#ghost reader

[heartfullofleeches]

Retailer: Now, I have to warn you - previous owners of this home have reporting seeing a ghost. A bride from what I've heard. I'm sure you don't believe in such things, but it would have been rude of me not to inform you.

Yan: Hm... I am not one for roommates, but it is such a lovely home I will find a way to send her to her final resting place.

Retailer: Actually, the bride has been described as an attractive young male.

Yan:

Yan: Will I be able to sign the paperwork today?

-

Ghost Bride Darling: Who....is here... Those lights...ahhh

[Yan sits at the dinner table in front of an spirit board - romantic candle lights strung all across the room]

Yan: Darling! You've finally come to join me for dinner. You look even more ravishing than your obituary showed you to be.

Ghost Bride Darling: I...am a man. Can I still be... your wife?

Yan: In that dress?? You could be my executioner and I'd view you all the same~

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Since you’re writing for Poppy Playtime again, may I request a sequel to the Janitor who is still at Playtime Co? The toys aren’t sure if they’re a ghost or just really good at hiding.

Oh I remember that one! Glad you do too ^^

Here's the first part for anyone curious

.........

Catnap

You were a survivor of the Hour of Joy...or so he thought.

A lone janitor? Working and listening to music throughout the slaughter?

It sounded impossible.

But after all the toys dragged the corpses down below to be eaten, you were still cleaning their blood off the steps 10 years later, somehow not feeling as terrified as any normal person would be.

Despite his best efforts, Catnap could never capture you.

Just when he's finally ready to pounce or thinks he has you cornered--you vanish before his very eyes, almost as if you were a ghost.

Yet you wear a gas mask through the clouds of red smoke, so...you must need it.

Therefore you must be a human who was really good at finding hiding spots he wasn't aware of.

But you can't hide forever.

Your luck will surely run out soon...right?

Dogday

The Playhouse had turned into a torture chamber for nonviolent toys and anyone who went against the Prototype's will according to Catnap.

That being said...why would you enter this place willingly? Why would you keep doing your job despite the horrors those two have orchestrated?

Surely one of them would've caught you by now...

But from within his cell, he catches glimpses of you cleaning the blood off the playstructures, or removing the corpse of a feral Mini Critter from his sight.

He tries calling out to you, but you never seem to hear him...

Maybe all the trauma and blood loss is making him hallucinate?

Or maybe it's the red smoke. Who knows?

He's not so sure anymore, and he doesn't count on you being able to help him.

Pianosaurus

Cleaning his enclosure was no small feat.

Sure, he wasn't a massive Bigger Body, but his hunger was about as great as theirs.

And he only sees you, the janitor, as a snack leaving themselves wide open.

His piano teeth have been malfunctioning, causing a tune to go off every once in a while.

That gives you an advantage, as it allows you to figure out where he is in proximity to you--even in total darkness.

After the Hour of Joy, Pianosaurus returns to his enclosure, finding you cleaning somebody's carcass so calmly.

Yet when he charges....you suddenly vanish, and he rams headfirst into a wall.

Since then, he hasn't been able to find you anywhere. But under Harley's orders, he stays put in that same place for years.

He can wait. He's a patient hunter.

Unfortunately for him, he'd never find you--yet you were there to witness his demise at the hands of Doey when another employee fell into his enclosure.

While you pitied him, it was best that his suffering ended.

Doey

He didn't partake in the killings (at least none that he could recall), but he's shocked to find you alive, cleaning blood off of a machine he was inspecting.

But how did a janitor get this far down into the facility without proper clearance?

"Hey, buddy! Are you......huh??? Where did you go????" In the blink of an eye, you're gone.

He hears footsteps, but doesn't find you when he tries following their sound.

Did you go down some secret path he wasn't aware of?

He keeps catching glimpses of you in No Man's land, as well as in the caverns around Safe Haven.

Despite his best efforts, he could never quite catch up to you, even with his doughy abilities and dozens of shortcuts.

But somehow, throughout the years, you've been finding Mini Critters and Huggies/Kissies to bring to him, and they all claim that you've spoken to them and cleaned their wounds.

Yet for some reason...you either couldn't or wouldn't visit Safe Haven yourself.

He understands why, but...he just wanted to thank you for helping innocent toys find safety here.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Ghosted

Male Jock Yandere Ghost x Gender Neutral Nerd Ghost Reader

CW: Reader death, ghosts, spirit world, manipulative yandere, stalking, general yandere behavior, consensual sex

Word Count: 801

(Trying to get back into the habit of writing, this is the result, hope you like it! I consider a demented ghost as still being a monster and therefore still teratophilia.)

You had died in college. One moment, you were being your nerdy self, rummaging through your binder, and the next, you were on the ground. You didn't really remember much, all very fuzzy. Was it a stroke? A brain aneurysm? You had no idea.

Once you were brain dead, though, you stepped from your body and appeared on the ghostly plane. A fog filled realm that somewhat mirrored the world of the living. Though spirits could make alterations, there were spaces untouched by the activities of the still living. 

There were a lot of ghosts. Many of them wandered aimlessly or were stuck in a loop of denial, acting out behaviors as if they were still alive. Others lashed aggressively, unable to regain their grip on their sanity. 

You mostly kept to yourself. Like Jonesy taught you. He was a former jock about your age when he died in the late 80s. He still wore his letterman jacket. You weren't limited to the clothes you died in, but you figured it was a symbol of how he was still attached to his old life.

Jonesy had taught you a lot of things. He had pretty much been your mentor since you had died. He was there waiting when you passed. He said he had sensed someone might die as he was wandering the halls of the college, where he had also died years ago. 

Jonesy said he was stuck in a loop. Being alone had made him lose his mental stability. But when he sensed you were about to die, it snapped him out of it. He said you saved him, so he wanted to get to know you and help you navigate the land of the dead. 

Plus, being together would help prevent the two of you from getting mentally frail. 

It was a bit of a paradox. Jonesy taught you to avoid most spirits, but communication and relationships were essential to staying sane. 

"You just have to know the right types to befriend. Many of the people here have a darkness in them and can drag you down if you're not careful."

He also told you the other secret to remaining stable. 

"You have to keep busy, do stuff. Don't get too bored."

There was a surprising amount you could do as a ghost. You could go to stores and yoink whatever you wanted, eat whatever you wanted, play video games, there was even a ghost version of the internet! 

Getting infinite free popcorn at the movies was your favorite thing. Jonesy always did that lame pretend yawn thing that ended with his arm wrapped around you. It was nice, though. Made you feel safe. You had been touch starved in life.

The transition to him being your boyfriend was so seemless and natural that you barely noticed that it had happened. You had never stopped any of his advances. Cuddling you, holding you, and smooching your cheek.

You didn't even question it when chaste kisses led to him kissing you hungrily before carefully taking off your clothing, like he was removing the wrapping from something delicate. 

Soon you found yourself laying ass up on his bed with him pounding into you, drinking in all your lusty moans and unabashed calling of his name.

He gripped your hips firmly as he came deeply into you; the pleasure made you see stars. His girthy cock stretched you wonderfully. You felt so lucky and special that this jock spirit had taken an interest in you, a lowly nerd.

Jonesy felt lucky too. He hadn't been in a loop. For a year before your death, he had been haunting you, It was difficult to peek into the living world, but once he found you, he was addicted. 

He loved watching you read books, study, and watch anime. He especially loved watching you shower, fervently jerking hinself off as he did so. 

It wasn't enough though. He needed to have you with him! You had been so perfect for him. You were kindred souls in a way. You were always alone and starved for attention. You'd fall for his affections easily, and you wouldn't just crossover beyond the purgatory the two of you were now in, you were too depressed for that.

Influencing people who were still alive was nearly impossible, but decades of being alone had made Jonesy angry and bitter. He used those emotions as fuel and tried many times to trip you down the stairs or get you to stroll into traffic absentmindedly. Finally, the jock was successful in busting something in your head.

At long last, you were with him. As he held you tightly, after making love several more times, he knew he'd be able to keep you there forever and he'd never have to be alone again. 

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere King X G/N Ghost reader

Trigger warnings! Death, violence ,You die (obviously lmao), Yandere s/hs , More of a lovesick Yandere. This is my first ever fic so if I've missed anything please let me know!

With that said just imagine a...

👑Yandere Prince who sneaks out...like a lot. What can he say? He loves his kingdom! If he is to rule it one day he must understand it.

👑A Yandere Prince who one day bumps into you! A commoner nothing more, nothing less but to him. You were everything! Your passion, your gratefulness, your kindness is everything he loves about his kingdom in one person! You live in a little village just outside the kingdom but still in it's land. You try to avoid crowds, you have a collection of rocks and crystals. A harmless hobby that got you label as "mysterious" or "freaky".

👑Yandere Prince doesn't mind this at all! You're so pure and happy, you would never harm anyone! (And the more people believe you're threat the more you're all his-oop!)He loves when you ramble about the rocks you collect along the lake, his heart hurts when he finds out the reason you have mostly rocks in your collection is because you can't afford crystals.

"Your majesty?..." You open your door one night. "What ever are you doing at this-!" You didn't have time to finish before the young prince launches at you. Hugging you tighter then ever before, it's almost painful. " Father wants me to marry..." It's all he says, you try to see his expression but he's holding you so tightly you can't move. His blond hair covers his blue eyes. "I-I can't!" He's voice breaks. You've never seen him so Human, His prince persona complete forgotten.

You rub his back. "You'll make a fine husband, your ma-"

"Neil"

"I'm sorry?"

"Call me Neil... please" He pulls away from you. He gently moves his hands to cup your face and leans in. Before anything can happen there's a sudden slamming of your front door bashing into your wall. You scream in terror while Yandere Prince tries to keep you as close to the other side of the room as possible. Royal knights come in and pull the prince away from you.

"Unhand me!" Yandere Prince use's all his strength to pull away from the knights but with three of them restraining him it's near impossible. He's eyes wide in pure fear when he sees you being shackled. "No! No! You can't! You can't!" Kicking and screaming while being dragged into the carriage, he woke up the whole village with his tantrum. You keep your head down. If it wasn't for the knights dragging you along it would of been impossible for you to see, tears filling your eyes.

👑Yandere Prince who had to be bound to his bed when he found out you were to be hanged. His obsession of you being misunderstood as a love spell you cast on him. In a sick sense of comedy the more he screamed and cried the more it made up the kings mind.

👑Yandere Prince who managed to convince his personal maid, the one that's been raising him like her child since his mother's passing. To visit you one more time, to send his love and beg you not to hate me. To his surprise she returns with a small rose quartz you had on your clothes for him to keep.

👑Yandere Prince who cried so hard he vomited on your execution day. The cheers of the crowds fueled his rage. That night he was sat in bed rubbing his sore wrists, eyes puffy from crying. He brings his knees to his chest when he feels a hand on his back.Turning around he saw nothing.

👑Yandere Prince who has hardly slept since your death. Who is a vile shell of the young man he once was. On the day he had to meet his future bride. He punched a mirror unable to see himself with anyone who wasn't you.

That night he stumbled back into his chamber having drank his sorrows away to forgot everything. But he could of swore he never cleaned away the glass shards and he never let the staff in his chamber anymore.

That night he saw you. He came to him in his dreams. You're figure looked smaller then usual. The red ring around your neck was all he could stare at. "My love?" Was all yandere Prince could muster before waking up, the rose quartz in hand.

👑Yandere Prince who started carrying the crystals around everywhere, oh and I mean everywhere. He didn't believe it did anything but slightly ease his pain. That was an till his father, the king. Snatched it out of his hand "You stupid boy! Can't you see this was the vessel that ruined your mind!" And that was all it took. Yandere prince took his sword and plunge it into his father's heart. He went on a rampage killing everyone from the exactor to the civilians that cheered your demise.

👑Yandere king that became the most feared man in all this side of the mountains. All that death managed to bring Ghost readers form into this realm.

"My love... never again will I let scum take you away from me." He tried to take your hand in his but it just felt like a cold tingle on his palms.

After this yandere king made his staff build a steal box to keep the rose quartz safe. Maybe his father was right...the crystal was a vessel for someone.

[murmiss]

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part 2

(Warning! not a little a few unpleasant descriptions, a description of the abduction,Mention of bullying , other traumatic moments , etc. In the end ,After all, this is angst,but with a good(?) ending,there may be mistakes in words-English is not my first language,the characters are adults, implied SA)

You're walking along the highway, and to the left and right there's a dark, terrible forest, and it seems that your death is about to leap out of the darkness, that every rustle of leaves and whiff of wind whispers about your imminent death, and only the rare passing cars give you a tiny, tiny hope that you'll live, that John is back, that Price is about to run out of the car and hug you, but reality cuts like a knife.

It's starting to rain, a nasty drizzle, and the humidity is making everything worse, and the fog is settling in and even the already sparse streetlights light the road even less.

