But that was alright.
Now that you were both reunited in the afterlife, you had all the time in the world.
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elliotneedshelp3 months ago
howdy howdy howdy :D
tis missing ghostbur hours, so can i get some headcannons for Revived Wilbur, Ranboo, Technoblade, Eret and Tubbo with a s/o who died and came back as a ghost in a sort of Ghostbur fashion? Ghost Reader forgets easily, likes a certain color (maybe like yellow instead of blue or something), cant go out into rain, etc.
would anyone attempt to bring them back? would any of them try to distance themselves from Ghost Reader?
yours truly,
gremlin anon 鉁
Oh gremlin anon, you always hand over the good ideas!
I actually really enjoyed writing this one hehe 馃槉
Wilbur Soot (Revived)
- If he knew you as Ghostbur or Alivebur, he would try to do everything in his power to get Dream to revive you
- If he met you after Dream revived him, he acts a bit different. He talks about Dream all the time and will occasionally forget that you are, indeed, dead.
- You two would be walking and it would start raining and he'd be very confused as to why you're suddenly in pain
- He gets a few flashbacks if you give him yellow dye for the first time, and that's when he goes to Dream about reviving you
- You're the Eurydice to his Orpheus, just with a better turnout
- He, also someone with a bad memory, isn't bothered by you also having a bad memory. He just gets you a memory book too!
- He's very tall, and finds it funny if you float up to his height
- He doesn't really want to revive you, mostly because he wants to stay neutral, plus if he went to Dream, Tubbo and Tommy would never forgive him
- He also can't be in the rain for very long, so two aren't bothered by not being able to walk in it
- If you gave him yellow dye, he'd immediately always keep it in his inventory at all times
- He doesn't really notice it, but you join him when he's in his enderwalk state to make sure he stays safe and doesn't hurt anyone
- Technoblade, if you were together before you died, tries to distance himself from you at first
- And then realizes that he can't stand not having you around, even if you are different than you used to be
- He doesn't really have to protect you anymore, but he does help you with your memory
- He has no qualms about going to Dream to revive you.
- He wants you back, and the ghost you isn't the same. He doesn't accept the yellow dye at first, but eventually he hoards it.
- Eret feels conflicted about the scenario. On one hand, it is still you, but on the other hand, it's completely not you.
- He is caught between wanting to revive you and wanting you to be happy. And if being a ghost makes you happy, than so be it.
- Has a chest for yellow dye because you smile so brightly when you give it to him
- He doesn't mind the memory problems, he'll just gently remind you if you forget something
- If you two are out on a walk and it starts raining, he immediately builds you a small shelter and then works on connecting it to his castle so that you'll be safe
- Tubbo just wants you to be safe!
- If you feel happy as a ghost, so be it. If you weren't, he'd try to find a way other than Dream to revive you
- He calls you his sunshine because of the yellow dye 馃槉
- He asked you to join him and Ranboo in Snowchester because a.) Platonic husbands and b.) No rain!
- Plus you're closer to him and he appreciates it
- When Tommy comes back, he's happy again.
- He has his best friend, his platonic husband, his adopted son, and you. There's nothing more he could want
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katberk8 months ago
It is I! Bee boy! I was wondering if you could do some headcanons with tommy or tubbo where the reader is a ghost and kinda pops up randomly and gives them stuff! They also remember them dating because angst would break my heart- bee boy
馃尭Headcannons for a Ghost Reader~Tommy and Tubbo馃尭
馃尭In Game馃尭
馃尭He would be in pain
馃尭First Wilbur now you?!
馃尭He wouldn鈥檛 be the same
馃尭One day when he was walking on the beach he 鈥榖umped鈥 into you
馃尭All ghost like!
馃尭He would have tears going down his face so fast!
馃尭Full blown sobs and hiccups
馃尭He would ask if you remembered him and when you said you did he fell to his knees
馃尭You would pop up out of no where and give him flowers
馃尭He would save everyone of them and then one day bring them back to the beach with them made into flower crowns
馃尭Real Life馃尭
馃尭He would be destroyed
馃尭Streams and videos would be non existent for a while
馃尭Wouldn鈥檛 be able to get out of bed
馃尭One day he was on his phone when he noticed a plate of food and a can of Diet Coke on his desk, no one came into his room
馃尭Ghost and paranormal things shouldn鈥檛 happen right?!
馃尭Flowers and items from his room (like blankets and plushies) would be set next to him
馃尭Your little ghost would be there right beside him everyday
馃尭鈥漎/N is that really you?!鈥
馃尭Some wind would pass through his room
馃尭He would smile and get back into the swing of things after knowing that you鈥檙e there with him
馃悵In Game馃悵
馃悵He would want to be alone for a while
馃悵He probably locked himself up to process that you鈥檙e not alive anymore
馃悵When he found you sitting in a field with bees all around you he would run over to you at top speeds
馃悵Turning around to see the soft baby with tears
馃悵鈥滵o you remember me?!鈥
馃悵鈥滺ow can I forget my little bee boy! Tubbo!鈥
馃悵You would be sitting together in the field just catching up and relaxing together
馃悵Bees buzzing and tears falling
馃悵鈥滻 have a pet bee Tubbo! I named him Tubee!鈥
馃悵Real Life馃悵
馃悵Hurt, broken, dull
馃悵Tubbo is already soft, so if you died then his tiny heart would be dead!
馃悵Tommy would try and help him through it, but he would just ignore him
馃悵He got home one day and saw bee plushies and flowers all over his bed
馃悵No one went into his room so his brain instantly went to the paranormal
馃悵鈥漎/N, did you do this?!鈥
馃悵He would get an answer when something behind him fell onto the floor
馃悵The ring you got him
馃悵Tears would appear in the corner of his eyes
馃悵鈥滻 missed you so much!鈥
馃尭So I kinda did both in game and real life! 馃尭It kinda went angst, but at least you didn鈥檛 forget them! 馃尭Thanks for the request bee boy! <3
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ask-the-clergy-bca month ago
Papa鈥檚 reactions to their friend having a clergy stalker?
RIP the Stalker, is all I can say. They are in for a world of hurt.
Also went ahead and put it under a read more because it can be a scary and sensitive topic!
(TRIGGER WARNING: For Stalking, harassment, reader distress, implied death of your stalker, and general awful and scary situations. )
Papa's Reaction to their Good Friend having a Stalker Within the Clergy
It already goes without saying this is entirely unacceptable. The Church of Emeritus embraces sin and taboo, but there are still lines you NEVER cross. There is still morality and ethics, and stalking/harassment is unacceptable.
Also, while this is a serious topic I know everyone handles situations differently. I tried to give each reader situation a bit of variety and how the reader would feel, so I hope this is ok! In the end, the reader is going to be supported and safe, with justice served!
Papa Nihil: Believe it or not, Nihil went through something similar when he was a young man. Back when he was touring he had one fan that just took things a little too far. Even though he was a man of power and good ghoul body guards, it didn't mean it wasn't scary for him! So he understands exactly how you feel, and is so angered by it! What's worse? That the person hurting you is UNDER his roof! Lucifer's churches are for protection and family, not whatever is going through your stalker's head! The first thing he does is talk to you. He might be grandpapa, but you are his friend and he wants to handle this in a way that makes you feel safe.
If it was up to him, this person would be ripped apart by ghouls. But it's not about him, it's about you and your justice. Nihil believes in handing back power to those it has been taken from. Your choice for this person was to have them brought in front of the acting high ministry and Nihil. Your stalker was rightfully verbally ripped apart and dragged off to the dungeons (yes, they still use them) until the local authorities were called. The behavior will never be tolerated in Lucifer's halls. Nihil is honestly so pissed he can't do more, like take the experience from you... but he is happy knowing you are safer. He did insist you have a ghoul buddy for a little while, if you still felt a bit scared.
Papa I: If there was one thing you could say about the eldest Emeritus brother, it was that he protected his flock fiercely. Even if you WEREN'T one of his closest friends, he would have the same reaction. Papa is LIVID that not only someone has the audacity to make you feel unsafe but non of the clergy officials has done anything to help you. You almost wanted to protest, but he was right. Most acted like their wasn't anything they could do. With your permission he summoned your stalker to berate them in front of you.
You even got your chance to give the person a piece of your mind- and it felt GOOD. Good to finally have the support and to say how you felt. What was better? You got to see first hand this person being thrown out on their ass out of the abbey front doors. (Honestly, they are lucky they got to leave ALIVE and not just with the cops.) The cherry on top? Knowing Papa would retrain his entire staff and ministry to ensure this NEVER happened again. Papa's only regret is that it doesn't erase all the hurt the situation has caused you. But he will make sure the Church never fails another Sibling again.
Papa II: It only takes you mentioning this to him ONCE. And that was only when it started to become a problem for you. You thought you could handle it until it just escalated beyond your control. Papa was always someone you trusted beyond anyone, and you spoke to him first. It was a bit surprising how calm he was about the whole situation. Later you realized it was because Papa wanted to make sure YOU were ok, and getting angry could be done after. And angry he was! But Papa did everything he could to assure you that you did nothing wrong and this person was not going to be tolerated. Papa merely asked for all the evidence you said you brought.
He listened politely as you showed him all the proof and all your piecing together of the situation. Truthfully, it felt good that your friend believed you and didn't brush you off as just 'paranoid' or over thinking. Actually, it was nice that he offered to let you sleep in his guest room with a ghoul to make you feel safe! Though, it was unnerving with the whole stalking just... stopped. Out of the blue, everything stopped. Days became weeks, and weeks became months. Even though it never magically went away you slowly went back to feeling safe under Lucifer's roof. To your knowledge your stalker 'disappeared', and no one ever heard from them again. They just left all of their things and never came back! There was a rumor of someone seeing one of the ghouls eating human meat but... rumors were often silly, weren't they?
