YEEHAW WE BACK BABYYYY! And it's gonna be crazy! Let's get itttt! I am using Towards the Sun by Rhianna for the vibes of this chapter, so feel free to give it a listen while you read!
Dividers by @the-voice-beckons-below
Na'vi: bold
English: regular
Jake: blue
Neytiri: pink
Reader: purple
As soon as you collapsed, all of three things happened. Neytiri caught you before you could hit the ground. Jake left Grace's side to check on you before Norm lunged and went to check on you.
"Move!" Norm shoulders past Jake's form, checking your pulse, before his head falls.
Jake looks at Norm's face, confused and scared.
"Norm, what is it? Man, what's going on?"
Norm starts chest compressions, "Go get the defib from Trudy!"
"Wha- Why?! What's going on?!" Jake scrambles to get up, almost taking off without an answer.
"She's dead, Jake!"
In that moment, Neytiri, who was holding you so tight before Norm moved you to lay on your back, felt her chest start to collapse in.
Jake almost tripped on his own feet hearing the news.
We just got her back...
She's dead?
"Go get the defib from Trudy!" Norm yells at Jake again, continuing compressions.
Jake picks up running again, sprinting to the Samson.
You take Grace's hand with a watery smile, "Lets go together then."
You and Grace turn to face Eywa, any sense of disharmony leaving your body the moment you gaze upon her face. You know this is where you are meant to be. To be with her, living on the world she has created.
You and Grace float forward, hand in hand, as you go through Eywa's eye.
They say your life flashes before your eyes before you die. For some reason, you thought it would be different.
"Get goin', LT!" You hear your old sergeants screaming at you while the field you lay in, injured and behind cover, gets mortared like an old world war movie your C.O. used to watch. You watch as they run to you, duck for cover as bullets begin to spray, and hoist you on their shoulders.
"Come on, LT! You ain't givin' up on us yet!" You hear a Southern accent over static, like a radio or comms, while your almost lifeless body is carried through this field in the middle of being bombed.
You are fast forward in the tunnel, put back in time. You sit with your mom on the fire escape. She just caught you smoking, and sits with you.
"You know... that'll kill you one day," You hear her tired voice try to stop you from ending up how she sees people every day. Dead on a gurney from OD'ing on some crazy new drug.
"I don't care anymore. The world is going to shit and no one seems to care about anything but money," You feel your lips make the words, but it is not quite your voice now. It's your voice from when this happened.
"I know... and I know it seems like no one cares anymore," You seem your Mom turn back, and look into the tiny apartment you were left with after your Dad left your Mom. A consolation or peace offering or something for knocking her up and marrying her before leaving her for his PA. You see her turn back to look at you, and hold you tight to her chest, "but I care. I care so much more than anyone or anything or whatever else your mind has convinced you of. And I will be here every day to remind you that there is so much to live for."
You start to cry and you are thrust forward into time.
"Miss. We are here on behalf of Dr. Grace Augustine, who has requested you on her Science Operations team for the Avatar Project," You are handed a pamphlet from two dudes in suits.
"Welcome to the RDA," Another one shakes your hand before you are thrown forward in time once again.
"Hello. It's great to meet you, Dr. L/N. I'm Dr. Grace Augustine, head of the Avatar Program here on Pandora," You see a younger Grace, not as many worry lines, not as many stress lines. You feel your hand lift to meet hers in a tight grasp.
"Please, call me Y/N."
"Welcome to Pandora, Y/N."
You feel yourself thrust forward again.
You hear the door to the link room from the bio-lab open, and two sets of feet and a wheelchair come in.
"This is Dr. Grace Augustine! Grace, I'd like you to meet Norm Spellman and Jake Sully," You hear Max talking and look up from what you are working on. Looks like Na'vi sentence structure. Something you memorized over your training time with Grace, but you remember making a mistake of sounding too English and she put you on studying.
When you look up, you see him.
Jake... You smile and when you hear Norm say that it took him five years to still stumble over his words, shock floods your system, making you stand, "FIVE-!" surprise still written on your face and you watch Grace glare at you.
From where you stand, you can almost see her winking at you, and a grip on your hand squeezes.
You start to tear up and nod before past you sits back down, leaving now you to walk forward, finally connecting with Grace again.
"One more?"
"One more."
You both are thrust forward, hand in hand, as you find yourself on your knees in the middle of the Omatikaya Hometree. You look over and see Neytiri guiding Jake through the crowd.
Neytiri... You smile almost uncontrollably and are briefly reminded of the knife to your neck from Tsu'tey and his warriors.
You are still utterly enamored with seeing Neytiri, knowing that the memory of you is trying to prevent Jake from getting you both killed, while he smirks and does his little head tilt.
The first we were all together...
The memory shifts around you, to show Neytiri sitting next to you and Jake carefully placing Grace down.
The last time...
It will not be the last.
You feel yourself push through, and you feel a hand almost slip from your grasp before you are thrust into Grace's memory.
She's gasping, and she looks so tired. She's watching the memory of when Quaritch shot her and is trying to move forward only running on hate.
"Grace! Grace!" You rush forward, holding her up.
"What's going on? Are you okay?"
"Y/N... why shouldn't I give up? Quaritch bombed Hometree. No one cares anymore! No one cares!" Grace crumbles in front of you, sobbing into your shoulder as you hold her, "The Omatikaya will hate me, even if I do come back as one of them! We will never truly be part of them!" Grace shouts, sobbing and hiccuping.
"Grace," You feel a protective sense envelope you. Like this was the moment you were meant to be here for, "they care. If you won't believe that I care or Norm cares or Jake cares. They care. Mo'at cares. The children care... Sa'nok." You use their name for her, making her lift her head to look at you, "And if Sa'nok gives up... Tsmuke will be there to keep her going."
You stand, lifting Grace to her feet.
"Come on. They have hell to pay," You guide Grace out, walking through the end. You feel light on your skin, like sunlight bursting forth and awakening your body.
"You've seen them lose control...
It's not worth... your soul, Grace.
So turn your face... towards the sun.
Let those shadows fall behind you," You catch Grace slipping, grabbing her with both hands.
"Don't look back. Lets carry on.
And those shadows will fall behind you."
Jake comes back with the debrillator, just to find Norm sitting back on his haunches.
"It's been too long. She's gone, Jake," Norm breaks the news, his own face etched with grief and deep sadness.
Jake comes to a stop, walking forward slightly.
"No. No, she can't be," Jake looks to Neytiri, who already has tears dried on her face and nods at him.
"She's gone, Ma'Jake. She is with Eywa now," Neytiri is scooped into Jake's arms as he falls to his knees.
Everyone sees the lights dim, the mycelium that covered Grace and her Avatar body dim. The mycelium supporting your lying body dim.
As Mo'at hovers her hands over Grace's avatar body, Jake turns, Neytiri still being held close.
"Did it work?"
Grace's avatar body lies still.
"Her wounds must have been too great. it was not enough time. She is with Eywa now," Mo'at gives the final conclusion.
Norm falls to his knees after moving to check on Grace.
Jake and Neytiri feel the emptiness of their teacher and mentor leaving them behind. They feel the crushing weight of your loss in their chest and their ribs, their lungs seemingly unable to have enough air.
Neytiri gently moves, taking the mask off of Grace's human form, letting the woman who wanted to experience all of Pandora as it was in pure form, unfortunately, now able to in death.
"Trudy. Trudy, I need you to go into the lab and check on Y/N," Norm speaks into his radio.
"Why do you need that?" Sounds of her clothing moving is picked up over the radio. She's still going to check.
"Just need to make sure of something," Norm speaks quietly.
Before long, the radio crackles to life again.
"Norm... she's gone," Trudy's voice gives the confirmation.
It's not that you had passed out. You actually died.
You are gone now, and not even the link could save you.
Norm's head hangs heavy, "Okay. Bring the body to the Tree of Souls. I'll meet you at the entrance," Norm starts the walk to just outside the Tree of Souls.
Jake slowly stands, his shoulders feeling heavier than ever, his heart more broken than it has been before, and his mind angrier than ever.
In that moment he makes a decision. He steels himself, turns to Neytiri, and offers a hand that she takes. He turns to face Tsu'tey, and speaks quietly, "With your permission, I will speak now. You would honor me by translating. Honor her." Jake knows it's a dirty move, but he knows you two were friends, and he needs this message sent.
Tsu'tey nods and steps aside to let Jake say what he wants to.
"The Sky People have sent us a message."
"Fpole' sawtutel 'upxaret."
"That they can take whatever they want..."
"Ayoeri tsat new."
"...and no one can stop them."
"Tsun mivunge."
"Well, we will send them a message."
"Slä awngal 'upxaret fpìye' for."
"You ride out as fast as the wind can carry you," Jake's words grow in intensity, causing Tsu'tey to look at him in surprise.
"Kämakto nìwin, ayngati spivule hufwel." Tsu'tey smiles, the people of the Omatikaya rising.
"You tell the other clans to come!"
"Ayolo'ru alahe peng ziva'u." Tsu'tey's smirk grows wider, the people starting to ululate.
"You tell them Toruk Makto calls to them!"
"For'u peng syeraw toruk makto!"
"And you fly now! With me!"
"Tswayon set oehu!"
"My brothers! Sisters!"
"Ma smukan, ma smuke!" With each uproaring claim, the people grow in their fight. The pain turning to action, and the hurt turning to protection.
"And we will show the Sky People..."
"Sawtute wìyintxu ayoeng..."
"...that they can't take whatever they want!"
"Ke tsun fo fìkem sivi!"
"And that this... this is our land!"
"Fìtsenge... lu awngeyä!" Tsu'tey lifts his arms, giving war cries. Neytiri follows in his footsteps, lifting her arm as well.
I might not have been able to protect you. But I will protect the people you cared about.
The people give their war cries, and as Jake gives his, about to take off, a gasp pauses everything.
From the war cries of a clan willing to fight to utter, reverent silence.
"Y/N! Y/N!" Grace gasps out, sitting up, the mycelium clinging to her skin.
"She lives!" Mo'at cries, both arms lifted. The living of Grace giving hope to the people that Eywa is on their side.
"Y/N!" Grace yells, crawling over to you before slapping your limp body hard, "I know you are alive, so you better show up! Kinda hard to be alive with your mated ones if you are dead!"
On the last slap, right as Norm goes to pull her away, you wake up, gasping for air.
"Oh my god... Oh my Eywa... Do not ever make me do that for you again!" You launch up, lunging for Grace.
"You better not making me go through that shit again!" You start up again, starting to play fight with Grace.
"I wasn't trying to get shot!"
"Well, you almost gave up! I had to drag your ass out!" You continue to shout at her as you play fight.
"Never scare me like that again!" You shout, starting to cry into her shoulder as you both calm down.
"Y/N!" You hear Jake shout as he picks you up, holding you close to him.
"Ma'Y/N!" You hear Neytiri right behind him, leaning her forehead on yours once Jake lets you down enough to do so.
Norm is in shock. "Tr-Trudy! Check on Y/N! Is she in link right now?!" He stammers out over the radio.
