mostly smut, some of them are quite kinky-ish, just check the individual chapter warnings. the first ones are probably bad, they're older.
more on my Tumblr @goblinontour
warnings: angst, death (implied suicide), grief, some mentions of smut
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It had been years. God, how many years now? And yet, somehow, it still felt like yesterday. Every morning he woke up thinking about it, replaying it all in his head, like some film reel stuck on loop. You. Always you. He still didn't think he could ever be the same as he was before you. The thought of you had become a constant companion, lingering like a shadow he couldn't shake, no matter how hard he tried. He wished he could. Sometimes. But other times, the thought of forgetting you altogether, of erasing you from his mind, made him sick with guilt. He hated himself for ever thinking that. Of wishing you would disappear from his mind once and for all.
What kind of person wanted to forget someone they loved?
But you had come into his life like a storm. You swept in, disrupted everything, and then left, leaving pieces of him scattered everywhere, pieces he was still trying to gather up and make sense of. You came on like some plaything crippling his mind. He never knew how someone could take over his mind so completely, yet here he was, haunted by the ghost of you. You were in everything, even when you weren't there. Especially when you weren't there. At night, he swore he could still smell your perfume, that faint scent that used to cling to your skin, your hair, the pillow you once shared. The pillow wasn't even the same one anymore, but it didn't matter. It was like your memory was branded into everything. Into his sheets, into his thoughts, into his very being.
He used to change the sheets constantly at the beginning, desperate to rid himself of that reminder of you. Sometimes he'd strip the bed after just one night spent on them, throwing the covers into the wash, because your scent permeated and he couldn't stand it. He was more so trying to scrub away at the memories like they were something tangible he could rinse away. But no matter how many times he cleaned them, your presence clung to the air, suffocating him. He couldn't escape it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wanted to forget. Hated that he couldn't. It was this constant push and pull inside him, this battle between the need to move on and the fear that moving on meant losing you for good. There was so much guilt. About that, but also about everything else. Every. Fucking. Thing.
He liked to tell himself that he had tried. In his heart, he believed he had. He had tried to be what you needed. He had tried to be the victim of all your hatred instead of that victim being yourself. He had tried to be your anchor, your calm in the chaos. Your tourniquet, something to stop the bleeding when it all became too much for you. He had begged you, begged you to take it out on him, to let him carry the weight instead of you. He would have let you break him if it meant saving you. He thought maybe he could handle it. He thought he was strong enough.
But he wasn't. Probably not. Not even close.
Not as strong as you were.
And you didn't even give him the chance. You never gave him that chance. It felt like you never believed in him, not really. He knew that wasn't true, deep down. But it hurt too much. It was easier to tell himself that you didn't trust him, that you didn't want him to help. He built up walls of excuses in his mind until reality blurred and twisted, until the truth was something he couldn't even recognize anymore. His reality melted into nothingness.
