Official side blog for the OC x Canon ship of Ghostbur and Mallory, also known as BlueBread (Disclaimer: this ship is purely just for fun, please don't send harassment) Main blog: @officialroyalrat
You may not have been the only one who had remembered that request with the "cocaine baby" (yes—that nickname is fun to think about now) and it seems we could've been reading similar content on Ao3 if not here on Tumblr.
Alrighty—Been thinking about a follow-up with the "cocaine baby" ghost (sorry- The nickname was just dumbfounding but not unwelcome and definitely unquestionable).
...
Pairing: Ghostbur and NB!Reader ("You" in POV).
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hopeful Ending.
Extra: On-again, off-again relationship (and mental health is important). Physical and emotional intimacy: Hugging, pet names/terms of endearments and (fore)head touching (as comfort). Card game(s); Go Fish + UNO. Pyjama Party. Supportive Ghostbur (who is also affectionately a boofhead).
"Let me stay this time."
And his insistence didn't topple over into a foil or drifted barren into the wintry air—He wanted to stay with them this time. He wanted to be there for them.
Winter is now passing into Spring. There were still upturns and downturns but never another fickleness or permanent break-up and separation. Not another unpredictable tension like before.
And today was going to be one of the "good days" for the reader thanks to the steady support from their now-boyfriend.
Title: Let Me Stay This Time
Pairing: Ghostbur x NB!Reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hopeful Ending
Warnings: Mental health themes, hurt/comfort dynamics, affectionate Ghostbur
Summary: It’s been a long, uneven road. But today is a good day. He stayed.
You weren’t even sure who first called him cocaine baby. It had been a half-joke, a Tumblr tag probably, or something from a fever-dream Ao3 fic that hit too close to home. The nickname had stuck in the back of your head, ridiculous and a little bit haunting—like him.
Ghostbur.
The blue-tinged ghost with a too-soft smile and too-fractured memories, who drifted in and out of your life like fog. Who used to vanish with the wind and your heart in his hand. But not anymore.
“Let me stay this time.”
He’d said it in winter, arms wrapped around you like a child clutching a snow-worn comforter. You remember his voice—fragile, but full of weight. For once, he wasn’t fading.
And he didn’t.
Spring seeped through the cracks of your windows now, green pressing against glass. Outside, the trees remembered how to blossom. Inside, your chest felt a little less heavy.
"Hey," Ghostbur said softly from the kitchen doorway, poking his head in, curls even messier than usual. "You awake enough for a duel to the death?"
You blinked up from your cocoon of blankets. "...Uno?"
He grinned. "Uno and Go Fish. A double feature. High stakes. Pajamas required."
You snorted. “You’re already in pajamas.”
He held up the old yellow pair you'd once called ‘tragically beloved.’ “And so shall you be. It is the law.”
Fifteen minutes later, the two of you were cross-legged on the carpet, cards spread out between half-empty mugs of lukewarm tea and a bowl of peanut butter pretzels that he was definitely eating more of than playing with.
“Got any sevens?” he asked, eyes hopeful.
You narrowed your eyes. “You just asked for sevens.”
“Yeah, but what if the universe gave you one since then?”
“Go fish.”
He groaned dramatically, flopping backwards onto the floor like you’d shot him. You watched the ceiling with him in quiet. His hand, cool and ghost-fuzzy, found yours without asking.
“I know we’ve had... up and down days,” he said after a moment, “but I think we’re doing okay. Right?”
You swallowed past the sudden lump in your throat. “We are.”
His voice was softer then, a whisper meant only for you. “I don’t want to leave. Not like before. Not ever, if I can help it.”
Your hand gripped his a little tighter.
He sat up and leaned in, touching his forehead to yours, like grounding himself to this moment—to you. His breath was cool, but his presence warm. Alive, even if not quite living.
“You’re my favorite person,” he murmured, like a confession. “Even when your Uno strategy is aggressive and slightly cruel.”