"No. I have her laid on her bunk. Cause she's fucking dead, Norm."
"No, she's not!"
"What do you mean she's not?! I'm looking at her body right now!"
"She... she's alive. In her Avatar."
"It is a sign from Eywa!" Mo'at cries aloud, happy to have her friends back.
"God... we thought we lost you, baby," Jake murmurs into your hair.
"You won't. Ever." You promise, holding Neytiri's hand and putting the other over Jake's.
Finally... back where I belong.
Woohoo... so a lot of ups and downs. And I finally didn't leave it on a cliffhanger! Lemme know what you think! Are yall excited for the next part? Maybe help me come up with a title for the series~ For now, I'm going to play Frontiers of Pandora, and then hop back on to give the last chapter. It'll be a long one, so strap in! It'll be about an hour's worth of the movie...
Where the fuck have I been, right? It's a lot, maybe I'll explain, maybe I won't. Originally, the plan was to write a shit ton, reappear, dump it all off, and then go back to regular posting, but my schedule is still fucked, so I don't know. Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully the cabin is still standing after two years. Line dividers by @/cafekitsune
This fic is for: Anyone who can handle it! Reader is physically afab, but as this is a reincarnation fic, you know. Anyone can read. Reader does use they/them pronouns, and this is the chapter that the physical form really comes into play.
TW FOR: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!! NONCON, forced pregnancy, forced proximity, reader is held hostage, VIOLENCE towards reader, aggressive behavior, degrading language used towards reader, physical information used for evil, piss but not in a sexy way, physical tracking, slight dehumanization, semi-shy reader, and present-tense storytelling.
Link to last chapter here!!
There’s nothing normal about it, really, but life returns to a slight normalcy. Epel has taken it upon himself to drive you to and from the filming site, to and from classes, agent meetings, the grocery store, coffee shops, your new mother’s house, and it goes on. He’s your chauffeur, and one you don’t really want.
Aside from his self-appointed role as your chauffeur, Epel hasn’t returned your keys. He spends the night every so often at your apartment- he seems to prefer nights where you don’t have anything going on the next day- and comes to get you in the morning when he doesn’t. Unless you wanted to spend the night elsewhere in this city that you’re unfamiliar with, you don’t bother.
He also looms. If he’s alone with you, you can feel those crystal blue eyes glued to your body regardless of all the space or walls or doors between you. He’s taken to following you into the bathroom of all things- you caught him collecting your urine in a pipette a few nights ago after you left the bathroom at his urging, and it startled you more than you thought it would.
Ever since that night, he’s been way grouchier. He’s not a particularly kindhearted man as it is, despite the front he puts up for the public, but you fumbled your mug and dropped it on the carpet and he broke your coffee table while he yelled at you. Maybe it’s a holdover from your past life, but that distressed you to a point that was difficult to come down from. Your mind rapidly flickered from the cost of the table, to him possibly bending you over the splinters jutting from the center of the table and hammering into you, to your neighbors calling the cops for once, and you just started screaming.
It’s embarrassing for you now, but Epel stopped yelling immediately. His eyes widened a fraction and he stopped talking entirely. He gathered you into his arms and shushed you. When you were finally quiet, he softly apologized, his voice just a touch above a whisper, almost impossible to hear.
“I forgot. I’m sorry, honey. I forgot, I forgot who I was talkin’ to.”
That didn’t help much. It meant even less when the next day, he blew up for an even smaller reason.
Epel brought you breakfast sometimes. It wasn't something you really wanted, but you weren't going to argue with him. It was the thing you got from the coffee shop a few weeks ago, a blueberry bagel with an iced coffee, but your coffee tasted wrong and was also a frappe, not iced. It seems silly to complain about it now. You thought the milk was just bad, but when Epel strolled back by, holding your purse and jacket, he looked personally offended by your half-finished frappe.
“You gonna finish that?” He asked, his brows already screwed into a scowl.
You shook your head, obviously, “The milk in it tastes kinda sour. I’ll add it to the compost bin downstairs-”
“It’s not sour. Finish it, we need to go soon.” Epel throws your jacket over the back of the chair beside you and crosses his arms as he stands above you.
“No, I’m serious. It’s got to be sour. You try it.”
When you passed it towards him, he snatched it from you and slammed it back onto the table, pointing a slender finger in your face.
“Are you tryin' to piss me off this early in the morning?” He snarled. When you made no real reply, he grabbed your collar and shook you, “Huh?”
“N-no, but it tastes like something's gone bad-”
He’d never really hit you before. You could appreciate that, at least, but you liked it far less when Epel would destroy pieces of this very nice apartment. In true young man fashion, Epel shoves you away by letting go of your collar, twists his body to the side, and launches a fist through your wall. You flinch- of course you do. Who wouldn’t?
Regardless, you finish the frappe and feel nauseous for the rest of the day. Epel has the gall to act as though he is worried about you, escorting you to the bathroom so he could press your cheek against the sink and rabbit against you while Belle, Argon, and Starlo wait on the other side of the wall.
Honestly, Epel is in the perfect career. You had this thought a few nights ago after he fell asleep and you remained awake, naked under his arm and staring into the ceiling as though you could escape the meaningless void of your false freedom, your ruinous start. You wondered if being a good actor made you a good liar, or if acting was a career for people who don’t really love their current life. It was absolutely all of the above, answer C, marked in smudgy graphite. Both you and Epel were on the perfect career path.
The next time Epel stays the night, you catch him again as he collects a pipette of your piss water from the toilet. He carefully drops it onto a pregnancy test and you let out a gasp.
Epel doesn’t jump. He calmly looks up at you and raises his eyebrows, “You need somethin’, honey?”
How do you respond to that? You didn’t really know what to say, so you just started crying, turning to leave the doorway. Epel didn’t bother chasing you, just turning back to the pregnancy test.
He is a lot warmer towards you after that night, however. You didn’t notice it at first, not really. Epel isn’t the greatest, but he’s not as much of a shitheel as you think he should be sometimes. He starts acting as though you’re the only thing keeping the sun in the sky, though. You trip while walking up the stairs and he acts like you’re made of glass, going so far as tearing up when he notices your knee is scraped. You have to reassure him the whole night that you’re fine, that the sky isn’t falling.
Really, it’s very surreal- the man is holding you captive in your own home, or the home that belonged to this body before you took it over, but the second he starts getting teary, it unlocks some kind of primal urge to coddle in you. It honestly makes you feel ill to think about for too long.
You oversleep ever so slightly- making you both late to today’s filming- and instead of being visibly annoyed, Epel smiled as he served you breakfast in bed. It was delicious, but Pepper and Belle were upset that you and Epel were so late.
The real trouble comes about after you attempt to try on your costume and find that it won’t go up past your hips without some struggle. As you and Epel are sharing a dressing room, he is the first to notice, and he seems ecstatic. You are not as pleased as he is, and neither is Pepper, who confusedly adjusts your clothing and mentions that he thought you had a more strict routine so things like this wouldn’t happen.
You try not to feel offended. You really do. But, you haven’t been in this body longer than about a month when you realize: you’ve never once had a period. So many things are happening around you, and you notice a popular period tracking app on Epel’s phone when he passes it to you so you can pick a place to eat.
He’s been trying to act more domestic than ever, and you don’t like that. It’s creepy- creepier than the fact that he killed someone and doesn’t seem to feel any remorse whatsoever. It’s heinous, to be truthful.
You ended up pretending that you wanted a cup of water right at that moment, and Epel, still treating you as if you were a deity that fell from the heavens and into his lap, jumped up to get it for you.
Snooping in someone’s phone is an awful idea, but it’s ten times more foolish if the person who owns the phone has proven to have a volatile temper. You make your research quick. He has a period tracker, complete with your name, your weight, your age, your blood type, and the last time you had a period, as well as the results of the pregnancy test.
When he comes back with your water, Epel doesn’t seem shocked or annoyed that you saw what he’s been doing. You’re a good three weeks along, and Epel has known for far longer than you. He simply kisses a tear off of your cheek as you realize with a blank terror that he got what he wanted.
Hey Little guys! This post does imply reincarnation and the part that causes it :< so tw! Nothing graphic but figured I'd let you know!!
Meet the Canadian Snow Lynx! I was really old when I laid in the snow one last time! ^^
The "Minty Froggo" AKA the Mint Terribilis Dart Frog! I have memories of being in the rain as one!
A lavender axolotl! I'm actually not sure what type of axolotl this is, but it's me! I was really sad as one :< because my owner kept me in a yucky empty tank!
And now... I'm me! For me, being a therian is identifying as these animals on a spiritual level!
(These three pictures were found on Google! These aren't *literally* me but what animals I was!)
Taken too soon, your past lover is gifted a twisted revival. Minho, now instilled with a sudden agenda, plans to take down those who killed him and bring a safe Halloween back to the town, but he needs your assistance to do it.
DETAILS — [ 18+ | fic | 8.7k ]
PAIRING — vengeance spirit! minho x gender-neutral! reader
GENRES — the crow! au, angst, supernatural, romance, crime
WARNINGS — mature content, heavy talks of death, reincarnation & afterlife, death by fire, arson, birds (crows), blood & injuries, corrupt authorities, alcohol consumption, homicide/murder
SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, protected intercourse, love making, pet names (doll)
A/N — it has supposedly become a tradition for me to write a halloween fic based around one of my favorite films, so here is this years instillation! this movie is very near to my heart, as it is for many others, so i hope i did it justice! enjoy <3
this fic is based off the film ‘The Crow’ (1994)!
listen while you read;
cadaver playlist . the crow soundtrack
prologue.
A legend reads that souls can be carried and returned by crows. Beady eyes keeping the energy safe and sound, small body able to flee from any sense of danger. Their wings glide through the wind and their feet perch on the headstone of the deceased until they rise from the ground. That was the story told time and time again to the kids who needed comfort and wanted a small piece of horror with their bedtime story.
Things were almost normal in the sleepy town. It wasn't uncommon for those who normally caused trouble to bring more chaos to the table, but one night seemed to set them all ablaze at the same time.
Halloween, the night the dead are said to walk beside the living. From birth until death was life, death and beyond were made out to be nothing but rest.
It was never so simple. Fires would erupt all through the place you called home, and all you could do was hope you weren't the next target.
Clinging to him that night—merely hours before, that was the worst of it. It was almost evanescent in the way he cradled you right back against him; pretending fate wasn't on its way. Like animalistic instincts sensing danger from miles away and handling whatever was before them until it was time to make a move or accept their fate.
He was ravaged, stolen and dismantled. Minho never hurt a fly, the man only wanted to make music and love to you, and yet he was the one who lost his life.
Fate: the funny word now has a numb feeling on your tongue. It wasn't the firemen putting out your once shared apartment, not the police questioning you as you rushed alongside the cart carrying his body, and most definitely not the paramedics working to resuscitate him.
It was the crow sitting upon a chain-linked fence a few feet away staring him down with its black eyes and shivering feathers that caught your attention. The way its head tilted, it looked upon you, listened to the sound of the heartbeat monitor’s never-ending flatlining, gave Minho another glance, and then followed right behind the ambulance as it rushed him down the road.
