literature

Magic and Loss: England X Ghost!Reader

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A/N: Please note that this is your only trigger warning. Much mention of death, and mention of an accident. If you are sensitive to these themes, then please take caution and read at your own risk.
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      “Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm,
and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.”
-Vicki Harrison 

---

    “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirkland. It was too late, and we couldn’t save her.” The doctor’s tired voice echoed in the room. Arthur’s breath hitched as tears blurred his vision. The beeping of the heart monitor increased and mixes with the noise of the nurse telling him to calm down, but Arthur couldn’t hear them.

    Things were not supposed to end like this. Her life wasn’t supposed to end so suddenly. The two of them had just returned from their honeymoon; there wasn’t supposed to be an accident. They weren’t supposed to get injured, and [Y/N] wasn’t supposed to die. Arthur found himself thinking back to the last moments he had saw [Y/N] living.

---

    [Y/N]’s smile overshadowed the dull grey skies of London. Their weeklong vacation in sunny Seychelles had drawn to a close, and both Arthur and [Y/N] were sporting evidence of your time in the sun. Though he had a blast on the shores of the small country, he was very glad to be home.

    Alistair Kirkland was waiting for the couple when they exited the airport. The red-haired Kirkland was kind enough to pick them up and drive them to their new home, though he did complain about it as soon as he saw them exit baggage claim. In fact his greeting was along the lines of, “You two better be thankful, cause I had to take time off of work for this,” in his thick Scottish accent. [Y/N] laughed and assured him that they were in fact very grateful for his services, though Arthur had wanted to jab at his brother’s choice of profession. Running a pub, despite its popularity, is not a proper occupation in Arthur opinion.

    Somehow Alistair had tricked Arthur into carrying all the luggage to the car, spewing some line about “how good husbands do it all the time”. The entire way to the car, Alistair had emerald orbs glaring daggers into his back as he walked and talked with his sister-in-law. There were murmured curses thrown to the elder Kirkland man as the trio climbed into the vehicle.

    Before long, they were on their way to Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Kirkland’s residence. [Y/N] and Alistair were conversing happily (Arthur was shocked that his wife shared a few embarrassing stories about himself, but not as shocked to hear some from his brother). The rain started, and already Arthur found himself missing the time spent alone with his wife, knowing life would rarely give them that opportunity again. Family, friends, and work would take up the time that he wished could be just theirs.

    “Oi, Arthur. Did you hear your wife?” Alistair’s snapped words brought Arthur out of his thoughts. “N-no,” he admitted. “Sorry, love. What were you saying?” [Y/N] rolled her [color] eyes. “I was asking what you’d like me to cook tonight.”

    A sudden, thunderous, crunching noise could be heard. Arthur’s head was slammed against the window and he could feel the car being flipped. Black filled his vision, screams filled his ears, until he knew nothing but silence.


---

    Sorrow filled Arthur as he realized he would never see her again. His choked sobs filled the small, sterilized hospital room, and those present who were capable of moving left him to mourn. Never had Arthur felt pain like this, having his other half ripped away from him this early in their lives. It wasn’t fair.

    Arthur cried for what felt like hours; he cried until his throat was burning, his chest hurt, and his head ached. He cried until he couldn’t stand to let more tears fall. “Done crying are you,” asked a hoarse voice to his left.

    Snapping his head toward the noise, Arthur glared at Alistair. Once his emerald eyes landed on that mop of ginger hair, his sorrow was temporarily replaced by rage. Rage toward his brother for letting this happen. “I wouldn’t of had to if you hadn’t gotten us into a wreak!” Arthur shouted hoarsely, his voice sounding raw from the crying he had done. His words caused Alistair to twitch, and regret filled the elder brother’s eyes, but he would not stand down. “You’re trying to blame me? That arse driver who caused the entire fucking wreak is the one to blame.” This caused a heated argument to break out. If they weren’t so hell bent on screaming at each other, then perhaps they would have noticed the change in temperature. Maybe Arthur would have seen the spirit of his beloved [Y/N] standing to the side trying her best to calm the hurting men in front of her.

