Life With Creepypastas - Creepypastas X Reader

Return to Life With The Creepypastas: 1 - The Proxies of (Y/N)

VikingMetal randomly realized they were bored and had nothing else to do with their pathetic life so they decided to continue writing more stupid shit for that one Wattpad reader, (Y/N), to get involved in. VikingMetal got on their phone and started to type again...

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(Y/N) (L/N)'s p. o. v.

It's just another day of existing, I guess.

Not that it's a good thing. I mean, life's been a real depressing ride ever since I graduated from school. I came out of it not knowing what to do with my life still, so I next found myself in the military.

I served for a few years and still found myself lost, aimlessly wandering without any direction in life. The military was supposed to help fill in this empty hole I felt inside of me, but even serving beside fellow veterans didn't make anything better. Now, everyday I sit at my desk writing, thinking. Besides working my small job at a shifty warehouse, there isn't much going for me.

In truth—there was only one thing that was always on my mind. Ever since that whole dream I had—or at least I think it was a dream?

I lived with a bunch of ...well, killers. Creepypastas, they were called. I was a proxy to a faceless entity called "The SlenderMan." I helped him and his other killers defeat an otherworldly demon called Zalgo, and I became like one of those OP chosen one main charters you see in those poorly written fanfics, like this one story I've read by this guy named VikingMetal—

Anyways, one day, I just—I dunno, died, I guess. It was so random...so unfair...but it was all a dream! Yep, that's all it was. A dream. Why would any of that shit be real in the first place? Even though, the whole thing felt very real to me...

The experience was enough to get me obsessed with Creepypastas, unfortunately. I came to find out Creepypastas were a fandom thing...well, in my world. There's fanfics, fanarts, animations, OCs, cosplays, all that good shit. All of this and I never knew of it till after I actually experienced them myself. When I found out about the Creepypastas, I was shocked that they were a work of fiction. Then again, I had to keep reminding myself that me being with them was all just a dream. A dream that happened years ago.

I kept telling myself this as I sat at my laptop scrolling through pictures of BEN Drowned. Funny little green elf man... I thought looking at pictures of him would cheer me up but all they did was make me sad. And then I got even more sad upon scrolling straight into the gutter of Creepypasta fanarts...and I once again had to ask myself why are people this down bad for imaginary murder freaks.

I leave the picture surfing aside and check out the time on my phone, as I had, as usual, lost track of time getting lost in my memories. Memories that never existed except in my imagination.

"Ah shit, I'm late for work."

I slam my laptop shut and frantically grab my work ID off my desk. Using my wheelie chair as transport, I rolled across the small room to my bed and grab my work vest and my keys. I lastly grab my backpack, then roll myself in the chair towards the door.

Of course, I rolled myself too fucking fast to be considered sane and my goofy ass got what I deserved. I crashed into the wall, chair and all, all my things scattering. "I'M GONNA BE LATEEEEE!" I yell at the top of my lungs in pure frustration as I scramble to gather my things again.

I suddenly stop when for some reason my ears catch something I normally probably wouldn't be able to hear; a loud snorting sound coming from outside my bedroom window. Like, someone sounding amused from my stupidity.

I frowned and immediately whirl my head to the window, squinting as I looked out to see anything. When I saw that there was nothing, I shrug it off because I don't have time to be suspicious about random sounds right now—I'm seriously going to be late for work.