That very moment in time brought a rush to your head and a harder thump to your heart. Your body was constricting and releasing all at once. All from a bird taking the soul of the man you love.
one.
Wheels turning into the parking spaces of the diner never seemed to stop, your shift running smoother than usual for such a specific night. Three nights before Halloween, the point in time where people in your town replace the batteries in the smoke detectors and draw up an escape route. All in case they became like the man who went with the flames almost a year before.
Minho was one of few to die within the pranks. The assailants knew of the apartment building, knew which room they were beneath by a few floors, and yet they still poured their leftover liquor and lit the match.
Almost a vivid daydream of the night would replay, but each time his face got less and less visible. Heart too pained to see him, mind trying to block his existence to protect the longing feelings of needing him; you stopped questioning why he was fading many months ago. He had left himself before they even removed him from the building, the last you saw was his corpse.
But that night—he had been so quiet, allowing you to sleep as he strummed his guitar gently. The scuffling below went unheard by the loud drops of rain against the windowsill, night air flowing into the room ever so slowly. Oxygen, it only made the flames burn higher.
Clicks and tacks, laughter and screams, heat rising faster than he could wake you, and the scorching feeling of fire brushing your limbs as he pressed you out the door. He went back for the cat. The damn cat.
But that was Minho, thinking of others before himself. It didn't matter that so many bad things were happening around him so quickly. Even you knew what was playing on repeat in his head.
"Just get downstairs! Don't come back up for me, just go down." It was his voice calling over the smoke, eyes peering around the room for the fluffy cat that hid every time it rained or stormed. His charming voice so rampant through the halls, the same words replayed in your head even now like a record with a scratch on it.
When you hear the last words of someone you love, it is bone chilling. But watching their eyes go still and their soul leave their body. It's gratifyingly traumatic in every way possible. You regretted being so attentive.
The long counter filled with a new customer every few minutes; their voices were so loud. So much noise in such a small space, it was the rushing sound of another set of wheels pulling to a stop that halted all conversation.
"I know, bad cop." The lead detective of Minho's case always had a craving for a burger at this time of night, but you always passed him over a salad. "The days close in by every hour. I can't imagine you're very thrilled for what's to come."
His tone always came across as harsh, but the man truly meant well with what he asked. He had witnessed it all that night from the time you got down the last flight of steps and crashed into his arms from smoke insolation.
"There hasn't been a peaceful Halloween since I came to this town. Starting to think I'm the bad luck charm, here." You passed him the bowl and wrapped silverware, ignoring his upward glance of annoyance from the salad sat before him.
"Bad luck was here long before you were born. If anything, you helped livin’ up the place. Minho, too."
His name was enough to make everyone turn their heads. So cherished in such a mundane place to be, he had everyone's hearts from the beginning to the end. His music would shake the floors of where he performed, and his voice could calm anyone within a close enough radius to hear the song. He was loved.
"Yeah." You laughed gently with a smile, eyes staring at the marble countertop. "The year went by so fast."
"You know, he's still with us." A woman at a far booth claimed, everyone nodding. "His album plays at the bar every night. Pictures are posted along the walls in memory. This entire town is a living tribute to that man, darling. Don't you forget it."
You grew to find yourself lucky. Despite those so evil within the cracks of the town, everyone else's hospitality hugged you until you were back on your feet again. A warm blanket on a cold night, a place to stay, a hot meal; no one let you suffer alone. All because they were suffering right there with you.
"If these damn hooligans didn't go apeshit every year, maybe we'd have that peaceful holiday we all need this time. It's cold and raining every day like the world doesn't want them around, but they still get away with it." The detective was always hitting the nail on the head. Someone not afraid to mention when shit hit the fan, you assumed it was because he lived with this every day.
And cold rain—it was, the night peeling into the sleeves of your coat and chilling you to your core. No one dared to bother you any more, the walk home seemed more lonesome than living in an apartment by yourself. Long, cement paths carved with dents and chiseled with cracks guiding you home.
Moon almost full over your head, the distracting caw of the bird caused you to stop in place. Not once since the year before had you seen or even heard the sound of a crow. But one stood before you, hopping small jumps as to get your attention by clinging its feet to a metal fence.
The cemetery, all too dark and creepy to go into alone. Beak long and eyes big, the bird didn't seem to want you to keep moving in the direction you were headed as you took a step forward and it landed just before you. Head tilted, eyes watching, feathers twitching; you knew.
"You seem to be more mysterious than the beyond." You admitted to the creature, its head turning in tandem with your question like it was contemplating its response.
A single flip of its beak to point into the direction of the cemetery had every hair on your body standing and chills to pair with them. Shivering, shaking, but letting the bird lead; it lifted and went gliding its way towards a familiar path of the heavy space. Plate after plate, corner after corner, you finally found just what it wanted you to see. His name carved precisely, headstone in better shape than most, and the slight shift of the dirt making the scenery that much more creepy.
It rose, mud from the rain turning into dry dirt until an index finger poked out from beneath, soon turning into a full hand. The crow called a dark song, watched as the soul was replenished to him, and swayed side to side witnessing him crawl from the grave back into the world again.
Minho, in the flesh, lifted himself from the ground and stood not even two feet from you. Hair longer, circles beneath his eyes darker, limbs lankier, and chest heaving to catch his breath; he didn't even give you so much as a glance before he spoke.
"Mind giving me a hand, doll?"
two.
The force of the scene before you was enough to have your knees buckling. Dirt smeared onto his skin and stained into his clothes, your eyes blinked rapidly before they shut. “Just a dream. Just a dream.” You claimed, feet dragging you backwards onto the pavement. Heels spinning and nearly slipping from the rain coursing across the cement path, you made a rush back for the metal gate you entered before you knew the future.
The bird’s squawking call behind you made you leap through the gateway, make a dash for your apartment, and book it straight home. Invincibility, you knew Minho was more special than most; but never like this. He had an alluring appeal, a smile that could light up a room, and a heart of gold. But the man was never suspicious of being ethereal, capable of rising from the dead. How was that possible?
A brain is a powerful weapon, the organ so convincing that you nearly forgot you had seen him return. When you finally slipped into your apartment and peeled away the wet, dirty clothes things became clearer. The image of his detailed hand pressing through the dirt of the cemetery plot, his soft scented cologne hitting your nostrils, and his deep voice like silk to your ears. “Doll”, it was so clear. A nickname he referred to only you as, the word alone brought tears to brim your ducts.
He had claimed the nickname for you on the same night you met, his soft lips whispering it into your ear only to watch the bumps rise on your skin and throat sip down the alcohol of the drink he bought for you after his show. Minho was never one to flirt so carelessly, your “admirable aura” bringing him to ask if he could get to know you. So easy going, the man with deep eyes and a warm smile.
A hot shower and the soft, cold sheets pulling across your form was enough to break you. The many nights spent alone wondering if he was out there came in like a tidal wave. The wonders of if he was watching over you, waiting for you, still admiring you from afar. Where had he gone? Why was he gone? And if you would actually get to see him again some day. Your heart was with him, and his blemished return made you shake in fear.
A croak of a bird startled you upwards, the very same crow resting on the beam across the studio apartment. Condescending, like a hallucination, your knees pressed into the mattress as you sat up and stared up at the fowl.
“You’re a symbol of death in most beliefs. Transformation and change in others.” Your eyes blinked ever so slowly, tears dripping down your cheeks. “There’s only one of you. Is this my bad omen?”
“Does that mean if there are two, it is a good omen?” His voice was like honey, your eyes shifting from the bird to the man perched in the open windowsill with that same, cheeky smile on his face.
“You should know, you told me that.” Your smile was so faint. Only for a split second, but he saw it. “Why are you here?” Voice just above a whisper, you saw the flash in his eyes of his own tears fading away with quick blinks.
“Do I need a reason to come see you?”
“How many times have you seen me since you died?” The question had lingered in your mind for too long, his soft laugh breaking the quietness of the room.
A subtle sound came from the bird, its wings flapping up and down until it lifted from the beam and made its way towards Minho. “This is my first full vision, but I've heard your voice many times now.”
“Where did you even go?”
“I don’t quite know, either.” He admitted, eyes dropping to the floor as the small patter of the remaining raindrops slipped off his leather coat onto the hardwood flooring. “All I know is—”
You knew that look in his eyes. Agonizing, like you were the first light of the sun after years of clouds. “I’ve missed you.”
“This is too much.” Your form lifting from the bed so sporadically made him finally spin on the soles of his feet and allow himself to sit on the windowsill instead of crouch on it. His muscular legs showed even through his tight, ripped skinny jeans, stretching until he maneuvered away from the window all together and stood at the foot of your bed. “T-Too much.”
Anyone would go insane from this. In fact, most do. But to have a lover come crawling back from the dead just to get to you; it was, in fact, getting to you.
Pupils dilated, fingers running through your hair as you gripped at your own skull—you even pressed your back into the wall just to give distance between you and the man.
“What are you?” Your words were gritted through your teeth.
He was your center of all peace. Minho had arranged your life like a bouquet of flowers, giving you only your favorites and leaving out the rest. No matter what comes towards both of you, big or small, good or bad, you always manage to work things out equally. But here and now, he was something incomprehensible.
“I am here for a reason.”
“I asked who, not why.”
Temper small but words large, he only sighed. “Doll, I need to give you something.”
Hearing the name come from his mouth, one not imaged by your pitying brain, it was a trigger. Your voice was coated with coughs and hiccups, body folding into itself as your knees hit the hard floor. It was a matter of time before you understood he was truly back, but the feeling of his cold hand pressing into the back of your neck made your body rush with adrenaline.
His fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of your neck just as he always did. It was a relaxing habit he gained, an easy way to help you become at ease. But this time it was all but reposing.
The small object fell from his opposite hand, the fingertips releasing it on purpose. It fell just beside your folded leg, in just enough of your sight to be noticed yet ignored. Your hand reached for him involuntarily, like the pugnacity boiling in your veins was only a repressed emotion and not what you were feeling. He was there, someone you could really reach for this time.
But as your palm fell against the middle of his chest, realization hit you from the hollowness. No beating heart you loved to press your ear against him to hear, nothing entirely. Your eyes rose to meet his, the calm darkness in his irises subsiding into something much stranger. Sparkles of the living peering through the dead's eyes, he was there and not all in the same.
“I’ll see you again.”
A blink was all it took for the frame of the man you loved, lost, and had returned to you to vanish again. He wasn’t just a mirage or a memory, he was something far greater than anything imagined. Minho, the one you knew would change the world, was single handedly corrupting your own.
“I need to give you something.” His lips had parted like butter to spill the first drop of his natural healing magic to your sickened mind. The short memory of the object falling beside you returned, your eyes finding it before your hand. Your entire limb retracted, a hearty breath leaving your lungs from shock.
