#stalker ghost

[a-b-riddle]

Continuing this idea.

You should be scared. Very scared. Instead you were just stupid in thinking that this person who had repeatedly broke into your home, admitting to watching you, and completely invading your privacy didn’t mean you any harm.

Your logic that if he wanted to, he would have. You just hoped to god that your intuition about him was right. You had met monsters before. They didn’t make themselves known until it was too late.

But he was different. The small things he did to make your life easier weren’t things men intent on hurting you did. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have the opportunity to.

You had gotten a dog and a cat. A bonded pair that had been left when their family moved away, leaving the partners stranded.

When you came home with the adorable mutt you sent your shadow a cheeky text.

Don’t worry. I made sure he was good with men. Just not sure if he cares for masked ones.

More worried about the cat.

This little guy? Cheese is harmless. You attached a picture of your new orange cat sleeping peacefully on your couch.

You named the fucking thing Cheese?

Dog’s name is Mac.

That only earned you a thumbs down emoji.

It had been three weeks and you were certain he hadn’t been back into your apartment. You had to do mundane tasks again. Take out the trash. Get your mail from the box. You weren’t sure how he was managing that one.

It wasn’t until you got held up at work that you sent him a text. You felt like you were asking too much, but thankfully he had crossed the line from breaking into your place.

Could I ask a favor?

Almost instantly he sent back a reply.

You could

Can you take Mac out? I’m not gonna be out of here for another 3 hours. Another waitress quit last minute and I’m stuck here. 😭

You added the crying face for effect.

Could test out that biting theory.

He won’t bite you.

Wasn’t talking about the dog, Love.

Forty minutes later you got a picture of Mac looking up. His pink tongue hanging out of his mouth, looking up in excitement.

Be careful if you pass by the guy who hangs out back by the play area. Mac dislocated my arm this weekend being a little asshole and lunging after him.

Thought you said he wouldn’t bite.

Wouldn’t bite YOU. He’s a good judge of character.

He’s a good boy.

The following shifts, your shadow would send you photos. All of Mac. All outside. None giving you the slightest idea of what he looked like.

You gave him a heads up that you’d be able to take him out yourself. You don’t know how you’d react to finally meeting him. You could have easily stalked him as he had done you, but there wasn’t any fun in that. And he had made this fun.

You didn’t however count on Mac scratching at the door at 10 pm that night.

Or the next.

Or the next.

His entire schedule was thrown off. The vet said it was a UTI and your only options were keep letting him out as needed or he will try and hold it in and risk his bladder getting inflected. Or even his kidneys.

You were standing in the flood light at the edge of your apartment building when your phone buzzed.

You need to stop going out this late. Not safe.

Why? You text back, grinning. You’re out here too. Not anything to be afraid of.

Careful. Sounds like you like having me around.

Who says I don’t?

He didn’t respond. You try again.

Am I ever gonna be able to meet you?

Three dots appeared after moments of silence

Don’t think so pet.

What’s the point then? Isn’t a hunter’s goal is to get close to their prey?

Is that what you think you are to me? My prey?

You couldn’t tell if he was actually offended. Fuck. How do you make this better?

Is it bad if I want to be?

What the fuck? Your reaction was to turn things sexual? But you weren’t lying. You often found yourself imagining him, a masked stranger coming into your room while you slept. Looming over your defenseless body until the exact moment he decided to strike.

In an instant he would have your hands restrained and a palm covering your mouth. He’d tell you to hush. The fantasy hard to imagine in that moment when you wondered what he would sound like.

I’m not actually afraid of you, you know?

Oh really? Someone is feeling brave tonight. Going out into the dark. Taunting their stalker.

You swear your could feel your heart trying to beat out of your chest. He was into it. Just as much as you were. You thought maybe given the initial cute acts of service it was more of a guardian angel kind of thing.

It wasn’t until you noticed underwear missing did you know he was just as filthy as you hoped him to be. Even though you never brought it up. Too afraid to get in too deep with someone who could be a sociopath.

You could come and see how brave I am.

He didn’t respond immediately and Mac was done dribbling out the last hit of pee. You were in the stairway when your phone chiroed.

Fine. See you soon.

A picture followed. It was dark. So dark you had to turn up your brightness. When your eyes focused, your stomach dropped.

It was you.

A stilled image of you walking into the building your back turned. The image too clear to be taken from a distance. If you had to guess it was no more than ten feet away.

Ten feet away and you didn’t hear a fucking thing. Completely oblivious to the danger close by.

That night you had came so hard you had half a mind to text him a thank you for being the inspiration behind your bliss.

[thedivinetexts]

thinking about reader who mistakes Ghost stalking them as being... well, a ghost.

gn reader x stalker!ghost. sfw . for now

- 🩷🐰🩷 -

Your house is haunted. The realtor waits until you're ready to sign to mention that someone died in it — a man, murdered by his wife, the realtor confesses. The last few people who bought it couldn't handle knowing that there was blood on their floors, metaphorically speaking.

