#paranormal angst

[isacksteban]

His Shadow — Strollonso

In 2016, 18-year-old Lance Stroll is on the brink of everything he's ever dreamed of — scholarships, trophies, the perfect future his parents have meticulously planned. But one wrong move during a basketball game shatters it all. Waking up after the accident, Lance isn’t just haunted by his failure — he’s haunted by the dead.

The school’s forgotten corners are filled with ghosts, but none are more captivating — or infuriating — than Fernando Alonso, a former student who died tragically in 1999. Fernando was everything Lance is too afraid to be: openly gay, unapologetically himself, and absolutely adored for it. Fernando’s short life was a bold testament to freedom, while Lance hides behind a carefully constructed image, terrified of the truth he can’t even admit to himself, let alone anyone else.

As Fernando drags Lance deeper into the hidden history of the school, Lance learns that Fernando’s death wasn’t as accidental as the rumors claim. Each revelation pulls Lance closer to the person he’s always been too scared to become, and closer to Fernando. But love with a ghost is impossible — and as Lance struggles to reconcile his feelings, he realizes he might have to choose between staying safe in the shadows or risking it all to finally live.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　THE FARRAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IS ALIVE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: When Sam and Colby bring the Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N, a medium and Matt's girlfriend, to investigate the Farrar Elementary School, they expect only to discover more about its history, but, instead, meet something far darker.

WARNING: Demon apparition, ghost talk, paranormal experiences.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This can be read as a part 2 of my work 'Medium Girl' with Matt Sturniolo.

A/N³: Happy Halloween, guys! 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The lightheartedness grew inside the vast gym when Sam, Colby, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N stepped inside of it. The eerie silence of the halls felt distant now, replaced by the echoing laughter and jokes bouncing off the gym's high walls. It was open, empty, and slightly less oppressive than the narrow corridors they'd been walking through. Their cameras' flashlights created stark beams that cut through the heavy dark, bouncing playfully as they pointed at the distant walls and items scattered across the yellowish floor.

"That is terrifying." Chris joked, pointing to a shadowy open doorway at the far end of the gym. His tone was playful, but the door itself seemed to swallow the light, almost absorbing it into an impenetrable black void.

Colby quickly looked over at Chris with a knowing expression, pointing the camera lans at him.

"That is the Boiler Room." He said in a tone both informative and slightly excited.

"That's not an inviting room at all whatsoever." Chris muttered, laughing, his voice betraying more nervous excitement than genuine fear.

As the group chuckled and commented about it, inching forward, Y/N’s laughter faded as her gaze locked onto the entrance. She felt a wave of something cold and clammy wrap around her, more powerful than the draft in the building.

Being a medium, she was no stranger to spiritual energy, but this... this felt different.

Her chest tightened as chills skittered up her spine, her heart hammering faster the longer she stared into the doorway. The energy was thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like a weight. It was dark, heavy, and so deeply embedded in the space that she could almost taste it on the air; a mix of anger, pain, and a bitterness that sent icy needles racing through her veins.

Matt, standing near her since the moment they entered the school, quickly noticed her shift in demeanor, his brows knitted in concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the doorway to look at him, finding comfort in the middle of ocean blue eyes.

"Yeah... Yeah, there’s just... something wrong in there." She murmured, her voice tight. "It doesn’t feel right."

Colby, overhearing, chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, it’s messed up in there." He admitted, shrugging. "We've been in there once before, but if any of you guys want to go, take the camera and look around."

The words hung heavily in the air, a silent challenge.

Nick and Chris immediately pointed at Matt. They both stepped back, dramatically widening their arms to clear a path to the door, their mischievous smirks only amplifying the tension.

"I mean, we all know who the bravest ones here are." Sam teased from behind them, laughing after receiving an "obviously" look from Nick.

Matt flashed a wide, determined grin, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a spark of excitement. After The Driskell Hotel, he discovered that he loved the thrill of these investigations, and with Y/N there, he almost felt invincible. Y/N’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anticipation, but she forced herself to shrug, flashing a nonchalant smile in return.

"Guess we’re doing this." She said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Matt took the camera from Colby, giving a quick smirk to the others.

"I feel like there can’t be anything." He joked, his voice steady, earning whoops and cheers from the guys. Together, he and Y/N led the way, with Chris and Nick following close behind.

As they stepped through the doorway into the Boiler Room, the energy shifted drastically. The air was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to their skin like invisible cobwebs. The once-bright beams of the camera’s flashlight seemed to dim as if the darkness here was absorbing the light itself, drinking it up and leaving nothing but a faint glow around them.

Every step Y/N took felt like wading through tar. Her limbs grew heavy, and with each inhale, it was as though she was breathing in the sorrow, anger, and fear that had seeped into the very concrete walls of the room. Her skin prickled, her head was starting to hurt, and a low hum of energy reverberated through her bones, vibrating up her spine and making her feel unsteady on her feet. Matt was ahead, filming with an almost oblivious bravery, but her steps slowed as they entered deeper into the room.

Pain. A pulse of it shot through her, raw and piercing, making her gasp and clench her hands by her sides as if she could wring it out of her body, her heartbeat echoing on her ears. She tried to keep her expression steady, not wanting to alarm the others, but Matt glanced over his shoulder at her, noticing her pale face and furrowed brow.

She shook her head at his questioning eyes, letting him keep walking ahead of her, allowing him, Chris, and Nick to venture toward the back of the room, where another open doorway beckoned, leading into an even darker, more enclosed space.

"Oh my God, it's bigger than I thought-" Matt started excitedly, being interrupted by a scared Nick.

"Matt! Don't say 'Oh my God' like that!"

Y/N stayed close to the entrance, her gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, the corner of her lips lifting slightly with the brother’s bickering. Something felt profoundly wrong in there, and every instinct in her body screamed for her to turn back, to leave the darkness to its own devices.

She took a step forward right after Chris, but the energy hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled, her legs unsteady as she caught herself against the doorframe. Noticing her falter, Chris immediately turned, his concern flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching to steady her, his hand grasping her arm. But Y/N didn’t hear him, nor did she feel his touch. She was already slipping away, pulled into a vision so intense it drowned out reality.

She was now surrounded by towering flames that crackled with a furious intensity. They licked up the walls around her, swallowing everything in a bright, blistering heat. Through the blaze, a young woman appeared, engulfed in flames, her face twisted in agonizing terror. The woman’s scream sliced through the air; a raw, primal sound unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. Instinctively, her hands flew up to her ears, desperately trying to block out the agonizing cry. It was a cry of pure pain and desperation, the kind that lingered, sinking into the skin and soul.

Then, she saw him. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows behind the woman, his face obscured by the darkness but his presence unmistakably menacing. He loomed over her, radiating a sick, cold satisfaction as the woman screamed, flames rising higher around them. Y/N could feel it, all the malice rolling off the man, thick and suffocating, causing her to gulp, her eyes widening in terror when the man's eyes flickered from the woman to hers.

He couldn't see her, could he?

As the flickering of a lightning, three distinct figures appeared behind the man before vanishing completely, and just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, leaving Y/N cold, breathless, and disoriented, the horrifying images imprinted in her mind.

Her surroundings snapped back into focus, the dimly lit Boiler Room reappearing around her in hazy fragments. She gasped, struggling to ground herself, her eyes searching around the room frantically, but as her vision cleared, her stomach twisted with a sickening dread. There, in the center of the second room, right in between the other two doorways, crouched a figure that defied anything she’d ever encountered, even in her darkest visions.

This wasn’t a spirit; she could feel the difference. The creature hunched low, its bony hands splayed across the grimy floor, its body twisted and contorted, as if barely contained within the physical plane. Shadows clung to its grotesque form, an aura of darkness so thick it devoured any light that dared come near. Its mottled skin was stretched and scarred, warped with unnatural shapes, as though stitched together from nightmares.

And then, she saw its eyes; deep, glowing red, like embers of molten rage, burning into her with a cruel, penetrating awareness. Those eyes locked onto her, narrowing with a sinister recognition. It knew she could see it, sense it, and understand the threat it posed. The fury in its gaze was suffocating, an anger so intense it filled the room, pressing down on her, trapping her in place.

Before she could gather herself, a voice oozed into her mind, cold and sharp as a dagger, each word dripping with malice. "Don’t tell anyone."

The command reverberated through her skull, a dark echo that chilled her to her core. She felt her heart hammering, her pulse quickening as a frigid terror clawed its way up her spine. The demon remained crouched, but its body tensed, coiled like a predator about to strike.

A whimper scaped from Y/N's throat when it began to inch forward, its gaze never wavering, as if relishing the fear it instilled with each calculated, crawling step.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was distant, but it cut through the fog of terror consuming her. She couldn’t respond, frozen in place as the demon drew nearer, dragging itself across the dirty ground, echoing with a disgusting sound of skin pressing against pebbles, her mind trapped in the paralyzing scene.

"What's happening? Why is she looking like that?" Chris's voice sounded muffled, dripping with anxiety, worry, and fear, his hand still holding her arms.

"Baby?" This time, Matt’s voice was sharper, laced with urgency. She felt a shift as he tossed the camera to Nick, then rushed to her side. His presence was solid, grounding, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close as he tried to get her attention while shielding her from whatever it was that she was seeing. "Hey, babe, are you okay? What’s wrong?"

She could barely hear him, his words muffled, distant. Her legs wobbled, feeling like they might give out at any second, and Matt held her tighter, his warmth battling the unnatural chill that had invaded her body, her skin feeling as cold as the winter.

"Y/N, hey, look at me. Can you hear me?" His tone was steady, doing a great job at hiding the extreme fear that he felt, his hands cradling her face as he searched her eyes for any sign of recognition.

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The demon’s furious glare was seared into her vision, its whispered threat echoing in her mind as a thick, oppressive darkness continued to drag her deeper into its depths.

Matt drew a sharp breath, his grip tightening around Y/N as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His tone was rough, leaving no room for argument.

The severity in his voice snapped them out of their stunned state, and they exchanged a quick look before following the couple to the exit door of the Boiler Room. Their footsteps echoed, tense and hurried, with Nick and Chris casting anxious glances behind them as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had gripped Y/N so tightly, Chris's hand searching desperately for Nick's arm, trying to find comfort.

As they stepped outside the oppressive confines of the room, an almost immediate sense of relief washed over them. The chill that had settled into Y/N’s bones began to ease, and her tense posture softened as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted. She inhaled deeply, her body leaning heavily into Matt’s, letting his steady presence anchor her back to reality. Her scared eyes moved frantically, searching over her shoulders as if waiting for it to follow them, but she only met darkness.

"Shh, you're okay now. I'm right here with you." Matt kept whispered sweet nothings against Y/N's head, gently forcing her to look away from the room, pressing her face against his own shoulder, her hair tickling his chin in a comforting way.

Sam and Colby, who had been standing by, initially cheered at their bravery but quickly went quiet when they noticed the disturbed expressions on everyone’s faces.

Sam stepped forward, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, you guys okay?" He asked, his tone low and concerned.

Matt opened his mouth, his protective instincts kicking in while his arms seemed to wrap around Y/N's body tighter.

"We should give her a second. She just needs a bit to calm down-"

"No." Y/N interrupted, her voice weak but firm. She shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes as she steadied herself, her cold hands finding his biceps, squeezing his hoodie-covered skin in reassurance. "They have to know."

Colby nodded, quickly understanding the weight of what she was about to say. He took the camera from Nick, aiming it at her as he stepped closer, Sam following behind.

Chris and Nick quickly gathered around the couple, assuming protective instances, waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and seriousness as Y/N prepared to explain, eyes frantically looking behind their backs every second, the feeling of being watched seeming to grow more intense.

"I... I saw something." She began, her voice a touch unsteady but gathering strength as she continued. "When I looked at that room, there was this... this intense heat, and suddenly, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. I saw flames, a massive fire that seemed to consume everything around it. And in the middle of it all was a young woman, burning alive."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she closed her eyes, trying to shake the haunting image that had imprinted itself in her mind. A warm spread around her left shoulder, and she quickly recognized Nick's comforting touch.