Papa III: There have only been a handful of times during your friendship that you have seen Papa genuinely angry. And let me tell you, they have never been pretty. You went to Papa for help when you realized this person harassing you was a bigger problem than you could handle. He wasn't upset with you in the slightest, but you could practically see his face turn pink under his make up from sheer anger. Papa calmly reached for your hand and patted it with a horribly forced smile. "Give me their name, now."
Honestly, you weren't about to ask questions, you just wanted this whole ordeal to end! The only thing you could gather by the end of the week was that Papa had a VERY important talk with the sibling that had been harassing you. Actually, you found out the stalker had been shamed and excommunicated altogether! Their quarters were cleaned out and you never heard from them again! You DID bring up how you were scared that they might go off into the world and do this to someone else, but Papa smiled reassuringly. "I promise you, that won't be the case!" You never did ask for him to elaborate, but you trusted him.
Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: Unfortunately, Copia is no stranger to people who get a little too close for comfort. The new Papa has had his share of dealing with unsavory individuals who have tried to invade his privacy or weasel their way into his life. But none have ever come close to being a full fledged stalker. Copia has had the luxury of body guards and a congregation that would never let their Papa be hurt. You however, didn't have that privilege and had found someone harassing you for close to a year now. You and the Papa were close, but you felt guilty bringing it up to him. You had no reason to be, but some sort of shame made you feel like it was selfish when he was working so hard and touring. Even feeling like you needed to take care of it yourself, like an adult (even though that wasn't true in the slightest.)
Copia definitely felt guilty when you finally told him, because he feels the need to protect all of his friends. Or at the very LEAST be a person they can always come to! He offers to take you away from your current home and go with him on a business trip. That way you can have a breather and time away while his ghouls 'investigate'. You happily accept knowing you were in good hands. Eventually you went back home with your friend, and Copia announced that your problems were over! The ghouls had found your harasser and they won't be giving you problems anymore. You never asked him to elaborate, knowing how Ember was... but, at least you knew you had seven ghouls and one Papa who would never let harm come to you.
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yandereaffections4 months ago
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Despite your intentions this is the worst way to torture Jamari. He's a broken man having his heart shattered, completely irreparable due to the fact he wasn't even there to save you, yet here you are the same body he found bled out on the kitchen floor from the knife he so foolishly left out floating in front of him barely solid
You'll be desperately grabbed at, struggling to get a firm grip on a body that technically doesn't exist in his world anymore while he tries to piece this all together, not wanting to lose you once again but also feeling like he's losing his sanity.
Oh baby boy you're so cold, both physically in jamari's arms and when it comes to the way you look at him, after all there's only so much of your soul left in this perception of you. It doesn't matter how he feels this is wrong, the hole in his chest only growing when he wakes up to see your faint self waiting at the edge of the bed you once shared, it's the only thing he has left of you and Jamari will be damned if he lets you go even if it means taking immense damage to his psyche he'll endure as much as it takes to have your ghost fill the void of your death
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idontlooklikeiwanttolive9 months ago
Love knows no bounds
Pairings: Ghost! Reader x Shoto Todoroki
Warnings: angst, ghost x human relationship, fluff
Summary: You died a few months ago from an accident. You've been watching over your boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki. One day he wakes up and.. sees you laying beside him?
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"Y/N! Please don't.. don't leave me.." Shoto begged, tearing up as he holds your head against his chest. You managed to lift up one of your arms and you held his cheek, tears streamed down your face as your breathing starts to slow down. "I'm s-sorry Shoto.. I don't think i'll m-make it.. I can't feel anything.." you said, your voice shaking.
"DON'T SAY STUFF LIKE THAT! THE AMBULANCE IS ON ITS WAY TO SAVE YOU!" he shouted at you. "I love you Shoto.." you mumbled as your eyes slowly closed "No no please! Don't close your eyes.. please.." Shoto cried out, but it was too late.
You weren't breathing anymore. Your body went pale and cold. Shoto just kept hugging your lifeless body when the ambulance came. "Todoroki! Where is-" Midoriya was cut off just by looking at Shoto crying quietly "They're dead." Bakugo said sniffling
You sighed as your boyfriend's alarm startled you, enough to get you out of your thoughts. It was going to be another day of you watching over Shoto and secretly helping him with stuff. Since you were laying beside him, you couldn't help but stare at him, wondering when he'll be able to see you and finally be happy again.
When he woke up, you wondered why he wasn't standing up. He was staring at your direction, his eyes widening. You looked behind you to see what he was staring at.
"Y-y/n..?" you flinched as you turned back to him, seeing him tear up "I-is that really you?.." he mumbled "Wait.. you can see me?" you asked, he nodded as he tries to hug you, only to have his arms phase through your body. He couldn't move, he was too shocked to quickly realize what's going on. You frowned at him "Shoto i'm sorry.." you said, making him flinch as he pulls his hand away. "We can't feel each other.. I've become a ghost." you explained "A few days after i died, i woke up sleeping beside you.. I tried to hug you but my arms just phased through yours. It was the time i realized, I'm actually dead. I'm a ghost with nothing to do but watch over and guard my love." you sighed, looking down at your hands, your hands were pale and you can see through them. "You've been watching over me this whole time..?" Shoto asked making you look at him "Of course! What else is there to do but guard and try to help you with stuff as a ghost?" you replied slightly smiling
"Remember the time when you randomly found your breakfast ready at the dining table?" you said making him realize "Yeah i do.. That was made by you?" he asked "Sure is! I don't know how i can hold objects but i can phase through people, walls and animals. But before i said i made your breakfast, weren't you creeped out because your breakfast was randomly prepared?"
"I thought one of our classmates made it for me because they felt bad of my condition." Shoto chuckled as he explained why it didn't creep him out "And there's no reason to get creeped out if your love was actually the one who made your breakfast for you."
"Love..? But i'm a dead ghost, and you're a living human.. Wouldn't that kind of relationship sound weird and paranormal?" you breathed out
"It doesn't matter if you're a ghost or not. Sure i may miss feeling your touch and warmth, but you're here with me.. Your very presence makes me happy." Shoto said, making you smile "I love you Y/n."
"I love you too Shoto."
(A/n): Please do feel free to make a request!
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mosf138 days ago
Ello I'm back
Hope your doing okay I came here to ask for a harry potter head cannon for a ghost reader
Naww thank you, I鈥檓 doing well. Kinda sick at the moment but it will be okay :) also I loveeee this type of heacanons so much, especially for hp since it fits so good. I鈥檓 also really sorry that it鈥檚 not much, still new to writing headcannons ^^
Thought about doing this for almost each timeline so there you go, hope you鈥檒l like it! :)
TW: mentions of death but not really going into detail about that
- Marauders era -
okay sooo鈥 just imagine reader dying because of Tom Riddle, kind of an 鈥榓ccident鈥 yk
and then suddenly the marauders find a cursed corridor that was abducted years ago because of mentioned 鈥榓ccident鈥
but they become friends with ghost reader since they could help them with pranks and stuff
also with most of the marauders being animagi, I can imagine them running around Hogwarts after curfew just to make readers day because there wasn鈥檛 much happiness in their life after getting killed
they would probably also try everything in their being to help reader out in their life as a ghost
also hear me out鈥host reader and Sirius being matchmaker for Lily and James, it just fits soo good
- Hogwarts Mystery era -
soooo鈥ou know that one event when you can learn something about the ghosts at Hogwarts so mc talks to them? ghost reader is the ghost that mc will be talking to for that event
of course mc asks reader about the mysteries Hogwarts holds
reader is glad to answer because there have been some questionable accidents going on in Hogwarts
After some time, mc and reader become friends
But after mc talks with Penny and Merula, reader starts to hang around the whole group
Reader even helps mc break some of the cursed vaults while finding out more about the mysteries of Hogwarts
- Golden Trio era -
okay鈥here are a few people who already know about ghost reader
that would be the Weasley twins
just like the marauders they found them while walking through a secret corridor, after escaping from Snape who was now running around with pink glitter in his hair
the twins kept them a secret for a long time, up until their last year at Hogwarts, no one knew about reader
but with everything going on at DA they decided that now was finally a good time to let the others get to know reader
so they decided to bring you to a meeting
everyone is shocked at first because like鈥 ghost? How can a ghost help us?
