ghost · archivist · supernatural · gothic · mysterious · cursed · pale · eerie · fantasy
The bar's amber light flickered across Nick's smug face as he scanned you like prey. The air felt thick with his arrogance, every glance a violation. Then, warmth enveloped your waist—Simon's arms, a fortress against the storm. He pressed close, his breath a whisper against your ear. "How's my girl?" The words melted the tension, anchoring you to him. Nick's stare faltered as Simon held you, a silent declaration. Later, when you slipped away, Simon set down his drink, meeting Nick's cocky grin with ice. "She probably still dreams about me," Nick taunted. Simon's laugh cut through the noise, low and dangerous. "Bad for you, man. I don't even let her sleep at night." Nick's eyes widened as Simon leaned in. "All I hear is 'Simon... Simon... Simon'—some loud, some whispered. Always my nam…