"She was screaming, and it wasn’t like any scream I’ve ever heard before." Y/N continued, her face pale as she relived the vision. "It was pure agony... and then, there was a man behind her, just standing there, watching her burn. He was tall, menacing, and I knew, somehow, that he was the one who did this to her. He for sure worked here back in the day, I just knew it, and he killed her, and he was enjoying it." She paused, her voice barely a whisper. "And then, right before the vision ended, I saw three male figures behind him. I thought it was over, but when I looked up, there was something else in the room with us."

"The janitor, the principal, and the librarian." Sam muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Colby's dark ones, which held the same realization look.

The rest of the group was silent, hanging onto every word as Y/N’s gaze darkened, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance, Matt's firm hands around her hips keeping her grounded.

"It was a very dark creature, obviously a demon." She whispered. "Big, twisted, and so... so angry. Its skin was... I can’t even describe it. It was unnatural, almost as if it was pulled together from different things, and its eyes... they were red, glowing, and it was looking right at me." Her voice wavered as she continued, a tremor of fear slipping through. "It knew I could see it, and it was furious. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. It told me that I couldn't tell you about it."

A shiver ran through the group, everyone exchanging wary glances, trying to process the weight of what she was saying. Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs.

"It started coming toward me, crawling like a snake, and that’s when Matt got to me. But... the warning felt like more than just a threat. It’s like it didn’t want us to have this information. It didn’t want us to know what happened here... This is all way darker than you guys expected."

Colby, his brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence.

"Wait, why wouldn’t it want us to know?"

Y/N hesitated, piecing together the fragments of knowledge she had gathered over years of honing her abilities.

"When it comes to entities like this, especially ones tied to a place or a tragedy... they draw power from secrecy, from fear. If we know what it is, what it’s done, it gives us the upper hand. And even more so if we learn its name."

Sam’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him as his gaze traveled from her to Colby and then back again.

"So, if we know its name, it becomes weaker?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

"Yes. Kind of. Names are powerful, especially with entities like that. It’s a way of binding it, of taking control. And right now, it knows we’re at an advantage. I just... I just have to figure out its name."

[unconsciousnonhuman]

@paranormal-peri - The Prologue

Part 1

(More pages coming soon)

Edit: You can read the full non-comic prologue here

[misshugs]

The Cameragirl || snc

You've been Sam and Colby's cameragirl for some time now. Usually, nothing too crazy happened to you in most investigations, but this time...

warnings: paranormal activity, reader getting attacked, near death experience, strangling(?), cursing, angst?

a/n: took a bit of inspo after watching the boys' video of the asylum, but nothing exactly like it. just the fact that the place is an asylum

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 3.6k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

As they were making their iconic intro and explaining what this new place was about, you made sure to have a sturdy pulse whilst filming them.

"Today, it's just me, Sam and our lovely cameragirl, Y/n." Colby said, letting you shift the camera towards your face and smile at it.

"Hello there." You said, making sure your face was extremely close to the camera, merely because it has become your way of introducing yourself.

"And since it's only us today like the good old days, we decided to make something fun. ALL of us." Sam explained to the camera and smirked, looking directly at you.

You batted your eyes, looking at them while they kept on smiling menancingly at you. "This wasn't a part of the contract." You said, gaining a laugh from both of them.

You zoomed onto his face and began talking with this soft, almost narrative voice. A voice you very well knew they enjoyed. "What is this oh so fun idea you seem to be hyping about, mr. Golbach?"

"Why thank you for asking." Sam nodded slightly, moving his attention towards the camera. "The three of us are gonna do a little challenge tonight." He clapped his hands together as you began unzooming the camera, putting Colby back on frame.

"That's right, we're going to walk alone, lights out throughout some of the most haunted corridors from this place." Colby continued. "The owners of this place told us it gets freaky when people are alone, so we thought this might get us some good activity."

"We have some cameras with nightvision but we're not gonna see shit." Sam added, "After a while, we all should find our way back to the main lobby."

"So stay until the end to see how that's gonna turn out." Colby says, getting close to the camera before covering it with his hand, making you stop the recording for the cut.

"That was pretty good." You said, looking at the video slightly.

"You're still good with the challenge, right?" Sam asked, looking at you. You scoffed.

"Please. I wouldn't have come if I wasn't sure about it. Remember you told me about it before the video?"

"I know, I know. Just making sure, you know how I am." He laughs. "Wouldn't want you to do something you're not comfortable with."

"You're saying that like we haven't known eachother for how long?"

He chuckles. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Alright, so since we're all settled, should we start right away?" Colby chimed in, looking at both of you.

"Not yet. This place has some good cinematic potential, lemme cook first." You said, looking around with your flashlight.

"Aight, we'll let you do your thing, I'll go ahead and look for the equipment." Colby said.

"Oh, shoot. I forgot to ask the owners about something." Sam said, taking out his phone.

"Go out with Colby, I'll be here waiting." You said, fixing back your camera to start recording.

"Alone?" They both asked, looking at eachother and then at you.

"I do my best work alone, gentlemen. You know that." You begin walking towards the shadiest corridor you've seen in your life, without even looking back.

"Oh wow. Fearless. She's trying to do the challenge before us." Colby laughed.

"Alright, I'll be super quick. If anything happens, just yell. As loud as you can." Sam said, smiling.

"Copy that." You laughed.

In the blink of an eye, you were left alone. You were used to these type of things, so it didn't bother you much. You've somehow become numb to all of this paranormal adventuring.

And that was one of the main reasons why you liked to take control of the camera, since you were able to keep your cool in stressful situations, making it easier for the viewers later on.

Plus, you didn't know how to act on camera and they were the professionals... allegedly.

Whenever something odd happened, you made sure to try and record as much as you could, in the best angles possible. You liked to joke around and call yourself a professional in your craft, although sometimes it wasn't even a joke.

You were passionate about it. The videos and the ghosts, it was only natural to try and do more, risk yourself to do something more interesting and outgoing.

That's a piece of yourself they loved about you. You were simply a perfect match in their combo.

As you began to do your cinematic, you began to have shivers. A sudden draft of air passing through you, as if a window suddenly opened.

Looking around, there was no possible way of that happening. You were in the middle of the corridor, absolutely no chance of an air draft simply passing through so randomly.

You thought it might've been a bit odd, but nothing you haven't felt before anyways. While you kept on making some videos, an eerie feeling of someone watching crossed over your spine.

The sensation of a presence slowly getting closer to you behind your back.

Almost feeling the heat of another person behind you, towering over you.

Hurriedly looking back, you were met with Sam's hand almost touching your shoulder. He stopped midway, knowing he got caught trying to scare you. "You bitch." You spit out, making him laugh.

"Damn it!" He said mid laugher. "I was so quiet this time, how do you always seem to know?"

"I can feel you lurking closer, you stalker." You looked away from his gaze, trying to ignore the thoughts of his pretty face. You began walking back to where he came from, meeting Colby in the process.

"I'm not a stalker, if anything, I'm protecting."

"Quietly from the shadows, sounds like a stalker to me, but you do you." You smiled softly, looking at the confused Colby.

"I left for a second, what did I miss?"

"Stalker behavior, nothing else." You said, putting your camera up again and ready to record.

Colby shook his head from side to side, already being on your side of the story without even asking further questions. "I can't believe you brother."

"Wha- it wasn't-..." Sam sighed, defeated. He knew you were joking, so he wasn't going to win anyways.

You laughed and pointed the camera at them. "Ready when you are." They nodded and you began to record.

"So as you can see, in our hands we have some devices that we'll scatter throughout this first room. If you've been here before, you'll probably be familiar, but if you haven't, these are basically some motion censor devices that will let us know if something walks infront of it." Colby explained, turning one of the devices on and showing to the camera how it worked.

As they organized everything, the REM-POD immediately began beeping. "Oh, shit. That's the rem pod." Sam said, stopping on its tracks. "That was the temperature dropping."

You made sure the camera caught that as you got closer to it. "Oh fuck. I was feeling a bit cold since we got here." Colby added. "Alright. I think we're ready."

"Okay. If there's any spirit around that would like to communicate with us, we would like for you to use any of these devices we've put up for you." Sam started, as you made sure to get far enough from everything for the shot.

"You can touch these lights on the floor, or maybe this device I have on my hand." Colby continued, pointing towards the EMF reader. "We mean no harm, we'd just like to talk to someone."

A couple of seconds passed, looking around, waiting for something to happen.

"Maybe they don't want..." Sam began, before getting interrupted by the REM-POD beeping, making you hurriedly move your camera angle. "Oop. Nevermind. Thank you very much. Can you do that again if you're here with us? To let us know it wasn't something else?"

Silence filled the room for a while, before the device started to beep once again.

Excited, they began asking questions to this entity, expecting for it to be somewhat intelligent enough to give answers back.

Luckily, it was. It seemed to be someone that died inside the asylum, a woman. Curious about the story of this woman, they kept on asking questions. Some of them being answered, others being completely ignored.

Asides from the constant beep from their device, you heard a knock coming from one of the corridors. Quickly looking around, they stopped talking. "What?" Colby asked.

"Heard something." You whispered. The room went silent, followed by what sounded like footsteps getting closer. You turn the camera back at them and their faces were shocked.

"Holy fuck." Sam whispered.

"That was like... thumps. We're the only ones here, right?" Colby asked him.

"Yeah, we're supposed to be." Sam says, walking towards the place they heard the sound, quietly. You followed close behind. "Hello?"

Nothing. They kept on looking around, searching and at the same time waiting for something else to happen. "There's no one here." Colby says. "But that was clear as day."

"Super clear, the camera must've have heard that, for sure." Sam said, looking at you as you nodded. "That was crazy."

"Yeah, let's try something else but closer to this area, maybe it's more active." Colby said, and all of you nodded.

A couple of minutes later, and you were all set up. This time around, they turned on a spirit box to try and communicate better.

The idea was to first use it as normal, then for Colby to do the Estes Method.

And so, the spirits began to talk.

"What's this." It spat out. Colby and Sam looked at eachother, smiling.

"Hello, this is a spirit box, you can use it to communicate with us. Would you mind telling us who you are?" Sam said, looking around.

"Hello?"

"Hi, hello." Colby responded. "Who are we talking to."

"I'm scared."

"Scared? Scared of what?" Colby asked, furrowing his eyebrows whilst looking at the camera.

"Behind you."

They quickly looked behind them. "Oh, fuck. I hate that." Colby said, as you smiled at their gestures.

It quickly faded away when you felt the familiar presence of someone behind you.

Heart racing, you looked around for a second, but there was nothing there. It didn't mean the feeling went away, though.

"Monster. Care..." It seemed the audio cut before finishing the whole word.

"Monster... care?" Sam asked, confused.

"Or maybe it meant careful? Like, careful of the monster?" Colby questioned.

"It would make sense. What monster are you talking about? Is it harming you? Are you scared of this monster... or... person?"

It took a while before responding. Last thing it said, before a screech filled the radio was... "Run."

Quickly, they turned it off. They looked at eachother. "That was terrifying." Colby said. Sam nodded and sighed.

"Let's try and look around for some other place. This doesn't feel safe." Sam said and everyone agreed.

For the past hour of recording, moving around and joking here and there, you felt a bit uncomfortable. Usually, you weren't the type to get scared over the paranormal, but this place felt more eerie than usual.

You heartbeat has been increasing slowly, as well as a slight pain in your chest that quickly faded. You felt watched.

There was a point where you even felt slightly touched, quickly warning the boys about it.

Due to this, they almost discarted the idea completely, thinking you might be getting targeted, scared that it might do something to you. It took you a couple of minutes of convincing them to keep on recording before the conversation was dismissed.

You tried to brush it all off, as 'something you've felt before', but deep down you were really anxious about it. Perhaps it made you feel better to think about it being just the nerves.