BUT鈥ermione is the first one to talk to ghost reader other than the twins
she鈥檚 literally soo interested in reader and wants to gets to know them, because this is one hell of an opportunity, right? I mean鈥hen do you ever get an opportunity to get to know a ghost?
reader helps out as much as they can in DA, since back in their time the DADA class was much more efficient than in the Golden Trio era
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okuyasubestboi10 months ago
yandere dmq kira hcs
A/n kyahh don鈥檛 roast me too hard for getting most of the jjba ghost lore 100% incorrect pls I tried 馃聽聽I鈥檓 just trying to support my ghost hubs
TW: reader dies聽the reason can be left up to your interpretation 馃懢
Imma take a educated guess and say the only reason Kira first took notice of you is thanks to the fact your are clearly naive enough to give a ghost access to your home聽
Which he was right about of course, and now never has to worry about where he is going to find certain sharp objects for his work, but despite the fact your home is his personal inventory box he becomes quickly aware of the fact that he has been paying attention to you more than a ghost ever should聽
when realizes that he is interested in you聽Kira gets a little more than freaked out with cold feet and tries his hardest to avoid you because he has a terrible feeling that reminds him of how he died (which he ain鈥檛 wrong lmao)
This obviously doesn鈥檛 last very long at all for Kira because watching you is comforting聽in every sense of the word and he is already quite addicted to you even if he has only seen you in passing as you quickly got ready for work
there was of course a risk when it came to ghosts being close to humans聽but if he was able to feel peace when he is with you this is a risk he is certainly willing to take so he quickly goes from watching you to unironicaly moving in with you despite the his better judgement against the feeling of dread and perhaps guilt that comes over him when he is around you
ghosts can be quite possessive.... and the longer kira stays with you the worse he becomes
God forbid one of your neighbors from the floor above you keep you up late at night etc
Kira can only hold himself back for so long before the he his wish to be noticed by you overhelms even his strongest feelings of self-preservation 锟
You always write off the books being in odd places to you simply becoming forgetful and if there ever was the feeling of someone tenderly touching your cheek it surely is just your imagination
It鈥檚 not until you find sketches littering your books that you begin to become concerned聽
especially when the sketches you find quickly go from still life to very detailed self portraits of yourself that continue to show up without any sort of reason behind them- which rightfully scares the shit out of you
You obviously quickly make plans for moving because it鈥檚 becoming too much- but those plans can be made into anything else聽
Whether you died from natural causes or not shall always remain mystery to you unfortunately......
Your 鈥2nd鈥 life begins when you awake in the middle of an alley in a part of a city unknown yet almost fimiliar and of course you are confused at first, nothing is making sense and you can鈥檛 remember where or how you ended up in this place
You are almost immediately noticed by the ghosts who have lost themselves within the streets and quickly run the frick outta there
Even if you don鈥檛 have the slightest clue of who you were when you were alive your feet still carry you to the same apartment you once lived in (not that you are aware of this of course)
you assume the apartment to be empty because a feeling in your gut tells you it should be so- Imagine your surprise when it鈥檚 not- and instead聽there鈥檚 a man in a suit sitting right at the kitchen table enjoying the morning paper with some tea
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry I wasn鈥檛 aware anyone lived here鈥. You say honestly seconds away from leaving Before you can turn back he door you entered from聽shut it self just as quickly as it had opened up to you
the man who you soon learn name is Kira Yoshikage is also a ghost just like you and has been staying in this home for quite some time
If you didn鈥檛 know any better you would think he had been waiting for you
It takes you a moment to finally come to term with the fact that you are very quite dead of course, but you eventually you come to the conclusion that your best option is to stay here
Kira agrees quite quickly and you have to stop yourself from blushing as he leads you away to what he explains shall be your room
Kira just as he promised makes sure your life is comfortable and you never have to worry about ending up like those poor souls that roam the streets
Surviving may be better off with two people but it soon becomes clear to you that Kira wants more than a life than just making due with things
(Which is why You are the one who suggests the two of you take up traveling, while you鈥檒l miss the apartment you had been staying it it was getting more and more difficult to continue scaring the renters away) it turns out you like traveling very much as long as you are close to Mr.Yoshikage鈥檚 side
It鈥檚 no surprise when your relationship crosses the line beyond partners
With time any resistance you held faded, after all its hard to remember a time before either of you have been without the other
You both know that this is the closest thing to heaven either of you will ever know, so perhaps for your own sanity or lack there of you ask your ghost husband how his day was and keep track of the cars passing by
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anunstablefangirl2 months ago
Reader inserts: Supernatural #2聽 You touched baby.
*reader inserts herself into supernatural*
鈥淵es I did it! Now I can鈥︹
鈥淗OLD ON!鈥
*A person steps into the view, a knife sticking out of her side.*
鈥淥h please, it鈥檚 another epidsode. I can鈥檛 die again.鈥
鈥淚t is, and you did.鈥 *Ghost reader shrugs*聽鈥淟ooks like the odds are never in our favor.鈥
鈥淲hat happened this time?鈥
鈥淲ell you touched baby.鈥
鈥淎nd dead!鈥 *Ghost reader plays with the聽knife handle*聽
鈥淭hat鈥檚 it?!鈥
鈥淛up. You touched Baby and Dean wasn鈥檛 impressed.鈥
鈥淲ait, are you saying that Dean kills me?鈥
鈥淭he one and only and let me tell you he has聽a butt that's a gift from the heavens.鈥
鈥淏ut Dean is an adorable puppy, why would he kill me?鈥
鈥淭he hunter is adorable.鈥澛*Ghost reader nods* 鈥淏ut not demon Dean.鈥
鈥淜night of hell Dean kills me because I lay a finger on his car.鈥
鈥淢ore your hole body but yeah. And because of that...鈥 *Ghost reader inserts Mom-Voice*聽鈥淵ou will now go back home and sit your ass back on the couch.鈥澛
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fus-writes4 months ago
Ghost reader WIP
Unnamed WIP. Dead reader has to nancy drew their own death. The plot bunny wouldn鈥檛 leave me alone. Im unlikely to ever finish this. Read the tags. Please don鈥檛 steal.
You stared at the wrinkled piece of paper on the desk, unable to draw your eyes from it. Rereading the words, there was no mistake. It was certainly your handwriting, the paper from the little notebook you liked to carry around with you - you recognized the little stamp in the corner. Your name, specially printed on the pages in a commission by the person who had gifted it to you.
It was jarring, horrifying really, and you gripped your wrist with your other hand to stop from reaching out to touch the soiled paper. Blood splattered the paper, looking surreal and as if tinted ink had been splashed onto it. But the blood was real, you knew, the stinking floors behind you permanently stained, ready to be ripped out and replaced.
A shuddered breath in and you read the words over again.
There was no mistake. It was a suicide note. Your suicide note.
Dated for three days ago.
You... hadn鈥檛 written this.
You stepped back at the sound of someone in the entrance to your house. Your husband, presumably, the evening sun lighting up the room telling you it was time for him to come home.
Timidly, you made your way to the door, past the mess in the room, to peek through to the other room. Not long after, your husband鈥檚 figure swept through the entryway in your vision, the evening sun shining through and illuminating him as he opened the door to let fresh air in.
There he stood. The man you love; he was as beautiful as ever.
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troublesometrollhunters10 months ago
Yeah all these cute Halloween asks are nice and all but how's about reader (part of the trollhunters) goes and fricking DIES. And sure, fine, let's give them a chance to reconcile by making them a poltergeist or something, it's Halloween after all.
Sjdhssisjsonszojsoskkajjasjjsjsnsjsndn Okay anon I see your going through something smh. Well here it is.
Anyways TW: Blood, Gore, Death, wounds, and also the traumatic ramifications of dying.
It was an accident. A simple mistake. You couldn't really blame anyone even if that'd make all of this easier.
You were out with your friends patrolling when you'd gotten stuck in a cave. Close quarter combat with small and fast things wasn't ideal but it could be worse. After all you'd fought Gum Gums. These guys were nothing compared to them. Hearing a hiss and turning to focus on it Jim bumped into you. Temporarily loosing your footing at the harsh nudge you started falling backwards. Before you could really register what happened the room went silent as pain shot up your arm and back. Adjusting to get back up something slimy was on you.
Golden eyes stared at you as the roars in the room became low guttural hissing. You felt something thick and goopy drip down your back and turning your eyes widen in horror at the goblin guts that now stained your clothes and hands. A distinctive moustache smeared across the green squishy caracass. You brought up your sword to fight, to slash and dice and cut at these goblins slowly stalking you but your left overwhelmed and out numbered.
Your friends try and help to cut the goblins back but it's too late. Fangs, claws, rocks, and glass dig into your skin as they begin tearing you apart. Waka Chaka Waka Chaka Waka Chaka!!!!! They scream as they take their vegance.
Blood drips down your face as they claw at it, trying to rip out your eyes. You swing your sword trying to remain unafraid as you throw yourself into walls and kick and squirm to throw them off. Your shoes squish with goblin guts as they swarm you and you try to chop them down and stomp them. The smell of iron and rotting things makes you dizzy as you stumble to get them off you but that could be the blood loss. You wail and screech, kicking and slashing as their claws dig into your skin ripping you open. Warm blood pours down your arms, legs, chest, head, back, and stomach, as they test whatever they can reach.
Stumbling trying to do your best to throw them off or deter the goblins you feel your foot land on nothing. Falling backwards as blackness consumes you, a scream tears itself from your throat. The goblins growls and chirps echo around you as golden eyes watch your descent. You faintly hear distant voices before the wind is knocked from your lungs and you feel tired as you laid sprawled out on your back. Listening to the chitter of goblins as they come closer your eyes are blury from blood and tears. Taking in sharp inhales you close your eyes giving into darkness and sleep.
When you wake the pain is gone. Infact you feel great! A bit cold... actually really cold but other than that great. You aren't sure what happened after you fell but you aren't going to question it.
Pushing yourself up from the ground you look around. You were still at the bottom of the cave. Humming you look up. The only way out was to climb. Making it to the top you heave out a breath surprised at how you weren't tired after such a feat. Smiling you see your friends walking out of the cave. Rolling your eyes at the fact they'd just leave you call out to them and wave. They all stiffen. Turning immediately at the sound of your voice they gasp shocked when they see you.
"... (Y/N)?" Jim asks softly. You hum and nod holding your sword and winking. It was still dark outside so it couldn't have been long since your fall. You probably landed got knocked out for a bit and the goblins and your friends assumed you were dead.
Your also guessing the lack of pain and fatigue was from leftover adrenaline pumping through your system. After all you survived death!
Smiling you notice your friends are quiet. Pouting you stare at Jim, Toby, Claire, Blinkous, Aarrrgh, and Draal. They're eyes were wide and it looked like they'd been crying. Confused you walk forward coming closer to your friends.
