Dark SBI & Fluffy Oneshots

Can You See Me?

A/N

I have severe writers block! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

So this fanfic appeared when i was listening to Angela on repeat. Don't know why its a ghost au, but it is. I really should be working on WHLT but i already wrote 1k of that today and writers block is holding every word i type at gunpoint soo...yeah.

Sorry if this isnt my best work, i cant write and writers block is my archnemisis :)

enjoy <3

Synopsis: Tommy is a touch-starved ghost and human wilbur was just dared to go into the house he haunts

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In retrospect, Wilbur was realizing that agreeing to spend the night in a haunted house wasn't a good idea.

Originally, it'd seemed genius. In exchange for free time to finish his college homework and maybe play Animal Crossing on his switch, all he had to do was spend the night alone in a supposedly haunted mansion. Plus, it included a crisp monetary reward that Wilbur desperately needed for gas money. It was the perfect dare from his friends; honestly, he'd had to pretend to be scared by the concept so that they wouldn't give him something more difficult to work with.

They'd been laughing like mad when Wilbur first stepped up to the porch, eyeing the boarded-up windows and creaky stairs with only light apprehension. Behind him, the group had cheered and taunted him, waving their money in the air in incentive to prevent the boy from backing out. He'd only rolled his eyes at them, shrugging his backpack over his shoulder and flipping them off before shutting the door with a deafening bang that totally didn't make him wince. Half of him expected it to snap in half with age, like the wood would collapse into a splintered pile on the ground. But it remained intact, wind making it rattle lightly with every strong breeze.

And, just like that, he was alone.

Wilbur swallowed, turning away to brace his back against the door.

The room he was in was pitch black, with strange shadowy figures taking the place of covered-up furniture and peaking out from behind doorframes. Above him, he saw the reflecting glint of a chandelier suspended with an iron chain, long extinguished with wax holders nothing but rusted metal. It rotated slowly with what Wilbur told himself to be intruding wind sneaking in through cracks in the brick wall; it being the only logical explanation.

He wasn't one to be tricked by some "ghost" bullshit. No, those were just lies by people ridden with sleep-deprivation or who had taken one too many shots; faint but entirely natural flickers of light or sudden chills scaring them beyond logical thought.

Which was why he was perfectly comfortable with staying in what was rumored to be the haunted mansion of their neighborhood. Really, the only truly scary thing about this place was the rodent population and poor, deteriorating structure. The shadows that twitched in the corner of his eye were nothing but billowing curtains; and, no, they did not have humanoid shapes that made goosebumps instinctively rise along his arm whatsoever. That would be weak.

He took a deep breath and unhooked his backpack from one shoulder, crouching onto the squeaky floorboards and blindly fumbling around for his flashlight. It took him only a few, taunting seconds to retrieve it, shaking it and sighing in relief when a bright beam instantly illuminated the dark landscape around him.

Sure enough, the menacing shadows disappeared in a blink of his eye, coat hangers and stair railways taking their spots, just as he'd suspected. Wilbur shook his head, brushing the hair out of his eyes with a flick of his fingers, his free hand quickly zipping up his bag and swinging it over his shoulder.