Something you never thought to see again, the black guitar pick he always kept in his pocket to use to play when he could or was asked to. No matter how often he lost it, it always found its way back to him. The small pattern on the plectrum, printed white to be seen, made your heart leap into your throat. Even when you couldn’t see fate, it had a funny way of foreshadowing what it holds.
“A crow.” You claimed, the man sitting across from the booth of the same diner you left just hours prior lifting his eyebrow. “He’s real!”
“Let me get this straight.” The detective always had to retrace his steps, even if it meant repeating what someone said. “A crow led you to Minho’s grave. Then he was resurrected from his grave. You ran home. Him and the crow showed up there. And he left you something?”
“Exactly.” The tears were still freshly stained on your face. From the other customers in the diner’s perspective, you were still the grieving partner of a lost but loved one. “He’s back.”
The man put his index and thumb on his temple faster than you had ever seen, applying pressure slowly to release the tension as a harder sigh left him. He had heard all the stories before, once he even recalled them all to you. But this one was ‘outlandish’, as he shortly claimed.
“Where has he even been if he rose from the ground?”
“He said he didn’t know when I asked. Just that he missed me.”
“Sounds like Minho.” His voice still sounded unconvinced.
“I have proof.” Your statement was brave, eyes blinking away the tears threatening to fall when the mental image of the item came back into view.
The icon on the small pick had faded from years and years of use, always pressed between Minho’s fingertips as he strummed away at any guitar handed to him. It was the true amulet that represented him, so much so that it had been placed into his pocket that very night of the fire for safe keeping.
So much so. “How did you get that?”
The detective’s eyes lit up like a lantern in the sky, cheeks reddening on his face as the number of his blood pressure spiked. Of all the things left behind, it was never one of them.
“He left it for me last night.”
“H-How?” The man was breathless. “It was buried with him. I watched it be placed in his right pocket by the coroner hours before he was laid to rest.”
“I told you, he’s back.”
It was a light at the end of a dark tunnel, but even the road below has bumps.
“I don’t think you understand the severity of this situation.” His voice only got darker and deeper, the mind of a detective piecing together all of the clues much faster than you could. “Minho isn’t back just to return.”
“I know. He mentioned he’s back for a reason.”
“Sweetheart—” The man’s eyes were sympathetic, worried about what his next words would truly do to you. But before he could get them out, even let them sink into his own mind, his eyes diverged to the small tv over your head.
“He’s back for vengeance.”
“Breaking: Homicide committed, man found dead. With a link to last year's arson cases, could this be the karma the city has been praying for? Or is someone out for revenge?”
three.
The name of the man made your skin crawl, his death justifiable but still within the creep factor the world seemed to be building higher at this time of year. Like karma giving a greenlight while laughing, Minho’s name was displayed on the same news channel. He was forever linked to the fire and his gruesome death just as much as the men who set it.
Your head had swiveled around too soon, the detective’s face in your peripheral suddenly distressed. If Minho’s name wasn’t hard enough to see plastered on the screen, being played by every local news channel in the city—witnessing the crime scene photos taken of the arsonist's death was worse. Blurred images showed that he had been murdered in an alleyway, stabbed and butchered by his own knives. Karma was definitely laughing at the madness, but your gut knew the true matter at hand.
It had already begun.
“Minho.” His name was so deep under your breath that it came out as a gasp, an easy to see expression on your face distracting enough to make anyone believe you were only shocked by the death itself. The one who did it, the man you love, was red-handed without so much as a pin on his name and location. He was dead to everyone, although he roamed once more.
“What do you know?” The detective sipped on his second cup of coffee of the morning, sitting back into the booth now appearing as calm as ever. “I guess fate came knocking.”
It was a leap in your gut, what he said was too specific. Came knocking, just as Minho did hours prior to the arsonist’s death. Even if you asked or tried to read him enough, there was no way he could have been in two places at once to give a signal of his resurrection.
“About time someone did something.”
“Bet it was a corrupt cop who did the deed.”
“Or better yet, someone in line with their head on straight.”
The customer's words made your ears ring. It was true, the man had caused so much pain to the city. But a death like that was too horrid to be ignored. Minho knew what he was doing, setting a silent blaze that only attacked the attacker. Where does he lie within all this?
“I don’t like this.” Your words were still quiet, but enough to make the entire diner grow harsh. The looks of others made you want to race outside, their expressions questioning why you were so doubtful of the amendment being made. You were truly in the middle of this now, but no one had a clue. “When has death ever solved anything?”
“It's out of our hands.” The coffee in the mug had grown cold, but still sat between his large palms. “The news just read that they didn’t apprehend a suspect.”
“Which means another one of the men could die tonight.”
“So be it.”
Corruption began with those who ran rampant in the streets setting fires meant to only startle others. When they lead to deaths, corruption was what became of the police who wrote the scenes off as “kids being kids”. Those same police were the ones who allowed the trafficking of drugs, started fights, and single-handedly brought the whole city down with them. It started from the bottom and rose so fast to the top that authority was no longer the answer to the question of “what do we do?” anymore. The city rang with bells asking for procedural justice, and only one man answered.
“Whoever the killer is, I hope they know how many lives they’re saving.”
Eye for an eye. If only they remembered it was Minho who was taken, too.
Your hands shook too much during the shift to manage anything, everyone convinced the new death had you spooked. Eyes diverted, coughs covered your name, hands pointed in your direction; it didn’t end until the card was clicked and you were off the clock.
It’s imaginable that those getting served their own karma would make the air more breathable around you, but the darkness of the night only crept towards your senses like an awaited jump scare. The sidewalk wasn’t as welcoming. People lining the streets, they were already becoming less afraid to walk the night-life again. You were still an outcast in an attempt to not rebreak your heart, sight set on the ground until a small patch of sodding came into view.
Fake grass laid upon the ground to cover what was beneath, you found yourself outside the gate of the same cemetery you avoided at all costs. Every bit of your being wanted to pretend he was still inside, that Minho was at rest. But the caw of the familiar crow breaking through the harsh winds redacted all the less-worrisome thoughts filling your mind for comfort.
It had to be known that he was watching, the hair on your body never laid back down from the night before when his eyes caught full sight of you for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.
“I should really put a cat collar on you. One with a little bell so I can hear you coming.”
“Wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?”
He stood tall, the exact same clothing he had been buried in—the same outfit he always wore on a really good night—tight on his frame. Minho pushed off from the leaning position on the gate from within the cemetery, long legs carrying him until he was a few feet in front of you. The subjective place was becoming more or less unnerved by his emergence, but as it stood around him, it appeared restless.
“Did you find it by your leg?” A flash of the night before made your breathing hitch, sight of the black pick with a symbol printed on it regaining your focus. He only blinked at you, awaiting your answer.
“Why did you leave it to me?”
“He wouldn’t have believed me any other way.”
The detective was headstrong, only accepting factual evidence. Your second-handed appeal seemed to shake him only for a moment, but you distinctively remembered his slip up of a sentence. Fate came knocking, it had a double meaning now.
“You did go and see him.” Your eyes were shocked, but your voice was allayed.
“For a brief moment.”
“Minho, this is too risky.” Riddled with a smirk on his lips, he peered past you from the use of the word risk. He seemed clean before you, empty handed—but part of you could still see the faint stains of blood in the lines of his hands if you stare long enough.
“Risk is what we need.” His words were tainted, yet you could still see the Minho you knew staring back at you. “Doll, if I had taken a risk before, I’d still be by your side.”
“But you are at my side. Now.”
“Not forever like I was meant to be.”
The pain in your chest was more agonizing than the frown growing on his face. It took so much for the man to lose his smile, and you hated seeing it fall more than anything else in the world.
“I can’t do anything you ask me to. I’ve already lost so much.” You were breaking, voice echoing in your own head much louder than it was coming from your mouth. “I already lost you once. Don’t make me lose you again.”
“That was what I was afraid of.” His shoulders grew wider as his head fell, eyes on the squared path beneath his heavy boots. “I guess—” He halted like he hated saying what was next, but to him—there was only one solution to the entire situation. “—you’ll just have to come with me the next time I go.”
four.
Blurred vision brought the grotesque scene of Minho placing his fist through a wooden door, bloodied hand twisting the doorknob and allowing him inside the small motel room over the local bar. The man in the corner shook with every fiber of his being, the nail gun in his hand appearing as a decent weapon.
Only until the nails shot from the gun into the skull and chest of Minho did your oxygen leave you, the blood rushing from the injuries enough to have your sleeping form hyperventilating. But Minho didn’t falter, moving in on the second arsonist without so much as a wince.
The dream was so realistic, Minho’s lengthy hair falling down from the sweated-out gel until it swung before his eyes. Animalistic, pupil’s dilated and irises darker than the sky around a dying star—you never wished to see this. Red blood poured down his face as he leaned in closer, face to face with the arsonist—but you were looking through his eyes. In the place of the man nearing his rightful death, Minho almost hypnotically removed the gun from his hand. It was aimed in direct proportion to the space between his, your, eyes until the forceful but imaginary pain rushed you from the pillow and mattress below.
Your breathing stuttered, hands feeling at your face to find no marks or blood spilling like it would have had it actually been you. White cat at your feet, it sensed your discomfort and fizzled its fluffy hair before curling back up into its sleep. Your gentle words towards it as an apology only made it let out a breath, the same leaving you at the sight of your own bedroom.
The dream was too real, too detailed, and awfully astute to have just been a dream.
It was the front page of the paper, displayed all over the city as you made your way to open the diner. Death by nail gun, the homicidal killer had struck again. As it had been up until now, everyone's perception was twisted and convinced it was all karma. Killed by his own nail gun, above the same bar he tortured, within the same room he lived in, and right beside the bed he slept in every other night. Like a perplexing poem, the town was enjoying every second of justice.
Then night came back. The screen had been pulled long ago, the open section of the diner now closed as the last hour of your shift came around. One in the morning was the calmest time in the city, all things scary or bad busy and the soft and good sound asleep in their homes. There were usually only one or two customers, the building quiet except for the faint sound of the juke-box playing along the far wall.
The book in your hands flashed, vision impaired from the brightest light above going in and out in blips. Your sight rose from the words on the page, but instead of looking directly up—you found the derelict man vertically right before your face. Legs bent and tight around the swinging lamp above, Minho swayed back and forth as his body hung opposite of you from the ceiling.
“Paying attention?” He asked, a handsome grin on his face with blindingly white teeth shining through his lips.
“I am now.”
An obvious patch of hair was missing from his thick mane, a small section only large enough to directly correspond to the mark of a nail. Your eyes followed it as his strong arms lifted him back up to the lamp, legs pulling from the metal and hanging as he continued to dangle himself from the light fixture that threatened to break from the wires any second.
“Good.” He smiled a smirk, swinging hard and dropping his feet to the floor on the other side of the counter, body falling into the same seat he always sat in.
It welcomed him more than anything else had yet. The chair still swiveled each time he moved, his feet upon the metal bar on the lower part of the counter’s wall barely cradling his long legs. Smile wide, eyes bright, Minho looked like himself for just a moment. Like he had never left.