Mommy said there were monsters lurking in the darkness.

Mommy said to be a good girl and not to walk at night.

A red old car stops in front of you and you stop as the headlights are almost blinding and illuminate you in this terrifying darkness. A slight smile, tired and exhausted, appears on your lips, but just as quickly disappears when you realize it's not Soap, or Price, or even a nice family willing to help.

Three men get out of the car. Your doom is coming to you, stepping on your heels, and you want to just run away, but the forest seems even more dense, you want to fall down and cry, asking for help, but hope is completely abandoned when the one who was the skinniest of them all, says in his hoarse voice: "Sit down with us, bunny, we'll take you for a ride".

Unconsciously you take a step back, you want to run away, but their disgusting hands pull you along, dragging you like a piece of meat, not caring about any moral qualities. They shove you in the back seat and don't even let you squeak.

Their hands touched everywhere, slipped under your thin sundress, and squeezed your legs as you drove and you couldn't even squeak in fear.

The big guy behind the wheel took your phone, and the one next to him was not shy about touching you.

The basement they dragged you into was cold, damp, and dark, lit only by a dim, flickering light bulb, and the stained old mattress was horrifying.

It's all right, Price will knock their teeth out! Your pack remembered you were gone long ago and are on their way anyway, they've pinpointed the location, they're gonna save you.

But will they?

"Damn, Soap, you're a hero.... Didn't think you'd pick up a couple finds"-said Gas, leaning forward to whisper to Soap.

When Johnny burst into the house with three hotties under his arm, no one even wondered "where's the beta?". Price frowned, but when the blonde winked playfully at him, the old man was lost and forgotten, and when the two girls jumped into his lap, he was ready to howl at the moon like a damn wolf.

Ghost, being ice cold, couldn't help but hold back a smile, noticing the colorful brunette with tattoos, and the soap smiled haughtily.

"Damn dog"-mumbled Ghost as the brunette that sat on his hip squirmed her hips on him, rousing him.

The clothes came off even before the drink ran out.

You sit on the mattress damp from the excessive dampness of the basement, hugging your knees with your arms, mentally waiting for the moment when your pack bursts into the basement. The door creaks open and you jump up reflexively, but only a tall, thin man with a yellow tan, a weird curly haircut and a bandage, dressed in a silly beach shirt and shorts walks into the basement. He hisses angrily, "idiots!" but as he gets closer he can't help but smile, mumbling, "okay, she's cute for a beta."

You head spins and everything moves apart under you feet as you head goes blank and vivid images flash before you eyes. You are just fire, you and only you on this stage, there is only you in this world.

You feel a touch on your shoulders, a soft stroking of your hair, and you turn, meeting Ghost's loving gaze. His eyes sparkle at the sight of you, and his mask is off. He's as handsome as you imagined him to be, and his hands reach for your face, pulling you in for a loving kiss before sliding gently down to your waist. You feel hot, with his kisses on your body and his smile, and everything around you shines with yellow light like heaven and you feel safe.

"I hope that girl doesn't fall off, asshole"-pahabic laughter echoes above you, but you don't hear it, don't understand. It's not Ghost whose caresses you feel.

You wake up on the mattress and wake up confusedly, horrified to find that.... You didn't want to-- To see. You didn't want to know! Oh, no, just no, please.

No clothes at all.

You start sobbing in despair, sobbing so loudly that one of the big guys comes down and through reluctance and anger, throws an old T-shirt at you when you beg for your clothes back.

It smells of one of them, smells of its captor, of dust and sweat, but you can do exactly nothing, just hastily putting it on to hide your body just a little.

The food showed up the next day. When the pot-bellied man brought a plate of leftovers from the chicken, a couple of whole chicken legs and a quarter of a tomato. That was all the food for the entire day.

When the main one of all came down to the basement to check on their victim, you asking with desperation : "can I go to the bathroom? ". You hope they'll take you upstairs and maybe like a cool lady you'll run away, but it all goes awry when he puts down an old rusty bucket.

"what's this? " you say, hoping you've misunderstood, but the man says with a sneer, "won't be stupid."

It was hard to wake up from sleep, and Price was the first to wake up. Climbing out of bed, he sighed heavily, but noticing a girl sprawled out on the bed without a blanket, he playfully slapped her ass before laughing playfully as he stood up.Grabbing his phone from the counter, he first checked all the calls, and noticing the new ones, he snorted incomprehensibly as he scrolled through the messages. Why was the beta calling them, and what the hell was going on? He was in the kitchen, making a mug of coffee, when the blonde he'd been with threw her arms around him and John instantly forgot all about it, putting his phone aside.

And everything seemed really fine, the omega numbers were in their pocket, they had one last meeting with the administration of the distribution center before they were allowed to take any omegas into their pack, but....

The hellcats stole their money. Price was the first to notice this as he looked into his wallet, about to head to the center.

"Those bitches stole from us!"-shouted Gas, leaving his room hurriedly:he hadn't found his watch, but the most hurtful thing was losing the damn ghost ring-an expensive gold man's ring that he wore as a gift.

"And anyway, where's the beta?"-said Price also irritably:it wasn't quite time to deal with the theft when they were late for a meeting.

"She's not in her room"-Gas replied, and Ghost just mumbled, "what the fuck does 'pick me up from the store' mean?"

It was a goddamn shock.And they were seriously fucked up.Soap nervously tried to call their beta while Ghost was on his way to the store, but got nothing but a recording of the girl leaving the store.

"Next time you'll clean up after her yourself, amigo," Curly man says in disgust squeamishly grabbing the bucket, but the big man only laughs, quickening his step to further annoy curly, "Maybe we should just let her use our bathroom. "

A slight hope of the slightest goodness instills itself in you, unconsciously pulling you forward, wanting to hear more.

"No way, you idiot, someone will see her. It's easier to stop feeding that bitch"?"

Tell why? Why do you have to go through all this? Why do you have to be a waste of space, and why are you... Not needed by your pack?

Over time, you get used to the sound of droplets dripping from the ceiling, the flickering of the lamp, and other people's hands on your body.

No one will come. No one needs you. 'Have they noticed you disappeared?. You don't know.

Maybe they've already been given an omega and they've forgotten about you.

But the search was on. Fucking week after week, every fucking day they tried to find any clue, and the police were in on it too.

It was bloody embarrassing to explain to the police why their beta was without a pack tag, embarrassing for Price not to remember what color your eyes were, and embarrassing for Soap that it was his fault this happened.

It wasn't even about being a beta, or an omega, it was about being a girl, a girl who was alone on the highway at night. A girl who was afraid and could be attacked at any moment and disappeared without a trace.

Everything changed when a month later a signal was received: the phone was turned on.

The whole squad came to that old shack, an old house somewhere on the very outskirts, in one of the most disadvantaged areas of the city.

Ghost remembered the moment. He was making his way through the house before he noticed the open basement door when everyone thought it was too late.

He ran down the stairs until-- Until he saw you, and his heart sank with horror and pain. So small in that huge basement, you sat with your knees drawn up to your chest, biting your nails and staring at the wall opposite. A frail, thin creature, broken from the inside out. Ghost had seen a couple of such captives in his life, but this time he.... The emotionless big man couldn't hold back a tear as he swept your figure into his arms, hugging you by the shoulders and leading you out of the cellar.

"I'm here, baby," was the only thing you heard, but you didn't understand anything.

A bright light hit your eyes, but you didn't understand anything. What was going on? Never mind. Who was it? You don't care.

You sat in the ambulance with a blanket thrown over your shoulders and didn't hear the paramedics or anyone else as you continued to bite your fingers.

"Something is cracking deep inside me," Soap said, standing in the hospital smoking room, leaning on the windowsill. A beautiful sunset was coloring the sky in shades of peach and pink, but he wasn't interested. Simon, who was standing nearby, took a cigarette out of the box and lit it from the lighter, almost immediately taking a deep puff and letting out a trickle of smoke, he said: "This is the heart. "

It's a heart. But does it have one? Does it have those feelings everyone talks about, or can at least the damn brain stop screaming?

Soap hated himself more than the others. Only if he hadn't gone to that damn department then, if he hadn't left in the night, if he hadn't walked out of the store then, none of this would have happened.

Wouldn't be the broken man he is now. There wouldn't have been a girl whose self-esteem, whose psyche would have been murdered. And there wouldn't be the abandoned, lonely beta with no marks, but with deep scars and a hatred for all alphas.

(maybe I'll write a couple of sketches about their life after the tragedy, but I do not know)

[misstycloud]

Haunted House

Ghost yan x ghost reader

TW: suicide mention

——————

It was with curiosity you stared out the window. A car had pulled up in the drive way. Through the car windows you sa two adults and three children in the backseat. Well, it was definitely not a maintenance company then. It always bothered you so when they came and meddled with your house; though it technically didn’t belong to you anymore you still considered the building as you home, and prison.

You watched as the kids ran out of the vehicle to inspect the house. You had to admit, they were rather cute. Before you hadn’t really thought about having kids and weren’t sure if you ever would, but now you found yourself wondering if you would have made a good mother. One always ponder about the choices out of one’s reach.

They seemed happy, the family of five. Perhaps you would be fine with them around.

“What are you thinking about, dear?” A voice interrupted your dazed thoughtfulness as your mood instantly soured.

“Nothing so you can leave.”

The man behind you sighed. “Do you always have to act like this whenever I’m around?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look back at him, fearing that the sight of him would send you into a frenzy. “I do when you’re the one who ruined my life.”

“Ruined your life? We were happy together, in fact, I remember you telling me ‘I promise to love you even in death’ but I guess that doesn’t apply, not with the way you treat me.”

You nearly gasped at his audacity. The nerve some people had!

“What? Are you actually serious right now- you can’t be? The way I treat you? You want to talk about the way I treat you? You killed me!” You shouted.

You had turned around now. Your eyes took in the handsome man you had once called the love of your life. Despite the hatred for true actions and pain he caused you, a small part of you still felt something when you looked at him. Maybe it was affection? Maybe it was the anguished feelings of a happy life that could have been? You weren’t sure.

He stilled for a moment before speaking again. “I know, and I am sorry it had to go that way-“

“Had to? You weren’t forced to do anything. At least take responsibility for your actions!”

“I wouldn’t have had to do it if you had just stopped flirting with those other men.” It seemed like it was his turn to become angry. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you looked at them, how your eyes lit up when you saw someone you very clearly fancied.”

“Oh my- we’ve been over this a hundred times, they were just coworkers nothing more. Besides, they have wives and kids of their own!”

It didn’t matter how much you insisted, your (ex)husband did not relent in his accusations.

“That doesn’t mean they’ll be loyal. You have no idea what a treasure you are, many would do anything to get to have you.” The man twirled a strand of your hair around his finger, entranced by your beauty.

“Oh, like you, you mean?” You fired back.

“Stop that.” He said. “I don’t want to fight with you, we’ve already done enough of that. I did what I had to do and nothing will ever change that. Now we’ll be together for ever, even in death, just like we promised each other at the altar. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I hope that one day you will understand how deep my feelings for you go and see things from my perspective. I love you, I really do.” He turned to leave you to your lonesome. Before he left, he told you one final thing, “No one else will adore you as much as I, especially now considering no man will ever see you besides me. You’re nothing more than a ghost after all.”

The tear threatening to escape earlier finally welled up. You cried and wiped your eyes with you cold, dead hand.

——————

Just as you had imagined, the family did bring you a new sense of happiness. Whilst not exactly ideal, watching over(spyin on) the parents and the children made your days more fulfilled. They brought laughter and fun back into your undead life.

Unfortunately you weren’t able to look out for them unless they stayed in the house. It was a real pain in the ass, not being able to leave the building. If you could, you would have left decades ago- much to your (ex)husband/ dismay. You suspected he was relieved to find that you were both confined to your place of death. It meant you couldn’t leave him, which was his goal the entire time. He got what he wanted in the end.

After stabbing you out of jealousy, you died in his arms, crying and demanding answers to why he would hurt you. When you (surprisingly) woke up again, you were in the same position you had been when your life drained out of you. Your man was clutching you tight to his chest and he was stroking you hair. At first you had believed it was all a dream, then you thought you survived the whole thing. He was still petting your hair and rambling on how he loved you and how he would rather die than be separated from you. You hadn’t expected him to be so literal.

You were shocked when you had pulled away from him, only to discover a second version of him lying unmovingly on the floor next to you. Then you noticed the pool of blood spilling out from his neck, and the knife he stabbed you with in his hand. With disbelief you glanced back at the ‘living’ version of him. He smiled somewhat solemnly at you as you took in his too-pale skin and the large scar he had on his throat.

You tried not to think about it too much. No matter what he did, you would never forgive him for taking your life away from you because of his irrational fear of you cheating on him. Well, it was impossible for you to leave or cheat on him now. You were the only ghosts in the house and didn’t have the ability to take even a small step outside the front door.