"Guys what's wrong with you?" You question reaching out an arm. "Come on I'm..." Trailing off midsentence you pause seeing your glowly hand. Staring at it confused you noticed you were semi transparent. What... what?
"Oh... oh (Y/N)..." Blinky mumbles mournfully as he walks towards you. Eyes wide you drop your sword staring at your glowy hands before staring at your friends. "I'm so sorry..." He mumbles. No. No! NO!!!
You blink in shock. You should be crying. Shaking. Screaming. But all you can think about is how fast it all happened. You were dead. You died. The goblins and the fall...
You were dead...
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clanwarrior-tumblya month ago
Hello! Could I request some sort of scenario where reader is Boozoos guardian spirit in Boozoos ghosts?like maybe they see how he was going to change and they try to protect him/try to get through to mortality etc or something along those lines?I hope that makes sense!
"Not everyone."
"Please stop---!!! What?" Confused at the new voice, Boozoo turned away from the melted figures of the ghosts, seeing yet another Christmas-like spirit: you.
Although you looked more like a bear, you were far from terrifying and seemed awfully familiar to him..
You just sighed and frowned at the other spirits. "He learned his lesson, don't you all see? You don't need to punish him. Now stop this nonsense."
Mortality narrowed his eyes, clutching a blue and purple gift box in his hands. "And who might you be?"
"[Y/n]. Guardian spirit. I was actually Boozoo's business partner before my..unexpected passing."
"..[y/n]? I-It's..It's you?!"
Looking towards the mortal, you smiled sadly and nodded. "I've missed you, old friend. I've been watching over you ever since that day, seeing how much you've changed..for better and for worse. You may have done selfish things, but you're not as doomed as Mortality says you are."
The sheer relief over being saved made him weep all over again as he hugged you, begging for help. To see this once heartless old man sob like a child ached your soul, but you held him closely.
" me. I don't want to die..I-I-I swear I won't be cruel to Banny or anyone ever again!!"
"You won't die, Boozoo." You softly reassured him.
Mortality's bellow startled Boozoo, though you let him go and moved in front of him in a protective manner. He gripped your cloak, trembling as he wondered what was gonna happen now.
"It's never too late for anyone to change." You sneered at the rabbit. "You think you can just punish whoever you please. But when it comes to my dear friend crossed the line. I won't let you take him. Not now, not ever. If anyone knows him best, it's me."
Sad and Jolly exchanged glances, before looking towards Mortality. Even he didn't know what to do. This certainly wasn't part of his plan at all.
You seem to have powers that were equal to his own..or perhaps even above his. So fighting you would prove utterly useless.
Surprisingly, he gave up and turned back into his more cartoonish form. "Very well..perhaps karma will catch up to you, dear old Boozoo." He chuckled, before looking to the others. "Let us depart."
Then he gazed at you both one last time. "Oh and..Merry Christmas."
And just like that, the trio vanished and you noticed the darkness around you receding. The black goop that once covered the toyshop was soon no more. You disappeared too.
Like nothing ever happened.
"B-Banny? Banny!" Boozoo spun around to see his worker on the floor, back to normal. "Oh dear, please..go home and feed your family. Here. Don't even worry about the mug." He hastily shoved several dollar bills into Banny's paws.
She was stunned by the generosity, though she smiled gleefully and jumped to her feet. "Oh, thank you sir! M-Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas to you, too, Banny." He returned the smile and watched as she left the shop.
"Shame it took a near-death experience for you to finally realize your flaws, but..everyone deserves a second chance."
Boozoo's smile faded slightly as he looked at you. " did. It makes me wonder if I even deserve a second chance..I have been awful and selfish ever since...."
"I believe everyone does if they feel regret in their actions." You patted his shoulder, before you glanced at one of the clocks on the wall, frowning. "'s midnight. I must take my leave as well, but don't worry. Those silly ghosts can't hurt you anymore."
"I-I hope to never see them again," he muttered. "But...thank you so much, [y/n]. I promise I'll change for the better. I just needed to realize it."
"And I'm glad you did. Take care, Boozoo. I'll be watching over you."
With one last smile, you faded away and he was left alone. He wiped away his remaining tears and sighed.
He learned his lesson.
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delldarling11 months ago
under the mountain | origen
kinktober teaser ; day five non-binary nightmare x ghost!gender/body neutral reader 464 words lime-ish | general eeriness, descriptions of multiple eyes and mouths (Patreon version comes to 1.3k words and rating includes the above, and: lemon | deep throat, vague sense of depersonalization)
You鈥檙e a ghost. You know that much about yourself, even if your actual past keeps slipping from your memory like smoke on the breeze. You鈥檙e a ghost, and you鈥檙e lost. You鈥檝e been circling through these caverns for what feels like eons-
鈥淎nd it might be,鈥 you mutter, dragging incorporeal fingers over what looks like a damp, mossy wall. You can鈥檛 feel it though, can鈥檛 dig your fingers into the wetness or rip any of the squishy plants from where they鈥檙e growing. You can鈥檛 feel anything, and that knowledge bothers you more than it likely should.聽
鈥淎 voice?鈥澛
You freeze, blinking, staring off into the far dark. Most everything around here is dismal and gray, just bright enough for you to see, but that sou- that voice was from deeper down, echoing off of the cavern walls.
鈥淎 voice! A creature? With speech-鈥 They babble, cutting themselves off abruptly. 鈥淲ho are you?鈥
There are multiple answers to that question. You don鈥檛 know who you are. A ghost is what you are, but.. Saying that you don鈥檛 know feels rude, somehow.
鈥..a ghost,鈥 you finally answer, because it feels the most honest. For a moment there鈥檚 nothing, just the dark twisting tunnel and the steady drip of water from the mossy walls, and you think you may have imagined things, but鈥擭o. You blink, drifting closer, ghostly feet silent on the slick cavern floor.聽
There are eyes, blinking in the dark. Not just one or two, but many, placed helter-skelter all over the vaguely humanoid figure drawing closer. If you鈥檇 still been alive, if you鈥檇 seen that shuffling walk in the bright daylight, you think you might have run, might have screamed. Remembering what fear feels like is too hard though, takes too long.聽
A mouth opens up, slanted sideways and not at all anatomically correct, teeth even and sharp. 鈥淎nd here I thought you lied. A ghost!鈥 The mouth closes, and another opens, diagonal across their multi eyed face. 鈥淚鈥檓 Origen, born under the mountain, in the deep, in the dark. And you, ghost, figment, wanderer - what is it that you seek?鈥
The question stops you both, a shade and a shadow, a silent standoff in the dark.聽
Maybe you blink, Origen certainly does, one silvery eye fluttering closed while a hazel one opens, but something prompts them into speech again. 鈥淣o need to be shy, is there? What do you seek? What do you want?鈥
鈥淚 want to feel,鈥 you whisper, the answer pulled from the core of you, and Origen shivers. Their eyes and mouths vanish, body twisting with excitement, and between one blink and the next, they鈥檙e standing a breath away. They lean over you, oddly shaped fingers lacing together as nine eyes open, a crescent moon smile blooming on their face.
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thisnamewasunavailable14 days ago
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ask-the-clergy-bca month ago
How would the Papas or ghouls react to finding out that their s/o is insulin dependent diabetic. And hide that and the fact that they have severe neuropathy pain in their feet as well from them?