---

       Days had passed since Arthur had first awoke to that God awful news. He was released from the hospital with demands that he got as much rest as possible. “Fat chance of that,” Arthur scoffed as soon as he waved his mother away from his home. He now stood in his empty home alone filled with a sense of regret and longing. Tears pricked his eyes, though he stubbornly refused to let them fall. He swallowed past the growing lump in his throat and looked around before speaking aloud. “Welcome home, [Y/N]. I miss you terribly, as do all of our friends.” He started to recount of all the condolences he had received as if [Y/N] could hear them, but something seemed off. The home was strangely quiet, he noted; there was not tingling of fairy conversation, nor was there an obnoxiously loud mint colored bunny flying to greet him. It was strange.

      Moments after he thought this a loud thump came from the other room. The bedroom Arthur thought vaguely before going to investigate. He crept, not so silently, toward the room. Slowly he pushed open the wooden door. There were no blacked clothed burglars trifling through his and [Y/N]’s things, no. The room was empty, and everything was in its rightful place. Everything except a large book that had ‘fallen’ off the bookshelf.

      With a sigh Arthur walked across the room, bent down, and picked up the book with the intent of placing it back in its rightful spot. The title of the book caught his attention before he could put it down. Beyond the Grave. Arthur stared at the little book before laughing and setting it into its place on the bookshelf. “It’s funny, isn’t it [Y/N]. I almost want to use my magic and call you. That would break our promise though.” These whispered words were accompanied by a dry chuckle. He turned to leave before another thump sounded. Swiveling on his heel, Arthur rolled his emerald eyes. “Very funny, Mint Bunny. Now could you please stop this nonsense? I need to get to prepare for work in the morning.”

      A shout of “that wasn’t me,” came from the kitchen. “It wasn’t the fairies either. And you don’t have work in the morning because you are on orders from your doctor to stay home,” a nagging voice whispered into his ear. The Brit knew it didn’t belong to his winged companion, but was just as familiar. “[Y-] [Y/N]?” He choked out. When he turned, he could feel a presence, but he could see nothing. It was in that moment that he realized that it if she gave him consent, he could practice magic once again.

---
“The boundaries which divide life from death are at best shadowy and vague. 
Who shall say were the one ends, and where the other begins?”
- Edgar Allan Poe
First story, and of course it is terribly sad. I couldn't think of anything else though!

This idea started as a contest entry for TheComicGal. The point of this contest was to write a reader insert pairing the reader with England and having at least one of them be something supernatural. When I first looked up creatures I had the idea of a fairy or a demon, but then I came across the legend (is it a legend or rumors?) of the White Lady from Filipino culture.
This got me to the point where I wanted to write reader as a ghost who died in a car accident shortly after returning from her honeymoon. At first I was going to make this story longer, with reader doing ghostly shenanigans to visitors of Arthur's home, but I decided to go with a shorter, more bittersweet version (just like my username).

I chose Seychelles as their honeymoon location because in past years I had to make a brochure on a French speaking country, and in doing so I found that Seychelles is a popular destination for newly weds. For a while I had dreamed of making that my honeymoon destination.

I would like to know what everyone thinks of it, so if you could comment your thoughts I'd be grateful for the feedback. 

For the most part this story is unedited. I used spell/grammar check in Word, but I didn't read for coherency. I don't have a beta reader just yet, but I would like one for future stories. I am sorry for any errors within this story.

Disclaimer:
I don’t own Hetalia or any characters mentioned.
I don’t own you.
I don’t own any locations stated.
Everything belongs to their respective owners.



© 2015 - 2024 sweetsandexpressos
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The-UnRealIstic's avatar
Goddamn eye liquid stop wetting my cheeks