But you weren't the type of person to feel these nerves for no reason.

"Hey, you good?" Colby touched your shoulder and whispered to you, noticing you seemed a bit weird. "You seem out of it today."

"Yeah, I'm good. I was just zoning out."

"Yeah, I noticed." He chuckled, looking into your eyes. "You sure you're okay though?" He raised an eyebrow, seemingly concerned. "You don't look well."

"What? Do I look like a ghost to you?" You asked, smiling, which quickly made him show that gorgeous smile you loved.

"More like you've seen one." You shook your head.

"I'm fine. I've just seen some shadows running in the corners of my eye, but nothing too big to point out."

He batted his eyes. "You've what?"

"Calm down, you know I see those things all the time. It's nothing new." Half of it was true. The other half, well... there was a chance you might've seen a whole figure standing close to a doorframe, but you felt your imagination was tricking you too much tonight, so you didn't say anything.

You weren't a psychic or a medium or something close to it anyways. If anything, you'd probably consider it more like a hallucination due to the constant lack of sleep you've been having lately.

"I know, I know, but still. You could tell us about it, you know? Maybe we all see the same thing you do and since you don't point it out, we don't notice."

You rolled your eyes playfully. You were about to say something, but a breeze passed through your ear, a soft whisper saying "Come play."

You jumped, covering your ear and walking closer to Colby. "Shit." You whispered.

Confused, he held your shoulders. "What? What? You heard something?" His worry was enough for Sam to stop setting the cameras up and walk closer.

"What happened?" He asked. You looked around where you were standing.

"Did you guys not hear that?" You asked, the shook their heads. "I heard something like... right next to me." When you said that, Sam began recording once again.

"Alright, so... apparently Y/n just heard something right next to her." He began explaining to the camera, pointing it at you.

"It was like a whisper, it.. uh... it just said 'come play', like, the creepiest shit you can say. I even felt the air on my ear, that shit made me jump." You tried laughing about it to not let the mood down, but it wasn't working much.

"Although I really want to, maybe we shouldn't do the challenge." Colby said, looking at Sam straight in the eyes, genuinely worried.

"Guys. Come on. Don't back down when we're this close." You said. "We're basically done for tonight, this is the last thing we're doing and we're out, right?"

"...yeah." Sam whispered. "Let's..." He sighed. "Let's do it. Just like she said, we walk through the corridor and come back straight away."

Althought skeptical, Colby nodded. "Fine. Let's hurry up then. The quicker we begin, the quicker we're leaving this place."

And so, everyone held their cameras and said their goodbyes. The three of you went through your respective corridors and began walking, alone, with no light.

"Alright guys. I'm not good at, like, talking to the camera but I'll try." You sighed, pointing the camera at your face while slowly walking the dark corridor.

"Honestly? I'm usually not as creeped out when we come to places like this, but this one is like... up there. It's giving me the chills, making me paranoid, I feel like I'm... seeing thing. Or maybe I'm just sleep deprived. That's... that's also an option now that I think about it."

Looking around with the camera, although it's absolutely useless, you started feeling out of breath. Almost as if the air didn't reach your lungs anymore. "It feels... hard to breathe." You took a deep inhale and shakily exhaled.

You gulped, your throat suddenly feeling dry as the lack of oxygen was evident.

"I'm just gonna walk... faster. I wanna get this over with..." And so, you did. But the further away you got, the worse it all felt. You felt your vision starting to get blurry although you could barely see anything.

You paused as your vision began to get used to the darkness.

At the end of the corridor, what you could shape out like a human figure was standing there. Seemingly the same one you barely saw before.

This time, it didn't seem to go away.

You were also alone.

Unable to breathe.

You don't know when it started, but you were unable to breathe properly. You choked, trying to regain yourself from the feeling.

Your neck feeling tight, your stomach hurting at the sudden feeling.

Putting your hands on your neck, you coulnd't feel anything that would make you feel this way. You started to get worried.

You felt as if you were being choked. You tried to scream, but all that you could spat out from your lips was a soft, quiet, 'help'.

Trying to turn around and walk back, you saw the figure again and got scared, falling towards the floor. You coughed for air, sucking back as much as you could but being unable to.

Leaving the camera behind, you tried to crawl back to where you came from, but the lack of circulation on your body failed you as you coulnd't handle it anymore.

Your body falling on the floor, the camera seemingly recording your movements come to a halt.

Your eyes closing, leaving you unconscious.

It didn't take long before Sam and Colby got back to the lobby. Waiting for you, something seemed off.

They knew the corridor wasn't as long as theirs. You should've been the first one out by that logic. They've been waiting long enough and they were starting to get worried.

Even though the concept of the challenge was to be alone in the darkness, the idea of you being in trouble was too much to bare.

Heck, even if you were pranking them, the anxiety of you not coming back on time was driving them insane, they were ready for a scare if it had to come to that.

But the scare they were expecting wasn't the one they got.

Minutes of walking and calling out your name came to a stop when they saw you on the floor.

Hurriedly, they ran towards you and fell to the floor, yelling out your name. "This isn't funny, Y/n!" Sam yelled, moving your body, only to notice how cold you felt. His heart sank.

"Y/n, come on!" Colby said, putting himself on the other side, looking at Sam. The color from his face was gone when he felt her body. Colby, worried, touched your body and understood why he looked that way. "Oh, fuck. Fuck!"

Throwing the camera to the side, Colby quickly checked your pulse. "Sam. Call 911. This is serious." You still had a pulse, but you weren't breathing. First thing that came to his mind was CPR.

While Sam began to call, Colby was trying as hard as he could to help out. He began doing mouth to mouth, trying to bring some oxygen back to your lungs.

Tears streaming down both of their faces. Colby started making compressions to your chest, while Sam was talking to the 911 dispatcher and using the flashlight to illuminate Colby.

Luckily, they weren't too late. You began to cough and moved to the side to spit out some saliva. You breathed heavily and both of the guys sighed in relief.

As you tried to catch your breath, they softly held you up in place while your color came back to you. You blinked a couple of times, adjusting your view to your surroundings.

When you looked at them, they hugged you tight. "Fuck..." Sam whispered. "Let's get the fuck out of here right now." He held you softly and helped you out, as Colby grabbed all of the cameras.

It was hard for you to walk. It felt as if a ton of weight was keeping you from even standing up. It felt as if your limbs went numb, the lack of oxygen probably acting up.

Sam noticed, and didn't hesitate on holding you up and putting you on his back so that you could rest. They began walking as fast as they could, reassuring you that you will be fine.

You were focused on getting your breath back while listening to them scream at the spirits.

"You are not allowed to follow us home." Listening to Colby talk like this, while taking all of the equipment made you feel light. You started moving your arms and made sure to hold onto Sam, closing your eyes.

"You'll be okay. We're leaving." Sam reassured you, waiting for Colby to grab everything and get out of there in a rush.

After the police arrived and handed you an oxygen mask, you started feeling much better. You had some marks on your neck, like some hands were just squishing the air out of you.

Your body... at first, you could even see your veins pop out of your legs because of your lack of color. The poor circulation that ran through your body for a couple of minutes really drove your body to its limit somehow.

It took you a while to be able to stand on your two feet again, but before the police left you could walk on your own just fine. Sam and Colby however still managed to help you out.

"Let's head back home." Sam whispered to you. You nodded slightly and tried to walk on your own, only to be held up by Colby.

"Don't force yourself right now. You need some rest." He said, taking you back to the car. Your face having a rush of blood because of the gesture.

"I... I can walk."

"Let us do this. Please. It's too much already that you fainted right when we weren't with you." Sam said, looking at you, your heart racing at the look of his blue eyes upon you. You gulped.

"...f..fine." You said, resting your head on Colby's chest, making him smile.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

part two is up!! the link is in the beginning! <3

thanks for reading all the way! likes, comments and requests are much appreciated.

-nikkõ

[paranormal-peri]

I made a dumb @paranormal-peri doodle on the whiteboard.

“1/5 stars. Do not recommend. The bedding is shit and I’m pretty sure there are cameras installed in the hotel rooms”

[bsydelver]

Enough.

[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Spawn (MK 11) with a flighty darling—run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run

🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn isn't surprised that you are absolutely terrified of him. Having a hellspawn stalk your New York apartment and refuse to leave you alone is one hell of a scare. Still, he refuses to acknowledge that he had a part in intertwining both of your fates. It wasn't exactly difficult. You are simply a human—a mortal.

A little magic here and there and stealing your soul from your body and infecting it with a part of him also helped.

🐍ֶָ֢ You were a perfect Earthrealmer. Despite your need to flee every time he materialized out of thin air. He almost never spoke. He was like a ghost. He'd drop off groceries or things that you had been wanting to buy for the longest time. He'd sit on the edge of your couch and watch movies with you. Although he'd mostly just stare at you. It's a bad habit of his, but he just can't stop it. Your aura is so irresistible. Still, you would hide behind your couch, under your bed, or run out of your apartment and not return for hours on end.

So he tried to amend this by being as non-threatening as possible. He'd try to make himself appear smaller. He'd move something gently to notify you right before he would appear. He kept nightmares out of your dreams. The bad energy and entities that were attracted by him were never allowed within your space.

🐍ֶָ֢ You tried using holy objects on him! From every religion, you tried something. Some objects would burn him more than others, but he was used to the suffering at this point. Spawn would pluck the object out of your hand and offer his instead. You'd start fearfully sobbing and praying to a deity, or deities. It was more of an inconvenience if anything. 

He's already pissed off enough gods in his lifetime. He doesn't need one stealing your soul back and keeping you from him.

🐍ֶָ֢ It doesn't help that his K7-Leetha, and by extension his cape, have taken a liking to you. Leetha reaches out to you often, taking a hold of you. He isn't the one doing it. It's the parasite willing his body to hold you. He feels the need to emphasize this since you don't believe him. It's one of the few times he has actually used his words.

He doesn't fear much, but he fears himself. He fears himself hurting the only person he loves.

That's so fucking cheesy, he knows. It's like the plot of some stupid, shitty paranormal romance book, like his ex read.

It terrifies him. His cape will wrap you up and snuggle into you, feeding off of your warmth and energy.

It makes you woozy and panicky, only fueling him.

🐍ֶָ֢ You try to attack him, and he lets you. He can't help but chuckle at your pathetic attempt. You're like a cornered animal attacking the person trying to help you. It didn't work any of the other times, so why would it work now?

He's truly okay with it.

If it makes you feel safe, then he'll take some gunshots, punches, knives, and anything else you throw at him.

🐍ֶָ֢ Spawn tries his best to be vulnerable with you so you aren't as skittish. He speaks a little of his backstory, trying to make his voice less deep and gritty so as not to intimidate you. He asks you to call him any name, any nickname, just not Albert or Spawn. Albert has long since died, and Spawn has been through far too much to be loveable. He's just whatever he is with you. He's okay with that.

🐍ֶָ֢ The most important part is to hide his grizzly murders from you. You know he is a hellspawn and has some horrible shit and some good things sprinkled along in there. Still, his slaughters for you are sacrificial in nature. They feed him and give his obsession life. It makes Leetha even more protective of you. You make Spawn happy. You make his systems all fuzzy and hormone-y. That's how Leetha would describe it.

He keeps this secret like his life depends on it. You're getting more used to him. Why make you scared of him again?

[colormepurplex2]

The Demon Is In The Details | PJM

▻ The Demon Is In The Details ↳ Demon!Jimin x f.Reader ⤜ Crossroads AU ⤜ Accidental Soul Deal, Enthrallment, Strangers to Lovers | angst, smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 17,121 ⤜ Summary: It was a terrible idea—letting your friend bury that box at the crossroads. She claimed it was just for fun, but in the end, you were the one faced with paying the ultimate price. The devil—or in this case, demon—is in the details, so be sure to read between the lines, or you just might lose your soul. ⚠️ Crass language, demon summoning, talk of blood, soul sucking, dick piercing, cock sucking, kissing, biting, mild nipple play/biting/there is blood involved, blood drinking, face fucking, hair pulling, mild choking, body worship, enthrallment/instant infatuation, begging, vaginal sex, creampie, cum play/eating, insatiable lust, lost soul, demon metamorphosis, jealousy Each chapter will have specific warnings listed as they’re posted.