Went with the Papas for this one!聽
As always, feedback is always appreciated!!聽
Papas Reaction to Finding out their S/O has hid that they have Diabeties and Neuropathy Pain
Papa Nihil: Is actually confused because he thought you already told him about your diabetes. Even though he can come off as oblivious, he is very observant when he wants to be. Papa had already saw you checking your blood sugar or taking insulin. In his mind he probably thought you had your conversation, and he possibly forgot most of it. A part of you was a bit thankful he already had an idea, but you were ready to sit down and talk about it. Mainly as to why he never spoke to YOU about your diabetes. Nihil admits that he thought it鈥檚 what you wanted, and you both would talk on your terms. After the confusion sub sided you did get to tell him everything you wanted. As you predicted, your opening up about your pain upset him. Nihil will be the one to say he knows you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, he never had doubts. But please, don鈥檛 shut him out when you are the one suffering. Nihil tends to get ahead of himself, but he does want to help and do whatever he can to ease your days of pain. If you let him he鈥檇 do anything if it means your feet feel better. Leave the man unchecked, and he鈥檇 hire a personal masseuse for your feet.聽
Papa I: Thanks you for opening up to him but will ask why you personally kept it hidden. It鈥檚 a bit awkward, but he wants to make sure he understands your motivations. Papa knows there could be many reasons you kept it to yourself, but feels hearing it from you would be better for communicating needs in the future. Medical conditions, as he knows, are incredibly personal and everyone handles them differently. Whatever your reason, Papa knows not to take it personally. The fact you were ready to talk about it at all is very reassuring to him. All Papa asks is that sometime, on your terms, you both can sit down and you let him know what you expect out of him when it comes to your diabetes. If you need his help, when you鈥檇 like it, etc etc. Papa mainly is taken aback by your mention of pain, but knows that it is more common than anyone is comfortable with. He knows many ways to help you reduce your pain, especially when it comes to life style. Papa always offers any assistance should you choose to take it. As long as you know you don鈥檛 have to go through bad days alone and he is there for you is enough for him.聽
Papa II: You weren鈥檛 sure how he really felt based on his silence and serious look. But he isn鈥檛 one to mince words. Papa asks you immediately,聽鈥淲as there a reason you didn鈥檛 tell me? That is incredibly important information.鈥 Papa does come off as chiding when that鈥檚 not his intention. He does apologize, and will bluntly state his concern. Papa knows he doesn鈥檛 have to tell you what COULD have happened if there was ever an emergency. But Papa would like to know so he can properly help when needed.聽This does spark a very serious conversation between you two. One about how you personally felt about the situation, his reaction, and how you would like your health handled in the future. Papa just wants the best for you and knows you are more than capable of managing your Diabetes, you aren鈥檛 a helpless child. But he does make the effort to let you know, as your partner, that he will be there for support. Honestly, the fact you are hiding pain is the topic that worries him more. Papa wants to have a serious talk and plan of action, because he doesn鈥檛 want you to suffer any pain alone. Encourages you to outline HOW he can assist during bad days.聽
Papa III: Papa will even admit that his reaction is a bit of a selfish one. He鈥檚 more hurt that you kept this from him after you two have engaged in a serious relationship. The fact that you have diabetes doesn鈥檛 change anything, mind you. Nor will Papa go out of his way to make you feel ASHAMED that you hid this- it鈥檚 your health at the end of the day and, therefore, YOUR business. But he will personally wonder if he did or said anything to make you feel like you couldn鈥檛 tell him. Papa will ask if you if you kept it from him because of something he DID. Honestly, once you explain on your own time he will feel so embarrassed that he took it so personally and will apologize. Papa always wants to reassure you that he hates the idea of you feeling like you CAN鈥橳 come to him. Yes, this is your condition and you are an adult who can handle it- but Papa wants to be the partner that is by your side and supportive. As for your pain, Papa is always ready to assist! Whether that is foot rubbing or taking a nice bath together, he鈥檚 all for it! Papa just asks that you know you can come to him on bad pain days or days you just need the extra support.聽
Papa IV/Cardinal Copia: Copia doesn鈥檛 think any different of you but he will admit he wished you would have told him sooner. During his time ascending the ranks of the clergy he has had many siblings who DO have diabetes or similar health concerns. You never know when an emergency is going to happen or knowing symptoms prior can save someone鈥檚 life. Copia will NOT lecture you, but he will talk to you about his feelings of concern. He鈥檚 grateful you never had to be in a situation where he couldn鈥檛 help you. When he鈥檚 sure you both are comfortable he would like to ask questions, provided you are willing. More about your specific health status and what he can do in the future for you. Copia will not take over your health plans or management, but he asks to be included enough to be of assistance when you need.聽As for the foot pain, Copia knows he can鈥檛 magically cure you but he will always be there to help! Copia takes exercise seriously for his own personal routine and offers to do gentle activities that have been known to help reduce pain. Suggests walks in the garden together as something both romantic and helpful! You end up picking whatever you prefer, but Copia will make sure you never have to exercise alone.聽
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d0nterra11 months ago
Kill Me Hardly (Ch. 1)
Summary: You weren鈥檛 dead, but you weren鈥檛 fully alive. After a whole year of solitude, seeing your family mourn for your comatose state, and seeing the disembodied figures of other but silent spirits, you were hoping that your suffering would end. What鈥檚 this? Somebody could finally see you? Oh, he鈥檚 looming over a battered officer, bloodied wallet held tightly within his hand, staring straight at you with malice. 聽
聽Thank You, once again, @youtubequeens, or Rita, for brainstorming the plot with me on this fic~! She helped me with the plot, ideas, and thirst for angst and fluff, yet the written gore and grim stuff is on me, folks, my friend is innocent, and her blog doesn鈥檛 have any violent nor terrible things like the stuff that鈥檚 in the fic. 聽
This fic has a lot of angst and it just fills our need for suffering. Heed the warnings, please. Reader鈥檚 a lil鈥 shit to the only one who can see her, and Tai鈥檚 a tsundere villain who kinda (a lot) wants to kill her, but doesn鈥檛 know where she is. Mainly angst and horror.
Warnings not in order and can be triggering: Angst! Villain! Fatgum (he does not so nice things in this one, sorry folks), too much cussing, mentions of murder, attempted murder, murder, seeing dead people, descriptions of gore, dark thoughts, loneliness, accepting the thoughts of death (reader鈥檚 a ghost), hopelessness, and a lot of things that is possibly triggering to some audiences. If you want straight up fluff, I have other fics, Thank You.
聽 It鈥檚 always been the same since last year. You would float near your body, waving your hand in front of the thin, grisly, sad excuse of a human being that your soul had once fully inhabited. Now you were literally a ghost of your old self, your heart tearing into pieces at the sight of stricken faces of grief from those who had visited you. You could speak to them, but they could never hear, nor see you.
聽 At first, crying would be an understatement. You clutched your chest, sobbing with heart that felt shattered as your form wracked with grief. You repeated the same words in a mantra as your mother looked upon your body with her own expression of pain and loss, clutching your father鈥檚 hands as he mimicked the atmosphere. Your brother was nowhere to be found, you clenched your teeth, feeling very angry as the heartbeat on the monitor remained the same, slow beat.
In limbo. Not fully dead, but not fully alive, either, it was your state of existing. At first, you were terrified of the others, seeing broken, bloody bones peek from underneath torn skin, white, ashen eyes stared into nothing as they drolled along the hallways of the hospital, forever in a time that they only knew existed as they paid nobody nor anything else any mind as the ones who couldn鈥檛 see them, walked through them. Every time one would loll past you, you hid, not daring to let one of those things touch your own ghostly appearance.
聽Your body was slowly but surely healing, the wound that had been violently afflicted from your neck to your clavicle, was bandaged up neatly, healing at it鈥檚 own pace, while you had to endure the nasty, raw and bloodied version on your ghostly appearance. It didn鈥檛 hurt physically like you thought it would, but it was a constant reminder of betrayal, mixed with shock and disbelief.
Day by day, you鈥檝e gotten more acquainted with the raw, hurtful loneliness. Nobody could see you, other ghosts couldn鈥檛 talk to you, and you had to bear witness to not only the grief of your family slowly losing hope, but as well other families watching their loved ones on death beds. It was sickening, sad, and you wished that you were finally dead. It didn鈥檛 matter, whether it be heaven or hell, you wanted everything to stop.
You could travel outside, you discovered. There was no limit from how much your soul could travel without your body, you tried. Although you didn鈥檛 mind the distance, you didn鈥檛 want to be too far gone from your main hot spot. Of course, nobody else from the outside could see you, either. Animals could sense you, you thought with a final thought of relief as you decided to make your way to the zoo. They could not see you, but they knew that you were there, and unfortunately, it caused them to be in a state of unrest at the supernatural entity that in which was you, lingered.
A year has passed. Your parent鈥檚 and other family member鈥檚 visits had dwindled down to a dead stop, as the police kept looking for your ever elusive traitor of a brother. It took a while for you to get use to the nightmares. Even as a spirit, you could still sleep, apparently. You didn鈥檛 like to, though.
Images kept flashing through your head of the knife glinting in the moonlight, the cold, passive stare of your blood-relative as he raised the weapon of choice down onto your throat. You let out a scream, jolting awake, shaking with tears dripping down, you hiccuped, wanting to vomit as you felt cold and empty, frantically gripping your throat as you laid next to your body. You wanted to grasp it鈥檚 throat, and squeeze, you couldn鈥檛 help but think as your hand faded through the pulse point of it鈥檚 neck. 聽 聽 聽 聽
聽It never gotten better. There was no hero for you to call, and you were seemingly forever at a stalemate in between the fate of life and death. It wasn鈥檛 fair, you thought bitterly as you could almost feel the insanity crawling inside your thoughts like crickets.
聽It was a beautiful October night, with the full moon looming overhead, illuminating the darkened alley ways of the concrete jungle. You usually stayed by your body, at night, not really interested in the nightly crimes that you just so happened across, regularly. You always felt exhausted and terrified because you couldn鈥檛 do anything. The violent actions and behaviors triggered your own memories, you shivered in disgust.
Tonight, it was different. You had an odd feeling. A gurgled groan echoed from one of the alleys, snapping your attention to the sound. It never helped when you investigated, not being able to alert the police, who also couldn鈥檛 notice you, and you would usually stare with helplessness as the scenes unfurled.
鈥淚鈥檒l teach ya, ya greedy fuckin鈥 bastard!鈥 An angry huff followed suit minutes after, and you felt your curiosity peak as you floated on towards the darkened area. Was it a gangster this time? The gruff voice had an unusual American twang to the normal Japanese accent, and despite your better judgment, you felt oddly comforted by it. Maybe you were losing your sanity, after all, you thought with mirth. 聽
Your eyes widened with surprise as you finally neared the situation. It wasn鈥檛 surprising that the man was holding a bloody wallet to his hand, sneering down at the unconscious police officer, no. It was the man himself who surprised you. Dark orange hoodie, black mask, darkened jeans, and black leather gloves covered the giant of the bara-like villain of the man. Fatgum, the large, yet elusively most-wanted villain in Osaka.
Although the murderous gang he was acquainted with had disappeared, he was more of a notorious violent thief who preyed upon well-known targets, now. He couldn鈥檛 see you, you thought, but it still sent chills down your spine at the thought that he was a ruthless, violent murderer. 聽
Yet, you were a ghost. Time seemed to stop as 聽his attention in what seemed to be a millisecond, snapped towards you, and the two of your eyes widened with surprise. It couldn鈥檛 be, could it? After a whole year of nothing glancing your way, finally, you felt the intense stare of a person noticing you. You didn鈥檛 know whether to laugh or cry, because yes, somebody finally noticed you and could see you, but it was a notorious villain with a violent streak.
If there was a god or spiritual deity who ruled over humans, they appeared to feed on your suffering.