You laughed into the touch. “You played a Draw Four on me five times in a row.”
“And I regret it immensely,” he said solemnly. “You are my beloved, and I must suffer the consequences.”
“Damn right.”
The night stretched on, soft and kind. No sharp edges. No running. No heartbreak.
ask; s. the friendly, local ghost has a fun chat with you about frosting colours.
he’d never seen you before, not anywhere around l’manburg at least. fundy told him that you were new, and apparently quite nice. but nice with fundy could range anywhere from ‘won’t hurt a fly’ to ‘unwilling to commit mass murder’ he soon learned.
most people were still so apprehensive when meeting him, whether it was his appearance or the fact that he was a ghost, or maybe both, wasn’t his to know. but he found joy in the fact that to you, he’d be a new face.
before he could find you himself, you stumbled into him one morning carrying a bag of baked goods. apparently you’d been practicing cooking and baking for a few months now, as you had recently taken an interest in it.
fundy wasn’t lying, you were quite nice, even inviting him on your short trip back to your home. a younger boy mentioned a wandering ghost to you when you first arrived and it had piqued your curiosity.
surprisingly, he turned out to be much more kinder than you anticipated. kindness isn’t exactly the first thing you think of when someone says there’s a ghost.
since then you had a mini ritual of every weekend trying a new recipe in your book, one week you would choose one and the next ghostbur would choose one.
though he couldn’t eat what you made, he enjoyed trying new things out, plus it gave him the opportunity to spend some time with you.
“here, bur,” you tossed an egg towards ghostbur that lucikly he caught just in time. “you can break the egg, ‘k? i’ll get the tray.”
he suggested making cupcakes today, a simple bake but one he absolutely adored ever since you told him how well they had turned out for you last time. and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of the idea of decorating his own cupcake.
“hey do you think we can could make some blue frosting? i think that’d be rather neat.” he said, throwing the egg shells in the nearby can.
you hummed in agreement. “’course, i probably have some candied flowers too, might be a blue one in there.” bur smiled and passed you the bowl, mumbling something to himself. (”stirring that must take ages…”)
“you really like that colour, don’t you? must be your favorite then, yeah?”
“mm, you could say that,” he nodded, hopping up on the counter. “i think red’s nice too, you could colour your frosting that! red and blue go well together, i think.”
bur outstretched his hands, a silent offer to finish the stirring for you. he thanked you and swayed his legs back and forth, rambling about how he couldn’t really decide which was better, despite popular belief he only liked blue.
“we could make a purple cupcake— purple frosting, yeah?” you suggested. “because… well red plus blue make purple, you know? also i think purple’s a pretty colour, seems like—”
“i like that! that’s cool!” he interrupted, dropping the bowl on the counter. “i can grab the things for the colouring if you want! i think i know where they are— in the cupboard…?” he trailed off, waiting for confirmation.
you nodded, smiling a little his excitement. “…in the cupboard.”
ask; s. the friendly, local ghost has a fun chat with you about frosting colours.
he’d never seen you before, not anywhere around l’manburg at least. fundy told him that you were new, and apparently quite nice. but nice with fundy could range anywhere from ‘won’t hurt a fly’ to ‘unwilling to commit mass murder’ he soon learned.
most people were still so apprehensive when meeting him, whether it was his appearance or the fact that he was a ghost, or maybe both, wasn’t his to know. but he found joy in the fact that to you, he’d be a new face.
before he could find you himself, you stumbled into him one morning carrying a bag of baked goods. apparently you’d been practicing cooking and baking for a few months now, as you had recently taken an interest in it.
fundy wasn’t lying, you were quite nice, even inviting him on your short trip back to your home. a younger boy mentioned a wandering ghost to you when you first arrived and it had piqued your curiosity.
surprisingly, he turned out to be much more kinder than you anticipated. kindness isn’t exactly the first thing you think of when someone says there’s a ghost.
since then you had a mini ritual of every weekend trying a new recipe in your book, one week you would choose one and the next ghostbur would choose one.
though he couldn’t eat what you made, he enjoyed trying new things out, plus it gave him the opportunity to spend some time with you.