Chapter 1: It's Just A Box

Chapter 2: Sweet, Sweet Soul

Epilogue: Red Eyes, Green Heart

This story is complete.

A/N: Written as part of the @bangtanwritershq Seven Deadly Sins Second Quarter writing event! ↳ Sloth: Crossroad Demon AU ⟡ Supernatural ⟡ Strangers To Lovers ⟡ Bargain and Contracts ⟡ Explicit Sexual Content

A/N: A special thank you to @hisunshiine  @downbad4yoongi and @lo1k-diamonds for their unfailing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-06  ColorMePurplex2

[soupetiedee]

page 2/???

me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when me when tmc angst

[sacrednova]

Through Statics | Simon "Ghost" Riley | Part 2 (Final).

Ghost!Simon, Fem!Reader. Read Part 1 here, Warnings: Paranormal stuff, mentions of death, angst.

Better than a Ghost.

The nights started to blur together.

You’d stay up later and later, waiting for the telltale hum of the radio or the familiar cold shift in the air. Waiting for him. It had become a ritual now, a part of your life you couldn’t easily let go of. But something was changing. Something inside you.

At first, it was subtle. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest tight with anticipation. But each time the night stretched on with no sign of him, the weight in your heart grew heavier. The emptiness, the waiting—it gnawed at you. You’d told yourself it was curiosity, that it was the mystery of Simon, the haunting, the unknown. But it wasn’t just that anymore.

It was him.

You missed him when he didn’t appear, and that realization terrified you.

Days passed like a blur, your mind barely there, always returning to thoughts of him—his shadowed figure, his voice crackling through the static, the weight of his presence filling the room. You found yourself looking for signs of him even when you weren’t in the house. A chill on the wind, a flicker in the corner of your vision. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

And with that craving came a deeper sadness.

One night, you sat in the dark, the room illuminated only by the flickering candles you’d lit out of habit. You hadn’t seen or heard from him in days. The silence was unbearable. And for the first time since you moved into this house, you felt it—the crushing loneliness that came with his absence.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, your fingers digging into your skin as if you could hold yourself together. The weight of it pressed down on you, a hollow ache in your chest that refused to leave. You had never felt this way before—so lost, so empty. You weren’t even sure when it had started. But now, all you could think about was him.

Why wasn’t he here?

You whispered his name into the stillness, hoping for some kind of answer. But there was nothing. No hum from the radio, no cold touch against your skin. Just silence.

Your thoughts spiraled, circling the same realization over and over again, each time hitting you harder. You were waiting for someone who was dead. A man who didn’t belong in your world, who shouldn’t still be here. A man who had told you, time and time again, that you needed to move on.

And still, you waited.

The emptiness grew, deepening with every passing hour. It was as if the house itself was swallowing you whole, filling you with the same isolation Simon had lived with. His presence had become something you needed, something you craved, and now that it was gone… you didn’t know what to do.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned, the emptiness in your chest too much to bear. And then, just as you were about to give up and slip into the dark fog of your thoughts, you felt it.

The air shifted.

Cold, familiar, pressing against your skin. Your heart stuttered, and you sat up quickly, your eyes scanning the room. There, in the corner, his figure stood—tall, imposing, shadowed.

"Simon…" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He didn’t move. But you could feel him there, watching, waiting. The room felt too small with him in it, the air too thick.

Then, his voice came through, rough and static-laced, from the radio on the nightstand.

"You… deserve better, than being… sad for a… dead man."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You’d heard them before, but now, they carried so much more weight. You swallowed hard, your throat tightening.

"I’m not sad," you lied, though even you could hear the tremor in your voice. "I’m… just tired."

The radio hummed with a soft crackle, and for a moment, you thought he might respond. But there was only silence. His figure didn’t move, didn’t shift. It stood there, still and cold.

"You’re wrong," you finally whispered, your voice shaky but firm. "I don’t deserve better. I chose this. I chose you."

The radio buzzed, and then, his voice came through again, slower this time, the words drawn out like they were being pulled from somewhere deep within him.

"You… can’t stay. This… isn’t life."

You felt the tears well up in your eyes, hot and stinging. You knew he was right. You had known for a while now. But the thought of leaving, of being without him, of going back to a life that didn’t include his voice, his presence… it terrified you.

"I don’t want to leave," you admitted, your voice breaking. "I don’t want to go back to being alone."

The figure in the corner shifted slightly, and for the first time, you thought you saw something more than just a shadow. A glimpse of him—his eyes, dark and sad, looking at you through the mask.

"Alone… is better… than being with… a ghost."

The words hung in the air, cold and final.

You wiped at your eyes, the tears slipping down your cheeks. You had been walking on shaking ground for so long, teetering on the edge of something you weren’t sure you could handle. And now, Simon was giving you the answer you didn’t want to hear.

He was telling you to let go.

But how could you? How could you just walk away from him, from the connection you’d built, from the ghost that had somehow become more than just a shadow in the night?

"I’m not ready," you whispered, your voice trembling.

The room was silent again, the weight of his presence still pressing down on you. And then, softly, his voice came through one last time, almost a whisper.

"You have to be."

The candles flickered, their light dimming as a cold breeze swept through the room. His figure disappeared, fading back into the shadows.

And you were alone again.

Never enough.

You’d stopped going out as much, stopped checking in with friends, stopped pretending like things were normal. Your life had become this house, this haunted space, and the constant aching reminder of Simon’s presence, or sometimes, his absence. It was starting to consume you in a way you hadn’t expected. You had let him in—let this ghost take over your world, and now, it felt like he was slowly replacing everything else.

The mornings were the hardest. You’d wake up feeling the weight in your chest before you’d even opened your eyes, the tightness around your heart that never seemed to ease. Each day began with a struggle to pull yourself out of bed, your limbs heavy with exhaustion, your mind fogged by dreams of a life that had never been yours. A life with him, maybe, if he hadn’t died. If he had been more than just a voice in the static.

One afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at your reflection but not really seeing it. Your eyes were red from crying, the shadows beneath them dark and deep. You looked like a ghost of yourself—just as lost as Simon was. You didn’t know how you’d gotten here, how you’d let yourself fall so deep into mourning for a man you’d never known alive. But here you were, mourning him all the same.

Your breath hitched as you wiped at your eyes, but the tears wouldn’t stop. They kept falling, dripping onto the sink as you hung your head, your heart aching in a way you couldn’t explain. The pain wasn’t sharp; it was dull, ever-present, like a constant reminder of what could never be.

You lowered your face to splash some water on it, the coolness helping to numb the tightness in your chest. But before you could raise your head to look at your reflection again, you felt it.

Hands.

They were on your shoulders—heavy, strong, but tender, as if they knew just how fragile you were in that moment. The pressure was there, steady and comforting, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected. It didn’t startle you, but instead, it brought an overwhelming sense of calm, like a silent promise that you weren’t alone, not truly.

You froze, the water still dripping from your face, your breath catching in your throat. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel him, feel Simon, standing behind you. His touch was cold, but it wasn’t unwelcome. It wasn’t the eerie, ghostly sensation you’d felt before. This was different—more deliberate, more intentional. More real.

And just as quickly as the hands had appeared, they were gone, the weight lifting from your shoulders like a breeze slipping through your fingers. You stood there for a moment, your hands gripping the edge of the sink, trying to catch your breath, trying to hold onto the feeling of him.

But it was already fading.

You didn’t look up. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to see your reflection, didn’t want to see the emptiness that stared back at you. Instead, you lowered your head again, letting the water drip down into the sink, your heart aching with the loss of something you never really had.

What could’ve been…

That thought lingered in your mind, haunting you just as much as Simon did. What would your life have been like if he hadn’t died? If he had lived, if you had met him when he was alive? Would you have been the one to fix him, to ease the burden he carried? Would he have loved you the way you were starting to love him?

It was all too much. Too painful.

With a shaky breath, you straightened up, wiping your face with a towel and forcing yourself to stand tall. You couldn’t keep going on like this, wallowing in what-ifs. You had to move, had to do something, even if it was just a small step forward. Faking a smile, you left the bathroom and made your way to the kitchen, your movements slow and deliberate. You needed something to ground you, something to bring you back to reality, even if it was just a cup of tea.

As the kettle boiled, you leaned against the counter, staring at nothing in particular, your mind still lingering on the feeling of Simon’s hands. You knew it was him. Who else could it have been? No one else was here. No one else cared enough to try to comfort you like that.

Once the tea was ready, you poured it into your favorite mug and held it close, the warmth a small comfort in the coldness of the house. You sat at the table, staring into the steaming liquid as if it held some kind of answer.

"Was that your way of making me feel better?" you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

The radio on the counter, which had been silent all day, suddenly crackled to life. It wasn’t words this time, just a soft hum of static, the sound gentle but constant.

You smiled, the ache in your chest easing just a little. It was a yes.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to remind you that even though Simon was gone, even though he was dead, he still cared. He was still here, in whatever way he could be.

But the sadness lingered, just beneath the surface, a constant reminder that this—whatever this was—could never be enough. You couldn’t live your life waiting for the faint touch of a ghost, for words whispered through static and shadows that disappeared as soon as you blinked.

Still, for now, you held onto the small comfort he gave you. Because sometimes, even a ghost’s touch was better than feeling nothing at all.

Burning candle.

It was almost eerie—the way Simon started to show himself to you.

At first, it was just fleeting shadows, glimpses you could easily blame on tricks of the light or your overactive imagination. You would catch him out of the corner of your eye—on the stairs, sitting on the couch, leaning against a wall. His presence wasn’t overwhelming anymore, wasn’t something that came with cold gusts of air or sudden creaks in the floorboards. It was subtler now, more natural, as if he was just… there. Like he belonged.

You’d remember what the old woman from the town had told you about candles. “The flame’s light,” she had said in that raspy, knowing voice, “calls their shadows. It shows us what we can’t see in the daylight.”

You didn’t believe it at first. It sounded like an old wives’ tale, something to keep the curious entertained. But after seeing him, the way his shadow seemed more defined, more real in the flickering light of the candles, you began to wonder if there was truth to her words. Maybe the firelight did have some strange power, some ability to reveal what lingered in the darkness.

So, you left a candle burning in your room at night.

It was a simple ritual, something to feel closer to him, to coax him out of the shadows. The soft glow of the candle soothed you, its flame casting gentle waves of light across the walls, dancing in the quiet stillness of the room. You would lie there, watching the flicker of the flame as you drifted off to sleep, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Simon would be there when you woke.

But every morning, the candle was always out, its wick blackened but the wax hardly melted, as if someone had gently blown it out before it could burn all the way down. You didn’t need to guess who it was.

It was him.

Simon. He was the one who put out the candle, always before it finished burning. You could feel it, sense his touch, as if he was protecting you in some small, silent way. Maybe he didn’t want the flame to go too far, didn’t want you calling him too often, didn’t want you to keep yourself tethered to him.

And yet, he still let you see him.

A shadow in the corner, a soft movement in the dark. It wasn’t frightening anymore; it had become part of your nightly routine, like the candle itself. His presence was comforting in its strange, haunting way, and every night, as the candle’s flame flickered and danced, you would feel him watching. Always there, even when you couldn’t see him fully.

But it was bittersweet, knowing that he would never let the candle burn completely. He was always in control, deciding when you’d see him and when you wouldn’t. And you couldn’t help but wonder what that meant.

You will leave(me).

There was something that flickered in your chest every time he spoke to you—something you couldn’t ignore, something you weren’t ready to admit. It wasn’t just the words themselves; it was how he said them. The tone of his voice, the way he sometimes talked as if he were still alive, still that hardened soldier. His words did something to you, twisted something deep inside that made it harder and harder to separate the man from the ghost.