鈥淲hat鈥檚 this? The fuck ya doin鈥 outta the hospital, lil鈥 woman? The fuck鈥檚 up with yer wound, eh? And why the fuck are ya out in dark alleys, creepin鈥 up on criminals?鈥 His eyes glinted within the moonlight, bright orange staring you down with a look mixed with disbelief, amazement, and pure confusion as he took in your gown clad form and bloody scar.
鈥淵ou can see me?鈥 Blurted out of your mouth, and his expression stilled, before letting out a sleazy grin followed by a bellow of laughter. 聽
鈥淎 lil鈥 too early to dress up for Halloween, ain鈥檛 it, Sugar? Heh, fuck. I really didn鈥檛 want any witnesses.鈥
He stepped towards you, and you instinctively stepped back as he closed the distance between the two of you. He couldn鈥檛 hurt you, you knew better, but it was the way how he was doing it. Images of your brother flashed through your mind, the cold, slinking feel of the knife jutting into your skin had made your eyes squeeze shut.
鈥淣ow, now, Princess,鈥 He cooed mockingly as he stood directly in front of you, letting you take your time to really look at him. He was a few inches away from your face, leaning down to make sure that he was eye-level with you as he offered a false smile.
鈥淗ow 鈥榖out you go back to whatever party that yer from, an鈥 pretend that this is all a lil鈥 nightmare in the mornin鈥, hm? Don鈥檛 wanna live a real one, don鈥檛cha?鈥 He grinned.
A nightmare? This was a nightmare! Yet, however, a thought clicked in your mind. It was a quick, fleeting thought, but it struck a cord within you.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a shame that the only one who can see me, is a villain.鈥 You huffed, and his eye twitched.
鈥淧ardon? I鈥檓 basically givin鈥 you an out, an鈥 yer gonna continue with yer dumb costume charade? Ya ingrate!鈥 He growled out, slamming one of his hands against the brick wall next to your head. You couldn鈥檛 help but flinch, but you felt momentarily reckless and stupid, and really wanted to finally talk to somebody.
鈥淚鈥檝e been living my own nightmare for a year, Fat-chan. If you could find a way to send me away, please do. Until then,鈥 You felt an uncharacteristic grin take over your features as you boldly reached up, letting your hand fade through his face. His eyes widened comically in sheer disbelief, a look that trumped his earlier look of shock, and you felt triumphant. 鈥淚鈥檓 going to haunt you.鈥
鈥淭he fuck you are! Who are ya! How!? I am gonna kill ya, again, ya demonic gremlin!鈥 He growled out, punching the wall that was behind you, and you looked at his arm fazing through your abdomen. Good choices weren鈥檛 really in your state category of mind, right now, but you honestly couldn鈥檛 care, less.
鈥淚鈥檓 a ghost, not a gremlin. I need to find my brother, and I think you know who and where.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 not helpin鈥 the ghost of Christmas Ass, less an actual fuckin鈥 ghost! What the fuck?鈥 He was panicking, staring straight down at you with a disbelieving frown marring his features, chest rising and falling quickly as he further took your form in. You frowned, before thinking.
Sure you鈥檇 thought he鈥檇 panic, but not like this.
鈥淐alm down. I was panicking at first when I found out that my own body was lying beside me. If I can handle it, surely you can, Mr. Villain Murderer.鈥 You shrugged as you gave him that name. He stared at you and your wound, letting your words sink in as he didn鈥檛 budge.
鈥淚鈥檓 talkin鈥 to a fuckin鈥 ghost.鈥
鈥淩ather loudly, too. Hope your friend doesn鈥檛 wake up.鈥 You admitted, pointing to the stirring cop.
鈥淪hit!鈥 He let out, and bolted. You followed him effortlessly, cutting through walls as you floated behind his racing form.
鈥淪top fuckin鈥 following me!鈥 He hissed, panting as he leered at you from the side of a dumpster.
鈥淚 told you, I鈥檓 going to haunt you.鈥 You pointed out.
鈥淎nnoyin鈥 as shit. The fuck鈥檚 up with ya? Follow somebody else!鈥 He whispered.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e the only one who can see me, though. So, no. I鈥檓 going to do whatever I want to do, anyway, so all you鈥檙e doing right now, is wasting time beside smelly garbage.鈥 You quipped, earning you an ugly, seething scowl.
聽 聽 聽 聽 鈥淭his isn鈥檛 happening.鈥 He muttered underneath his breath, staring at you with the same wide-eyed shock mixed in with a common annoyance.
鈥淵ou鈥檒l get use to it. Think of it as penance for your crimes, or something. I鈥檓 feeling elated that I finally get to talk to somebody.鈥
鈥淥h, for fuck鈥檚 sake!鈥 He threw up his hands, trying to ignore you as you basically followed his grumbling, muttering form. You didn鈥檛 need to say anything, feeling your own shock and surprise that you did that. To a known villain, who couldn鈥檛 lay a finger on you.
Your thoughts lingered on the possibility of him killing you. Nobody truly wanted to die, but you felt that he鈥檇 be doing you a service. It was a gruesome thought, but you were already sort of dead, anyway.
鈥淭wenty percent chance of waking up.鈥 The doctor鈥檚 words echoed within your head as you looked back on the memory. The grief inflicted on their faces, haunted you more than any efforts that you could make. You had plenty of time to think, after all. A year in thoughts, nightmares, and ideas filtered through you as you realized things that you鈥檝e once missed.
Your brother鈥檚 cold exterior worsening as you made it towards college, you paying little to no attention to his behavior as your grades skyrocketed, and your parents began to obviously favor you more. It wasn鈥檛 your fault that he acquainted himself with the wrong crowds of people. The known drug addicts, street fights, and illegal dealings had made himself an outcast from your family.
You half minded the tree of the man who you had decided to pin yourself to. Maybe being alone wasn鈥檛 the best choice, but it was the smartest choice. If you did wake up after surviving such a feat, this villain could easily take your life away from you. Yet. You were hungry to just talk to somebody, feel their stare as they listened to you, and actually talking back. A starved dog was a desperate dog, you thought with ill humor. He could entertain you for a while, until fate had gripped it鈥檚 claws back into you.
鈥淭his is the place. Listen here, ya lil鈥 wench, I鈥檓 not hostin鈥 Casper an鈥 all of yer other friends, Capiche?鈥 He seemed to calm down as he all but accepted his fate as he stopped in front of a seemingly nice apartment complex. You were surprised that it wasn鈥檛 worn down, but it made sense, since that he was a thief.
鈥淔ine by me. I鈥檒l sleep on the couch.鈥 You said, and he gave you a look.
鈥淕hosts can fuckin鈥 sleep?鈥
鈥淪urprised me, too.鈥
鈥淲hat the fuck. Ya better not do other shit, such as be inside of my body, ye fuckin鈥 parasite.鈥 He growled, and you let out a grin.
鈥淣ot without your consent, first.鈥 Slipped out of your mouth without hesitation.
At this, he choked on his own spit with surprise, giving you an incredulous look.
鈥淲ho the fuck are you?鈥
鈥淎 gho-
鈥淒on鈥檛 be a smart-ass. Shit, the only company I have had in over a decade, an鈥 it鈥檚 a fuckin鈥 dead person.鈥 He growled, unlocking the door, slipping inside before slamming it closed on your surprised face. His outburst didn鈥檛 matter to you, but the fact that he let an important part of himself slip so easily, did. You couldn鈥檛 help the thoughts swirl into your head.
Was he lonely as you were?
You entered without knocking, noticing that the place was rather neat, yet it smelled awful. Like cigarettes. He sat down at the kitchen table, huffing the white stick as the embers glowed a bright red, glaring up at you, as if challenging you to say something. You floated to the seat in front of him, focusing on your spiritual energy to seat yourself.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e lonely.鈥
He blew the smoke in your face. Although you had no lungs to cough, you wafted the nasty smell away from you.
鈥淵er a busy-body stalker who should mind her own fuckin鈥 business.鈥
鈥淚 have no other business to mind, really. I鈥檓 just waiting for fate, I guess.鈥 You shrugged. He eyed you, taking you in silence as you could see the wheels basically turning in his head.
鈥淪o, if I help ya pass into the light, or whatever, you鈥檒l forever leave me the fuck alone?鈥 The question caught you off guard as you stared at him. That鈥檚 right, he didn鈥檛 know that you weren鈥檛 fully dead.
鈥淚鈥檓 in limbo.鈥
鈥淚n between life and death. I have to wake up, or die.鈥 You finished. He set his cigarette down, eyeing you with a blank look as he finally took time to take your wound in.
鈥淪omebody did that to ya, huh? Yer in comatose.鈥
He was keen, you admitted. You decided that you liked that of your 鈥渉ost鈥.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e correct.鈥
鈥淵a...mentioned a brother, earlier?鈥
You jumped as he then slammed his fist harshly against the table, the violent action harshly contradicting his curious behavior. Wide-eyed, you stared at him as a dangerous, churning glint lit up his eyes as he grit his teeth in a snarl. It was unlike his previous expressions, and it worried you.
鈥淟ook, I might not like ya, an鈥 I鈥檓 toyin鈥 with the chance of killin鈥 ya myself, but...fuck! That鈥檚 dirty an鈥 shitty. Yer own family comin鈥 at ya like that? Bastard couldn鈥檛 do the job properly?鈥 He hissed out, and you felt a bit of tears well in your eyes. Quickly, you wiped them away as he continued to be in his own little spell of pure anger. It was the first time that somebody was angry for you after the incident, you thought. After everything, all you could see was your parent鈥檚 grief and sadness, the pitying looks from strangers as your face appeared on the news. Then it dwindled to a winter-like still. Life moved on without you.