“here, bur,” you tossed an egg towards ghostbur that lucikly he caught just in time. “you can break the egg, ‘k? i’ll get the tray.”
he suggested making cupcakes today, a simple bake but one he absolutely adored ever since you told him how well they had turned out for you last time. and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of the idea of decorating his own cupcake.
“hey do you think we can could make some blue frosting? i think that’d be rather neat.” he said, throwing the egg shells in the nearby can.
you hummed in agreement. “’course, i probably have some candied flowers too, might be a blue one in there.” bur smiled and passed you the bowl, mumbling something to himself. (”stirring that must take ages…”)
“you really like that colour, don’t you? must be your favorite then, yeah?”
“mm, you could say that,” he nodded, hopping up on the counter. “i think red’s nice too, you could colour your frosting that! red and blue go well together, i think.”
bur outstretched his hands, a silent offer to finish the stirring for you. he thanked you and swayed his legs back and forth, rambling about how he couldn’t really decide which was better, despite popular belief he only liked blue.
“we could make a purple cupcake— purple frosting, yeah?” you suggested. “because… well red plus blue make purple, you know? also i think purple’s a pretty colour, seems like—”
“i like that! that’s cool!” he interrupted, dropping the bowl on the counter. “i can grab the things for the colouring if you want! i think i know where they are— in the cupboard…?” he trailed off, waiting for confirmation.
you nodded, smiling a little his excitement. “…in the cupboard.”
This is romantic- I’m sorry but this is lowkey inspired by my character in my dsmp Dr so!
-
Walking on the prime path, you overheard a conversation in the distance, perking up as you hopped down from the path to see who it was. As you got closer you made out who the voices were, Tom and Wilbur.
Both you and Wil had the unfortunate event of dying together, you being impacted by the explosions of doomsday, lying on the ground as Wil held you. He cried and yelled that this wasn’t how it was supposed to go but it did, you were too close and he got you in his crossfire. Right as you finally blacked out and sighed your last breath, Wil stood up and demanded for Phil to kill him, the man being hesitant yet killing his own son for the orders given.
You knew you were a ghost. You had gone to Tom and he stared at you with shock and hurt, shaking his head as you asked what was wrong. His answer didn’t surprise you as you sighed and sat down on the bench next to him, words seemingly too hard to get out at the moment. You were sad but you didn’t know why, only remembering what happened the day you died and nothing else besides happy moments.
The next day Wilbur arrived, joy flooded through system as he came into view, talking to Tom. He had a sheep beside him that he named friend, funny enough. Once Wil saw you, he let the lead go in his hand as he brought you into a hug.
You knew you had each other, from that day forward.
“Wilbur why can’t Phil take care of friend? I have things to do!” Tom complained as the Ghost in front of him held a pack, handing the lead over to Tommy.
“You always have stuff to do Tommy, just this once I promise!” Wilbur confirmed cheerfully as Tom groaned and pet friend as he rubbed against his leg.
“Where are you going?” You asked as you walked up to the boys, Tom now sat on the ground as Wil smiled lovingly up at you.
“Hello darling! I’m going to get more flowers and things for some food. No one really wants to talk to me for some reason, so I’ll do it by myself!” He said, determined to get things right and to do things independently like he used too.
“Can I come with?” You asked as you gripped his hand in yours, his blue tinted skin matching your pink tint. He smiled down at you as he nodded, dragging you along as he thanked Tommy again, earning a groan in response.
“Do you know why people hate me?” Wilbur asked as you both continued to walk, the pond letting off a breeze, making everything swag in its way.