“Lift up your shirt.” You couldn’t hide the curiosity in your voice, the man’s smirk only returning in a sensual way.
“Isn’t it against work rules to flirt with a customer, doll?”
“I need to check for something.” The words were demandive, Minho’s head shaking as he lifted the thin fabric of his black tank-top beneath his leather jacket.
“Need to see the nail mark to believe it?”
“What?” Your eyes shot from his skin to his eyes, the bright irises making you shiver.
He knew. He knew it all from the beginning.
“You saw what happened in your dream. When I got back home, you were shaking in your sleep like you were having a nightmare.” It was a matter of hours before you could fall back asleep, a hard struggle to even close your eyes again after the dream you had. It wasn’t a dream, but an insight to reality taking place a few blocks away.
He always called wherever you were home.
Just likie his skull where the nail had obviously penetrated deep enough to leave a mark and release blood, you had seen the second nail press into his skin in real time. Yet right before you, the man holding his top up to his chin to let you see the smooth skin of his tight chest, there was nothing there. No scars, marks, or blood—he was completely devoid of any remaining marks from the altercations at all.
It was a dream, then it wasn’t. The possibility of the universe was broadening in your mind, Minho’s soft voice calling you back to the world before you.
“I need you to do something for me now.”
His voice brought you back to that night before, his soft-spoken words telling you the only solution he had come up with that solves every issue and whatever follows accordingly. To leave with him, die with him once his vengeance is over. What are you meant to say to that?
“What is it?” You wanted to take back your words, all of them one by one. The regret of working within his ploy to get revenge made you feel sick, but Minho always had a way of reading you.
“It’s not that, baby.” He shined, even in the white light of the vacated diner. “Meet me tonight at our old apartment.”
Your gut twisted and turned at the idea of the place where all your belongings and the man you loved were forced to leave you. It had to be filled with “do not enter” signs and yellow tape marking the sections most dangerous. What was there to return to?
The dark rain washed over the city just as it did every night until Halloween. Nightly air sucking into your nostrils and filling your lungs, your senses flourished as your sight found the moving shadow above where you walked. Minho’s rushing form moved smoothly through the rain, not a slip or jolt. His arms swayed him back and forth on the satellite pole as it swung him across to another building, feet landing perfectly on the small ledge before he rushed across the brick roof towards the next. Leaping across chambers of story-long falls without so much as a heavy breath, the crow flew through the rain just as fluently above him. It was the sight of something uncanny, unhuman—and the more you seemed to see him, the less he looked like the man you knew.
five.
The golden ring on your left hand’s finger the next morning did everything but startle you. It was a simple habit of yours to come home from work early in the morning and take it off for a shower, and too easy to forget to put it back on before dozing off to sleep. But on a night just like that, you awoke with it on your finger—in the exact place Minho put it.
A promise ring with so many memories vibrating inside the reflective gold that your finger ran numb when you were reminded of them. It was a gift from the man who gave you his heart the first week you had known him, and a promise made to never leave your side.
A promise broken and reprised, a tale too painful to bear.
Hesitation brought you to turn on the TV, but you already knew what was to come. Another new story covering another homicide done by your dead lover, the case had everyone’s eyes on the screen every time a name read across in large letters.
The third arsonist was found dead, removed from his totaled car that had rushed into the river not too far off the direction Minho had been headed in that night. Shrieking arounds of breaks and the horn sounded in your ears like a memory you were reliving, your palms covering your ears not enough to null the noise. Another dream you had, but thankfully forgotten by that morning. A memory that wouldn’t part from you until death.
It hadn’t gotten too far into you, but it was reaching the limit. Death, reincarnation, murder, and visualizing images and sounds to go along with the trio-ed story. Minho was part of you, he had been since that first night he sat down beside you at the bar; but you becoming part of him was the dilemma. Everything he felt, you felt. What he heard, you heard. More now before you could realize, all this blood was on your hands, too.
Devil’s night. A night of chaos and blemishes that mark every town and heart in its path. Three of the men who had caused so much pain and misery to the city were now being buried six feet below it, and you could see it in everyone you passed as night fell again.
Excited, peaceful, and exhilarant. Children ran around in their costumes, adults already had bags of candy on their shoulders from early trick or treating. Most importantly, for once in the last ten years of the cities’ history, no fires had been lit and no irreplaceable lives had been taken.
It stood still no matter how lively the town was running. Burnt to a crisp and hardly structured, the apartment building that sweltered with heat greeted you. The double front doors squealed as you stepped inside, the cases of stairs creaked under your feet as you rose floor by floor, and the familiar sight of the slightly open door with candle-light peeking from inside made you weak at the knees.
Minho sat with his wrist bent over the edge of the vanity, the visual of your frame slowly pulling the door open and stepping inside a sight worth him seeing as a grin rose from his blank face. Happiness in his eyes as your face reflected back at you the more he moved in on you, the huge changes to your life seemed to simplify back to the past as his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him.
“I can’t make it the exact same, but I put the candles where you liked them as best I could.”
“It looks wonderful.” You exclaimed, eyes peering around the room for long enough to see the thickly-laid pallet on the floor with only two large candles illuminating the space.
With so much going on around you, it was a facile moment to live. Minho’s arm draped heavily across your shoulder as the other held you against him, his eyes falling on the lips he hadn’t kissed in over a year. It was a slow-motion film scene witnessing him suck in his breath and lean down to push his lips into yours, and it was most refreshing to taste him on your tongue. His wet muscle lapped at your mouth before the arm at your waist squeezed the last of your breath from you, a break in the kiss making you remember how much you missed this even more.
Heated kisses before were lavishing, but the ones now were like medication you couldn’t live without. The parting of a year ago was so abrupt, the loss and loneliness giving you no room left in your heart to let anyone in. Minho had always catered to every wish you could have made, and gave you no expectations from how well matched you felt alongside him. But having him back in your hold with his throat releasing a moan as your fingers threaded through the long brown locks of his hair, it was home once more.
It was gratifying to have the man you loved in your arms. Colder than before but warming up with each piece of clothing lost until he cradled your naked form above the soft blankets of the pallet on the floor, Minho’s skin heated yours just as it always did when you made love.
His mouth could only leave yours for minutes at a time, small bites and sucks engraving your skin to burn and welp for the rest of the night. The passion and fire never left him, his legs holding yours apart to run his bare hands up and down your body. Tongue pressing hard licks to your most sensitive spaces, pants and moans releasing from you before the first release of the night would turn into many, and the man had you in his favorite position.
“How is it—” His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, words dripping thicker than your juices on his fingers. “—that you still manage to make me feel calm and jittery at the same moment in time?”
“I don’t know.” Your tongue was always tied when he asked you questions like this, but he knew how to receive an answer much greater than sentences could form.
“I’ll help you remember.” He grinned, face falling down deeper and deeper until your body swelled and released once more.
“And again.” The grin was a smirk when his hand was trailing across his own stomach and feeling at his cock, rubbing it slowly before pressing it into your lubricated walls. He had little control of himself, always, at this point, yet you felt him hold his breath and carry on with all his might. Thrusting, pulling himself out just to ram himself back in, his fingerprints left in your skin from where he had to hold onto you to keep himself sane. Minho knew just what to do every chance he had you, and he never disappointed.
With a kiss on your swollen lips and a broken sentence of his tired voice, your smile back at him verbally made his heart skip a beat in your ears before sleep took over. “And always.”
The pull of the blankets woke you from the light slumber, Minho’s form lifting from the bed with nothing but his boxers on. Lightly sweated skin glowing in the faint moonlight of the now clear sky, you watched his lanky limbs fall as he sat down at the vanity.
Candlelight making it difficult to see, the sleepiness of your eyes bringing more struggle, you still saw the foundation lift into his palm. Brush running through the makeup, he pressed it against his face until each pore was painted white. Line-less, he sighed before pulling at the plastic lid over the tip of the black pencil eyeliner, drawing along the white paint to create a hollowed black smile. Eyeliner around his eyes, the black strokes reshaping his facial structure completely being paired with the white paint across his skin completely reformed him.
Minho’s smile seemed more wicked than his eyes shining in the reflection of the mirror with an eerie glow to them. Bizarre, his index fingers pulling at the corners of his mouth to lift his lips into a smile and then a frown. From the looks of it, he didn’t appear to know himself in the mirror.
“Just a little longer.” He sighed once more, this time speaking under his breath. “One more, then peace again.”
“Together?” Your voice was louder than his, enough to get his attention. His palm cupped at the drying paint, removing it from the skin of his face to his hand in an instant. A loving look overlapping the strange glisten in his eyes, the moment he saw you he seemed to change back.
“Together, of course.”
six.
Dawn rose until lines of blue and purple meshed in the sky, your shoes scuffing the pavement as you stepped out onto the sidewalk of the city. Just as easily as you parted from Minho did you find the day moving faster, a bright sun evaporating all the rain until the sky began to turn dark again.
Sunset, the pink and red lights made the cemetery look more amicable than it had the last few days. The rails shined, rusted corners and sharp points of paint against your skin as you pressed inside the calm place. Directly in the middle of the city, it was the beacon of all things that came along and passed in their own time.
And just as it had been when you rushed away, the plot of dirt where Minho once laid still sat open. A hole big enough for the man to rise out vertically, the space was now tacked with a yellow flag. Under investigation, the curious city wasn’t new to grave robberies.
But him—the detective, authorities, news, and city-living community knew the story of the crow when they saw it.
When two souls are forced to part, in life or death, they are always brought back together. Righteousness only exists in truth, the lore of the crow standing equitable. In some pieces of the legend, the crow returns the soul to make things right. This case was accurate, Minho had returned not only for vengeance and peace, but to retrieve the love he lost, too.
The rose’s black petals you placed down seemed to welt at the touch of the mud alone, withering into a deep brown color and falling down into the hole in place of the body. Like the universe knew what it was missing, and wouldn’t take anything in its place. Your mind ran rampant with what was to come, the sudden scuffling sound within the cement walls of the deteriorating church too loud to let you think.
Staircase creating a soft echo as you made it up the tall inclination, the altercation only seemed to worsen. Punches thrown, blood spilled, and you only made it inside in time to find just who was head to head.
The final arsonist alive to see the last of his days was held tightly in a choke-hold, Minho’s strong arms not giving in to release him any time soon. No matter how much about Minho you knew, how much you loved him, or how much he loved you: the look in his eyes was created by pure horror and strife.
“Minho—” He had seen you the second you stepped into the church, walls lined with red and purple colors from the stained glass being illuminated by the sun setting outside. Even with his name on your tongue, the man didn’t stutter.
“This is right. Isn’t it?” Morally corrupt, physically here but mentally elsewhere—you could see it, he just wanted an escape. “H-How do we know he gets what he deserves past death?”
“You came back, didn’t you?”
“He could, too.”
“To help what? He has nothing to prove.” The arsonist's eyes were dark with purple marks and black lines, days of hiding from the world when his name and Minho’s were put back in the news getting to him. If the worst of the worst could fear death, Minho embracing it and doing good meant he was much more of a better soul than most others could be. “You left me, and the entire world, with a gaping hole. It was like the one helping you pass on knew it wasn’t right to let you go like that.” The crow perched on the wooden, decayed benches of the church hardly hopped or squawked in response, only twisting its head between you and Minho.