You couldn’t deny it anymore. You were falling for him.

And that realization hurt more than you thought it would. You couldn’t help but feel the sting of it every time he spoke, every time he appeared, every time he reminded you that he was dead.

The night you asked about the candles, you hadn’t expected a response like the one he gave.

“Careless girl…” his voice crackled through the static, rough yet familiar. “Burn the… whole house…”

There was that tone. That low, reprimanding note he used sometimes. And though you knew it was ridiculous, it did things to you. Made your pulse quicken, made your heart beat just a little faster. It wasn’t just fear anymore—it was something else entirely. Something that had been building inside of you since the first time you heard his voice.

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself, but there was truth in your whispered response. “You are not helping me at all…”

It wasn’t helpful, any of this. It wasn’t helpful that he was here, haunting you in ways far beyond just the physical. It wasn’t helpful that you were growing more attached to a man who wasn’t alive. It wasn’t helpful that you were starting to fall for someone who could never be yours, not in the way you wanted.

And then, like a blade twisting in your heart, you remembered what he had said a few nights before. It was a passing comment at the time, but it had lingered in your mind ever since. He was trying, he had said. Trying to leave. But he couldn’t.

You had replayed that moment in your head all week, over and over again. The way his voice had softened when he admitted it, the frustration behind the words. He was trapped, just like you were—tied to this house, to this strange half-existence. And no matter how much he tried to move on, to leave, he was stuck.

And somehow, knowing that hurt more than you could explain. Because if he ever did leave, you knew he’d do it in silence. He wouldn’t say goodbye. He wouldn’t warn you. He would just… go.

“Won’t you leave in silence?” you asked softly, your voice barely audible as you stared at the flickering candle on your nightstand.

The radio crackled, the static filling the air for a moment before his voice came through, rough and quiet, almost hesitant.

“…Don’t want to.”

Your breath caught in your throat. It was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough. Enough to tell you what he hadn’t said before. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

And that only made it worse.

To feel alive.

Halloween. What a day for a haunted house, right? The irony wasn’t lost on you, but you had been too wrapped up in your own emotions to even think about it. The weight of your feelings—this strange, twisted connection to Simon—had consumed you, leaving little room for anything else. The sadness of loving someone you could never truly have. It was sick, you knew that, but it was real. And tonight, that reality was sinking in more than ever.

So when you heard the knock at your bedroom door, your heart leaped in your chest. Panic shot through you like a bolt of lightning. Simon never knocked. Never. He didn’t need to knock. His presence was always felt, quiet and subtle, like the air shifting in the room. But now…

Another knock.

Your mind raced, dread tightening in your chest as you stood frozen by the bed. Your breath hitched as you heard his voice, clearer than it had ever been before.

“Should I come in?”

You wanted to scream, to bolt to the door and demand an explanation. “What is going on?!”

There was a pause, and then his voice came again, but this time… there was no static. No distortion. Just that familiar roughness, that accent you’d come to know so well, with a hint of dry amusement.

“…Halloween. Moon. Ghost stuff.”

Your heart was pounding. He was waiting. Waiting for you to let him in. You hesitated for a second—just a second—but then you realized something. It was different tonight. He was different tonight.

So you took a breath and opened the door.

And there he was.

Simon stood in the doorway, his figure more solid, more real than you had ever seen him before. His black clothes seemed to absorb the dim light of the hallway, and his hands—those hands you’d only ever felt as cold, ghostly touches—looked too real. His mask was the same, that iconic skull painted over it, but behind it, you could feel his eyes on you. And for the first time, they felt real. Alive, almost.

You swallowed, your throat dry as you took him in, the weight of his presence overwhelming you. There was no mistaking it—he was more here tonight than ever before.

“Happy Halloween, Simon?” you ventured, your voice soft, uncertain.

He tilted his head slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—amusement? Maybe.

“…Not my thing,” he muttered, his voice lower, smoother without the crackle of static to distort it. “But I’ll take it.”

And oh, that voice. You’d thought you knew it, thought you’d grown used to the sound of it through the radio, but this? This was different. It was beautiful in a way you hadn’t expected. There was something raw and real about it, something that made your heart skip a beat. The accent, the roughness—it all hit you harder than you could have prepared for.

Simon stood there, more tangible than ever, and you couldn’t help but feel that maybe… maybe he needed this too. Just for one night, to feel a little more alive. Just for one night, to let the boundaries between life and death blur.

And as he lingered in the doorway, watching you with those eyes that seemed to see right through you, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what he wanted all along. To feel real again. To feel something.

Here, like this.

Everything felt like a cruel joke—a bad one, the kind where the punchline was hidden in the wreckage of your heart. As you stood there, watching Simon in his more solid form than you’d ever seen, a flicker of hope danced in your chest. Hope that maybe, just maybe, things could be different. That you could feel him, truly touch him, and bridge the gap between your world and his.

But as your trembling hand reached out, desperate to make contact, you felt nothing. Your fingers hovered near him, so close yet so impossibly far, and the emptiness you felt in that moment was more painful than any horror the house could conjure. Why couldn’t you touch him? Why couldn’t he be real?

“What kind of game is this?” Your voice wavered with frustration, with hurt, with everything you had been holding in since the moment you first realized he was here. Your hand dropped back to your side, defeated.

And then, unexpectedly, his hand rose—slow and deliberate—and came to rest near your cheek. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, but when his hand touched you, there was nothing but cold air. The sensation of it haunted you; it wasn’t the physical touch that mattered, but the intention behind it. The way he tried to connect with you, even if he couldn’t.

"…Used to think life was a cruel joke,” Simon muttered, his voice low and rough with that familiar dark humor of his. “I can say it now—death is."

Of course, he would say something like that. It was just his way, wasn’t it? Dark jokes in the most absurd moments. That’s how he dealt with it—with all of it. And yet, there was truth in his words, truth that lingered in the space between you.

You forced a small, bitter smile, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat. How could he stand here, so close, and still be so far away?

"…How long… would you be here?” you asked softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

He was quiet for a beat, the weight of the question settling between you both. Then, with that same solemn tone, he answered.

“I’m always here…” His words hung in the air, a reminder that his presence was permanent, even if he wasn’t always seen. “But like this… maybe some hours.”

Some hours. That was all you had. A few fleeting moments where he could almost seem like he was truly there with you. And then what? He’d fade away again, back into the shadows, back into the static and the cold. Leaving you with nothing but the memory of his presence.

Your heart ached with the realization, again. It was never going to be enough.

Halfway here.

It felt right. And that was what made it all so wrong. But what else could you do? What else was there, if not this? In the stillness of the night, with the flickering candlelight casting his shadow across the room, you found yourself unable to resist. You told him to sit next to you on the bed, your heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, everything that would never be.

He did as you asked, his figure still towering but somehow less intimidating now. He sat close, the bed barely shifting beneath him, but you could feel his presence, like a ghostly weight pressing down on your soul. His eyes never left yours. You held his gaze, desperate to find something human, something real in the emptiness.

And then you talked. You told him about your life, the things that haunted you, the things that kept you awake at night. You asked him about his life, too, even though you knew, deep down, he wouldn’t answer most of your questions. He listened in silence, his presence enough to soothe you, even as your heart ached with the knowledge that this connection was fleeting.

The words slipped out before you could stop them, a half-hearted joke to lighten the heavy air between you both. “We can do this every Halloween…”

But the moment you said it, you saw it—the look in his eyes. Even through the mask, you could feel the weight of his stare, a look that said everything he couldn’t. A look that told you he might not be here for the next Halloween.

His voice came softly, a quiet murmur that felt like it carried the weight of years of pain and regret. "…I'll never let you wait a whole year for… this. I couldn't."

Your chest tightened, his words wrapping around your heart like a vice. It was as if he knew, just as you did, that time was not something either of you had. That whatever this was, it couldn’t last.

"…You don’t deserve it, love."

Love.

The word echoed in your mind, sinking deep into your bones. You don’t deserve to hold onto this little, onto this minimum, he said. And you knew he was right. But how could you let go? How could you pull yourself away from him when he was all you had, even if it was just in fragments?

“And you deserved better, Simon,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of your emotions.

"I didn’t,” he replied, his tone dark and filled with a bitter kind of finality. “That’s why I’m halfway here."

Halfway here. Neither fully alive nor fully gone, stuck in some purgatory between worlds. And it was clear now—he believed he deserved to suffer for what he had done in life.

"I am… I wasn't a good man…" His confession hung in the air, thick with self-loathing. And yet, even as he accepted his fate, he couldn’t stand the thought of making you suffer for him.

His hand hovered close to yours, as if trying to reach out but knowing it wasn’t enough. You could feel it—his desire to be something more for you, to offer more than this fleeting presence. But the walls between your worlds were too high, too impenetrable.

He was right. You didn’t deserve this. But neither did he deserve the weight of his guilt, the burden he carried even in death.

“Simon,” you whispered, your voice breaking under the weight of it all, “I don’t want you to leave me.”

There was silence, a long, aching pause before he spoke again. His voice was low, almost broken.

“I know. But you need more than a dead man.”

Can you feel?

The easier it became to feel him around you, the more it tasted like ashes, bitter and fleeting. The moments when his presence lingered in the room felt like stolen time—time that you knew he might be using to say goodbye. It gnawed at you, the possibility that he was trying to leave, and trying to make it soft, trying not to break you completely.

"I am breaking your heart," he said, his voice quieter than you had ever heard it.

"…Yes," you admitted, your chest tight with the weight of those words. "My heart is a little broken. But I want to feel this."

"Why?" His question hung in the air, not demanding an answer, but one you both knew needed to be asked.

Why?

Why did you stay in that house? Why did you try to get close to a ghost? Why did you start to think about him as something more than just a haunting presence in your life? And why—why did he let you get close, too?

There were no simple answers, only the complicated mess of emotions that tied you to him, to this house, to the shadows that grew between you both. Maybe you didn’t want answers. Maybe you just wanted more time.

"Can you feel things, Simon?" you whispered, the question burning in your throat, almost afraid of what his response would be.

For a long moment, he said nothing. The room felt colder, like the weight of the truth was pressing in, suffocating. When he finally spoke, there was something in his voice that shook you—an emptiness that mirrored the void you felt deep inside.

"…I'd rather not."

And there it was. The truth that you’d known all along. He could feel things, but the weight of it—the pain, the regret, the loneliness—was too much for him. He’d rather not feel, because feeling meant facing the cruelty of a life he no longer had and a connection he could never fully grasp.

You felt your breath catch, tears prickling at the edges of your eyes. It was a confession more painful than any ghostly touch, more real than any fleeting glimpse of him in the shadows.

He didn’t want to feel, because it hurt too much to be reminded of what he could never have again. What you could never have together.

And yet, despite it all, you wanted to feel it. You wanted to hold on to whatever pieces of him you could, even if it broke your heart a little more with every passing day.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, unsure if you were apologizing to him, or yourself, or to both of you.

He didn’t respond. His shadow flickered in the dim candlelight, and for a moment, you thought maybe he was fading again, disappearing into the corners of the room. But he stayed, silent, a presence that filled the space between you both with the unspoken weight of everything you couldn’t say.

And you knew, deep down, that he was trying to say goodbye. Trying to ease you into the inevitable. Trying not to hurt you more than he already had.

But you weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to let go of him yet.

"Stay," you whispered, barely audible. "Please… just stay."

The beggining of the end.

The clock struck three a.m., and you felt it—the bed shifted, the weight of him settling beside you. Your heart raced, knowing that this time, you could touch him, that he was more real than he'd ever been. But when you looked at him, his eyes were closed, his brow furrowed, like he was fighting a war within himself. The battle raged behind his calm exterior, the weight of mixed thoughts threatening to pull him apart.