The sentence made you frown, not knowing why he was asking you and hating the idea of people hating Wilbur. He was the sweetest person you knew! Well, now he is. Maybe he wasn’t before from what you’ve heard but you didn’t care. You had him beside you and that was enough.
“I don’t know. I wish I did, remember everything so I could know myself. But I don’t care right now. You’re you and I love you for it. You’re my Wil. My sunflower.” You said as you plucked a newly bloomed sunflower and handed it to the man, a blush making its way to his cold skin.
Placing it into his pack, Wilbur smiled at you as he brought your connected hands up to his mouth, kissing the back of your own as he continued to walk. The silence spoke words as the comfortable air filled in around you both. No words needed to be said, Wil humming filled the space as he tapped along to it.
As you both came up over the hill, you were met with rows and rows of flowers and plants and trees. It was beautiful. You let out a gasp as Wil smiled at you.
“Now you know where I go. So whenever I’m gone, you can come find me.” Wilbur whispered to you as you both walked and plucked different flowers. As you bundled up flowers in your hand, Wil was picking different kinds, weaving them together as he made a crown. Different colors of pastels and mattes tangled together to create a piece of art, and he was proud of it.
“Wil look how many pretty flo- what is that?” You asked as you saw him weave one more flower on and hold it up to you, your smile matching his.
“It’s a flower crown, I’m pretty sure. I remember making these for you all the time when we were alive. That’s how I remembered this place, I always was here. Either with you or myself.” Wil said bashfully as he placed the crown on your head and adjusted it so it sat comfortably. “You look so pretty darling, like always.” His cold hands came up to your face, equally as cold as his as you leaned into them.
“Hmm thank you, I appreciate it.” You said as you leaned up and placed a small kiss on his cheek, making him chuckle in delight as he rested his forehead on yours.
“I’ll make on for friend too, so you guys can match! If you continue to pick flowers, you can place them in my pack love. We’ll make bouquets later.” Wil said as he pecked your lips and went back to picking flowers as you skipped over to the tulips and started from there.
I don’t know if you do hc’s but if you do could you do hc’s about ghostbur x touch starved! reader? or just anything to do with ghostbur? I love that funky ghost lol
🏵Your Tea Is Ready🏵
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None
| Ghostbur / Touch starved! Reader |
It was late, the moon nearly tipping towards its apex, heavy and full. Most of your nights were spent with you're ghostly companion. A little depressing, perhaps, but quality time goes beyond the grave sometimes. You lay in a flower filled field, watching fireflies flicker and stars peak out from passing clouds carried by a warm summer breeze.
Ghostbur raises his arm suddenly, his grayish skin difficult to see in the dark but you just manage manage follow his index finger, pointed somewhere distant.
"That's my favorite constellation, do you see it there? Right behind that tree." His voice is cool and crisp like the crunch of autumn leaves. He always reminded you of fall, in both life and death. "It's called Lyra, like, Lyre the instrument." You nod, you see his lips twitch into a smile, a small one, but a smile.
You squint, you infact, do not see any pattern or shape in the sky by the said tree. "No, not seeing it."
"Really?" He asks, stunned, his arm falling to his chest and he turns fully towards you.
"Not everyone can recognize stars, y'know." You snort playfully, you turn to look at him, and scrunch your nose as the grass tickles your face.
Ghostbur rolls his eyes and smiles, sitting up suddenly, you follow suit. He points once more, a little higher this time.
"Right there, the star that looks kind of blueish?"
"Blue? Everything looks blue to you."
He huffs, once again you try to follow his point. You never noticed hoe all stars look practically the same until you really had to look for a specific one. You'd make a horrible sailor you realize with a bitter thought.
"I don't think the pointing is helping entirely."
"I'd make a sign if I had the materials."
You blow some air out of your nose hard, and suddenly a cool hand wraps around your own, extending your index finger and positioning your arm ever so. Despite his chill his fingers make you feel feverish, your face warm and must definitely turning red. Gods bless the night time darkness.