“But where does he go?” Your lover still couldn’t truly remember where he had gone. “H-Hell. I hope.” Eyes wild, body sweating, Minho was on his last limb and already pulling the gun from the middle of his back. The ring of the bullet sounded for miles, going clean through the arsonist’s skull.
Your body couldn’t react fast enough, the gurgling of the man falling to the floor as the life left his eyes bringing you to vibrate and lose your balance. Silence filled into the church, Minho’s heavy pants the only distinctive noise you could make out in the space.
No rain, no fires, people way off in the distance enjoying the holiday for the first time in years, and you—trying to race to catch Minho’s falling figure. The bullet had taken two lives instead of one, the crow that gifted your lover a second chance creating a babbling call and falling onto the soft velvet cushion of the seat. In a matter of seconds it was dead along with the arsonist. Each and every one of Minho’s injuries returned to his body in the order that he received them. Marks, slices from knives, nail holes from the gun, and glass fragments left from the accident of the car: they were only killing him faster.
So much pain, loss, and desensitization only meant one answer—peace. The air was breathable, the moon shined brighter outside the open doors, and Minho’s soft hiccups of air against you brought you to realize the trail of fate was in your linings.
Things were no longer dark, now healing and regrowing. The only thing left to leave was Minho.
The hefty breaths of the detective pulled your sight from your lover’s eyes, watching the man’s gun held tight in his hold lower and fall to the ground out of shock. Tall, broad, and never casually caught off guard—his reaction gave recognition to how bad this looked.
He was heavy in your arms, torso falling lightly onto the concrete as the rest followed. His eyes could only watch the stained glass in the walls, lids falling heavy as he neared death a second time.
His calmness exhibited his plan all along to you visually, the sob hidden by your quivering lips as you raised the gas canister and began to pour it over you and Minho.
“Does it really have to be like this?” Questioned the detective, but your motions were too sure to be denied.
“I want it.” You cried, hot tears pouring down your face as the sight of the church around you blurred. “I want to go with him.”
The remaining strength in Minho was enough for him to lift his arm and take your hand, the lit match in your hold shaking with your breath.
“Then don’t do this alone.” The second match was lit by the detective, his hand shaking less and less as his arm extended out enough to toss it safely in a moment's time. “I can handle forensics. You get to where you’re going.”
The match in your hand with a burning flame, and the guitar pick in Minho’s with the crow printed on it. Nothing could have settled the much-needed serenity more than the last purposely-lit fire getting set in the city.
“I think it’s time to let fate for us end.” Minho winced, smiling an idiotic smile at the idea that he’ll have you with him forever.
The matches fell, the place burned, and even the crow on the guitar pick went along with it.
Warnings - Major Character Death, Nice Guy tm, Blowjob, Blood, Dagger, a stabbing, talk of reincarnation,
Please tell me if i missed a tag, i'm not an asshole i'm just stupid
The two of you confessed your feelings a few months ago. Night started to get lax with hiding the pda halfway into month two. It’s a miracle he got that far.
Now that everyone knows you're in a relationship with a god, people have treated you differently. Thankfully none of it is negative, that you know of.
Just, people give offerings to you. Which you decline and put on Night’s alters instead. You don’t need these things. You never want for anything with Night around.
There's a festival tonight. People started setting up for it a little after midday. Erecting canopies, setting up tables, preparing food.
You’re trying to get ready but Night somehow convinced you to meet him in the temple. It’ll be quick, he said.
You dart behind the curtain and jerk back startled when you get an eyeful of Night, naked. Not that you haven't seen him naked before, it’s just, you weren’t expecting it.
He’s leaning on his altar, arms crossed over his chest. “Come on Starling. I want you to give me the first offering.”
And that's how you found yourself on your knees. Night’s head tipped back, a hand buried in your hair.
You whine around his cock in your mouth when his hips jerk forwards. You hollow your cheeks and he moans. Looking down at you he removes his hand from your hair, cupping your cheek.
“You’re going to have to swallow for me, make sure you don't miss a drop.” You glance up at him and he just grins. “I can't get dirty Darling, I have an image to uphold of course.”
“But,” He starts, slowly fucking into your mouth. “I suppose I could just cum on you instead.” He groans. “Have you go to the festival covered in me, marked as mine.”
Night’s hips are stuttering now, a hand coming up to rest on your head. He moans and cums down your throat. You do your best to swallow it all but some drips from the corners of your mouth.
Night pulls you up, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb, pressing it against your lips. You lick it clean and he grins.
As he presses a quick kiss to your lips, you feel Night’s magic around you and you're in a side courtyard.
“Go on, enjoy yourself.”” He leaned down and to an onlooker it would look like he’s kissing your cheek. “I’ll be sure to give you some more enjoyment later too.” He murmured.
He pulls back, gives you a quick smile and then he’s gone.
You spend most of the time wandering around. Seeing other Gods and Goddesses. When the festival is winding down you start to make your way back to the temple.
Cutting through an alley you’re halfway through before the way out of the alley shimmers. Fading out of existence and becoming a solid wall. It was a mirage.
Turning around you see Avion stalking towards you. You start to back up, trying to put distance in between the two of you.
Your back hits the wall and he still advances. You’re trapped.
He stops directly in front of you, boxing you in. He looks you over as you try to scoot around him to leave.
He slams a hand against the wall, blocking your escape. “So, was I just a plaything?” He snarls. You flinch, desperately looking for a way out, someone to notice, something.
“Someone to mess with until you go back to your lover?” He barks a laugh. “I could have been that! I’m way better than him.”
He pauses, “You don’t believe me, do you. Well,” He starts. “Avion,” a familiar voice says behind him, cutting him off. Night.
Avion whirls around, a golden dagger in his hand. Was he holding that the whole time? “You,” He snarls, pointing at him with the dagger.
“We were just having a conversation about you.” Avion’s voice turned sweet as he twirls the dagger in his hand. The runes on the handle started to gently glow, you could see the light through the gaps in his fingers.
“Leave,” Night commanded. “And you’ll escape alive.” Avion laughed. “Oh I’ll escape alive alright, but, will they?” He jerked around, shoving the dagger into your stomach.
He yanks the dagger out of your wound and then he’s gone in a flash.
Someone’s screaming. Who’s screaming?
Oh, it's you.
Why is everything moving so slow?
It hurts.
It hurts and Night’s there and the world speeds up again. You gasp from the pain, a slow spread of burning, emanating from where you got hurt.
Night is panicking, unsure of what to do. He bundles you in his arms and you feel the familiar whoosh of his magic before you’re being laid down on his altar.
One of his hands presses on your wound, blood seeping through the gaps in his fingers. The other is holding the back of your head. He’s crying, your Night is crying. You reach up, cupping his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb.
“He’s cursed you. And I, I can’t save you. Only, only the god that caused the wound can heal it.”
“What, what do you mean cursed?” you ask. “The dagger, it's, it’s a dagger of reincarnation. You’re going to be a different person next time we meet.”
You laugh and then wince. “I’ll still love you, I know that. I will love you in every life.” Night smiles as a tear falls down his cheek.
“And, and as I, My Star.” Night’s voice broke on a sob. “I’ll find you again, I promise.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your right temple.
You felt the spot grow warm and your brain started to feel foggy. Your eyes drooped, fluttering as Night held you close. He started humming, his voice catching every few seconds.
You drifted off into a dreamless sleep, listening to the sound of your godly lover gently humming.
Warning: 18+ Content. Angst, Soulmate AU, death, unhealthy relationships, dreams, cheating?, reincarnation, modern world, speaks of heaven, crying, sadness, arguing, spells, mythical creatures, witchcraft, etc.
Check out my other event pieces here
Words: 4.4K
A/N: thank you so much for letting me participate in your intertwined collab @httptamaki and @touyaz! This was a lot of fun to write. I hope you enjoyed! Special thanks to @monaukah who let me use her OC, Alexandra, in this story. I love Alexandra so much and this was a great opportunity to use her in my writing.
Hot tea is taken off of the stove, poured out of the kettle into the freshly washed teacup. Y/N awaited for the cold to brew in while her husband is out chopping down firewood for the winter storm. She mentally groaned at the thought of being stuck in the same living space with her estranged spouse more than she had to already. The mere thought of the male attempting to be sexual with her made her sick.
Her family has been requesting for grandchildren since the day they became official. Her spouse has as well, but they fail to realize the bigger picture. This isn’t the man she truly wants. He never will be.
It’s the time of year again where she grieved for the unknown, her soul feeling as shallow as the day he left her many lifetimes ago.
One could not understand the ache that devoured Y/N’s bones every waking day unless you are separated from your one and only. No love can even be a fraction of what she felt for him.
It’s been awhile since they found one another. Three lifetimes, to be exact. One will be on Earth while the other will stay behind. By the time the other one arrived, the other disappeared for their tasks or to find one another. This is a cycle that carried on longer than they appreciated.
Each passing decade felt colder than the last. Every winter seemed to be harsher, making Y/N hate the cold weather more than normal. She wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth within her veins yet only her flesh felt comfort from the fire.
Y/N gazed out the window, noticing how tall the snow blanketed the ground. Maybe her husband would freeze, maybe he will never return, maybe he will fall in love with another beautiful woman who loves him for all he has to offer.
Because it will never be Y/N.
Sighing, she sipped on her tea and read a book of her choosing under candle light, keeping an eye on the sun’s positioning so she can prepare supper.
She seemed to lose track of time, her daydreams swifting her off of her feet, the unknown man in her dreams coming to rescue her from the hell she has to endure on a daily basis.
Still, dreams or not, it’s all fiction. No man will ever come to save her. No amount of prayers, rituals, or manifestations she could attempt would bring that beautiful man to her because he isn’t here.
On Earth, at least.
The lonely soul stayed in the heavens above, only being able to visit his destined lover in her dreams. Did it kill him to witness her be with another? Certainly. He hated it as much as she did, but there are rules to these types of things. Giyuu made his decisions and now he shall live with them until it’s time for their next life.
Giyuu begged Y/N to wait for him. Not enough pleading could convince her to stay. She has levels she wants to reach outside of involving him and the only way to meet those is learning on Earth. Giyuu admired her for her goals and aspirations. He even knows that he has done it to her more than twice, but the aloof soul is becoming lonely. He is sick of spending many years away from each other only to meet again in the high heavens.
Granted, his time on earth tend to be lonely as well, but Giyuu can survive that. He is a water pillar. Therefore, his time on earth needs to revolve around water. Y/N, on the other hand, is a love pillar. She must crave and experience love to become a higher rank.
“Are you sure there is nothing I can say to convince you to stay?” Giyuu casually questions while Y/N proceeds forward to the portal to the earth. She pauses in her tracks, not expecting him to show up on such short notice. They have said enough to each other the previous day. There is nothing left to discuss.