Of course, he had doubts. You could see it in the tension that lined his face, in the way his hands twitched, as if they wanted to reach out—reach for you. To hold your hand, to touch your face, to shake you and tell you to leave before it got worse. He wanted to say you were being foolish, too naïve, that there was no possibility for the two of you, not in any real sense.

And he said it. His voice was rough, almost cold, as if trying to convince both you and himself. "This… only makes it worse."

You nodded, tears already forming in your eyes. You knew that. You’d always known. But knowledge doesn’t stop the heart from wanting what it wants. "I know, Simon," you whispered. "But I need this. I need this moment. After… after, I’ll figure it out."

He went silent again, and in that quiet, the reality settled around you both like an unspoken truth. The weight of everything unsaid. The heaviness of what was coming.

"Love," he said softly, his voice gentler now, that low rumble that always made your heart clench, "you know it's time, don’t you?"

Time to move on. Time to let go.

"But I don’t want to, Simon."

Your voice cracked, and the words came out like a child’s desperate plea, a cry for something you couldn’t hold on to. The tears streamed down your face even as you forced a smile, like you were trying to stay strong, trying not to let it break you, but it was breaking you. The heartache was suffocating, like a black hole pulling you in, devouring everything you had left.

You had a smile on your face but tears in your eyes. And hell, if he had been alive, that sight might have broken his heart for the very first time.

"…You’re not leaving, are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear, with hope, with all the things you couldn’t say.

But deep down, you already knew the answer. He didn’t have to say it.

He was.

The silence that followed was louder than any answer could have been. You could feel him slipping away, not physically, but in a deeper, more final sense. This was it, the beginning of the end. He was letting go, and whether you were ready or not, you had to face it.

Simon’s presence, heavy and cold, lingered beside you, but there was a distance in it now, a fading. His battle was over, and he had made his decision. You felt the faintest brush of air, like his hand might have reached out to you but never quite made it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice so soft you almost missed it. “I’m… so sorry.”

The apology hit you harder than anything else. It was the final goodbye you never wanted but knew was coming.

And as the darkness closed in around you, the cold, quiet truth was undeniable.

He was leaving, and this time, there would be no coming back.

Smells like a dream.

The morning light filtered through the white curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. For the first time since you’d moved in, the house felt like a normal home—warm, inviting, free of that lingering cold air that used to fill every corner. It was a stark contrast to the many nights before, nights filled with whispers, static, and shadows.

You were lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, but there was a different warmth now, one that spread not only through the room but through you. There was a weight beside you, a presence you knew too well without even looking. Simon. He was there, laying next to you, as if this was just another quiet morning in an ordinary life.

"I like this," you said, your voice quiet, almost afraid to break the spell of this moment.

He hummed in response, a soft sound that made your heart squeeze. It was so real. He was so real, alive in a way he hadn't been before.

"I was thinking about painting the walls. What do you think?" you asked, your tone light, as if you were simply planning the future, as if everything had changed.

"I think you can paint the whole house if you want to," he replied, his voice rich with that familiar, deep tone that never failed to tug at you.

You smiled. It was such a simple exchange, and yet it meant everything. A feeling of lightness wrapped around your heart, like a hug. For a brief moment, it was easy to forget what he was—what he wasn’t.

You finally turned to look at him, the light spilling over his clothes, illuminating his face in a way that made your breath catch.

His face.

"…Where is the mask?" you whispered.

"Don't need it," he replied. Not here, not now, not anymore.

Your gaze locked with his, and in that moment, his eyes spoke volumes, as if you could see into his soul. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was filled with all the things you had shared, all the things left unsaid.

You reached for his hand, hesitant, but when your fingers brushed his, there was no cold air, no static. His hand was warm.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. No more cold. No more ghostly touches. This was real, as real as it could get.

"I wanted to live," he said quietly, and the weight of those words hung in the air, heavy with all the things he couldn’t have.

"You lived," you replied softly, your voice steady, though your heart ached for him, for all he had lost, all he could never have again.

He pressed his lips together, a thin line as his scars etched deep into his skin, painting the map of a life lived hard. "Not the way I should."

"…Do you have regrets?" you asked, your throat tight with emotion.

"Always had," he said, his eyes distant, as if seeing something far away. "In life… in death."

And in that moment, you realized that no matter how real he felt, no matter how alive he seemed, he would always carry that weight. The weight of what was lost, of what could never be.

But for now, he was here, with you. And that was enough.

All for you.

"What did you regret in life, Simon?" Your voice was soft, barely more than a whisper, as your fingertips lightly grazed his hand. His eyelashes, so pale against his skin, fluttered as he watched you, tracing every line of your face.

"In life, I regret not living," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he hadn’t done, all the moments he’d let slip away.

You remembered those words he'd spoken to you once, through the crackling static of the radio: "You have somewhere to go, live life." They hit harder now, with him here, lying beside you.

"And in death?" you asked, though your heart clenched, bracing for the answer.

His eyes darkened, his gaze drifting from yours for just a moment before he spoke. "…I regret not leaving sooner."

It was a hard truth, one that cut deep, but there was no bitterness in his voice. Just acceptance. You understood what he meant, the sorrow that lingered behind those words. He had stayed for you, because he didn’t want you to be alone, and yet…

"For me?" Your voice wavered, emotion thick in your throat.

He looked at you, his expression softer than you had ever seen it. "All was for you. All of this."

And in that moment, you felt it—the full weight of everything he had given, everything he had sacrificed, even in death. He had stayed, not because he had to, but because of you.

To live for the two of us.

"And it ended up breaking your heart," he whispered, his voice trembling with the ache of it all.

His silence followed him. The pain was there, deep and unspoken, but it hung in the air between you both. You swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in your throat.

"I don't regret this, Simon," you said, your words honest, even though it hurt. "Did you like meeting me?"

There was a pause, just long enough for you to wonder if he'd answer, but then he spoke, his voice as soft and real as it had ever been. "…Of course I did, sweetheart."

And then silence again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was peaceful. The kind of silence that only comes when everything has been said, when there’s nothing left but truth between two people. The morning light bloomed around you both, warming the room and your skin, casting soft shadows. It felt… right.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest, and you breathed in his scent—warm, alive, like a memory brought to life. The weight of him, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, it was like holding the holy grail in your hands, something you never thought you’d have.

He told you, in that low, familiar voice, that he had wanted to do this since the first week. Since he saw you sleeping in what had once been his room. He had wanted to share mornings with you, to have breakfast together, to sit with you on the couch and read. He had wanted to argue over decorations, to feel your skin under his hands, to kiss every inch of you. He spoke about his past, how he had been a broken man when he was alive, trapped by the trauma he could never shake. He had never stopped being that scared boy, the one who feared his father, who had grown up with a twisted sense of what love was.

He lived in a cage, one he had built for himself. But now, he was grateful—for you, for the light you brought into his darkness.

And that was where he was going now.

Because as much as he wanted to stay, as much as he loved you, he wanted you to live. He wanted to die in peace. It was almost ironic, the way he said it, half-joking, half-truth, but that was Simon: a man with a dark, dry humor who spoke with a serious, stoic face but needed so badly to be heard.

And this—this was his goodbye. He wanted you to hear it, to understand that it wasn’t really the end, but a beginning. For you.

His grip on you tightened for just a moment, and his voice, raw with emotion, broke through the quiet.

"I’ll never stop being grateful for you, love," he whispered. "But you need to live now. You need to live for both of us."

And with that, you knew. This was his final gift to you—his release, his peace. And it was your turn now, to carry on.

Wanted you to feel(me).

"Just tell me this is real." Your voice was barely a whisper, caught between a sob and a plea, trembling with the weight of it all.

You felt his chest shift under your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might be laughing softly, his warmth filling the space between you.

"Are you asking that now, huh?" he murmured, his voice tinged with a familiar amusement.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you pressed your forehead to his, your noses brushing. "Please," you breathed, desperation clawing at your heart.

He hesitated for a heartbeat, then spoke, his voice a mixture of tenderness and sorrow. "…You're dreaming, dear. I needed it to be like this."

"Why?" The question tumbled out before you could stop it, raw and vulnerable, filled with all the longing you'd carried for so long.

"…Because I wanted you to feel this," he said softly, his words landing with the weight of every unsaid thing between you.

And then, there was a kiss.

It wasn't just any kiss—it was everything. It was a breathless, soul-deep kiss that could've swallowed all your sadness, could've mended every broken piece of you. In that moment, the world outside faded, and all that existed was him, his lips against yours, the press of his body so achingly real. It was as if you were speaking a new language, one that neither of you had known existed but had longed to learn.

His touch was everything you had craved since that first night—the cold touch on your shoulder, the crackle of his voice through the radio, the way you'd sensed his presence before you ever truly saw him. And now, it was real. He was real. The kiss pulled you back through time, through every moment you had spent wanting him, every memory rushing through your mind like a flood, filling your heart until it felt like it might burst.

This was the truth you had always known, the one that had settled deep in your bones: you loved him. You loved Simon.

You loved a ghost. A man whose life had been marred by pain, who, in life, might have never seen you, never loved you. But in death, he had become something more. His death had made this possible, this fragile connection between you. And that truth—it was so beautiful, so heartbreaking, that it felt like it might tear you apart.

Because how do you love a man who is already gone?

And yet, here you were. Loving him. Feeling him. Even as you knew, deep down, that this moment was fleeting, that soon, it would slip away like a dream. But for now, for this moment, it was real. And you clung to it, to him, like it was all you had left.

Because in a way, it was.

Have a lovely life, love.

They both felt it, the moment of release—the cruel, inevitable end. Letting go was like losing a part of yourself, like tearing out a piece of your soul and leaving it behind. It hurt in a way that words couldn't capture, deep and raw.

"No, wait… no, no…" The whisper escaped your lips, fragile and desperate, a plea from the darkest, most vulnerable corner of your shattered heart.

His voice, full of pain and regret, reached you through the growing distance. "I’m so sorry… I love you. I love you now, and I’ll love you wherever I’m going, my love, my girl."

Simon, who had been so distant in life, was now so close in death. His soul, though, was being pulled away—screaming, resisting the inevitable departure. His body was long gone, but now his spirit had to leave the place where it had found a kind of solace, found you.

And then… he was gone. The warmth of his presence faded, leaving only the hollow echo of his voice, a whisper that echoed in your mind like a farewell etched into your soul: "Find a good man. Have a lovely life, love. Have children. Grow old with happy memories… I’ll wait for you, anytime."

You woke up in the cold, harsh reality of your bed. The warmth from the dream, from him, was gone. The house felt empty—no warmth, no trace of him. It was gray, cold, like everything good had been drained out. A single tear traced the curve of your cheek, and your chest ached as though someone had physically stepped on your heart, leaving you with nothing but a gaping wound.

A broken sob escaped your lips, quiet but enough to say everything that needed to be said. It was over. The end of the beginning. The beginning of a life without his ghost.

As you turned over in your bed, trying to pull the covers over you, to shut out the world, your eyes caught something that stopped you in your tracks. There, on the chair by the window, where the morning light was just starting to filter through the curtains, you saw it—a familiar, haunting glimpse.

Simon's mask.

It sat there, quiet and still, like a final promise, a reminder that what you had shared with him was real, even if it had been fleeting. He was gone, but somehow, in some small way, he was still with you. The mask, once a symbol of his distance, his pain, was now a piece of him that had stayed behind. It was a part of him that would never truly leave.

And with that, you knew—this was the end of one chapter, but the beginning of something else. A life lived for yourself, with the memories of a man who had loved you, in his own way, even beyond death.

"The whites of your eyes, Turns black in the lowlight In turning divine, We tangle endlessly Like lovers entwined I know for the last time, You will not be mine So give me the night, the night, the night, the night, The night comes down like heaven."

Dear Love,

I never thought I’d be writing this. A goodbye letter to a woman I never met in life but found after death. Funny how things work out, isn’t it? There are things I wanted to say, things I should’ve said long ago, but I never knew how. I always thought I’d have time. Turns out, I was wrong.