"You see, there."
Maybe if you were looking at the sky his assistance would help, but you're eyes were locked onto his hand, so carefully wrapped around your wrist. He swiftly slightly, his hand coming up a bit further up your fore arm. You shiver at the sensation, and he pulls away quick.
"Oh, sorry, my hands must be cold." Ghostbur rubs his hands together, as if that could create friction heat with his ghostly apparition. Maybe not everything human was lost in death. Maybe.
"No, no, I'm just.. I don't know, I guess no one really held my hand before."
If the news of you being poor at constellation sighting was shocking, this revelation looked like it might put him in the grave, a second time.
"Really? Never?"
You shrug. "Okay, maybe not never, I'm not exactly counting, Bur."
"Huh."
You furrow your brow. "What, it's not that weird is it?"
Ghostbur shakes his head, his dark cursor bouncing with the movement. "I don't think I've held many hands either." He admits. "I.. I remember the good things, happy things, you. But. I don't remember alot of hand holding." He looks lost in thought if only for a moment.
"I guess this is a good time to start for both of us then." You reach forward and interlock your fingers with his.
He smiles, awkwardly, a boyish charm to his lopsided grin. "Yeah. No one I'd rather hold hands with then you."
"Even if I can't pick out constellations?"
He snorts, beaming now. "Even if you can't pick out constellations."
Context: You'd just come in from doing some work in your garden and decided to wash up. It was around lunchtime when Ghostbur showed up with friend and wanted to help you out a little bit.
Ghostbur was sitting on the sofa watching friend graze in the fields in front of your small home accompanied by the soft sounds of the water running in the shower.
The small creak of the shower tap being turned off distracted him, but he kept watching friend, finding it amusing how the blue wool would randomly appear amongst the long wheat crop.
"Hello, my blue. Watching friend again, are we?" Your voice broke him from his thoughts, and ultimately entranced him with your soft voice again.
"Yeah but it was funny how he would randomly appear out of the overgrowth. I love it!"
He leaned against the back of the sofa, collecting his blue wool and two small needles and started knitting his small blue patch for his jumper again.
A little while later, you'd rested your head against his shoulder and listened to his soft breaths, and watched friends antics out in the field, a small friend he'd found bouncing around with him.
Your soft snores a few minutes later were quickly noticed by ghostbur and he lifted you into his arms and carried you up to your room. He knew it wasn't right to sleep in the same bed as you, but he was sure you wouldn't mind him just watching your peaceful face while you slept. Was it weird? Not in his eyes.
Eventually, he'd fallen asleep against the soft pillows at the other end of your bed, just before you woke up from your small nap. You climbed into his lap and sat there, admiring his translucent features and his stained blue fingertips.
He woke up to you rested against his arm, a small bite mark left there from your boredom getting the best of you, and some small red lines from where your fingers had run across his arm and shoulder. You didn't mean any harm by it, but just to get revenge for the obvious mark going to be left there, he couldn't help himself when he pressed lingering kisses across your face and jaw.
Safe to say when you both looked in the mirror, you both looked a mess.
Quick info: The biting isn't meant to be dirty, it's meant to be like when a sibling or friend bites you and you get a small red mark. The relationship is platonic but is essentially just you both hiding your feelings. And the thing about the red lines on his arm and shoulders is because I have a headcanon that Ghostbur leaves blue lines and shit on you and because he's translucent and doesn't have body heat, you leave little red lines of warmth.
Ghostbur x Reader Fluff!! Can be seen as Platonic or Romantic!
Warning: Nope!
-
You don’t remember the last time you’d hung out with a friend. Let alone the ghost of one of your closest friends, Wilbur! It wasn’t the same, obviously. Every time you reached for his hand, you were met with an almost cold feeling in his palms and had to pull away. It was sad, you couldn’t even kiss him hello without having to pull your lips away almost immediately.