Instead of spending your days avoiding him as usual, you now followed the family around the house. Mostly the children of course. They had the habit of getting into trouble whenever their parents weren’t around. You had forgotten how many times you had saved them from tripping or bumping their heads. You were lucky you could touch things in the real world for a short second. You couldn’t before so you assumed it was because you were a young and weak ghost back then.

The whole babysitting act also appeared to bother your husband, which you relished in. You remembered one day when he approached you after the family had left for the grocery store.

“Don’t you think you’re spending an awful lot of time with those children?”

“I like them so I don’t mind.” You answered and continued staring at the drawings they made that afternoon, right before begging called to get dressed and meet by the car.

“Well, I don’t think it’s right for you to do the parents job.” He sneered.

Rolling your eyes, you said, “Like I said, I don’t mind.” Your wanted to leave it at that but your (ex)husband had other plans.

“Sweetie, I will be honest; I believe your getting too attached to this family, it’s not good.”

You sent a glare in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is I think you should let them be. They’ll eventually move on whilst you’ll be stuck here. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You scoffed at the audacity he had again. “A little late for that, don’t you think? This is the only source of happiness I have, don’t take anything more from me, please.”

“I don’t make you happy, then?” He asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

You could look him in the eye, choosing silence. He grumbled something incoherent. After another long minute of silence, he sighed. He did that a lot these days, you thought.

“Alright, my love. Continue to look after these living people if it brings you joy, but remember, it won’t last forever. I will be here when you’re done.”

Once more he left you alone to look out the window. Despite your will to disagree, you knew he was right. These people- this family- they were all still alive. You were not. Your time was over, your life stolen from you. It was only a question of when they’d leave. Until then, you’d be their guardian in this haunted house.

[duchessbird]

ghost!reader x honorably discharged!simon

Simon thought he was mental. Coming back to his flat after the most excruciating (and literally career-ending) mission of his life, just to start hearing noises? And for things to randomly go flying off shelves? Simon was sure his head was done in. He’d hit it a little too hard and now he’s reaping what he sowed.

But no! Unbeknownst to Simon, it was you! You’d passed away in 1813 due to a bad, bad case of consumption just before marriage. (Modern-day TB). Floating around in a baby blue day-gown, silk gloves and your hair eternally tied into a curled updo. You weren’t harmful, no, quite the contrary. You were just trying to navigate the new space where your castle had once been.

Blank white walls, tall windows and minimal design was sacrilege. Where is the stained glass?! Why is there no photo of the King at every corner? This space was weird. Knocking glasses into the floor and stepping where the creaks were had to be a part of the acclimation process.

Now, problem is, Simon hadn’t seen you. You saw Simon. ‘Oh, he has to be the head of this house. He must have some answers,’ you thought.

Except, you freaked him the fuck out. All he felt were cold, subtle grazes on his arm and the hairs on his neck standing up. But eventually, the more he started to understand? The more he saw you.

A glimpse of a woman’s perfume bottle in the corner of his eye, only for him to blink and it disappear. The feeling of silks against his back leg in bed when his sheets are nothing of the sort.

And then eventually, one night after the pub, it was you. In the flesh. Well, not really. He was drunk, stumbling into his flat by the skin of his teeth. It started with your voice, a soft giggle in empty air.

“Too much gin, my Lord?” You observed him, a soft silhouette of you on the couch. Proof of your existence in the couch cushion, a shape forming under your weight. A book was open in your hands. Some book on a war you didn’t even live to see.

“The fuck?” Simon sobers quickly, like he’s just been shot. You look appalled, either because of the word he used — or the fact that you haven’t learned that word yet.

“My Lord,” you scold him, hand clutched on your ghastly pearls. “Wretched speak in our castle? Hm,” a disapproving hum slips from your lips, and Simon is … disappointed in himself. And then he realizes he is talking to a ghost.

Ghost talking with a ghost. Very funny, universe.

“Who are you?” He orders, slipping off his shoes. Despite his voice’s aggressive tone, he is cautious in approaching you. Like you will vanish at the sight of barred teeth.

“Perhaps I am your wife. I haven’t got an idea our relations.” You shrugged, setting the book aside. “What a fantastical story,” you laugh softly. It has a soft echo to it, as if you’re in a cave. “Despite it being fictitious, it is very enthralling.” You tap the book, getting up and floating past him.

Floating through him. Shivers scale up and down his body and he feels as though he’s just… well, he feels as though he’s floating in post-pleasure bliss. He gawks at you, because how dare you walk through him?!

“What, my Lord?” You ask, trying your best to open the fridge. You haven’t quite grasped the concept yet. Simon just waves a hand, mumbles something vaguely vulgar and walks to his room. This is tomorrow’s problem.

Tomorrow comes with you — translucent and yet so fucking beautiful — sat on the side of his bed with tea and a wet rag. “My Lord, you are burning like a thousand suns. Your face is the color of a ripe tomato,” you tsk again, pressing the rag to his head and the rim of the teacup to his lips, urging him to drink.

It goes on like this for a while, you materializing when Simon gets home and floating around the house helping him with things. He finally gets to hold you one night, when you are taking some strange kind of ghost-nap, and you have your guard down. Shifting you into his arms, he is mesmerized by the way you feel. Your entire skin is bliss, silky texture and a cooling sensation.

You awake with a gloved hand on his chest, embarrassed with yourself because this man is the head of this house! Surely his wife will come and find you two.

“No,” he assures you, playing with the fabric of your paranormal gown, “I have found my wife.”

No one will ever believe him, but that’s okay.

[ccazimi]

Poltergeist!

cw: sukuna x ghost!reader, pure CRACK, humorous mentions of a foot fetish, heian era au

wc: 2.5k

a/n: perhaps i will continue this idk yet :P

Sukuna had found the perfect place to settle down after years of simply wandering amidst the forest. The shrine was nestled away within a misty crop of trees at the base of a large mountain, overgrown with vines and surrounded by towering cedar and pine trunks.

The wood had faded to a grayish-brown, bright vermillion paint flaked off to leave patches of dull red. It was large enough that the grounds included storage rooms, a sprawling overgrown garden, and servants’ quarters - all laid out behind the grand torii gate.

Perfect. After a few servants and workers he kidnapped from nearby villages, the place had come alive in no time.

What Sukuna didn’t consider was the possibility that the shrine was already inhabited.

It started with nothing more than a cold draft here and then, or an oil lamp abruptly extinguishing itself in the middle of the night. Sukuna swears his memory must’ve gotten worse since he got here too because he swore he’d closed the door to the garden last night, that he’d kept the manuscripts he was reading on the low table beside his futon.

Not to mention that slightly unnerving feeling that he’s being watched sometimes, late at night when he’s alone in his room trying to sleep.

Not even a week later everyone runs to a corridor after one of the maids starts shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Sukuna arrives disgruntled amidst the commotion, utterly aggravated that he was interrupted during a meal out of all times.

“What the hell is this all about?!” He growls, staring pointedly at the young woman who’s clearly been spooked by something.

“I- I think this shrine is haunted, Lord Sukuna…” She replies timidly.

Sukuna crosses both sets of his arms, unamused and looking at the servant like she’s stupid or something. “Haunted, huh? And how exactly did you arrive at this genius conclusion?”

“I- I saw a woman…in white, my Lord. With blood all over her clothes,” She points to the end of the hall, “standing there. Then she disappeared, and a second later I felt cold, icy cold, hands on my arms even though I couldn’t see anything, and…”

Sukuna cocks a slitted brow, wholly unimpressed by her account so far. “And?”

The maid hesitates, rubbing her head awkwardly before continuing. “And then I felt someone kiss my cheek, with the same cold lips.”

Sukuna blinks.

“You’re telling me a ghost kissed you?” He repeats flatly, just to show how ridiculous it sounds.

“Well…yes, my Lord…”

Sukuna wonders if he must have accidentally dropped this one in particular on her head when he kidnapped her from the village.

“Waste my time with some stupid shit like this again, and I’ll personally send you to the realm of ghosts myself. Understood?”

The maid has no choice but to nod in acceptance, as Sukuna commands everyone to get back to work. There’s no way his meal was interrupted for this shit.

Unfortunately for him, that’s not the last he has to hear of these kind of incidents- if this supposed ghost isn’t smooching people, it’s busy scaring the shit out of them. Before long, basically everyone agrees that the shrine must be haunted.

Well, everyone except for Sukuna, of course.

He refuses to entertain these ridiculous ideas, at least not until he sees something with his own (four) eyes.

Never mind all the other strange but small occurrences that have been taking place around him.

Sukuna's sleeping one night when he feels distantly like someone else might be in his room. He stirs a bit, an eye opening drowsily when he sees what seems like the figure of a woman standing by his bed.

He figures it’s one of his concubines looking for a late night fuck or something even though he hasn’t invited any tonight. They get real needy sometimes.

“Leave.” He mutters, closing his eyes again. “Not in the mood to fuck right now.”

“Hah. You couldn’t fuck me even if you wanted to, squatter.”

Squatter?

Well that wakes him up, because the King of Curses refuses to take any form of impudence even in his sleep.

He sits up on his futon. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking t-”

And that’s when he catches sight of you for the first time, a new face that he doesn’t recognize but certainly doesn’t mind looking at.

He squints. There’s something off about you.

You look a little pallid, like you might be sick or something with long unkept hair. Not to mention your white gown is splotched with red, and he swears he can kinda see the back of his room through you.

His gaze drifts downwards, where he notices that your feet are hovering an inch or two above the ground, and it clicks together for him.

“Why the hell are you staring at my feet? Out of all people who could’ve come in and taken over my shrine it had to be a four-armed freak with a foot fetish?”

“What?” His red eyes snap back up to you. “Who dares speak to the great Ryomen Sukuna with such bold impertinence—”

“Oh, shut up already, would you?” You huff. “I’m the shrine maiden that lived, died, and was resting in peace here till you arrived with all your little minions and disrupted my sleep.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes following you as you float around his room. “So, you’re the ghost that’s been terrorizing my servants, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “What, a spirit wants to spread a little love and now it’s called terrorizing?”

“Okay, let me specify: why the fuck are you going around and kissing the attendants?”

“Because you know how ridiculous it sounds to tell someone that a ghost kissed you? You would never believe them. Also, it’s kinda funny.” You’re on the other side of his chamber now, bending over to reach for the pot of sake on a table.

Unfortunately for you, your fingers pass right through it when you try to pick it up. “Dammit, this whole materializing thing takes a bit of practice…”

Sukuna watches as you try, and fail, a few more times to pick it up before finally getting fed up. “Will you stop that? Just tell me why the hell you’re here.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “I got tired of messing around so I decided it’s time to cut to the chase- I’m here to haunt you.”

One of Sukuna’s eyes twitches, while he stares at you like you have four arms yourself. “Haunt me? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Yeah. Until you get out of here.”

He scoffs. “And who said you could haunt me?”

“Well who said you could squat in my resting grounds. I got here first anyway.”

“I’m not squatting, I live here. It’s not like you do- not anymore, at least.”

You look at him once before turning to the sake pot and swinging your palm at it. This time you do manage to hit it, making it fall noisily onto the wooden floor and spill the alcohol everywhere.

Sukuna stands up, gritting his teeth. “What the fuck are you doing, stop that!”

You stare at him blankly, and Sukuna realizes this is the first time anyone’s looked at him like he’s stupid. “I’m haunting you. I literally just said that.”

A strangled growl of anger gets caught in his throat as he reflexively raises his hand and yells “CLEAVE!”

Thanks to the fact that not only do you not exist in this dimension, but also that you’re already dead, Sukuna manages to do absolutely nothing to you.

Instead it’s the wall of his room that receives the consequences of his rage, a large gash opening up in it as his attack goes right through you and into the wood directly behind.

You burst out in laughter, bending over while he glares at you with such venom it might be enough to actually kill a living person.

He’s just discovered the one thing he hates more than humans: undead humans.

To say the least, Sukuna is not having fun trying to live his life while being haunted by a mischievous spirit that’s hellbent on getting on his nerves in ways he didn’t even know was possible.

“Can you stop rearranging my furniture?” Sukuna growls in exasperation, waking up to find that except for his futon the layout of his room has once again been changed. You’ve really been on a roll with the interior redecoration lately, coming up with a new design every morning for the past week. “How are you even doing that?! You were literally struggling to move the sake pot not that long ago.”

He can’t see you but he knows you’re listening, and he’s proven right when you decide to show yourself. “Concentration and practice, I told you. Though it happens automatically if I’m feeling strong emotions. Besides your room looks better like this, don’t you think? Really opens up the place.”