It explains why it's so fucking cheap, despite being almost everything you want in a house. Big and beautiful, with plenty of space to grow into if you feel like it. Plus, the housing market is shit. There's no way you'll find a better house in your price range, so you sign the dotted line that officially makes you the owner of a haunted house.

The first few months are absolutely fine. You move in and get settled without a problem. There isn't a peep from a ghost as you make the space your own; painting the walls and installing bookshelves to hold your collection goes smoothly. You find no bones when you till a portion of the backyard to create a little garden. All is calm and unhaunted.

Then things start moving. A book you had on your table is back on the shelves, even though you haven't finished it. Dishes you left on the table end up in the sink. The box of pasta that was out of your reach in the cabinet is miraculously on a lower shelf the next morning.

You can't figure out what changed. Why is your ghost suddenly active after months of radio silence? You haven't done anything new to the house lately. You've been living almost exactly how you were before the ghost decided it was time to mess with things. You have no idea what it could want.

You think you've read somewhere that ghosts will stop if you ignore them, so that's what you decide to do. Don't give the ghost a reaction, and nothing bad will happen. You won't be like the last few owners and abandon your new home.

Things moving get no reaction. When your underwear starts disappearing, you silently judge the ghost, but just buy more. When you find doors you definitely closed propped open, you simply close them. It becomes a part of your routine; just another fact of life.

You ignore the footsteps that pad down your hallways. You pretend you don't see the shadowy shapes of a man lurking in the corners. One time you see him standing motionless on your stairs, and you force yourself to focus on the cup of tea you're nursing. When you look back up, he's gone.

It makes you nervous, but you persist. You won't let this bastard run you out of your house.

So, when you spot him standing outside your bedroom door, face naught but a skeletal visage as he peers inside, you drop your gaze back to your book as calmly as you can. This is definitely the closest you've ever seen him. You can feel his eye boring into you as you pretend to read. You're picking up none of the words, too aware of him watching you. After a few minutes of reading the same sentence, you give up and put it aside.

You flick off your lamp and lay down, pulling your blanket to your shoulder so you don't accidentally look at him again. Just ignore it, you tell yourself, ignore it, ignore it. It feels like hours pass before your eyes droop, exhaustion winning out over the anxiety. Eventually you doze off; the awareness of him still watching fades out with your consciousness. He's just a ghost, after all. There's not much he can do but stare.

You're still ever-so-slightly awake when the door creaks open. You don't pay it much mind, not until the mattress dips. That jostles you awake a bit, though you're still bleary enough that you don't see the hand until it is pressed against your mouth, pushing your head into the pillow. All of the tiredness dissipates in a moment, fear taking its place as you snap awake.

You can feel the warmth of the very real hand through the glove he wears. You stare in horror at the very real man pinning you down. On his face is the same skull that your ghost wears — it hits you like a truck that it was not a haunting but intangible spirit with you in your home. It was a man. It was always this man.

He chuckles, low and rough, when he notices your breath pick up into shallow, fearful gasps.

"There you go, lovie," he rumbles. "Was startin' to think you didn't know to be afraid."

[libingan]

— an unhealthy obsession.

warnings: stalking, dark themes, idk how to put warnings but both simon and the reader are obsessed with each other

a/n: part two, maybe??? idk, if you guys want something sexier just lmk ig

simon has been obsessing over you for months on end. ever since he saw you bartending at the local bar he and his buddies hung out at, he knew he just had to have you. your laugh, your smile, the way you effortlessly moved through the crowd—it all drew him in like a moth to a flame.

he followed you home that very same night to find out where you live. he watched you unlock the door to your apartment complex, making a mental note of the building. the next day, he began the process to secure a place in your building. he contacted the leasing office, inquiring about availability, and swiftly filled out the necessary paperwork: a rental application, proof of income, a background check consent form, and references. he signed the lease agreement with a sense of grim satisfaction, ensuring he was just a few doors down from you.

which is why simon is currently perched on a tree outside your window, giving him a clear view of your bedroom. he observed you intently, watching your favorite sitcom along with you. with a packed dinner and some coffee beside him, he sat silently, his eyes never leaving you as you laughed at the show. he memorized your expressions, your routines, the way you curled up on the couch.

he waited until you fell asleep, then sneaked into your room through your window, moving with the stealth of a shadow. he collected small belongings—items you might not notice missing right away. a pen from your desk, a single pair of underwear hidden at the back of your messy drawer. he snapped a few photos of you as well, capturing your peaceful, unaware state. these mementos were little pieces he could add to his growing shrine, a secret collection that fueled his obsession.

as he slipped back into the night, simon felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. he was getting closer, his presence in your life growing stronger with each passing day. it was only a matter of time before you would realize you were meant to be his.