Even now, it was no different, as you walked past a river, wherever it was. Hold on, when did this server even have a river? -
sst!
your thoughts were cut off by a tiny, but otherwise audible sizzle. You stopped in your tracks, looking over your shoulder. The ghost of your dear friend was staring up at you, his index fingertip hovering over the current. You sighed. “Wil- Ghostbur.” You quickly corrected yourself. “You can’t put your finger in the water, you’ll get hurt.” You say, approaching the ghost. The ghost frowned, nearly narrowing his eyes as he placed his finger into the watercurrent. “Hey!” You spoke up, kneeling beside him.
He stuck out his tongue, blowing a raspberry. “I don’t have to listen to your words.” He hid back a cheeky smile, chuckling. You blinked slowly, raising an eyebrow. “I bet if I were to shove you into the river, you wouldn’t be saying all that.” You said, scooting closer to him. The ghost rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You wouldn’t do that!” He exclaimed, a low tone of worry in his voice. No, you wouldn’t do that.
A small grin appeared on your lips, as you place on your hands on his back. He squealed, shuffling away. “No please! I’m sorry - I was jokinggg!!” He whined out, covering himself. You could only laughed, shaking your head. “All bark but no bite. Atleast as a ghost.” You look back at Ghostbur, as the spirit sat up, frowning.
“You’re a bully.” He huffed, turning away from you, and facing the edge of where the water had been streaming. Tilting your head, you moved over towards him, and matching his gaze. The watercurrent, as it ran against the rocks, looked, just peaceful. If you wanted to, you could scoop up however much you wanted out of the current and bring it up to your lips. The water just looked, delectable, in a way? That could be your dehydration and lack of care towards yourself talking, or the furrowed eyebrows knit on the ghosts face.
You slightly leaned over to look at him. “Is everything alright? I didn’t mean to scare you.” You spoke, delicately, reaching for his hand. He nodded, sighing. “Everything feels so easy. I wish it never ends.” He hummed, shutting his eyelids. You blinked, not sure how to respond. But by the peaceful and content look on his face, you decide it’s better to just, let him have this.
You nod in agreement, leaning your head onto his shoulder. Now, it was odd, the sudden whoosh and cold air on your ear, but somehow, it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered, really, was Wilbur. Or ateast this version of him.
Kind and peaceful, generous, considerate. Something, someone you looked forward to talking with. As you look down at the reflection, you only see yourself, in a sort of uncomfortable position in the air. But you knew well, that it wasn’t you by yourself.
If somehow you could keep it like this, forever you could. He seemed to agreed, as he tightened his hold on your hand. You shared a look with him, giggling. “I’d only hope you don’t look back on your words.” Was all you could say. The ghost smiled, planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head. “I’d doubt it.” He whispered into your hair.
Maybe another day, or time you can worry about the future. But for now, you quite enjoyed the present.
summary: A short little blurb about cuddling ghostbur during a rainstorm.
authors note: I wanted to write ghostbur cuddling me because i was sad and needed comfort. i haven’t written anything for this bean so i wanted to change that. i was listening to this song and came up with the idea, ignore any mistakes i wrote this so quick on my phone i hope you guys like it :) (the tank top fic is coming guys i promise!!)
warnings: fluff, cuddling, reader is kinda depressed, ghostbur being soft, unedited!
The soft pitter of rain through the open window has you curled up in bed. The sky was a muted gray as the storm moved through the afternoon making your mind wanders in and out of sleep. The petrichor breezing into your senses, made you feel somewhat at peace. After everything you had been through lately. It was starting to hit you like a ton of bricks. You were tired.
You hadn’t moved all day. Laying on your side under the thin blanket, tracing the raindrops as they fell down the windowpane. The weight of the bed feeling too warm to move.
Nothing was wrong. Not really. Everyone was safe for the most part. There was no wars being held on your home land. No one was in danger. You just felt… heavy.