“I’ve already told you my reasoning, Giyuu,” she turns to gaze at the male who leaned against the tree, his arms folded, “if I am going to become a higher rank of the love pillar, I must go to earth to earn more experience.”
“Is my love not enough for you, Y/N?” Giyuu quickly responds, anguish present in his tone. “Do I not give you enough experience?”
Y/N turned to face him. “We’ve had this conversation already. This lifetime is the sole purpose of experience and I must experience love that isn’t you—“
“Don’t give me that crap! You know we belong together, Y/N!” Giyuu barked, his anger overwhelming his sadness. “How could you agree to be with another soul? A soul that wasn’t even created to be yours?”
Y/N’s bottom lip trembled at the rain that fell from Giyuu’s beautiful blue orbs. “Giyuu..” Y/N trailed off. Giyuu raised his hand in response, turning away from her.
“Save it.”
Giyuu collected himself, knowing that you are not going back to Earth to pain him. That is quite far from the truth. If anything, this experience will make each other stronger. The love between the pair will be so immaculate that you both will not know what to do with such emotion.
Y/N has goals and in order to achieve them, she must learn the difficult lessons as well. Does not mean Giyuu will make it easy not like the circumstances.
Strolling over to her, he cupped her face and kissed her pouty lips. “I love you.” Giyuu whispers amongst her soft skin. He sure will miss touching her whenever he desires.
“I love you, too, Giyuu.” Y/N breathed.
Touching her beautiful face, Giyuu sighed, his blue eyes swimming with potential rain clouds. “I will miss you, Y/N.”
Y/N scowled at her lover’s facial expressions. She may be holding it more together, but this is hurting her just as much. They have been without each other for so long. His touch even felt a bit foreign. Still, it’s the only home she has ever known. Even when the house feels vacant, it’s still her own.
Cupping his face with her soft touch, she brushed a tear that danced down his cheek. “Hey, no need to whimper now, dear. I shall return to you in the next lifetime.”
“I’ve heard that before.” Giyuu retorts, not believing in her comforting words. “I come back from a lifetime only to find you gone to Earth to experience more.”
“It’s not my fault you pick long lifetimes.” Y/N scoffed, Giyuu not finding it very humorous. Kissing her one last time, his love spilled down her tongue and into her heart. That is where she will hold him for now on. That is where she will feel the familiarity in this upcoming lifetime.
Pulling away, he whispered into her ear, “even though you will not know who I am, search for me in your dreams. I promise to wait for you.”
Y/N smiled, nodding her head. She brushed his face one last time. “Goodbye, Giyuu.”
Giyuu stood and watched her enter the portal, the portal closing slowly after meaning she is now born into the human world, their conversation now forgotten until she returns to heaven again.
Giyuu watched Y/N during his free time, enjoying watching her grow in this lifetime. He dreaded the day she would find the soul she agreed to be with. He cursed this soul’s very existence. Neither of you knew much about him, but from what Giyuu observed, he was not fond of the male set to captivate Y/N’s delicate heart. Giyuu is the only one to have the luxury of holding Y/N’s love and affection, no one else.
Why does that man get to do so also?
The moment the two officially started dating, Giyuu made his move. Her dreamland is where he invaded her space, grazing her face, and reminding her where she truly belonged. Sadly, her dreams are influenced by human experience. So, Y/N is aware of the familiarity, she just does not know him because they will not meet on Earth. Y/N’s human body keeps the soul captive. No matter how many times Giyuu attempted to find a loophole, there was none. He can only rely on the human dreams and meet the human version of his lover.
If only he followed her. Then their souls could not only meet on Earth, but in dreamland too.
The universe is sick in that way. Whenever you go to Earth, you must seek out your destined partner. Sure, you’ll meet potential partners along the way and if you are foolish enough, you will mistake them for love and settle for what you believe is a true love that you only feel with your soulmate. Y/N and Giyuu are too advanced for that. They still don’t quite understand it since when you arrive on Earth, you forget everything and start over. Best believe, though, once Giyuu and Y/N find each other, they cannot leave one another alone.
If only Y/N didn’t come to Earth for an alternative motive.
Both souls know the contract they signed which is why they are together in this lifetime, though, they are so distant. Y/N needed experience other than Giyuu. This is the only way she will grow.
Giyuu is not innocent either. They may entertain another soul who doesn’t know any better about love, but while they slumber, the souls are a high enough ranking to travel.
Among the stars, they will dance while their partners sleep beside them in the cozy bed, not knowing a single thing. Giyuu will bathe Y/N in the clean river under the full moon, adoring the spotlight on her. He will even pull down some dust from the galaxy to pour into her beautiful hair.
This time was different, unfortunately.
Giyuu patiently awaited for her to sleep, already invading her dreams with the scenery he wished for her to see. Having his ranking came with perks like that.
Awaiting by the river, Giyuu heard rustling in the forest. Out came Y/N, confused until her eyes laid on Giyuu.
The man that always visits her dreams.
“You’re back!” Y/N beamed, making her way to Giyuu and hugging him. It’s been a few nights since he had duties to do up in his universe. He felt bad knowing Y/N’s soul and body were searching for him, but he had no choice.
“Where have you been? I’ve been searching for you!” Y/N exclaimed, her face dropping when she noticed the sadness on her features.
“Come.” Giyuu called, walking into the river, his clothing dissolving, the water engulfing his body.
Y/N seemed wary, not sure if she should follow, but trusting the man, she proceeded into the water after she discarded her clothing. Giyuu is sure to give her the best view of the full moon, stars hanging up for decoration and not a single cloud in the atmosphere.
The crickets sang lullabies while Giyuu held Y/N, happy to have her in his arms even if she did. Their bare chest touched one another, her arms laced around his neck while they rocked back and forth, their lips ghosting one another.
“You’re so beautiful.” Giyuu would whisper, the woman believing it for the first time, grinning while she rested her forehead against Giyuu’s.
“Thank you, Giyuu.” She kindly replied. This is the man she is meant to be with. This is the love of her life. Her soul is bursting for joy, but the human brain is in the way.
Just when Giyuu thought he saw a glimpse of Y/N’s soul in her eyes, fighting for sweet release, her words smashed all hope.
“Who are you?” Y/N asked, arching an eyebrow, pulling away from him slightly. “I know your name, but I have no idea who you are or where you came from. Why are you here? Where can I find you?”
Giyuu’s heart sank, his grip loosening. He thought that bringing her back to the place her soul loved that her human form would release her to see him.
Giyuu still loves Y/N in each human form she chooses. There is no doubt about it because inside that skin lies the other half of him, the woman who has known him since his creation, the very being he desperately wants beside him.
Still, somehow, Y/N’s words caused a murder that day. A death caused by a thousand cuts and it’s all thanks to your ignorance. It angered Giyuu. Even if he could harm her human form, he could not bring himself to do so because what he is about to do is so much worse.
So much worse.
“Y/N,” Giyuu begins gently, caressing her face one last time, “I have to go for a while.”
“Where are you going?” Y/N interrupted. “Will you be back?”
Giyuu frowned, the world they are starting to slowly fade away. “I do not have much time, Y/N, but listen to me closely, okay?” Giyuu waited for her broken eyes to meet his cloudy ones. “I have to break a promise you do not remember at the moment, but when you return to find me, I will not be there and I’m so very sorry. Please,” he pauses to gulp, her confused expression breaking what is left of his heart more, “please forgive me.”
Y/N did not even have time to process his words. Giyuu was selfish enough to kiss her one last time, placing a hand over her heart which held her soul.
“Goodbye, Y/N.”
Y/N is being shaken awake by her spouse. “Y/N, wake up!” He grumbles, seeing his wife dozed off while reading her book.
“Huh?” Y/N mumbled in confusion, gazing around, a pain in her heart she could not understand. It’s a pain she had not felt in this lifetime.
“You fell asleep reading again. All you do is sleep.” Her husband nagged like he always does. She could not find herself to care, the light in her eyes dimming into a solid gray. The heart that withheld her soul crushed into tiny shards, exposing the protected spirit.
Y/N truly felt pain now.
Y/N made dinner for her spouse and herself, getting ready for bed shortly after. All she wanted to do was sleep. She wanted to find Giyuu.
Y/N slept a lot of her life away in search of the man she felt so attached to. Running through endless forest and searching in bright skies, she is left alone.
“Giyuu?” She would call, never receiving an answer. “Giyuu?”
Silence.
That was how her dreams and life looked until the day she forever rested. Sinking into the sheets, her eyes closed for the last time, releasing her soul for good. She no longer felt pain, warmth engulfing her soul’s aura.
“Y/N!” Her friends called, rushing over to get to embrace her tightly. “We missed you!” The pillars smile. Y/N reciprocated with the same action, her irises searching among the crowd to find the one soul she searched for.
Just like Giyuu stated in her dream many moons ago, he is gone. His promise to be broken and to repeat the same cycle that the two only know. No wonder she had to experience someone new. Sadly, that someone new was no good for her. Only gained her experience.
“Where is Giyuu?” She uttered out, pushing through the crowd in search of him. She knows where he is, but she did not want to believe it. She refused to believe he would break his promise. Sure, he may have stopped visiting her in her dreams when she was human, but he was supposed to wait for her. He has not broken a promise to her before. Why would he start now?
Y/N turned around while her peers remained mute. “Where is Giyuu?” She repeated through gritted teeth and rain drops prickling her eyes. “Please.. Please tell me he is waiting for me.”
They remained inaudible.
“He,” her breath hitched, “he broke his promise.”
“He needed more experience to become the ultimate water Hishira.” One of Y/N’s friends, Mitsuri, explained.
“That’s no excuse!” Y/N vociferate loudly. “He promised,” she pointed to herself, “me. We are soulmates! You don’t break promises to soulmates.”
“Y/N..” Mitsuri sighed, reaching out a comforting hand, but Y/N pushed it away.
“Save it.”
Y/N stormed away from her love pillar friends and into the neighboring forest where fairies and numerous other heavenly creatures lived. She just needed some peace while she sobbed out her frustrations. There is nothing worse than a pillar so full of love is now only full of despair.
Her wails could be heard within the forest, sending birds flying from their cozy nest, insects going into hiding, and tiny fairies to stop their daily duties to surround the weeping soul.
“Y/N,” the fairies squeaked out, landing on her shoulders, head, and back, “Y/N, what ever is the matter?”
“M-My lover, h-he lied!” She bellowed in agony. The fairies gasp in response.
“Giyuu Tomioka lied?”
“That can’t be true!” They all muttered.
“Well, it is! He deceived me.” Y/N stated in deep dejection.
The fairies did their best to comfort the despair filled woman, but their attempts failed. If only they knew a fellow Love Witch heard the commotion and decided to make her presence known.
“My, my, what do we have here?” The young witch sympathetically gasped at the sun soul that laid down by her feet. Y/N did not even have enough energy to greet the woman. She cried herself out to the point of exhaustion.