You brought me back when I had no right to come back. You gave me warmth when I only knew cold. I didn’t deserve it, but you gave it freely. I’m grateful for that. You made me feel alive again, even for a fleeting moment.

But that’s the thing—moments don’t last. And neither can I.

If you’re reading this, it means I’ve left. I had to. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to. You don’t deserve to be haunted by me, by someone who couldn’t give you the life you deserve. You deserve more. You deserve someone real, someone who can love you without a mask between you and him.

I regret many things in life. I regret not living, not fighting for more, but most of all, I regret not leaving sooner—for you.

This isn’t just a farewell. It’s a promise. Live your life. Find happiness, joy, love. Do all the things I couldn’t. And when your time comes, if the fates are kind, maybe we’ll meet again.

Until then, love, live. Live for both of us.

Yours, Simon.

Tags | Thanks.

@miryum | @bmtillerbabe | @pagesfalling

[nailyourcoffins]

pov: your father becomes an amalgamation with the creature you swore you killed back in the forest

[dwejjitokkl]

Até que durou...

O @sdesing10 (sempre a vítima) desafiou e a gente tenta entregar alguma coisa que seja minimamente aprazível - e o tumblr como sempre comendo a qualidade da capa, porque ela está muito melhor que aqui (juro!) A música dada foi Até que Durou, do Péricles, que eu NUNCA OUVI NA MINHA VIDA parte 2.

Sobre a capa em si: As vítimas da vez foram os aaríssimo. Eu fiz esta capa pensando numa história angst, portanto quem escrever (o ilustre fandom de 5 pessoas) tenha iso em mente K;DOP;OPD

Artes usadas são artes oficiais e coloring por colour-source como habitual <3

Se inspirar, credite <3 Não use sem autorização!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘'𝗦 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗠𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N is targeted by a certain ghost during the filming of the Sam and Colby ft. Sturniolo Triplets video.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

WARNING: Paranormal, supernatural, ghosts, mediumship, physical injury, pain.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This one happens in the same "universe" of this Matt Sturniolo x Reader of mine.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Wow, the smell of roses in here has gotten stronger." Matt commented as soon as Colby closed the large door behind them, lifting his chin slightly as he smelled the strong scent of flowers.

It was time to investigate the Maximillian room, which was on the mezzanine; the room that held eight mirrors surrounded by gold that cost way too much and a painting of Empress Carlota, who, according to legend, was there because of those same mirrors, as they were gifts from her husband at the time.

And it was precisely because of her that Y/N was feeling so anxious. From the moment the hotel guides took them to there while showing them all the main haunted rooms in the building, the girl felt strange.

Because Y/N was a medium and was aware of it since she was a child - consequently training her "skill" as she grew up -, her sensations with the supernatural were duplicated and very accurate; Not only could she see, hear and feel the presences, but she could also feel what came with them and the weight of each one.

That's why, on her first trip to the room, she quickly found Carlota, who surprisingly allowed the girl to see her, but Y/N wished she hadn't. Carlota was beautiful, exactly as in her painting, still dressed in classical clothes, but her eyes carried so much anguish. Contrary to the hope of Audrey - their main guide -, Carlota did not appear to have found peace in the afterlife.

But what surprised Y/N, or scared her the most, was the hatred in the ghost's eyes, and strangely, this hatred was directed only at her.

Upon stepping into that room for the second time that night, the girl felt nausea rise from her stomach to her throat, swallowing hard; Her heart raced stupidly fast and the hair on her arms and legs stood up, raising goose bumps on her skin. A weight settled on her shoulders and the back of her neck, making her feel as if any sudden movement would send her straight to the ground.

Her hands shook slightly as her eyes swept the room. She focused her senses better, being able to capture several spirits coming and going from one mirror to another, reminding her of the portals created by them. Y/N felt the pain, sadness, anger, and melancholy of each of the ghosts, her throat becoming dry and her eyes burning with tears. She felt overwhelmed.

"Baby? Hey, what happened?" Matt's soft voice close to her ear woke her from her intense trance, her eyes meeting the blue ones that kept her grounded.

Y/N noticed that the others were a little further away and already in the center of the room, talking to each other while Sam arranged the camera to record the investigation. She was internally grateful that Matt had come to her unnoticed without attracting attention from the others.

"Sorry, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed. This place has a horrible atmosphere." Y/N responded in the same soft tone as her boyfriend, keeping her eyes fixed on his, trying to convey confidence.

"If I'm feeling the burden in these walls, I can only imagine what you're feeling, dove. I promise I'll be by your side the whole time, and if it gets too much, let me know, and we'll leave right away." The boy spoke, taking Y/N's right hand with his left one, squeezing lightly. Y/N smiled in gratitude. She was so lucky to have him with her.

"So Carlota likes compliments and flirting?" Colby's deep voice caught the couple's attention while asking the rhetorical question. Y/N and Matt looked up at the others, seeing Sam already with the camera on and passing the lens along the decorated walls surrounding them.

Matt turned off the light on the switch near the door as previously agreed before they approached the others, ready to start what they needed to do there.

"Hey Carlota, here we have five fine men, but only three are single and available for you." Matt spoke first while settling close to his brothers, his eyes scanning the space completely despite being able to see practically nothing through the darkness.

Y/N followed his action, sweeping her eyes around her and the ghosts there, internally trying to focus only on Carlota's spirit. She kept her right hand intertwined with Matt's, not wanting to let go of his warmth, knowing that he was the only one who could keep her under control in that situation.

"Can you see her, Cole Sear?" Nick asked Y/N, crossing his arms and looking at the girl with a curious gaze, who nodded after rolling her eyes momentarily at the reference to the movie Six Senses, smiling sideways.

Nick was scared to death of watching horror movies, but he loved it when Y/N watched them all and then told him the story.

"I can, but I can also see several other ghosts that probably have nothing to do with the hotel's history and are only here because of the portals. I'm trying to just focus on her."

Colby and Chris started throwing random pick-up lines into thin air, trying to attract the Empress's ghost. Their words made Y/N let out a low laugh, they were ridiculous.

After a significant effort, Y/N finally managed to clear all the ghosts in the room from her mind, being able to see only Carlota. The woman stood a few steps away, her eyes on Colby and Chris as she held an elegant and calm posture, an arrogant smile on her face, probably satisfied with all the attention.

But that changed when she realized that Y/N saw her completely now, her empty eyes going to the girl, a flame of anger and disdain shining behind them, seeming to penetrate Y/N's eyes and run throughout her mind.

The girl's hands flew to her own head almost instantly, pressing down on each side as her body arched slightly forward, a growl escaping her throat as her knees shook, weakened by the sudden pain.

Matt had never moved so fast, his body positioned in front of his girlfriend's as his hands held her arms, which were more tense than ever before, her own fingers tangling in strands of her loose hair, pulling hard while trying to stop the intense pain of the sudden migraine.

"Y/N? Baby, talk to me. What's... What's going on?" Matt spoke in a desperate tone, his eyes going from his girlfriend to the boys repeatedly, hoping they would have some kind of response.

Nick and Chris ran to the two, positioning themselves on either side of Y/N, choosing not to touch her so as not to worsen her overload but showing that they were there for her.

"It must be some spirit that is messing with her, perhaps trying to attack her or, at worst, control her." Colby commented, approaching as well as his eyes traveled around the dark room, looking for any clue as to what it was, even if he couldn't see anything.

Sam lowered the camera, the lens focusing on his feet as he too approached. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, the blonde knew well what it was like to be attacked by spirits, and if he could, he would put an end to what Y/N was feeling at that very moment.

"Matt." Y/N let out in a pained groan, an intense pressure establishing in her right arm, as if something was holding, or rather crushing the region. She lifted her left hand, placing it on Matt's right shoulder while trying to find stability.

With great difficulty, the girl looked to her right from the corner of her eye, catching Carlota there, just a few inches apart from her. Feelings of fury and disgust emanated from her aura as her right hand squeezed Y/N's arm, and although she didn't say anything, the girl knew that that gesture was a request - mandate - for her to get out of there.

Nick and Chris spoke to Sam and Colby in low tones, probably trying to understand the situation and find a solution to reverse it.

"I'm here, honey. I'm right here." Matt whispered repeatedly, bending down slightly to be at the same height as Y/N while holding her hand that was on his shoulder, stroking the skin softly with his fingers.

He felt his breathing quicken in anxiety at the sight of his girl's state, panic wanting to take over his body, but he maintained control, closing his eyes momentarily to compose himself, as he whispered sweet nothings against his girl's ear.

Seconds later, when he saw that Y/N was still moaning and grunting in pain, he took a deep breath before turning around, turning his back to the girl and facing the room. Little did he know that Carlota was right next to him.

"I demand that you cut all effect on Y/N right now. You are not allowed to mess with her." Matt's voice was stern, like never before. His eyes held determination while running around the room, his hands behind him, maintaining contact with his girlfriend's body. "She's not yours!" He growled.

Suddenly, all the pressure on Y/N vanished, and a feeling of relief took over her, as if fresh air had entered her nostrils and filled her lungs, bringing comfort to her body. The girl exhaled sharply, removing her hands from her head slowly, as if expecting the worst.

Y/N straightened her posture, opening her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the light. One of the boys had probably turned it on in the meantime, and the girl mentally thanked whoever had done it, finally being able to see the surroundings better.

The negative and evil energy had left her side, but Carlota was still in the room, Y/N could feel her.

Matt turned abruptly, facing Y/N again, pulling her into his arms as he held her head against his chest, caressing the area carefully.

"You're okay. You're okay." The boy repeated it like a mantra, trying to calm Y/N or himself. He wasn't sure.

Y/N winced at Matt's movement, the pain in her arm intensifying, reminding her that Carlota had almost ripped it off.

“Wait, are you hurt? Where does it hurt, Y/N?” Nick asked after hearing it, finally getting close enough to be able to lightly touch his best friend's shoulder, a worried look decorating his face.

Matt pulled away from Y/N almost instantly, ready to investigate her injury, feeling anger rising through his veins. If he could see and touch ghosts, he would kill Carlota again.

Y/N just raised her right arm, rolling up the sleeve of her jacket with her left hand. Chris, who was on the other side of the girl like a bodyguard, his blue eyes still darting around the room as if expecting something to appear out of nowhere, let a surprised sound escape his lips at the sight.

"Oh my God, Y/N. This is bad." The youngest of the triplets murmured, an expression of discomfort taking over his face as he thought about the pain resulting from the injury.

A handprint was perfectly carved on Y/N's arm. It looked like someone had taken a pencil and ink and drawn in the area. That would definitely turn out purple.

"That's crazy, dude. Does it hurt bad?" Colby asked, taking a few steps closer to get a better view, receiving a nod from the girl, who was still looking at the mark in disbelief.

"When you said you were Lorraine Warren, I didn't think you would perform the entire The Conjuring movie. If I had known, I would have brought a priest and some holy hater." Sam joked, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, as he momentarily turned off the camera.

The blonde made a quick mental note to delete all footage of that disturbing episode, not wanting to expose such a vulnerable moment of his new friend.

Y/N let out a laugh. The ghosts really hated her.

[unconsciousnonhuman]

You guys are eating up the previous doodles, so I thought I might try to draw out some clips from the fic the way I envisioned them while writing.

Want context? Read Paranormal Peri on AO3

<Doodles I’m referring to

[misshugs]

The elevator game || Colby Brock x Reader

[req by anon] You knew you were sensitive to the other side, but you didn't expect a silly little game from the internet to give you this much of an impact.

warnings: cursing, paranormal activity, reader getting (slightly) attacked by ghosts, sensitive/medium!reader, degrading, angst? still not sure what the meaning of it is tbh

a/n: this is my first request ever, i hope i didn't let you down dear anon. Concept based on this video

word count: 2.5k (not proofread)

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" Colby screamed towards the camera, as always.