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

Sure, it did open up the place, but only because you decided to take every single object and piece of furniture in the room and pile it right by the door. “When I find out how to exorcise you, you’re done for. I’m going to banish you to hell. You can do as much furniture rearranging as you want there.”

It must just be his horrible luck, because not only were you an extremely irritating spirit, you were apparently quite a strong one too, which he found out after several different exorcision rituals performed by Uraume had failed. The one time he’d thought it worked and was ready to celebrate, was just you pretending like you’d been banished before showing up again not even two minutes later.

He guesses becoming a spirit must also have given you a certification in theatrics too, because you love to pull them out on his servants whenever you’re bored- including but not limited to: running on all fours, running backwards on all fours, contorting your limbs and body in ways that aren’t anatomically possible, turning your eyes white and zooming after people while you screech that you’re going to catch and eat them…

Sukuna’s told his attendants and concubines numerous times that while there really was a spirit on grounds, it wasn’t malevolent and just really liked to fuck with them.

It didn’t ease their fears, with the kind of stunts you pulled off.

Not that you didn’t find pleasure in the mundane as well. In fact he thinks one of the worst things you do is just floating around his room while he’s trying to fall sleep.

Back and forth, back and forth, he sees the pale and slightly luminescent figure just floating across his chambers.

He tries to ignore it but the repeated action itches his nerves, so he closes his eyes but somehow just the knowledge that you’re probably still going back and forth pokes at him, and finally—

“Can you stop that?!”

“I’m bored.” You reply flatly.

“Go be bored somewhere else.” He grumbles, turning into his futon and cushions.

“Do you have memory issues or something? How many times do I have to remind you that I’m haunting you.”

“You’re annoying me, not haunting me.”

For a second he’s sure you’re going to retort back, but there’s a pause, followed by you saying. “Okay fine. I’ll stop. Goodnight!”

He finds it suspicious, especially the cheeriness in which you bid him goodnight.

He doesn’t question his luck though, as you disappear and he starts to feel his lids grow heavy.

And just about as he’s fall into sleep, he feels it—jarring, icy coldness against the hot skin on his back.

He, the King of Curses, shrieks, sitting upright and fully awake.

Beside him is his dear spirit, under the sheets and cackling.

“What the fuck was that?! Get out of my bed, this instant!” He thunders.

“My feet—they were cold.” You reply innocently, batting your ghostly lashes.

He looks at you like he wants to rip you apart, and then tear his own hair out. “Because you’re FUCKING DEAD.”

“I thought you were into my feet?”

“I do not like your feet, I don’t even like feet in general, can you quit with that already?!” Sukuna massages his temples.

“I could’ve sworn I heard you moan when I put them on you, though…”

He can’t even talk because of how mad he is, just lunging to throttle you by the neck purely on instinct. His hand goes right through your ethereal body, and he must really not like the feeling because he quickly retracts his arm with a disgusted sound.

You do nothing but laugh even more, as he cusses you out while shifting away from you on the futon, and burying his head under a bunch of pillows.

Over time Sukuna still does not like you or appreciate your presence, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

“How did you die?” He asks in his room one evening, seemingly with no one else in it.

Just as expected you appear, hovering in front of him and crossing your arms.

“None of your business.” You reply curtly.

“I think it is my business to find out about the spirit that’s haunting me. Maybe it’ll even give me some idea on how to get rid of you…” He adds almost wistfully, imagining a life in this shrine without you throwing things around every day or freaking out his servants.

But all you do is huff and disappear.

Weird.

Normally you always have something to say. Must be a touchy subject, he concludes.

The next time he asks you again- you do actually give an answer, rambling on dramatically about how you “saved the shrine from a monstrous curse” and “sacrificed yourself for the sake of the world”. He snorts skeptically, nearly impressed at your flair for drama.

He asks you again the next day. This time your story was that “a wandering warrior came to the shrine, and fell in love with you.” But according to you, the gods didn’t “approve” of your passionate relationship and decided to curse you, leaving him to walk away heartbroken while you completed shrine duties till the day you died.

You apparently don’t appreciate his suggestion that maybe he left because of how insufferable you must’ve been, considering how many dishes you decided to toss at him before disappearing while calling him a “brute with a foot fetish”.

Each time he asked, you just spun an even more elaborate and ridiculous story from the last, including everything from goblins to tragic prophecies that would’ve made Victorian romances sound like light work.

You must be getting bored too, because now instead of antagonizing him all the time you actually offer some helpful advice occasionally, regarding his evil plans.

Sukuna notices you getting restless, and decides that a bored spirit is an even more destructive one.

So he gives you the task of managing his servants, and scaring them into submission.

He thinks you’re a pretty good manager, because his servants have been so on top of it after you’ve been appointed that he’s barely even had to fire (kill) any. He hears you working from time to time, showing up behind poor unsuspecting maids and telling them “they must do the dishes faster, lest they feel your wrath.”

He still doesn’t like you but he isn’t quite as determined in his search for a successful banishing ritual anymore.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Transparent Heart

Human! Alastor x Ghost Reader Summary:Alastor needs a new source of inspiration. Nothing sparks that bloodlust anymore, nothing can satiate the growing desires he has for more and more carnage. One night, while all a party with Mimzy, he meets Y/N. Or does he? The sweet woman seems innocent enough but in reality she is a ghost, a being of chaos gilded by a fasle innocence. His new muse may be undead but it sure sparks some life in him. Warnings: Undead reader, smut, mentions of P in V, Alastor is a warning in and of himself, Demi-sexual Alastor, non-sex repulsed. MNDI, 18+. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Pt 2

Celebrating 500+ followers!! Omg, everyone you cannont imagine my gratitude for this community. I started writing in January and just how much love and support I have recieved is mind-blowing. All of you are freaking amazing and I hope you know I adore you, my lovelies!

Alastor leaned against the dark wall of the burlesque club, his brown eyes scanning the vibrant display of sinful transgression before him, yet feeling none of it. The room pulsed with music, laughter, and the clink of champagne glasses, but none of it stirred him. He should have been thrilled—there were scantily clad dancers twirling and shimmying on stage, Mimzy was in normal form, charming the crowd with her flamboyant flair, and every inch of the room screamed excess. Innocent souls, ripe for the taking. A little southern charm here, a lingering touch there, a knife sliting their throat in a delectable squish that would send shocks of pleasure down his spine. It was a celebration, a riot of decadence that should have made his very soul hum with delight. 

But alas, the radio host. Felt nothing.

Once upon a time, this would have been his kind of night. The heady energy of sin, the delicious tang of chaos, the joy of being surrounded by souls desperate for something—anything—to fill the emptiness inside them. So desperate would they be, to fall into his greedy hands and he would grace them with the gift of death so sweet. It used to fill him with such vigor, such delight, like a fine wine sliding down his throat. But now, it was all just noise. Annoying noise.

The laughter? Grating. The champagne? Flat. The dancers? Nothing more than fleeting distractions. He watched as Mimzy flirted with a particularly tipsy patron, her laughter like tinkling bells, but it was all so... tiresome. 

He tilted his head slightly, and his sharp grin never wavered, but the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed. It was all a game, wasn’t it? A never-ending circus of false joy. No matter how many times he twisted the dance floor or how many souls he swirled into his web, it was all the same. Hollow. 

The feeling had come upon him suddenly a few weeks ago, stuck in a never-ending cycle of ambivalence. Nothing stirred the oh-so-normal bloodlust within his chest anymore. Nothing excited him to enjoy the chase, the screams. 

Alastor’s fingers tapped rhythmically against his glass, his gaze shifting to the stage as the dancers performed their latest number. It was all so… mundane. The bright lights, the glitter, the exaggerated performances—they meant nothing to him anymore. Maybe this is how he died, being a wallflower.

He exhaled softly, his voice barely rising above the cacophony. “Mimzy, darling,” he said, his tone languid, “do you ever get the feeling that all this glorious spectacle is just a bit... tedious?” 

Mimzy, amid her own little charade, paused and shot him a knowing look, her eyes twinkling with a touch of amusement. “Oh, Alastor,” she said, grinning wide. “You sound like you have been alive for centuries? Enjoy a bit of decadence. Pour some whiskey, put on some jazz!”

Alastor’s smile didn’t falter; a shadow passed across his expression. “Maybe that’s the problem, my dear. I’ve danced this dance for far too long.” 

And somewhere, deep in the pit of his chest, a voice whispered: Is there anything left to live for?

In the middle of his mid-but young-life crisis, a soft tap planted itself on his shoulder. His body became rigid, a dangerous flash passing through his eyes at the unwelcome contact. It was not entirely unpleasant, cold and soft. Strange, considering he hated all touch but one could suppose he had too much to drink. 

Alastor turned slowly to face the guilty party, only to find a petite woman standing before him. Pale, no doubt, almost sickly looking if her eyes hadn’t been the faintest shade of amber that brought the only sense of warmth to her face. Her hair was a light blonde, or was it gray? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that this little pet had imposed themselves—

“If you are done staring, mister, may I continue my question?” 

Alastor blinked, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. The soft tap had already left a prickling sensation on the back of his neck, and now this woman, audacious and unsettling, dared to speak to him as if he were some mere pedestrian. 

"What question?" His voice was smooth but cold, each syllable wrapped in the chill of his natural cynicism. It wasn’t the first time someone had approached him on a whim, but there was something different about this one. Something off-kilter, like a mismatched note in a song—one that lingered just long enough to be more than a fleeting annoyance.

The woman tilted her head slightly, the pale light accentuating the faint shadows beneath her eyes. There was something about her eyes, too—lifeless but sharp as a hawk’s. She seemed entirely unperturbed by his cold demeanor. 

"I was wondering," she began, her voice soft yet steady, "if you intend to stand like a wallflower all night or become something worth my time?"

Alastor’s eyebrows twitched, and his lips curled into something akin to a grin, though it was closer to a wolf’s smirk than anything resembling warmth. A question like that—drenched in disrespect, a dance with death itself. Was she…playing with him?

“Is that so?” His voice was laced with amusement, yet his eyes remained icy. “And what would a fragile little thing like yourself do with finding me interesting?”

The woman didn’t flinch. Instead, she tilted her head just slightly more, a ghost of a smile appearing at the corner of her lips. “I’ve seen it,” she murmured. “How you find no pleasure in this display around us. It’s no stranger to you and I am not a stranger to it either. I see you come in here and revel every week until recently. Why is that?

For a moment, Alastor was silent. He had heard words like these before, though they usually came from those who lacked any real understanding of the ruthless, visceral nature of existence. But something about her tone, so deliberate, so knowing, stirred something within him. Something deep. Why would someone he had never met, though who apparently watched him, ask such a personal question?

“Well aren’t you a brazen one, my dear. I would suppose, these events have just lost their…usefulness.”

“Oh, because you kill people?” 

He hadn’t expected that at all. How did she know? How could he play this off? A shadow passed over his gaze, darkened as he looked down at the calm woman. She was baffling…but certainly, the most intriguing thing he had interacted with in a while. He hadn’t expected anyone—let alone a delicate little creature like her—to speak with such clarity about the one thing he’d devoted his entire being to understanding: death. But then again, he realized, perhaps this little conversation had more teeth than he’d first assumed. 

Grabbing her wrist discreetly but with a vice hold, he dragged his newfound muse into an empty room on the other end of the club. Throwing her in the room, he assumed her frail stature might cause her to fall, but instead, she simply looked like she floated across the floor. Strange. 

He chuckled, but the sound was dry, devoid of humor. “You’re quite the curious thing,” he said, his eyes glinting as he regarded her more closely. “Now, how does a little thing like you, make such a bold assumption as that?”

“Well, I have seen you,” she replied simply, her gaze meeting his with a directness that was both unnerving and intoxicating. “You are quite clean with it I must say, well, except for the eating part…but then again I guess everyone has their preferences.”

Alastor was taken aback. A brief flicker of something like appreciation passed through his mind, quickly followed by annoyance. Was she toying with him? Was this an act, some mask for her true fragility? 

For a moment, he considered walking away, dismissing her as yet another oddity to forget. But the words she spoke lingered in his thoughts, gnawing at him like a restless hunger.

"What about you, Alastor?" she continued, her voice softening, almost as though she were coaxing him, "Do you fight it? The lack of bloodlust you’re feeling? Or do you surrender to the inevitable?"

Her words hung in the air between them, and the sound of her quiet challenge echoed in Alastor’s mind long after she’d spoken. He exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation flashing across his features. This woman had a way of pushing him in ways he didn’t particularly enjoy. 

And yet…

He growled lowly, stalking up to her with an imposing stance. Just kill her now, kill the witness. All his problems would go away, he could go back to standing on that stupid wall, drinking that flat champagne.

He glanced at her, a flicker of something approaching amusement in his eyes. Or…or he could have the most fun he had in weeks.