鈥淭ch. It鈥檚 not my business, though. I gotta long lists of hits, this week, an鈥 I don鈥檛 need a sad ass ghost story to chase after.鈥 He huffed in irony, yet it was as if you could see through him. He was hurting, too, but not from your pain. Something like your story had rubbed him the wrong way, and it was as if the information had dawned on you.
鈥淭hen this sad little ghost story will follow you. I have a feeling that in both of our cases, misery likes company.鈥 You admitted, and his eyes turned towards you with realization that you were still there.
鈥淵er smarter than I thought. I can probably have use of you, yet. Tell ya what, you help me, an鈥 I鈥檒l help you. Ya want鈥檌m murdered?鈥 He asked, hinting at your brother. The way he was pinning you down with a look, gave away something that he wasn鈥檛 saying, yet you had a feeling that he was daring you to tell him yes.
鈥淣o.鈥 You opted instead, and to your surprise, he blinked at you, trying to hide a look of oddly placed relief. So he was laying a trap for you, and you deflected it. 聽
鈥淚 want him found, and dealt with the authorities. I...he鈥檚 still my brother. It鈥檚 shitty what he did, I know, and it鈥檚 tough to acknowledge the obvious truth, but...I want him to get help. See what he鈥檚 done, regret it. Move on.鈥 Your words spilled out as Fatgum鈥檚 attention was pinned onto your mournful expression.
鈥淵a鈥檙e weak. Too fuckin鈥 forgiving. He鈥檚 not gonna get help, he鈥檚 gonna resent those around 鈥榠m, an鈥 stay a childish brat.鈥 He spat out, and your eyes widened.
鈥淗ow do you know?鈥 You all but snapped, and he grinned, but there was no light nor humor to it.
鈥溾機ause I鈥檝e seen and dealt with the same fuckin鈥 thing for years. I鈥檓 one of 鈥榚m.鈥 He admitted it so casually, yet there was an edge to it at the last part of the sentence, something that you couldn鈥檛 exactly place.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 think it鈥檚 never too late. I wonder if he regrets it. If he鈥檚 grieving.鈥 You let out softly, hands on your cheeks as your thoughts focused solely on your brother. Fatgum鈥檚 huff made you snap your attention back towards him.
鈥淚鈥檓 going to bed. Can鈥檛 believe I鈥檓 talkin鈥 to a fuckin鈥 ghost as if it鈥檚 a frickin鈥 therapy session.鈥 He changed the subject.
鈥淚 mean, you and I both could probably use a few classes.鈥 A grin found it鈥檚 way to your face, and he rolled his eyes.
鈥淕o to sleep. See ya in the mornin鈥, I guess.鈥 He stood up, squishing the cigarette deep in the ashtray as he scowled.
鈥淣ight, Fat-chan.鈥 You hummed, and he looked at you.
鈥淣o sense in that shit. Ya can call me Taishiro. Don鈥檛 make a fucki-鈥
鈥淣ight, Tai-chan!鈥 You beamed.
鈥-ng nickname- oh what the hell ever. Night-鈥
You gave him your first name, interrupting him, once again.
鈥-shitty ghost. Ugh.鈥 He opted instead, walking into the direction of his bedroom. You didn鈥檛 follow him. Instead, you respected his privacy, just this once as you floated onto the clean couch. This was happening, the thoughts had whirled inside your head as you still felt a little in shock. It was as if it was a fever dream in which you couldn鈥檛 escape, and instead, you dragged somebody else with you.
Granted he was a villain with a bad choice of habits and words, yet, you couldn鈥檛 really fully hate him. He intrigued you, you thought. Rough around the edges, yet oddly merciful and open to a complete stranger. Well, it wasn鈥檛 as if you could tell anybody, and if you did, what was he going to do about it? He didn鈥檛 know your body鈥檚 location. He knew this, and decided to perhaps play along to your little game, you thought.
It didn鈥檛 matter. You were going to get to the bottom of this, and hopefully, just maybe, fate can finally make a decision on your fading life.
Notes: This will be more than one chapter, I鈥檒l add more when I can! 聽
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ddaenggtan2 years ago
forever rain | knj | m
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Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever.聽
part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I鈥檝e been to read all of these.聽
pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)
word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3
genre/warnings |聽ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic),聽major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren鈥檛 comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times聽so y鈥檃ll would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so聽
a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i鈥檓 not kidding when i say you might cry, because i鈥檓 a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i鈥檝e never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y鈥檏now?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like聽鈥渁lright. what emotions does this make me feel.鈥 and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you鈥檙e going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you鈥檙e not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like聽鈥榣ets make myself cry ahahaha鈥 and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don鈥檛 read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y鈥檃ll, this a helluva ride!!聽
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Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.
You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.
You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.
And then the couple moved in.
Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.
So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.
They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.
There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.
You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.
A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.
You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.
So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.
The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.
You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.
"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."
He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.
"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.
Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.
The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.
"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.
"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."
"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.
The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."
"Well, yeah, because it is."
"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."
"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.
"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.
Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.
"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.
"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.
The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.
"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.
"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything鈥檚 ready for a viewing.
"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.
"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."
Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.
You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.
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Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.
Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.
His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.
He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.
It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they鈥檙e perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.
It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn鈥檛 believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he鈥檚 saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.
"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.
You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.
"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."
He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.
Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.
He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.
Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.
"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.
You just want to feel the rain again.
You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.
A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.
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It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.
It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.
Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.
You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.
It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.
Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.
"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.
"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.
"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."
"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."
"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them.聽
"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words.聽
"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."
"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace.聽
"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling.聽
"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up.聽
"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it.聽
The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved.聽
Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-
"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic."聽
Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"
"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"
Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose.聽
"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall.聽
"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself.聽
"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.
"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break.聽
Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed.聽
"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes.聽
"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him.聽
"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out.聽
Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air.聽
"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met.聽
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He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality.聽
It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them.聽
It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?
It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken.聽
So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.
You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.
It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.
Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."
You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.
You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There鈥檚 a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow.聽
"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn鈥檛 ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.
You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.
"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"
"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"
He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.
The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.
Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.
Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.
"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."
"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.
"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."
You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.
You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.
"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."
No. Am nice. I think.
"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"
Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.
"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.
"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.鈥櫬"Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.
Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.
"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"
The second.
"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"
Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.
He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don' that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.
You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.
"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."
"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.
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You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer.聽
He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive.聽
Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.
"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.
"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.
"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.
"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.
"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.
"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.
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It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.
So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.
You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.
It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.
It's the little things.
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"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"
"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.
"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"
Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?
"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."
That's where you leave to?
"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."
"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.
Fun is what you spell on your sheet.
"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."
You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.
"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.
A while. Years. I think .
"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.
Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.
He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"
Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.
"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.
Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?
"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.
You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.
Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.
You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.
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You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.
It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.
The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.
"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.
It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...
And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.
You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.
It rattles a little and you look away.
Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.
He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.
"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"
You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.
"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."
He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.
"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.
It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.
It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.
There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.
"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"
"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."
"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.
"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.
"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.
You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.
There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn鈥檛 follow.
"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."
Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.
Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.
Not this time.
This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.
Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...
It's invigorating.
Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.
"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.
"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"
Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."
Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.
"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.
Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.
"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.
The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.
"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."
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If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.
"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.
You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.
He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.
Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.
"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."
He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.
You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?
He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."
You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.
"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."
You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.
He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.
"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"
You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.
"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.
It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.
You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.
You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.
Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.
After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.
"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.
"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.
You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.
You aren't sure you want to know.
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Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.
You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It鈥檚 the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don鈥檛 know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you鈥檝e learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.
The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.
You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.
"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."
That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.
You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.
He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.
What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.
It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.
"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.
Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.
"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."
Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.
He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."
I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.
You don't know if you want him to.
He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.
When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.
He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.
The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He鈥檚 soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he鈥檚 shivering slightly, but you can鈥檛 see anything past the rage.
"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"
Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.
"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"
His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.
"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.
You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what鈥檚 happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you鈥檙e through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat.聽
Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn鈥檛 tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn鈥檛 what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink?聽
That鈥檚 not normal, and you know with every part of you that it鈥檚 the reason he鈥檚 been gone so much.聽
The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don鈥檛 move away from him; he doesn鈥檛 say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth.聽
You let him stay quiet until you鈥檙e both on his bed; you鈥檙e pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive.聽
鈥淚t鈥檚 not...it鈥檚 not gonna get better,鈥 He says eventually. 鈥淭here鈥檚 not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it鈥檚 gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It鈥檚 why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it鈥檚 the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that鈥檚 a bonus, I guess.鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 so sorry, Joon,鈥 you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren鈥檛 sure and can鈥檛 be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don鈥檛 need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm.聽
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 want you to know.鈥 You鈥檙e not exactly surprised at that; you鈥檇 figured as much. You just don鈥檛 understand his reasoning. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it鈥檚 all they can see. Like they鈥檙e already mourning me, even though I鈥檓 still here. I didn鈥檛 want to feel like that with you.鈥澛
鈥淚 know,鈥 you say. You don鈥檛, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn鈥檛 get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn鈥檛 have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon.聽
The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon鈥檚 chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes.聽
鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to die, Casper,鈥 He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don鈥檛 even know why, but you don鈥檛 want to lose this moment. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 want to leave all of this behind. I don鈥檛 want to leave you.鈥澛
鈥淚t鈥檒l be okay,鈥 you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. 鈥淚 promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren鈥檛 stuck forever. And I鈥︹ You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there鈥檚 only one thing you鈥檝e ever needed him to hear.聽
鈥淚 love you,鈥 You tell him. 鈥淚 love you, and I will never forget you.鈥澛
He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn鈥檛 pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth.聽
Tears that won鈥檛 fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He鈥檚 still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.