Leaning down, the witch examined her. The fairies stuck around since they are all quite fond of this lovely woman known as Alexandra. “This is Y/N, she is a love pillar. She found out her soulmate, Giyuu Tomioka, has broken a promise and she has not taken lightly to the news.” One of the female fairies explained.
“I see. Well,” the witch clapped, making the soul as light as a feather for the fairies to carry, “we shall clean her up and help her on her journey.”
“B-But, Alexandra, isn’t that—“
“Against the rules? Nonsense! I only do things when consent is given. I never mean anyone any harm.” Alexandra retorts, skipping back to her cabin deep in the forest, the fairies carrying Y/N’s soul with them to the house.
Once they arrived, a bed was given and some spells were provided to heal Y/N’s dim aura. It would not fix her broken heart, but it would give her enough energy to communicate with those around her.
After a few months of trying, Y/N finally became present. She is unfamiliar with where she is or how she was brought here, but she is more concerned with the humming she heard outside of her room. “W-Where—“
The humming became louder and louder until the door flew open. Alexandra smiled, warmly, at the girl sitting up in bed. “Oh, goodie! You are finally awake!”
“Who are you?” Y/N questioned, nervous to trust this unknown soul.
“Oh, heavens. I forgot I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Alexandra,” she bowed, politely, “pleasure to meet you, Y/N.”
“How do you know my name?”
“Simple, the fairies told me all about you while you have been taking a nap—“
“A nap?! This was no nap! You kidnapped me!” Y/N hissed.
Alexandra gave her a stern look. “Now, now. Has anyone not taught you some manners?”
Y/N shuddered, a little nervous of what this stranger is capable of since she has never met her before. “My apologies, love witch.”
“You are forgiven,” Alexandra grinned, walking over to the woman and handing her a cup of freshly brewed tea, “here, this should do you some good.”
Y/N gazed into the cup, not seeing any warning signs not to drink it. The love witch is allowed to live on Heaven’s grounds, she obviously must have well intentions. Alexandra has no purpose in harming Y/N either. She has only shown her pure heart through it all.
Bringing the cup to her lips, she sipped on the warm liquid. The tea is made just the way she likes it. The fairies love to gossip.
Alexandra sat on the edge of the bed, examining Y/N once more. “Hmm, your aura still reeks of sadness. Tell me, beautiful one,” Y/N gazed up into Alexandra’s eyes, a replica of Y/N’s current heart state forming in the witch’s hands, “what has broken your heart?”
Y/N’s bottom lip trembled, the thoughts flooding her mind. Painful memories feasted on her brain cells of that wretched, wicked, twisted fate. A soulmate is to never break a promise, but Y/N’s sure did. Ripped the very veins that circulated her blood into her once beating heart. Now, she is hollow.
“M-My soulmate, h-he,” Y/N’s limbs trembled, some of her tea spilling in response onto the comforter, but Alexandra paid no mind. Instead, she rested a comforting hand onto hers.
“It’s okay, Y/N. I can help you.” Alexandra reassured her. Y/N turned her head in confusion, arching a brow.
“How?” Y/N inquired in curiosity. She has never been offered relief from the hell she has faced. This is not the first time Giyuu has hurt Y/N’s heart and even in those moments, Y/N was offered not a single ounce of help. She was forced to mend her broken pieces all on her own.
Alexandra stood up, straightening out her gown and collecting the tea from Y/N. “I shall return to you tonight at midnight.” She instructed, exiting the room shortly after.
Y/N remained in bed, anxious to know what the witch is up to. Y/N has been told time and time again you cannot mess with freewill. That statement is true. Even in spirit form, you do not lose the right to choose. Giyuu made his choices and Y/N must not interfere.
That didn’t stop Giyuu from invading her dreams, though.
Anger soon fulfilled Y/N. She was forced to always play by Giyuu’s rules while she suffered the consequences. She made a stance when she arrived on Earth without Giyuu and she meant it. This time, Giyuu will have to play by her rules.
A soft knock alerted Y/N, Alexandra entering once she received the okay to do so. “Follow me, Y/N.” She beckoned. Y/N scrambled to her feet, quickly following the woman to another room. Alexandra placed her hand on the handle, stopping before they entered.
“Tell me, Y/N,” Alexandra turned to face her, “do you want to be with your soulmate no matter the cost?”
Y/N nodded without hesitation. Love pillars depend on love and if she cannot have Giyuu, she refuses to even exist at all. It’s an unhealthy love that she is cursed with from the start.
“Very well, then,” Alexandra opens the door and usher’s Y/N inside, following inside after her. Y/N gasped at the sight of a huge portal that showed where Giyuu is currently in life.
“Giyuu..” Y/N whispered, her hand daring to touch the portal when Alexandra slapped it. “Ouch! What was that for?”
“You cannot just be touching portals without knowing what they do!” Alexandra scolds, folding her arms over her chest.
“Sorry.” Y/N huffed. Alexandra nodded. “This is a portal to Giyuu’s current lifetime. Once you enter it, you will be in his timeline. That being said, you did not reincarnate the same time he did, so, I had to do some altercations to get you a family and make the timelines correlate.”
Y/N gazed over at Alexandra in shock. Alexandra has never met Y/N yet she has been nothing but kind. “Alexandra, thank you.” Y/N politely bowed.
Alexandra nodded in response. “I must tell you, though, this does not come without a price,” Alexandra waited until she was certain Y/N had her full attention, “once you do this, you will forever be bonded with Giyuu. You can never experience other soul contracts to help you level up in your ranking, you can never leave Giyuu for someone else in the real world or in Heaven, and most importantly, if you do, you two will be doomed with misfortune together for the rest of your existence.”
Y/N contemplated the words Alexandra stated. This is a huge commitment and she is paying a huge cost just to cure a broken heart. As she stared into the portal, all she wanted was to be in Giyuu’s arms. All she wanted was Giyuu, nobody else. She no longer cared about rankings or her position as a Hashira.
All she wanted was Giyuu.
“I’ll do it.” Y/N agreed, giving consent.
Alexandra stepped back, “very well. Good luck, Y/N.”
Y/N takes a deep breath, preparing for the world of the living once again. All her knowledge of what she is about to do will be gone, but she needs to trust her soul will lead her in the right direction.
One foot enters the portal and the rest of her spirit follows. Speeding through a cylinder of many colors, a beating human heart forms around Y/N’s soul, organs, bones, and flesh soon follow.
All to end up in the rustle bustle of the busy city.
Y/N gazed down at her hands, now in human flesh. She is currently twenty one years old, living in one of the busiest cities in the world. Gazing around, she is overwhelmed by the sounds of cars. Though her human body should be used to the human world, her soul seems a bit out of sorts. This is all so new.
An impatient taxi cab honked at Y/N, capturing her attention. “Move it!” The driver demanded. Y/N quickly made her way across the crosswalk to the other side of the street, not paying attention to where she was going when she bumped into a stranger.
“Oh, my apologies!” She apologizes. Gazing up at, her soul is overcome with warmth. Blue orbs gaze down at her, his soul in aw at the sight before him. The strangers might not be aware of one another, but the souls know it’s so much more.
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Josie has always had the ability to communicate with dead spirits, often drawing them towards her by the dozens.
Members of her family were terrible beings, often slaughtering innocents without remorse. Her father and her collective brothers’ mentality was that humans were equated to cattle -- they were merely culling the numbers. Where one human died, another would inevitably be born.
To them, it was fine.
To Josie, however, it wrought forth many nightmares.
Many nights during her childhood, Josie would be waken by those who’d recently died. They pleaded with her to help them find their bodies, find their loved ones, help them rest easy after their unfair demise.
Of course, as she was a child, she would go to her brothers for help. They wouldn’t dismiss her per say, but they made it clear to her that these victims weren’t to be talked to because “it would take her away from them” and “she doesn’t want to leave them, right?”
The manipulation tactic was effective, and Josie started shutting these spirits out, many of whom were never identified, their bodies never found, and their cases going cold. Josie feels great remorse over her decision, which encouraged her future actions: actively seeking lost souls or combing woodlands for bodies.
Her collaboration with detectives in her area was rocky at best. No one understood how or why she wanted to aid in solving murders. She never had concrete evidence to spawn a search team other than telling them she had a “feeling” about the area. That type of mentality wouldn’t hold much weight in court.
So she started leaving anonymous tips, often allowing her body to be inhabited by the spirit of the deceased, who could describe in great detail what had happened to them and where their body could be found. Names were never left, but it would get the cadaver dogs on the road.
When the tips led to monumental discoveries, cases were reopened and reexamined. And some form of solace was given to the victim and their families.
For this, Josie felt content. She was happy to be useful in this matter, thinking maybe this would make up for the times she remained silent.
Josie was never officially recognized as the one who admitted the anonymous tips until one specific case occurred.
A young girl had been kidnapped, abused, and bludgeoned before being buried in a wooded area near a road. She was roughly seventeen; fair skin, black hair, blue eyes. A good student, smart, participated in extracurricular activities and was responsible. Her case had gone cold for more than fifty years when Josie encountered the girl on the highway.
She laid out on the road, nude, like she had been lain in her grave. When Josie followed the spirit to the area, she uncovers her remains, and called for backup. Once the troops arrived, they described the same girl laying in the road . . . who stood up, looked at Josie, walked to her side, and looked up at the chief before disappearing before their eyes.
The body was identified a few hours later, witnesses to the gravesite were giving their statements, and everyone was silent, their eyes fixated on Josie. They wanted to know how she knew -- and she admitted that she knew of cases because the spirits of the victims have not left the scenes where they died; often, they would reexperience the events that happened the time of their death and were trapped until a new person crossed the boundary of reality and memories of the deceased. And as a person who crosses that boundary often, spirits may reach out to her with the hopes of her aid. So she - with the spirit inhabiting her - would leave tips that lead to the resolution of the case.
Later, the family of the victim, would learn about this new revaluation, and while dubious.. still wanted contact with Josie. They hold a meeting, and its emotional. A Q&A session between the survivors and her commence -- how long did she suffer, was she scared, was it quick, where is her soul now, does she remember us? Josies replies are honest, heartfelt, with the reassurance that now the girl is somewhere safe.
Months go by and this same family contacts her with brilliant news - they have a new addition who looks and acts like the victim did when she was a baby. They wanted her to meet the newborn, to which Josie obliges, and before shes in the room -- the baby is pawing for her, cooing, her babbles sounding strangely similar to Josie’s name . . . The victim’s sister, the lone survivor of their family as both parents have passed away, the eldest in her new little family, asks Josie: is this my sister? is my new granddaughter the rebirth of my sister?
With the baby in her arms, Josie smiles softly and says yes. This is your sister -- she found somewhere safe to be again. She wanted to be with everyone in the end, and now she can be.
When Josie goes to the police unit again, to give her statements for another discovered victim, she is given respect. There is a new sense of understanding in their community, as this irregular method of finding victims is still being discovered, it was worth trying as many other communities have later seen results.
Whats better is that more people are being found, their killers jailed or posthumously accredited, and families are receiving closure.
This becomes Josie’s main job when she is 15 onwards -- the beginning of the events to the end of her career when she is much older.