"Today we are here at the Driskill Hotel, also known as the most haunted hotel here in Texas." Sam continues.

"We're here to figure out why this place is so haunted and what message the ghosts here wanna tell the people. And for this video guys, we have a very special someone!" Colby says, moving to the side so that you're visible to the camera.

Waving at it and smiling, you were greeted by Colby's hands wrapped around your shoulders. "Thank you, thank you. Hello, dear people. It is I." They laugh.

"How are you feeling about this? Are you excited?" Sam asks, putting the camera on the both of you.

"I am! The place is HUGE and honestly, just looks so good!"

"Right?? When we got in it was just like a burst of shock at how gorgeous this place is." Sam said and Colby nodded.

"If it weren't haunted I'd probably come here more often, but I can already feel all of these... energies walking around, I wouldn't last too long."

"Oh, right. For anybody that doesn't know, Y/n is actually a bit of medium?" Colby asks while looking at you, making you nod. "Yeah, so she's sensitive to like the energy of shadow figures and things like that, so maybe we'll get to experience something interesting tonight!"

"I'd say hopefully not but that wouldn't make it fun I guess." You laugh and so do they while you explain it is a pain in the ass to feel those things constantly. "It is almost as if you're constantly paranoid about someone looking at you, y'know what I mean?"

"Oh yeah, for sure." Colby noded.

"Yeah so that, but those stares are more physical than anything, there are times where I can feel people walking behind me and when I look back, there's no one."

"I can just imagine how creepy that must feel." Sam said and you chuckled.

"Oh yeah. You have no idea." You smiled.

"Well then, shall we begin the investigation?" Colby asked you, smiling. You quickly smiled back.

"Of course." You kissed him softly before Sam could even turn off the camera.

"Oh, gross man. I'll have to edit that out." He said jokingly and you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"But seriously though, let's keep it moving." You said and they agreed.

Walking around, there were a few pieces of lore they had to explain to you beforehand. About the one and only Driskill who created the hotel, about the little girl that broke her neck, so on and so forth.

There were times when you had this eerie feeling of constantly being followed, so you kept your arms interlocked with Colby's.

"You're doing okay so far?" He asked, cautiously caressing your hand. You nodded.

"Yeah, just feel like we're being followed." You replied, looking back where there was no one there.

"Really??" Sam asked, looking back as well but seeing nothing. "Do you think we caught a ghost's interest?"

"I mean, probably. There is a difference in between someone that's coming just for the hotel part and us, that are investigating and directly needing their intervention. We're making them curious."

"Well, for whatever spirit that might be following us, you're welcome to answer our questions later on tonight." Colby said loud enough for anything around to listen to it.

Honestly, even those small gestures made you so madly in love with him. The way he touches you softly just for you to make sure you're not alone and he's here for you is such a warming feeling.

Wilst looking around the current room, Colby walked up to a random closed door and tried to walk through.

"She said no closed doors!" Sam exclaimed, probably talking about the tour guide's rules of the place.

"Unless it's... unlocked." Colby responded, making Sam roll his eyes.

"Oop, it's Jim Hogg's room." You said, looking up.

"Who's that?" Sam asked.

"I dunno, it says its name on the top." You point up and they just laughed at the comment. I mean, what were they expecting? You had no idea about whatever story roams around these halls asides from the two main ones they've explained.

"Also I don't think you should be trying even more, like if it's hard to go in it's probably because you're not supposed to."

"We have a bad reputation of breaking into places." Sam admitted and you smiled.

"Yeah, I know. I remember that." You chuckle and hold Colby's hand to pull away from the door.

As they kept on chatting and making interesting comments here and there, you found the elevator and pointed it out. "Oh, is this the one?" Colby asked Sam and he just gave him a stare.

"This is the one what?" You ask and they look at eachother.

Sam sighed. "We were going to keep it until the time came, but we may have a little challenge for tonight that has to do with the elevator."

"Ooooh sounds fun. I wanna do it." You smile.

"You sure?? You have to be by yourself." Colby asked, worried but amused.

"Do you think I can't do this, Mr. Brock? That's offensive." You spat, crossing your hands around your chest.

"No! I meant-" He tried to explain, but you quickly interrupted.

"Cancelled, I tell you. Cancelled!" You look away with your eyes closed, trying not to laugh at the stupid situation unfolding.

"Great." You heard him sigh in defeat as Sam started laughing at the both of you. Looking back with a smile on your face, you hugged him.

"Alright, let's get going already." You giggled, gaining a kiss on the top of your head from your boyfriend.

Walking inside the elevator, it almost felt as if it quickly went down in an unnatural way.

"Did you guys feel like... the elevator dropping three inches?"

"Yeah, kinda of." Sam said.

"Three inches is a lot." Colby replied.

"Three inches is huge." Sam continued.

"I can vouch." You said.

"Mass..." Colby began talking but couldn't hold in the laugh after you said that.

Going back to the main lobby, you all reached out to a girl that was apparently the tourguide. She quickly explained the story of the place, how it ended up being the renouned hotel it came to be.

When she explained that the smell of cigar was one of the main ways Driskill manifested, your eyes went wide. "You're kidding."

"No, did you smell it before?" She asked.

"I did! But it was like, close to the entrance so I thought that maybe someone was smoking. I did find it rare because it was just a glimpse of it for like a solid second and then gone." You explained, making the girl smile.

"Well, that was him."

"No way." Colby said, smiling at you.

"Yup." She nodded, continuing to explain as you all started walking back to the elevator. Going inside, the door closed only to be opened again. "Oh?"

"Did we just pressed five and went to one? It's haunted!" Sam exclaimed.

"That was weird." Colby said, looking at the door.

"It was, that was so weird." The guide said, trying to close the door once again, only for it to open again.

"Does it do that often?" You asked and she shook her head.

"No! It doesn't." She walked back out and talked to someone from out side. "Are you fucking with us?"

"That's so strange- oh, I hit it." You whispered. The guide came back in.

"But you see it, right? I'm pressing five and it like start to go up but then it stops." The door closes once again, only for them to open.

"Oh my god." Sam said, whispering.

"And we're doing a challenge here?" You asked confused, making them laugh.

"Not here exactly." Colby smiled.

"Lemme- I'll go out." You said, walking out of the elevator, watching as the doors began to close, only for them to open once again. "Oh no, that's- that's a malfunction alright."

"And you said it, these malfuction all the time." Colby said to the guide as they walked out of the elevator.

When Sam did it by himself, it started working all over again.

"What the fuck??" Colby yelled.

"Are we like fat? Is it fat shaming us?" You whined, making everyone laugh.

And so, even though your night barely started, you were already having some activity to say the least.

And it kept being that way all night. Constant responses from spirits, intelligent ones at that. The little girl, the woman from the vortex room... all the way down to the challenge you've been anticipating the whole night round.

The elevator challenge.

"I think it might be just me but every single time we pass through this side of the hotel I feel like actually throwing up."

"Wait, really?" Colby asked, worried.

"Like an eerie feeling more than anything, almost like I'm kinda feeling a bit dizzy whenever we pass through here."

"Are you sure you want to do this? You can still back out, or I could go in with you." Colby tried to make you change your mind, but you were settled in it.

"No, I have to do it alone. What if it doesn't work because we're together? You're not gonna let me do this right?"

"I do! I'm just worried." Colby admitted, making you smile.

"You cutie. I love you so much." You said, smiling at him and cupping his face before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Y'all are gonna make me puke, another part I'm gonna have to cut out." Sam joked, making you giggle.

"Alright, alright. So, how does this work?" You ask, hugging yourself as you wait for instructions.

It was a simple game. Supposedly, you had to hit the buttons of the elevator in a specific order. In the last one, you had to invite in a lady. If the ritual worked, you were supposed to start going up into another world. If it didn't, well, nothing happened and it failed.

"So... I'm about to get isekai'd? We're going to an anime, brothers." You laughed at your own joke while they handed you your camera.

"I send you the order, just in case." Sam continued, and you nodded.

"Thank you, 'cause I already forgot." You turned on your phone as well as the camera and walked in.

"Any last words?" Colby asked cheekishly, making you smile.

"See you in the other side." You answered, before the door closed. You sighed, putting the camera up to your face. "Alright, so... I'm supposed to hit this one first." Switching the camera back to the buttons, you hit the number four.

It began moving. "Oh, good. It would've been a mess if it already fucked up. Alright..." You sighed. "I didn't told them this, but I do find the thought of getting stuck in an elevator horrifying. I just agreed because maybe it might help me out, but it doesn't work the fact that I can feel so many spirits around this area specifically every time we walk past it." You explain before getting on the next floor, touching the next button.

Back down on the lobby, Sam and Colby were talking.

"I didn't want her to do it, honestly. I was gonna do it myself." Sam said.

"Right? She's our guest too, what if something happens to her? That would be the death of me."

"Don't jinx it, brother. She'll be alright."

Boy they were wrong.

Halfway through, your vision started to get blurry, your legs were shaky and you couldn't brush off the feeling of pressure on your chest. It was starting to make you nervous, even more so the fact you were alone.

You started thinking to yourself. What if something really did happen? What if you summon something your body couldn't handle? What if it really did send you to another world?

It happened so quickly, that you have already reached the last floor before you knew it. Gulping down your dry throat, you began to speak. "Alright, if there's something... out... oh fuck." Your vision got blurry and you could feel an inmense ammout of power flushing through the elevator doors even before it opened up.

You couldn't hold it together, it was too much for you to handle as you were suspecting before. Although you tried to stay up, your legs couldn't hold your weight up anymore and you passed out, falling down to the floor, hitting your head strongly onto the hard floor of the elevator.

Luckily, the ritual didn't work. It began going down and the guys, mainly Colby, were anxiously waiting for the doors to open. When they did, their faces fell.

Colby screamed out your name, quickly rushing in and holding your head. "Love?? Sweetheart, what happened? Wake up, please. Oh God." He began shaking, carrying you outside of the elevator so that it was slightly more comfortable.

"What happened? Oh my fucking God." Sam whispered, grabbing your camera from the elevator's floor and walking out.

"She's not responding, Sam." Colby nervously said, making sure you were at least still alive.

You were.

"Should I call an ambulance or something?" Sam asked. "Oh, no. I have the keys with me."

"Let's take her to the hospital, quickly." He lifted you up from the floor and hurriedly got out of the building and to the hospital.

You were alright, luckily. It seemes you have just fainted, but you falling down to the floor and hitting your head so hard made it a bit more complicated than what it had to be.

Colby felt bad, horrible even to think that this could've happened to you.

He should've been more careful, he should've known you were too sensitive to all of these energies so that you would go alone and out to make something so nerve racking. He should've been more insisting, rather than going with the flow merely because of a video.

He let his love have that type of experience because of a mere video.

It devastared him. Made him feel absolutely awful about it. While waiting for you to wake up, he kept on downgrading himself thinking about how he's the worst possible boyfriend.

It all stops when you finally wake up. Looking around the white room, confused.

"What happened?"

"It looks like you fainted... I'm so sorry for letting you do that all by yourself, I should've stopped you, I should've at least gone with you, I'm so sorry that you had to go through that because-"

"Love. Love!" You held his cheeks softly, making him quietly stop ranting, you smiled. "You know I wanted to do it, I was the stupid one for forgetting that big energy rafts can affect me a lot, I'm so sorry baby." You kissed his nose, reassuring him everything was alright.

And honestly, he needed to hear it. From you, specifically. Sam was trying to make him calm down but it didn't really work. It had to be you, your voice, your smile.

The one thing that made him whole all over again.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

I MAY HAVE DONE TOO MUCH FILLER FOR NO GODDAMN REASON- also hoping that dear anon liked it-

thank you for reading, loves~! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

~nikkõ

[paranormal-peri]

ITS BEEN A WHILE WITH NO NEW CHAPTER BUT I FEED YOU ALL AN ANIMATION WIP

.

.

.

Uhh, CW for magical backup angst stuff.

.

.

.