 "I suppose I don't have the luxury of surrender," he said, his tone colder now, sharper. "I’ve long since learned that life is more… interesting when you push against its edges. Though, I confess, there’s something rather invigorating about someone who understands the dance with death as well as you do."

She smiled this time a full, knowing grin. “I thought you’d understand,” she said with quiet certainty, leaning closer just enough for him to catch the scent of something oddly familiar—something sharp, like iron or fresh rain. “The world doesn’t stop spinning just because we want to rest. We can’t simply wait for the end to come. Until it gets here. No, Alastor, it’s all about taking it—grabbing hold of that final moment and making it yours.”

At first, Alastor found himself irritated by her relentless inquiries, the audacity with which she wove her words into the space between them. He considered walking away several times, but then, a strange thing happened.

Then, the irritation faded.

The longer they spoke, the more he felt the edges of his personality, drawn out by her words, her very presence. She was no weakling, no frightened soul. No, this woman was a kindred spirit of sorts—a creature of the abyss who spoke the language he had long since mastered.

But he supposed, it had gone on long enough. Even those whom he found mildly amusing had their time to go. And now, this woman had come to hers. Walking over to a desk in the room, he pulled the drawer open with the mask of preparing himself a drink. This was his typical room…to engage in his activities. As the woman faced away from him, staring blankly at the wall with what seemed ignorance, he approached. The blade was hidden deftly behind his back. 

“Well, my dear, as pleasant as this has been, I think it’s time we end this little game of ours.”

Raising the blade to her throat, he made the slice with a quickness that came with practiced ease. 

Only sweet, rich, red blood did not spill from her body for him to lap with reckless abandon. Her head remained intact, the blade leaving no mark. Backing up in mild shock, Alastor’s eyes widened in what he could only call horrific intrigue. How much had he had to drink?!

“Now, that was rather a rude thing to do.” The woman’s head turned…180 degrees, backward facing him. A small smirk painting to face. And then, her body started to float, righting itself to face him fully as he glided in the air to meet him. Her cold and frail fingers came to caress the edge of his cheek with a gentleness that surprised him. 

“Why would you do that to me, Al? I thought we were friends.” The woman….or ghost woman started to shed alligator tears. Her voice was a high-pitched wail that irked him to no end. 

“What…what are you?”

That caused the woman to pause, eyes sharpening as she looked at him with a look so fierce he felt like his own knife had pierced his heart. 

“I am Y/N. I…I am the ghost that lives here.” 

Now that would have caused him to howl in laughter had he not seen the spectacle before him. Y/N….the famed ghost story Mimzy would tell to scare customers into scam ghost tours of the club after hours for an extra buck. But here she was…in the flesh?

“I thought you knew me Alastor. I thought you understood me. Understood the darkness–” Y/N brought her hand back to his cheek, trailing it slowly, even seductively down his chest to the buttons of his vest. He felt a strange pull to the being, confusingly enraptured by her now. The transparent but uniquely cold nature of her touch sent shivers down his spine, in a way he almost did not mind. 

Where had this feeling come from? Had…had his interest in the conversation been actual interest in the woman before him? He usually never felt this way about anyone. Alastor’s lips parted in an attempt to refute his thoughts but nothing came out. 

Y/N’s hand lingered on his chest, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his vest with calculated precision. Her touch was cold, yet there was an undeniable warmth to the way it ignited something in him—something he couldn't name. Alastor's usual composure began to slip, the confident, omnipotent mask he wore trembling in the presence of this woman.

"You always talk about control, Alastor," she purred, her voice an intoxicating melody that seemed to bypass his usual defenses. "But perhaps you’ve never been in a position where control slips through your fingers, like sand... or, more aptly, like time."

Her words struck him like a thunderclap, rattling his thoughts. Time? Had he been so blind, so consumed by the world of his own making, that he failed to see what was right in front of him? He wasn't sure how to answer, only aware that something was shifting, like a piece of the universe slowly aligning to something he couldn't yet understand.

The smile she gave him was a little too knowing, and he hated it. But more than that, he couldn't seem to hate her—an emotion he had learned to master long ago. For a fleeting moment, her eyes softened, not in pity, but in a way that unnerved him. She was dangerous, yes, but there was something else there—a depth, a complexity that tugged at him.

“You look so lost, Alastor,” she whispered, leaning in closer, her breath cold against his skin. “Let me guide you..”

Her hand slid down, brushing against his vest, the tips of her fingers brushing the edges of his buttons, slowly popping them open one by one.  Every movement of hers seemed deliberate, calculated. And yet, as if it was just for him. That he was the sole focus of such tender devotions. 

Alastor swallowed, his mind scrambling to form the words to push her away, to reassert his authority. But instead, something inside him relented. He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of her presence, the pull of her energy, or the simple fact that for the first time in ages, something made him feel alive.

“You think you know me, don’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost... intrigued. “But I assure you, darling, you know nothing.”

“Then let me learn, Alastor,” she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. “Let me see the darkness you keep hidden. Let me understand what makes you... human.”

The word struck him like a jolt of electricity, and for the first time in a long while, Alastor felt something unexplainable deep in his chest. Was it love? Was it obsession? Or was it the terrifying realization that maybe, just maybe, he could understand her too? 

—————————————————————————————————

Clothes lay discarded on the hardwood floor, Alastor’s suit jacket among the heap. His body pressed her bare one flush to the hardwood floor, her lips continuing their long and languid assault on his own.

 All that remained was Alastor in a white button-up and boxers, his clothed member rutting onto her bare cunt. Moaning into the kiss, he tentatively brought his hands up to find themselves settling at the nape of the Y/N’s neck. Experimentally giving the roots a small tug, a growl emitted from Alastor’s lips, enjoying the way she shivered before him. 

It was almost like her form wasn’t there at all, that her body was transparent. Though, at this moment, he did not question the physics of how he could touch a ghost. 

Laid bare before his hungry eyes and desires, his cock came to be inside Y/N with one thrust; cunt wet and ready for him like it was made for this purpose. Like she was gifted to him by the divine to hold him close in the darkness and relish in his desires. How the serial killer, had come to be with a being who could not be killed. The one thing he could never kill. The irony wasn’t lost on him, though not his main idea at the moment. 

Conceptually, rationally, by all means of logic, Alastor knew it would never work. Except, in this very moment, cock pounding into her wet and inviting cunt, he couldn’t help but pray to whatever power was listening that something would come to fruition. 

Her moans were sweet on his ears, like southern sweetwater molasses taffy. The kinda of stuff you just can’t get enough of. With every rut of his hips into hers, those delicious noises would fall from her parted pale lips. Now, those were the kind of noises he would search for in the middle of the night. Screams, still scream, but those he wrought by giving her the utmost pleasure his mortal form could apply. 

All for her. His little ghost. 

[cursedcupcakemaster]

can I order a Poison apple pie and candy violets with and get Spider Cider. With a ghost!reader , this is the same person who requested the other Spider Cider, hope you have a nice day❤️

Of course so we are looking for a deadly friendship with Skully are we ?

Order; Poison apple pie with a side of candy violets and a glass of spider cider

Notes; I do not own twisted wonderland, Skully or the reader,Skully and Twst belong to Disney as well as the brilliant mind of Yana Toboso, reader belongs to themselves, this is just my interpretation of how this would go with the character, reader isn't neccesarily Yuu but if you want to imagine they are you're welcome to, y/n, reader is you

Warnings;yandere, Skully may or may not have killed a few people, implied death

Yandere Skully J. X ghost reader

🪦Best friends forever🪦

You could hardly remember what happened to get you where you are now

A spirit haunting a house that hardly anyone would pass by except for one boy

He was tall and quite pale wjth a rather pleasant smile and sharply dressed at that

Skully would always come to visit you every day when the sun went down and would talk with you about the outside world that you couldn't explore much due to being bound to the house

It always made your afterlife feel just a bit easier to deal with and there was something about Skully that seemed familiar to you but it wasn't really clear what

Sometimes Skully would ask to bury things in the back of the house and you allowed him to but he never really told you what was in the yard

It just made you happy to have some company in your lonely house that wasn't the spiders weaving their pretty webs or the rats scuttling about

Skully would sometimes bring things for you, like teddies or dolls so you could possess it or little trinkets you seemed to like such as music boxes or books that you seemed interested in after he told you about them

The one thing he never really seemed to want to let you see were newspapers

It was odd but you shrugged it off its not as if much of it could really effect you considering you weren't alive

Another peculiar thing was that he seemed to know your house better than even yourself, particularly the attic

There was something about it that kind of unnerved you

Particularly a trunk in the corner of the room, it was a charcoal black and when you tried to phase through it you couldn't do it

It was rather shocking to yiu considering there weren't many objects you couldn't get through but the last time you tried Skully seemed a bit upset and yelled that there was nothing for you go see in there

He quickly changed his tune when he saw the look on your face before

The only other time you saw him act like this was when some punks came in to wreck the place, they smashed photos, the windows, and all the nicer things that Skully had brought into the house

He told you to not show yourself to them and that he'd take care of it

Doing as he said the last thing you heard of those punks were their screams before Skully came up smiling letting you know everything was fine

When you thanked him he said "it's really no problem, you're my best friend after all"

Somehow those words meant something to you, like you'd heard them before

After this incident a few more holes were dug in the back yard

One night Skully dropped something on his way out, it was a small skeletal key and the lock seemed to fit the shape of the odd trunk

Fitting it inside and lifting the lid you saw several things including photos of you, only you were....alive and you had a family

Beside you was a boy who looked an awful lot like Skully both of you wore friendship necklaces in the shape of a skull with heart shaped eyesockets

The photos weren't the only the only odd thing, there were some news clippings including "Teenagers missing" and "Mysterious deaths of local family "

There was one last object and it was a shovel

Going outside you took the shovel with you and began digging

What you found only made you feel ill and grateful you didn't have organs any longer

There were the corpses of the punks that tried to destroy your home, the people that were once your family and finally your own bones, you knew it was yours thanks to the friendship necklace shaped like a skull with heart shaped eye sockets

You felt a chill before you turned and saw Skully and he did not look the least bit pleased

"You finally saw it huh" he murmured

"W-why why would you do this?" You asked your voice dripping with fear at the boy who was once your friend

It seemed your question made him smile at you

"They were going to take you away from me. I couldn't let that happen, as for those other ones they deserved it for ruining our house"

Skully took a step toward yoh making you float backwards until you were cornered against the wall as he spoke again

"Don't you see, I did this all for you that's what friends are for~ and we're best friends forever"

You knew he wouldn't likely stop with his sinister projects unless you agreed to what he wanted

"Skully, please no more ,no more killing if you're really my friend please no more"

Ectoplasmic tears ran down your cheeks making him look at you with his face softening before wiping your tears with his thumbs

"Will you stay with me forever then?" He asked

"Best friends till the end" you replied before the skeleton like boy pressed his lips to your own cold ones

[heartfullofleeches]

Always the Bridesmaid

Male Ghost Darling Prologue

Word Count: 1.7k

[Major Character Death, Angst, Darling is a male who wishes to dresses and hinted to appear more feminine]

-

Stolen words sow seeds of resentment and hatred in an affair never meant to be. 

In school, the pretty ones received the most attention. 

Friends, admirers, confessions hidden between the pages of their books and in their lockers. The old you would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous, but the spotlight was not what spoke to you in whispers.

“Oh my god- Oh my god… Y/n… He asked me to be his date for prom! He said I was the prettiest thing he'd ever laid his eyes on…” 

Pretty…

Within the sanctity of your mind, just one time - you dreamed that someone out there would use the same words to describe you. 

Beautiful. 

Angelic.

Irreplaceable. 

All the lyrics sung by the infatuated heart of your best friend's secret valentine. The mystery of his identity was solved after the first note. It wasn't your intention, but you couldn't help but point out how similar the writing looked to a boy's that sat behind you in math. The two of you hardly ever spoke, but after passing his tests to the front for a quarter of the year, you wouldn't mistake that handwriting for anyone else's. 

You'd later find out your best friend had had a crush on him since her family moved into the house next to his. It stung to witness how protective over him she was, but after pinning over the same person since you were small - you guessed you'd be a little overbearing if your feelings were reciprocated after all this time. 

-

It was like a fairytale. Your best friend as the common maiden transformed into a princess for one evening, and her prince waiting with bated breath at her arrival. 

“If your feelings for me are the same, meet me in the corner of the auditorium. I'll be waiting for you with baby's breath.” 

You'll never forget the look as you both walked into together. Like he had seen the stars for the first time in all of his years. The twinkle in his eye dwindled as your friend rushed forward to embrace him. Still, he welcomed her with open arms. 

As the night ended, she left with him on her arm, while you stood alone with his jacket draped over your shoulders. He had noticed you shivering even with that puffy jacket of yours and offered it to you as they left. 