unbeknownst to simon, his feelings aren’t as unrequited as he thinks.

you had been thanking your lucky stars the moment you saw simon enter the apartment a few doors down. it was hard to get any information about simon without directly asking him. so when you saw a familiar face and a familiar mohawk at the bar you worked at, you immediately recognized this guy as simon's friend.

as a bartender, you knew how to read people and manipulate the situation. you casually served him drinks, adding a little extra alcohol to his glass each time. it was a subtle touch, just enough to make him more talkative and less aware of his surroundings.

by the time he was noticeably tipsy, you engaged him in conversation, guiding it towards simon with a practiced ease. the more intoxicated he became, the more he spilled about simon—his habits, his quirks. but it was when the friend, in his drunken haze, let slip that simon was currently “crushing” on his neighbor that your interest piqued.

“aye, simon’s got this neighbor he’s obsessed wi’,” the friend slurred, his scottish accent thickening as he struggled to keep his balance. “they’ve got this smile that lights up the whole room, and they’re always, like, glowing, ye know? pretty as hell. simon’s always bleedin’ talkin’ about ’em.”

you pressed for more details, feigning curiosity as the friend described you. the way he spoke about your laugh, your style, even the way you move around your apartment—it was all too precise. you realized with a shiver that simon must be paying an unsettling amount of attention to you. but instead of fear, you felt a thrill.

the night ends and you’re thankful for the alcohol. that idiot—simon’s friend—won’t remember a damn thing he’s said tonight. it was a risky move, but it paid off. as you sent him off, a small, satisfied smile played on your lips. you had gained valuable insight into simon’s world and were one step closer to understanding him.

knowing he was so close made your heart race. that’s when you started to notice the little things—how he followed you home, the way he watched you from a distance. however, instead of fear, you felt a thrill. you’d leave your window slightly ajar, hoping he’d sneak in. you even left small items deliberately out of place, knowing he’d take them. hell, you even started sleeping in more… revealing clothes hoping that simon would touch you.

you found yourself dreaming of the day he’d make his move, the day he’d reveal himself to you. each night, as you settled into bed, you whispered a silent invitation, hoping he could hear it.

you were ready for him, ready to show him that his obsession was mirrored in your own heart.

[toonxar]

Strelok always gets what he wants.

[abideif-the-fishhat]

(Special thanks to @tar-dar for the dance video)

[timpetum]

Sketched the Strelok's team. Bear Fang, Fox Ghost, Hare Strelok

[chikidyaff]

sorry for no arts i forgot how to draw and this is all i have

[chlor-ka]

Ghost👀

[luckyapricotkidcloud]

look at this massacre of a meme I created 😭

[giminal]

dont be mean abt my headcanons or i'll cry /j

[a-b-riddle]

Part two

There’s certain things that are only hot in fiction.

Example: stalkers that “look out for you”

It was little things at first.

You couldn’t remember the last time you took out the trash. Your house never seemed to run out of essential items: toilet paper, paper towels. You remembered running low on dish soap only for a new bottle to pop up two days later.

You felt like you were losing mind. It was impossible that you were buying these things and forgetting. Your bank account, although it reflected a pathetically low balance, hadn’t showed any transactions you forgot about.

It was until you had noticed two pairs of underwear had gone missing. It wouldn’t have gone noticed if it weren’t for the fact that they were your skin-toned colored panties. That you had sworn you tossed in the hamper…

To you, it was the beginning of something more sinister unraveling. But to Simon, it was a small reward for taking care of you these past few months.

[luxcuriousao3]

Was finally turning my Stalker!Ghost thots (that I've never actually shared anywhere but my Google drive oops) into a full fic. But it ended up being far more introspective (as most of my writing does) than I intended, and for a bit there I thought I might turn it into a character study. Then I thought maybe I'd keep it and rework it to use later in Dove instead, but scrapped that idea quickly in favor of it being a Stalker!Ghost fic again. But Ghost wouldn't cooperate because he's a stubborn bastard and now I'm back to it being a character study but a full length one that's also a slowburn reader insert 😔

What have the writing gods done to me? I just wanted a quick break to write my smutty (and surprisingly fluffy) stalker idea so I could focus on Dove again 😭

[tar-dar]

sleepy uwu

[toonxar]

Someone brought to my attention that I coincidentally matched Fang's and Strelok's clothes in previous posts... So anyways outfit swap time—

[abideif-the-fishhat]

I suddenly remembered that back in the days of dinosaurs, I loved making cosplays of my favorite characters in Gacha... Many years have passed, but suddenly I remembered this game, and I got a very strange urge to urgently create someone from S.T.A.L.K.E.R. in Gacha Life 2 (HELP ME🆘🆘🆘)

[blackblade-nika]

I'm sad, I'm so sad, sorry 🥲