鈥淵ou鈥檙e so cold.鈥 His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little.聽
鈥淲arm me up?鈥澛
His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. 鈥淎lways,鈥 he tells you. 鈥淚鈥檓 always going to be here.鈥 It doesn鈥檛 take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn鈥檛 have it any other way.聽
He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. 鈥淵ou鈥檙e beautiful,鈥 He whispers. 鈥淭he most beautiful person I鈥檝e ever seen.鈥 You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he鈥檚 close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours.聽
鈥淚 love you,鈥 He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. 鈥淚 love you, I do, I wish-鈥
鈥淚 know,鈥 you tell him before he can continue. 鈥淚 know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.鈥 He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There鈥檚 no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest.聽
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鈥淐asper, are you ever scared?鈥澛
It鈥檚 the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don鈥檛 need it as often now; you鈥檝e gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don鈥檛 know how you did it that night, but you鈥檙e grateful for it.聽
鈥淥f what?鈥 You ask, looking towards him. He鈥檚 not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit.聽
鈥淚 don鈥檛 know,鈥 He replies. 鈥淛ust...whatever comes next. If there鈥檚 something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.鈥澛
You aren鈥檛 stupid; you know why he鈥檚 asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer.聽
鈥淪ometimes,鈥 You tell him. 鈥淪ometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can鈥檛 respond to them.鈥澛
Namjoon nods like he鈥檚 already thought of that, and he probably has.聽
鈥淢ost of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It鈥檚 not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don鈥檛鈥︹ You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don鈥檛 know anything about what鈥檚 true about ghosts and what isn鈥檛 beyond that I exist now, and I can鈥檛 risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It鈥檚 easier when you鈥檙e here.鈥
He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He鈥檚 quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another.聽
鈥淗ave you ever seen a light?鈥澛
鈥淲hat?鈥 He doesn鈥檛 seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him.聽
鈥淎 light,鈥 He echoes. 鈥淟ike, the light.Y鈥檏now, the light at the end of the tunnel, 鈥榙on鈥檛 go into the light,鈥 that thing.鈥澛
You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He鈥檚 easier to read now than he was in the beginning.聽
You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can鈥檛 see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that鈥檚 only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love.聽
Once, you tell him. Just once.
鈥淲hy didn鈥檛 you go to it?鈥澛
There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth.聽
Because I love you.
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September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon鈥檚 apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi鈥檚 hands wrapped in one of his and Tae鈥檚 head on his shoulder.聽
The other鈥檚 aren鈥檛 far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they鈥檇 brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he鈥檇 been given in charades. He鈥檚 not bad at it - you鈥檝e guessed the last few he鈥檚 done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it鈥檚 the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table.聽
It keeps a smile on Namjoon鈥檚 face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can鈥檛 ever be anything but grateful for that.聽
Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You鈥檙e focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first.聽
The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom.聽
You鈥檙e there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon鈥檚 back.聽
鈥淚鈥檓 okay,鈥 he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath.聽
鈥淚鈥檓 okay,鈥 He repeats. 鈥淚鈥檓 okay. It鈥檚 my birthday, and I鈥檓 okay.鈥澛
He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There鈥檚 a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he鈥檚 next and pulls something from the bowl on the table.聽
You know you aren鈥檛 the only one that notices the way Namjoon鈥檚 eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he鈥檚 looking at it for the last time.聽
As if he鈥檚 already planning who鈥檚 going to get what.聽
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He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn鈥檛 drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he鈥檚 saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers.聽
Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you鈥檝e just heard.聽
鈥淒o you think I鈥檒l come back?鈥 He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn鈥檛 heard his shaky voice the first time. It鈥檚 not the question that floors you. You鈥檝e been expecting this for weeks, months even. You鈥檝e wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you鈥檝e adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him.聽
You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though.聽
鈥淲hy does it sound like you want to?鈥 You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you鈥檙e glad for it, because this isn鈥檛 something you want to talk about through your board.聽
鈥淏ecause I do?鈥 His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer.聽
鈥淲hy?!鈥 You demand.聽
鈥淎re you serious, Casper?鈥 His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch.聽
鈥淎re you? Joon, why would you want to come back?鈥
鈥淵ou鈥檙e seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I鈥檝e got so much I still want to do, I never thought I鈥檇 get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn鈥檛 I want that?鈥
鈥淏ecause it doesn鈥檛 work like that! You don鈥檛 get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you鈥檙e dead.鈥
鈥淵eah, but you can still read and write and everything. I鈥檇 have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.鈥
鈥淵eah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!鈥 The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. 鈥淵ou can鈥檛 do anything that isn鈥檛 in this room, Namjoon, you can鈥檛 use any of the electronics, you can鈥檛 read a book unless it鈥檚 here, you can鈥檛 write music unless it鈥檚 on actual paper, you can鈥檛 do anything.鈥澛
鈥淵eah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you鈥檇 be happy.鈥
鈥淗appy? You think I鈥檇 be happy that you鈥檇 be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?鈥 Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.聽
鈥淏ecause I鈥檇 be with you! We鈥檇 be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?鈥
鈥淥f course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don鈥檛 want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.鈥
鈥淎nd what if that鈥檚 what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I鈥檓 already spending the rest of my life with you, I鈥檓 in love with you, I don鈥檛 want to leave you.鈥
鈥淎nd I don鈥檛 want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn鈥檛 something fun. This isn鈥檛 anything that I enjoy.鈥
鈥淥h, so you regret it all then?鈥
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 say that, I just don鈥檛 want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can鈥檛 fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn鈥檛 go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn鈥檛 go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn鈥檛 get visits from Hobi, you wouldn鈥檛 get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn鈥檛 get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It鈥檚 not like being alive, Namjoon, you鈥檇 be dead and alone and in hell!鈥
鈥淲hatever,鈥 He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. 鈥淲hy can鈥檛 you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn鈥檛 be like that with you? I鈥檇 rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.鈥
鈥淲hy can鈥檛 you understand that it鈥檚 still death? You鈥檇 be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you鈥檇 be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don鈥檛 get it, you don鈥檛 how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.鈥
鈥淭hen why the fuck are you still here?鈥 He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with 鈥楽hooky鈥 scrawled in Yoongi鈥檚 familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan.聽
You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn鈥檛 get it even if you could. He doesn鈥檛 understand what it鈥檚 like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won鈥檛, not unless he experiences it himself.聽
You鈥檝e already watched him wither away. You鈥檝e watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don鈥檛 know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn鈥檛 be alone anymore, of course, and you鈥檇 have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.
Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn鈥檛 so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again.聽
You move to the window and stand there waiting. It鈥檚 not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you鈥檇 be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down.聽
You worry for what feels like hours. You can鈥檛 focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You鈥檝e worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he鈥檚 got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There鈥檚 the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.
You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it鈥檒l be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You鈥檙e reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon鈥檚 voice, but it鈥檚 not in the hall or at the door like usual. It鈥檚 raised, like he鈥檚 yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what鈥檚 going on, there鈥檚 a deafening bang.聽
You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams.聽
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鈥淚 think that鈥檚 the last of it,鈥 Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it鈥檚 deafening in the silence of the apartment.聽
鈥淵eah,鈥 Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. 鈥淭hanks for the help, Guk. I don鈥檛, um.鈥 He sniffles. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 think I could鈥檝e done it myself, y鈥檏now?鈥澛
鈥淚 know,鈥 Jeongguk agrees. They鈥檙e quiet again, adjusting the things they鈥檝e boxed and avoiding finishing what they鈥檙e doing.聽
鈥淥h, can you get that?鈥 You don鈥檛 have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It鈥檚 a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything.聽
His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot.聽
鈥淚 can鈥檛 get it,鈥 He says. 鈥淒o you think he glued these things down or something?鈥澛
鈥淣o,鈥 Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. 鈥淗e used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.鈥澛
鈥淲ell it鈥檚 stuck or something, you try.鈥
Hobi takes Jeongguk鈥檚 place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn鈥檛 waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he鈥檚 got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don鈥檛 though.聽
The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it.聽
鈥淔uck it,鈥 Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he鈥檚 near tears again. 鈥淛ust fuck it.鈥澛
鈥淏ut that was-鈥
鈥淵ou can try if you want, Guk, but I just-鈥 He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he鈥檇 set down. 鈥淚 just can鈥檛, okay?鈥 He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him.聽
Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn鈥檛 try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.
鈥淚 wish you could come back to us,鈥 He whispers. 鈥淲e thought...we expected more time. It鈥檚 not...it鈥檚 not really fair, y鈥檏now? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.鈥澛
He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one鈥檚 going to try to take it. You鈥檇 watched them pack everything else up; you鈥檇 let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he鈥檇 cared for so tenderly.聽
Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn鈥檛 have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it鈥檚 now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants.聽
The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you鈥檝e pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.
You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.
All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he鈥檇 always come back to you.聽
You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn鈥檛 appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you.聽
The sun blinds you again. You don鈥檛 even know how long it鈥檚 been, just that you鈥檝e yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley.聽That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.
鈥淚 told you I鈥檇 always come back, Casper.鈥
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happi-fanboya year ago
I've looked around Tumblr, Ao3, and even Wattpad to find a fanfic that has Ryan and Shane from Buzzfeed Unsolved talking to a teenage ghost who is a Shaniac. Maybe her mother started to believe that there was a ghost in her house after her daughter committed suicide, believing it to be her daughter she calls the ghoul boys since she and her daughter used to watch them together. And at some point the mother talks to the daughter through the spirit box or something. If anyone finds a fic or uses this to write, PLEASE please please please tag me or something of the sort because I would love to read it. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.
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