You begged on your hands and knees for the teachers to give you a minute along while you searched for something you had forgotten. Ensuring that you were the only soul in that auditorium that night - the stuffy hoodie you wore the entire night was ripped clean of your body and tossed into the ether.

It wasn't much. A cream shirt dress your friend had lent you for the occasion. In the dimmed light of the room, the dress almost appeared white. It wasn't much, but in that single moment - swirling to your heart's content til the stage lights above you sparkled the same as a starry night sky-

You felt…

“Gorgeous…”

The voice was barely audible over the music blasting in your ears.

“Forgive me… Think my keys are still in the pocket of my coat… It looks like you're having fun in here all by yourself… Would be nicer with company.” 

Your heart hammered in your chest. Your best friend was the only one who knew. You didn't know him. Despite what he said, there was no telling what he would say tomorrow with his boys. 

“May I have this dance?” 

His outstretched hand may as well been a dagger to you - a bundle of the same flowers he gave your friend rested in his palm. She wasn't with you, so why had the light returned to his eyes as he gazed endlessly into yours. You were scared. To this day, that fear lingers deep in the trenches of your chest. 

Collecting your discarded hood, you rush out of the auditorium as quickly as your feet will carry you - never looking back.

-

The events of that night were not a blip on your relationship with your friend's new boyfriend. As a matter of fact, the three of you were practically a trio. You were often the third wheel on their dates. If he bought her something, you frequently received a duplicate- sometimes before she received hers. The gifts were primarily sweets and stuffed toys, but there were a few outliers.

“This skirt is for me?... You know I'm a guy.. Right?” 

“Well aware.” 

You figured he was just being nice. After the whole fiasco at prom, there was no hiding from him. He knew your exact measurements and everything. She must've helped him. 

-

With college rolling around, it appeared as if their bond was growing by the day. Upon the confirmation that you all would be attending the same school, your best friend took the big leap herself and proposed to her boyfriend of almost two years. He never looked at her once as he spoke. You were standing right behind her. 

“I'd give my very life to spend even a day more with you. To have you by my side forever would be a dream come true.” 

You couldn't be happier for the two of them.

Venue hunting, cake testing, dress shopping. As the brother she never had, and the second most important man in her life, you joined her for it all. As you were out shopping for a day centered entirely around herself and her groom to be, your friend had one big surprise for you. 

“Pick one.” 

“I….I can't.. What if?...”

“If anyone says a word to you or even looks at you the wrong way I'll drag them out myself if I have to. You're not just my best friend, Y/n. You're family. And you deserve to be with us, comfortable in your own skin.” 

You already knew she accepted you as you were, but it was the first time you felt seen.

The pleasantries didn't end there-

Spirits high from the touching moment between you and having found the perfect dress for her on only the second day of searching, your friend had one more gift for you. 

“Try it on.” 

“W-what? But it's your-”

“And someday you'll wear one on your big day. That's what you want, isn't it? A glimpse into your future won't hurt, will it?”

It wouldn't. Even if there's no one waiting for you at the altar, you've always wanted to be that picture perfect bride on top of wedding cakes.

With tear eyes, you sit before her vanity as she dresses you - styling your hair for the veil's crown, painting your lips with a glossy shine that bleeds through the cloth’s transparency, shading your eyes with a shadow that would steal even the toughest hearts with a single glance. 

“How do you feel?” 

You don't just feel it. 

You are beautiful. 

“You could've been the one marrying him instead of me. Just thinking about that makes me so jealous…” 

Her words fly overhead as you gaze longingly at yourself in the mirror. 

“I….I think I have some jewelry in the basement that would suit you nicely. I'll be back in a minute!” 

Jewelry?...

Rising up from your seat as she departs, you dig through the contents of your book bag - fingertips lacing the plastic band of a fake ring you won months prior during an outing with your friends. You had an inkling the games at the arcade were rigged which is why you were lacking in tickets. It was between that and a piece of candy. Your best friend's boyfriend thought it was the funniest thing if he proposed to you with it in front of everyone. 

Slipping the ring onto your ring finger, your image is complete. No greater amount of jewelry would change how ethereal you were. The veil hid your insecurities, imperfections that with emotional growth and age you'd come to accept and love about yourself. Once you love yourself, perhaps you'll seek a love like that shared between your friend and her soon to be.

Your heart swells in your chest, it beats as if its readying to burst-

Enriching the blood that streams down your torso like the tears of a bride abandoned at the altar. 

It hurts.

Your legs give out before the pain fully registers. 

You gasp, every ragged breath growing wetter with the blood filling your throat. Through the veil's mask, you cannot see your attacker's face. You can hear it- The virtual rage and anger in their snarl, poison seething through their clenched teeth. 

“I can't stand the sight of you.” 

They grip the veil’s crown.

“For two years I've lived this lie. All while he's been right next to me this whole time.” 

Your hands perch over your chest in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding - a foretelling of your impending fate. 

“Did you really think I'd ever be happy with you?” 

Your vision flickers as the veil is torn clean - your worst suspensions proven true. You couldn't forget that voice. 

“....”

“....Y/n?” 

All the anger, the bottled up spite and disgust depletes from his body as he crumbles to the ground behind you. The additional pressure to your wounds does little to stop the bleeding. It's already too late.

“Y/n?.... Y/n?! No, no, no! What are you doing here! It was supposed to be her! It was supposed to be her….”

It's raining. Droplets rain down on your palling face as he slips his fingers between yours - a puzzle that fits perfectly in place. His finger rolls over the cheap, fake ring on your finger - the droplets increasing in frequency. 

“It was always supposed to be you. Ever since I saw you from her window. I've always… but she… she took every note. Even ones I didn't write. Everyone knew how beautiful you were.”

That can't be true…

“Am I… Am…I still….?”

“Yes, my love. You are, and always will be - the most beautiful person anyone has ever seen.” 

With those words you could die in peace. 

But there is someone who will never let you rest.

For as long as his soul still resides on this earth without you by his side.

His everything. 

His bride.

[ozzgin]

Hey ozz!!

Finally got around to doing the ask!

Hope you feel well currently!

This is my ask for the October event! Tho you can do whatever you want with this as I don't mind!

It's the ghost I was talking about the last couple weeks lol it's one of the most common one in my culture, there's another one in the works but I'll send it tmr, (hint: witch darling and bodyguard monster)

Langsir are ghosts/vampires that come from Malay folklore and are usually women that died in childbirth or while in the 40 days of uncleanliness of the pregnancy (tbh I'm not even sure) or a mother that had a heart attack and died at the news of the baby being a stillborn. They won't transform into the vampire until they're given proper burial rights to make sure they don't comeback for the dead

They feed on human blood and prefers blood from guys and male babies specifically

They look like pretty woman with ankle length hair, extremely long nails and wear a green robe. They have a scent of plumeria flowers and sometimes have the ability to transform into an owl in some legends

They have a hole in the back of their neck and if you stuck an iron nail into it, the vampire will turn into a normal beautiful human who will be a great wife! Because of this weakness, you can ward them off with sharp items (main reason why people tell you to hide knives into the baby's crib and stuff)

Anyways enough info and onto the prompt:

Darling is already married to the yandere and suddenly she died in childbirth. but alas, her dear yandere decided to get her back by not giving her the proper burial! Even then the yandere has already prepared with the nails to keep ghost darling trapped forever to his side!

Til ̶N̶o̶t̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶n̶ death do us part lol!

That's all!!! It's nice to join the event and maybe later I'll do my own posts for it once I have the time!

(can I take 🌺 anon or 🪺 anon?)

Thank you for the lovely story, I had waited to pair it with my other ghost entry for a themed day haha. content: female reader, ghost reader, death, captivity

Yandere!Husband did not take the news of your death well. It was to be expected, of course, and everyone smiled pitifully at the grieving spouse. They didn't question it when he requested a private burial. They didn't doubt that it was for the best when he packed up and left without a warning.

At first, you thought this was some sort of purgatory. You knew you had died, yet you didn't think you'd find yourself back home. Then you found the sigils, the books, the cursed nails.

He trapped your soul here.

"You gave me the scare of my lifetime," your husband exclaims, entering the room with a joyful smile.

The tears have dried, and the eyes are narrowed in an eerie kind of happiness you don't recognize.

"I should be dead," you mumble hesitantly.

"According to whom?" he questions, tilting his head innocently. "You know, I'm a little hurt you don't remember our vows.

I promised I'd always be your husband, have I not?"

He kneels before you, taking a moment to observe your features.

"Did you think I'd allow anything to defile my meaning of 'always'? You're mine. And nothing will ever change that."

[sundaysconsort]

Sunday theme?! 👀✨ohhhh

Can I request for sunday x ghost! Fem reader who is already with him since childhood, like she is Imaginary his friend, but she is still with him when he became astral express member.

She is someone who sunday trust about his secret and when he want to making a plan about the dream world, he search a solution to make fem reader can be alive again, he just want to thank her for be with him all these years . Ghost! Fem reader just feeling okay that she is not alive, she just want sunday to be happy thats all and when he became one of trailblazer member she is still there for him. Their feelings are mutual like romantic type.

Entry: " No Death May Do Us Part "

Pairing: HSR! Sunday | Reader

Information: You have been a figment of his imagination for as long as he can remember—a figure who comforts him during his darkest nights. Over time, he comes to realize that you are more than just an image created in his mind; you are something much greater. He is determined to bring you into his ideal realm. However, even he has limits, and you remain a beacon of light, guiding him on his journey. | 2.2k Word Count

Tags: Slow Burn, Tenderness, Mutual Pinning, Admiration, Hurt/Comfort, Self Doubt, Longing, Appreciation, Confession, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Ghost Reader.

Sunday was entangled in a haunting belief that he had lost you forever, cast away from the radiant paradise he had once envisioned—not solely for his people but for you as well. In the depths of his mind, that dream had imploded into fine, shimmering stardust, the weight of his perceived failure draping across him like a heavy, dark shroud. You, the spirited woman who had once curled up beside him as he poured his soul into the ivory keys of his childhood piano, had now morphed into a mere echo, flickering in the pits of his fading memory. Each frustrated note he struck reverberated with an ache, an attempt to breach the daunting chasm created by his tumultuous journey yet to come aboard the Astral Express.

Oh, how he longed to hear the familiar tones of your voice again, each syllable a soothing melody that played like a gentle breeze across his senses. Memories steeped, echoing in his mind like the sweet chime of distant bells, stirring feelings of warmth and joy that enveloped him like a cherished embrace on a cold winter's night. Those moments shared—conversations filled with love—wrapped around him, creating a cocoon of comfort that he yearned to revisit, reminding him of a connection that transcended time and distance.

“No death may do us part.'” This whimsical vow once uttered with joy between you and him as mere children, a promise made by the young boy version of himself and his 'imaginary friend', now holds a profound weight in his heart. The words echo through his thoughts, a haunting reminder of the bond you shared, intertwining your souls in a love that transcends even the boundaries of mortality.

He often found himself engulfed in a profound introspection, questioning the very essence of your existence. Were you merely a figment of his chaotic imagination, conjured by the loneliness that enveloped his heart, yearning for companionship and understanding? Or could you be something far more transcendent—a divine blessing from Xipe?

Nestled deep within the tangled labyrinth of his emotions, he battled with a bittersweet reality: you were a spirit trapped in a merciless limbo, a wandering ghost gliding through the lit streets of Penacony. The city, once a beacon of hope and joy in his mind, now felt like a deceptive paradise, a place where beauty was tinged with sorrow. Each corner he turned seemed haunted by echoes of you, intertwined with the melancholy of your fate, leaving him to ponder the fragile line between longing and despair.

Though you never overtly revealed your fragility, he felt it in the weariness of your fading existence, the way your spectral form flickered like a fragile candle struggling against the suffocating embrace of encroaching darkness. He clearly recalls the precious moments when you reached out, yearning to wipe away his tears with your trembling hands, only to find that the effort was always too monumental, an insurmountable challenge. You appeared sorrowful, yet fiercely determined, lingering in a half-life, steadfastly remaining by his side, your voice a whisper that trailed behind him, echoing encouragement and heartfelt concern throughout his childhood.

What fascinated him most was how you seemed to age gracefully alongside him, your essence maturing within the fabric of the realm you existed in. Sunday ached to rescue you from the twisted chains of solitude that ensnared you, to liberate you from the cruel fate that had snatched away your life. As vivid memories of youth and giggles surged back, he held them close to his heart, even as he wrestled with the heavy burdens of guilt and regret that had haunted him since embarking on the Astral Express. All he could have done better.

Sunday carries a deep-seated disdain for the person he once was, haunted by the echoes of his past mistakes and shortcomings. Yet, he knows you possess a remarkable heart, one that sees beyond his flaws. One that is capable of embracing the possibility of redemption. You chose to care for him despite his imperfections, recognizing the strength they reveal in him. He is no monster. Perhaps this clarity comes from the innocence of youth, a belief that genuine goodness can emerge from even the darkest struggles. You, too, saw the beauty in his dream—a vision of a better world that he strives to achieve. Every day, he tirelessly searches for a way to manifest that dream, no longer for the ideal of Penacony, but primarily for you and his dearest baby sister. The two most important elements within his life.