The door faintly creaked open to reveal a figure in a striking bright yellow sweater. folding his hands together as he shyly called out to you. When you didn’t respond He floated closer to the bed. When Ghostbur saw you curled up on your side he gasped with excitement.
“hello, my love!” he said softly.
You turned your head enough to see him in all his paleness out of the corner of your eye. Curls frizzy from the humidity. But still so soft looking.
“hey bur,” you mutter. Nuzzling your face back into your pillow and turning your attention back to the window.
It was nice that you had it so close to the window. So you could look out onto the streets of L’manberg. Your home. The place were your friends once had called home, but not anymore.
Ghostbur tilted his head, forehead creasing as he hovered over your comforter. Usally you were so excited to see him. Rushing over to him, to hold him, to kiss his cheek or intertwine your fingers with his. But today you seemed… off… His arms crossing over each other as he looks at your tired expression as you stare blankly out the window.
“are you okay?” he asks, his voice sounded sad. But it always did. You suppose it was because he wanted to be soft, and quiet compared to his living counterpart. “whats wrong?”
“nothings wrong. just sleepy.” You let out a heavy sigh avoiding his stare.
Ghostbur hovers closer to the edge of the bed. His sleeve covered hands pawing together as he stares at you.
He can tell something is troubling you, he just doesn’t know what. The blissful innocence bothered you most of the time. But its not like when Wilbur was alive. he’d never noticed your mood changes. He never paid attention towards the end of his life.
At least Ghostbur tried. He was there for you and tried to comprehend your feelings. Make you smile, take you for walks, or open up about how you were feeling. But sometimes it frustrated you. His optimism and overwhelming support weren’t something you were used to.
One time you did snap at him after being overstimulated with care. You’d never seen Ghostbur so wounded. The hurt deep in his eyes as he turned away from you and cried silently. You instantly regretted your behavior and asked him to look at you, only to be met with a blue streaked burning face of the ghost and quickly whipping his tears with your sleeve. After that you just asked him to hold you. Which he gladly did.
Carefully he maneuvers to the side of the bed, lifting the soft blanket so he can slide in behind you. The weight and sudden wave of coldness makes you shiver at contact.
He apologizes for being so cold. Not that he can help it. Still, he’s sorry he can’t provide more warmth for you. His arm curling around your waist and pulling your back against his chest. Its enough to know he’s there.
You continue to lay there as he trace lazy patterns on your stomach over your tank top. The rain begins to fall harder.
The heaviness washes over you again. You inhale and exhale to ease yourself.
“I’ll always be here for you. You know that right?” ghostbur says suddenly. You weren’t expecting him to speak but his low voice calms your mind and pulls you out of the racing thoughts.
“Even if I don’t understand sometimes, or you push me away, I love you and I want you happy.”
Ghostbur rests his chin on the crown of your head and pulls you tighter against him. His words hang in the air. You weren’t anticipating something so heartfelt in the moment, but you didn’t hate it.
“I can make it go away,” he burries his nose in your hair, nuzzling and smelling the sweet smell of your shampoo. You swear you can hear him humming.
Tears well in your eyes as he continues. He sounds so innocent, full of love and promises. It makes your chest tight with hope. Then he lifts his face to press a quick kiss to your temple and then move back to his position. Your eyes flutter shut. A single drop escapes from your eyelid and falls down your cheek onto your pillow. After everything he stilled loved you. Even if you didn’t believe it most the time. He was still here, and that was enough.
“I love you too bur.” you whisper.
Suddenly ghostburs chest feels somehow warmer. He beams at your confession, proud of himself for helping you express your feelings.
He doesn’t say anything else, content with holding you. Wrapped in a cocoon of safety with your ghost lover.
As the rain comes in and lulls you both to sleep.
tag list: @lillyspeakz @horny-p0et @ollie-rantz-and-writez @wilbursprincess
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