After enduring defeat and comprehending the repercussions of his actions—how his misguided intentions had led to the suffering of those he cherished—he decided to pursue his own redemption. He yearned for the chance to apologize to you, to communicate his deep gratitude for the tenacious companionship that had stitched together the fragile seams of his heart. Once, you were two innocent souls intertwined by fate, and the question that nagged at his mind was: where could you be now?

Days bled into nights as he roamed the streets of Penacony, driven to conceal his identity in a land he once governed with authority. His heart was heavy with the fear that you might still be waiting at the piano you once shared in a place he nostalgically dubbed home. The mere thought of you, patient and hopeful as you had been in your shared childhood, tugged insistently at his heartstrings. How could he bear the burden of knowing you possibly lingered there? Were you destined to remain trapped in this twilight world? Is this separation punishment for his failure to embrace harmony? Amid all the struggle, he sought order under the guidance of Gopher Wood—ultimately a grave miscalculation that ensnared those he loved in his misguided vision of paradise.

He desperately dreamed of creating a world where you could take tangible form.

Upon his return to the express, a twist of fate awaited him. The lobby lay enveloped in shadows, an eerie silence wrapping around him like a thick fog until a familiar, haunting note drifted through the air like a ghostly breeze. It flowed gently, beckoning him toward its source. As he approached the empty piano bench in the Express, he was astonished to see your faint image—a vision of focused concentration, your hands tremulously grazing the keys, having difficulty applying enough weight.

Relief washed over him like a gentle tide, melting away the icy grip of doubt that had tightened around his heart. As he looked at you, sitting across from him, warmth flooded his being. Your presence radiated a beauty that seemed untouched by the passage of time, each feature as striking as he remembered. It was as if, in his darkest moments, your image would materialize to guide him, no matter how far he roamed.

"'See? Just let it flow out of you, like this,' he heard you softly murmur to yourself, your voice barely above a whisper yet carrying the weight of cherished memories. You sensed his presence nearby, and a wave of sentimentality washed over you. He had spoken those very words to you—each syllable a soothing balm that lingered in your mind. 'You can do it too. Come, give it a try.'"

As your gaze intertwined with his, the atmosphere transformed, charged with an electricity that sparked in the air. Everything around you faded into a soft haze, the vibrant colors and distant sounds melting away until it felt as though you were enveloped in a warm silence. In that suspended moment, it was just the two of you—intensely connected, as if the universe had conspired to freeze time and hold you in this perfect stillness, face to face once more.

Your focus returns to the piano, fingers dancing across the keys with grace. A rich tapestry of nostalgia wove itself around you, the melody resonating deeply within both your hearts. The sound fills the room, echoing off the walls, each chord a brushstroke, a masterpiece of emotion, painting the atmosphere with warmth and yearning.

"...this song is familiar to me; I believe I've encountered it once before," Sunday said, his eyes widening with a mix of nostalgia and wonder. It was as if he had been whisked away to a simpler time, a time when every sound carried a hint of magic. He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his lips, as the weight of time momentarily lifted, letting him relive those precious memories that felt so far away yet still lingered in his heart.

"A long time ago, you taught me how to play it," you replied, a gentle smile blooming on your lips, illuminating your ethereal form with a warmth that reached out to him, even from the veil separating your worlds. "I had time to practice while you were busy this passing year. I'll admit, I did miss you..."

His brow furrowed in thought, a hint of sadness shadowing his features. "I see… though I have little recollection of this melody in particular," he confessed, the weight of his words hanging in the air like a forgotten melody.

"I'll teach you," you assured him, your smile unwavering—a beacon of hope amidst the shadows. At that moment, the distance between your two worlds felt as fragile as glass, shimmering with the potential for connection. You reminisced with each note, your bodies almost touching; the warmth of his physical presence starkly contrasted with the coolness of your spectral form.

As if attuned to the unspoken doubts rolling through his mind, you felt compelled to address the silence that hung between you. With a gentle tone, you spoke again, instinctively grasping the complexity of his emotions and the weight of his unexpressed words.

"You are not obligated to carry the burden of my circumstances, Sunday. My deepest desire has always been for you to follow the path that resonates with your heart, rather than succumbing to the expectations of your family or the pressures of Penacony. More than anything, I want you to find true happiness in the choices you make and to embrace the life that fulfills your soul." It was a bittersweet blend of past and present, memory and longing, as the music continued to flow, bringing your hearts together once more.

You didn't crave an apology; that wasn’t what mattered to you. Instead, what you truly yearned for was simply his presence beside you, the warmth of companionship that brought comfort in moments of uncertainty. You understood that sometimes words were unnecessary; it was the connection that counted.

"And if the one I have been seeking, the bearer of my deepest desires, is the very person who can grant me that fulfillment, would she too share this feeling?" Amidst the enchanting melodies that surrounded him, Sunday made a solemn vow—to find the way to restore your essence so that you could finally embrace him as he had always longed to experience. "Would you, in turn, reciprocate my feelings?"

As you shift your position, a soft sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it a mix of longing and tranquility. Your faded hand gently rests atop his, fingers hovering close, as if trying to form a bridge between two worlds. The room is thick with unspoken emotions—a silence that feels charged, one where every heartbeat resonates with the weight of your connection. Though you can't touch him like another living soul might, a spark of hope flickers within you, illuminating the space between your hearts like a gentle flame in the dark.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady, woven with warmth and an undercurrent of yearning. You sense his gaze shift towards you, eyes filled with an emotion that’s both tender and penetrating. He raises his free hand to brush the air between you as if he could touch the essence of your spirit.

Sunday smiles, a flicker of vulnerability dancing behind his charming exterior, his eyes momentarily betraying a depth of feeling that goes beyond mere charm. The soft glow of his halo seems to shimmer with ethereal light as if it were reflecting his genuine affection for the moment shared between them. “Then let’s not let this moment slip through our fingers,” he suggests, his voice steady but warm. “Can we promise to hold onto this? To each other?” His words hang in the air, inviting a sense of commitment and connection that feels both fragile and profound, urging them to embrace the bond forming in their hearts.

You take a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins as your heart pounds like a drum in your chest. The air is thick with anticipation, and a sense of the unknown hangs tantalizingly in the space between you. "More than anything," you say, your voice steady yet infused with emotion, "I want to explore this… whatever ‘this’ is, together." The words linger, heavy with possibility, as you meet his golden gaze, hoping they share your desire to uncover the mysteries that lie ahead.

His eyes soften, revealing a glimmer of paradise within their depths. The warmth of his gaze envelops you, making your heart flutter as if dancing to an unheard melody. "Together it is, then," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress that fills the space around them with an electric tenderness.

At that moment, the world fades away—the worries, the noise, all of it dissolves like mist in the morning sun. There's a palpable connection as if their souls are intertwined, each breath they take syncing in a rhythm that feels both exhilarating and comforting. He shifts closer next to you on the bench, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky, banishing shadows and illuminating everything in its path.

Every heartbeat reflects the promise of shared dreams and whispered secrets. The piano, once the center of attention, now stood silent and neglected. In that moment, you both felt an unspoken connection—two kindred spirits intertwined in a bond that transcended words.

A/N: I hope this was to your taste! Ended up finding inspiration from other series, including Anohana and Wuthering Waves for this. I'm not the most satisfied with this, but I'll leave you to be the judge of its quality. I hope you enjoyed it. <3

[isetfiretomyself]

Yandere king X G/N Ghost Reader pt2

AHHH I have 50+ followers! Thank you all so much!!!! ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)Back at it again with my boy Neil 💪 If anyone wants another pt 2 let me know! - Jay ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Trigger warnings! Violence, Yandere S/hs, Manipulative behaviour, Yandere behaviour, This is all fictional I don't condone toxic behaviour irl

The Castle was still, nobody moved. One day in the spring the sun was out ,shining light through the windows but everyone's blood ran cold. The steal box that rested beside the kings nightstand was knocked to the floor by a servant. Servants that shouldn't even be there, trying to be kind they decided to go against the kings wishes to clean his chambers. The steal box made a loud bang that made the all flinch but when they hear a crack they started to panic.

"We must come clean about this!" One servant says, "Are you kidding me!? We'll be slaughtered" another whisper yells. The crack of a crystal wouldn't be such a big deal if it wasn't your vessel tying you to the living realm. Unable to move on due to how much misery that's tied to your death. You feel you yourself slipping from this plane and as much as you wished to hide this, Yandere king felt that shift instantly.

"My love what's wrong?" He moved closer to you. He knows he can't touch you but he appreciates being near you. "Erm it's fine..I just feel a little confused." "Confused? Why would you be?" You just shrugged your shoulders. Yandere kings face harden a little bit before storming of without warning. "Neil? Neil!? Where are you going?" You can't feel yourself walking but you do move trying to keep up with him. I mean perks of being a ghost, you probably would've walked into so many walls if you weren't dead!

When Yandere king gets to his chamber to see the steal box on the floor but none to be seen. Rage fills him. He grabs the nearest thing to him, a empty whisky glass and throws it at the wall. Glass shards everywhere. Forgetting that it'll go right through you, you step back trying to cover your face. "Neil..." You whisper. "It might be fine" you try to comfort him but he's already got the shards in his hand. He practically punched the box open to get to it, his knuckles dripping blood.

He's seething, how? The box was never near the edge, someone moved it. He looks over to your form and you do look more delicate. As if, if he would go to touch you, you'd go away forever. He hates that. He gets up. "Neil please talk to me." You know you're dead but you've never felt alone like this before. "My love...My everything, I'll fix this." "What do you mean?"

Yandere King who started a whole investigation about who could of broken your crystal. He went to extreme lengths, but he didn't care. Anything for you. He started looking into possession as well. Cases from when he's father ruled even in neighbouring kingdoms, he left no stone left unturned till he figured out the key elements.

You weren't allowed by yourself anymore. I mean Neil couldn't stop you from leveling but he knew you were worried about his state. He would starve himself to keep you by him. He knows it's cruel but what if you disappear? He can't have that, he just can't!

After a month one of the servants cracked. Weeks of heavy questions and slight threats had gotten a young employee to crack. She's in floods of tears "I-I'm sorry! I wanted to say! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She's hardly breathing. Yandere King sits on his throne watching the servant in a state. "It's okay... you've been honest that's all that matters..." You kneel down to her level,watching the woman cry. You remember begging for your life like this, you weren't given the mercy you hope Neil would have.

"I want names and I'll spare your life." His voice is so aggressive, like talking to filth.

There was three servants

•The young woman.

•A servant who's been warned about their behaviour before.

•The one who planned to clean the chambers in the first place, a sweet gesture that went horribly wrong.

The more Yandere King looked at the one who started it all he realises how much they looked you. Same height, rather similar face shape, a slightly darker eye colour. The perfect host.

As promised the young women wasn't killed, just banished and never allowed near the kingdom again. The already troublesome servant was killed by Neil's bare hands, unknown to you of course. You believe they were banished also.

The host was tied to a bed. Unable to move, panicking. It's a shame really, they seemed nice but they have to die. I mean what if they could still control their body? That won't do, he wants you to be alive again,warm again. He obtained a dagger that's supposed to help soul transfers but he needs something of you on the blade. He only has you vessel left, what if it goes wrong? No. He can't think like that right now. He knows your not in the room but he's begging for your forgiveness. "I'm sorry, my love please believe in me." He never cries last time he cried was on your execution day. He kisses the crystal shards before starting to crush them into a powder. He was doing his best not to let his tears get in the powder but it was hard. This has to work. This has to work.

He plunches the dagger into the host's chest and spoke the incantations before taking the dagger out. After gurgling and some panting there was just silence. The silence was piercing, what if this didn't work? What if he lost you forever this time and it was his fault? He fell to his knees sobbing. He couldn't breathe not when he did this to you. He tried breathing but it was just wheezing. He held his head in his hands. His once healthy head of hair was now just greasy,his bold hair almost looked to be fading into a dirty look.

You woke up confused, you can feel a bed. The fabric beneath you. Are you dreaming? Why can you feel? You adjust your eyes to the dark candles around you. What room is this? You hear some wheezing and look over to see Neil, your Neil. Concern washes over you, you know he's not the man he once was but you can't help see the boy you fell in love in his eyes. You try to get up but your hands are tied up. You try thrashing a little before stopping a massive pain in your chest. You groan a little in pain. You look to see your chest there was no sign of anything but blood soaked your shirt. You scream, it's not your scream. Why are you sounding so different? Neil looks up almost like a puppy, he rushed over. "Did it work ?" He's mumbling more to himself then you. "What have you done?" Your voice isn't yours, panic starts to consume you. "Neil what on earth is this!?" The more you hear this voice the more it's upsetting you. Tears spill out falling down your cheeks, they're a different shape. While waiting to be hang you become rather friendly with what it felt like to have tears roll down your cheeks and this isn't it.

"It's okay! My love I told you I'd fix everything! Now we can be with eachother far more than ever before!"

[murmiss]

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part1.

(No user's names are mentioned, the user's description is as a female, angst,The changed nature of the characters, my vision on them,there may be mistakes in words -English is not my first language)

Omegas-gentle creatures with soft personalities, smells, and sincere purity-were what Pack 141 wanted, but their psychiatric records, their mental health records, unfortunately didn't allow the pack to have an omega. Eventually they'd either torture the poor thing or gnaw each other, so they were left to enjoy their rare encounters with girls.

Until at some point, in the midst of a conversation between old friends, Laswell did not offer Price an easier option - Take in the pack beta, to convince the commission distribution center that their pack is quite stable and able to live with omegas.

And it's got Price pretty damn hooked. Like be nice to the beta for a couple months and then they'll reward you with a full-fledged mate?

And they're going for it.

The whole pack was in awe of the idea, and even Ice Ghost couldn't help but grin when the beta contract was approved. Just a little bit more and they'd have a full-fledged member of the pack-a gentle and sweet omega...

When you arrived at the house, the Man with the Mohawk, Soap, that's what he called himself, kindly helped carry your suitcases to the door and your room, and the black-skinned guy with the charming smile kissed your hand upon meeting you, affectionately calling you "my lady."

Honestly, when you got the acceptance letter from the pack, fear and anxiety didn't leave you - usually all packs wanted omegas, but here, a pack that wanted a beta, who liked you and met you so kindly, couldn't have been more excited. Damn it, your legs were shaking before the meeting, because the fear of being unrecognized, unwanted in your own pack had been haunting you since your student days, when you found out that you were just an ordinary beta.

There were also advantages to the plan: no heat, no need to pretend to be nice, as omegas did, and complete freedom of action, that is, even on the street to walk is not so scary.

You spent the whole evening preparing for full acceptance into the pack, getting a tag was the most valuable and important thing for any omega and beta in the pack, as a sign of her need.

The dress was perfect, and the light makeup emphasized the natural beauty of your face while your hair framed everything in its softness. Well, the presence of a carefully chosen set of red lingerie added spice to it, making you smile to yourself and giggle quietly.

Hell, it's so long overdue that your legs buckle and get woozy and your palms sweat when you walk down to the living room and see the table where there were appetizers, five glasses, and a beer. Beer? Not exactly what you expected, but what if your alphas don't like fancy wine or champagne?

To hell with it.

You step closer and Price grins and picks up your shoulders, pulling you to the couch, letting you sit between him and Soap. Just the thought of their rough hands touching your body makes everything hotter, and you smile.

They laugh too, Soap takes you by the shoulders, chokes on your glass and gets carried away with the conversation again.

Glass after glass, you try to cut into the conversation but they just discuss their missions, hardships and training plans .You just keep quiet.

One last clink of glasses, and soon it's time to disperse: Ghost and Gaz are the first to leave, having gone upstairs, Price is yawning, and Soap is about to leave too, and shit, you feel the heat spill down your thighs at the thought of them waiting for you up there, and you stop Soap.

"John... Ahh.. What about the mark?" -you ask in a playful tone, to which the guy with the Mohawk smiles in surprise and says, "mark.., oh, yeah, right, honey."

You smile back, and he holds out the dirty plates to you with a satisfied grin.

"What's this?" - You mutter puzzledly.

"A little cleaning won't hurt, baby," he winks, and you, out of control, set off to wash the dishes with more enthusiasm than you've never washed them before.

Done. You go upstairs and adjust your dress before going to your room, but... it's empty. Puzzled, you look into Price's room - he's asleep, the soap is asleep, and you don't even bother to look in the ghost and gas room. Maybe they just drank too much and fell asleep.

That's what you were hoping.

But in the morning it was like no one remembered you, didn't say good morning or anything, and in the evening the gas just said he and the guys were going to the gym for a workout.

At seven o'clock at night? Must be some kind of evening membership. But no, and no again. At night, like a faithful dog in waiting, you're only greeted by awkward smiles, the smell of women's perfume mixed with omega pheromones, and it hurts.

"Where's my mark?" - You ask incredulously as Gaz giggles and Soap, the most talkative of them all, explains with a smile that it's still early. Early for what? Are they still looking at you? Is there something wrong with you?

Or is it because you're not an omega?

But no, you dismiss those thoughts and start cutting up a piece of raw meat, trying to cook it to make it more flavorful, but it's not Well done and it never will be. What's the point of trying, what's the point of trying if you're never gonna make it?

You'll never be the right person.

It was Wednesday when you first caught Gaza in some girl's arms. "Colleague?" That's right. It's just a coworker, just another coworker, just.... Accept it so you don't feel your heart ache again.

The days go by the same, and it's very lonely here. No one hears or sees. Price and Ghost had a conscience and never brought anyone to your house. Is it yours? No.

"Just a little bit more, lads, and I can already see a delicate bird in a red apron circling our kitchen and cooking a delicious steak." says Soap with his trademark bright smile, reclining on the sofa.

"Better in red panties," Gas replies with a laugh, his eyes unconsciously rolling with satisfaction.

"better without"-Ghost's deep bass draws everyone's attention, and the rest of you let out an approving chuckle.

You're a good person, a really nice person, a great friend, and everyone knows it. But . You're a beta, and everyone realizes that.

If they told you at the distribution center that you were an omega, how much would things be different? How much brighter your life would be and how much more beloved you'd be by everyone around you?

"I need to go to the store," you interrupt in a surprisingly loud voice. You don't want to hear a word about it, you don't want to know, you want them to shut up. You don't want to endure this pain, this crushing feeling of your own worthlessness and inferiority.

Everyone visibly tenses, and Soap and Gaz look at each other - this evening, neither of them wanted to drive to the store, which is at least an hour away by car if you don't count traffic. They wanted to relax in a bar and maybe wake up in the arms of a charming lady, not in a damn store!

"Rock-paper-scissors!" - Soapy cheerfully suggests, and Ghost snorts in response, but agrees.

It's disgusting. It's disgusting to stand there and watch four big guys, alphas,who promised to protect you in the distribution center, swear to the administration that they're proud of this beta,That they love you,but competing to take you to the store because no one wanted to do it. No one.

It's not your fault you don't have a car. It's not your fault the rules are in place.

"Fuck! " John yells, and his face takes on an agonized expression, as if driving with you would be sheer hard labor, and desperation is written all over his face as he speaks, albeit with a smile: "Don't ride without me, boys! ".

It's a long drive to the store, but nevertheless, once you're in the supermarket, you start picking up your grocery list, walking through the departments with concentration, while MacTavish lazily walks along, looking at the grocery racks and sticking his hands in his pockets. You don't notice him walking away, noticing the cute girls with the sweetest scent of pheromone omegas.

That's a hell of a catch. The smile doesn't leave his face as he waltzes over to the liquor section, demonstratively grabs a bottle of expensive cognac, and winks at one of the girls, emitting more alpha pheromone.

"Who's the handsome one here?" says the boldest of the girls, attracting attention. They are all so beautiful, such bright and colorful girls in their beautiful dresses and heels, just fire stirring the alpha's senses.

"Looking for the company of sweet omegas"- he says with his trademark smile, and one of the girls, a blonde, giggles.

Damn it! When they're all over him, pressing their fragile bodies against his, hanging on his elbows, hugging, he's completely oblivious to everything,

He forgot about you.

Forgotten as he led the Omegas away from the store with the bags of liquor and snacks he'd grabbed at speed. He forgot when he put them in his car and drove away.

"More milk... Do we have coffee at home, John? " you say out loud, but get no answer and look up. There's no soap around. It's strange. You look around uncertainly, wondering if he went to get something on the list or to another department. You look around. You wander around the store in confusion until you decide to look out the window, thinking you'll see the soap there - maybe he decided to go outside the store for a smoke. You peek into the parking lot, but .... no car.

No car? Why? Did something happen? You carelessly pull it out of your pocket, dialing the maktavish's number. Nothing.

Shit. He had all money, and no soap, no price, no Gaz, not even a Ghost, no one picks up the phone. In desperation, you leave the cart almost in the middle of the store and hurry out, intending to find the soap, to try to call outside, hoping the whole problem is a bad connection.

It's dark outside, and there isn't a single car in the whole damn parking lot. Scary.

Your phone only has a couple percent charge, but you don't give up trying to call. Panicking at 1%, you only manage to send the phrase, "Please pick me up guys, I'm scared," before your phone goes off.

You sit down on the doorstep of the store and just stare at the road, hoping a car will stop and pick you up.

But it doesn't, and it's only the salesman who changes the store sign from "open" to "closed" as he walks away.

(I'm posting the second part right away. I don't understand why I'm drawn to the same topic, an incomprehensible melancholy)

[gay-dorito-dust]

Author....Halloween is the only time where the dead can go to the realm of the living as in they became more y'know physical as in people can see and interact with them...

Ghost reader watching over dipper,mabel and their friends going on trick or treating and they still refuse to see stan and ford (they're just making those 2 more miserable) but when the townsfolk see them they want to thank them but couldn't shake their hands or hug them but reader can touch them without a problem

I can just imagine that the townsfolk’s has a memorial or a statue dedicated to you, whatever for it can be up to interpretation.

So when you were watching over Dipper, Mabel, Candy and Grenda as they wandered down the decorated streets of gravity falls in their colourful costumes.

dipper and Mabel decided to dress up as salt and pepper.

Candy dressed up as candy

Grenda dressed as a princess from a show she was into currently.

They all looked fabulous and adorable that it made you wish that you were still alive to take a picture of them, but you were more then content to settle with supervising them as they went from door to door collecting treats.

Obviously you were aware that this was the only day where you could actually interact with anyone of the living realm but still you were adamant in keeping yourself away from Ford and Stanley, whom were also chaperoning the kids for once. However you also manage to catch one or two groups of people looking over at you and whispering amongst themselves for one of them to go up to you. Looks like they could see you even if you did try to hide but thankfully Ford and Stan were out of earshot when one brave soul did managed to walk up to you with a gleam in their eyes.

‘Hi! I just wanted to thank you for saving all of us and all…such a tragedy what happened to you though…’ the young woman trailed off as she looked over at the monument that mayor Fiddleford had commissioned for you personally, the hero of gravity falls they called you and according to candy and Grenda, you were being taught to kids in history lessons at school.

Which you were very touched by, but thought was unnecessary.

‘It’s fine, I just done what needed to be done for the betterment of everyone.’ You told them.

‘Even if it meant loosing everything?’ The young woman inquired.

You looked over at Dipper and Mabel who were waving happily in your direction, followed shortly by everyone else, you smiled at them before you looked back at the young woman. ‘I was more then willing to loose everything if it meant seeing everyone embrace a brighter future because of it.’ You replied with the shrug of your shoulders.

The young woman smiled ‘I would ask for a hug but…’ she trailed off and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pulled the woman into your arms, patting her back reassuringly.

‘It’s perfectly fine! Besides you can’t fully embrace me but I can perfectly embrace you to make up for it.’ You told her as you pulled away, seeing tears shine in her eyes. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ You add. ‘We made it.’

‘You saved the town for us.’ She whispered, ‘I just wish there was more we could’ve done-‘ you put your hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

‘I did save the town, so please treasure it where I cannot okay? That’s all I ask.’ You tell her and the woman smiled at you.

‘Okay.’ She said, ‘I will.’

‘Good, now have a happy Halloween kid.’ You told her as you gently pushed her towards her group of friends, watching as she rejoined the group with a bright smile and walk down the road as she told her eager friends, who looked about ready to clamour over the others just to hear of her brief interaction with you.

‘Great uncle/aunt y/n!’ Dipper cried.

‘Come on we’ve got more houses to rob of candy!’ Mabel added and you couldn’t help but laugh as you walked towards the kids, feeling in content with the fact that Gravity Falls was going to be okay without you.

Unknowing of the fact that Ford and Stan were paying respects at your grave by putting down flowers that Ford has picked up from another dimension during his thirty years, flowers that glowed a beautiful blue/red/purple colour.

‘Happy anniversary old friend.’ Ford said as he puts down the last of the flowers. ‘Wish you would reveal yourself to us so that we can apologise, but I respect your wishes if you don’t for I don’t blame you and hope you’ll rest peacefully knowing that the town is thriving because of you.’

‘You’re a true hero, and we’re the idiots.’ Stanley adds just as a particularly cold breeze brushed past them both.