#Tim Wright Fanfiction

[macabrelinguine]

MH boys separately, with a s/o who betrays them. Not cheating, but like, they turn out to be a 'villain' of sorts and actually helping the other side (if that makes sense? An example ig would be a s/o of Jay or Tim helping Alex reach his goals)

Oooooh, love the creative prompt. I’ll just be going with the main two for now as I am about to rest. Hope you enjoy!

Tim

Tim would be furious. But mostly at himself. Why didn’t he see the signs?! He found out you were working with Alex when he found a journal you’d been writing in open on the floor when he was packing up a hotel room. He didn’t mean to snoop, but he accidentally read a few words when he was picking it up. He got confused, so he read a little more. You were writing about secretly meeting with Alex, planning strategies, and trying to find the best way to end the sickness. You had written lists of people who did, probably did, or might have the sickness. You had maps of houses, with all possible entrances noted. You had pictures of people, with their schedules, strengths, and weaknesses listed. You even had a page for him, with a picture, his schedule, and a question mark at the top. When he finished reading it all, he sank to the floor, huddling into the corner. You couldn’t have- you WOULDN’T have- but you did. All the evidence was right there, in the book you forgot to close. When you get back from the store, ready to drive to the next location, your stuff is in a neat pile in the still open motel room. A note placed on top reads “Leave me the fuck alone. And next time you try to trick someone, close your journal”

Jay

Jay finds out when he’s walking through the forest, supposed to be in the motel. He finds a small, one room cabin and decides to investigate. While outside, he peeks into the window. The glass is wavy, so he can only see silhouettes. But he can still hear voices. You….and Alex?! He gets confused, and at first he thinks you’re in trouble, so he moves to go inside, but then his brain registers what you two are saying. You’re talking about Tim. About how to kill him. Jay doesn’t always have the best relationship with Tim, but he cares about him. He gets upset and sits under the window to keep listening. Eventually the subject gets to HIM. He listens intently, leaning against the wall. You’re reluctant to kill him, you say. Alex questions you, saying that’s the whole reason you’re with him. So he’ll trust you. Jay gasps involuntarily. Then, hearing the voices stop, and then shuffling noises, he runs. He runs back to the motel, hastily editing and uploading the next entry. When you get back hours later, after thoroughly searching the woods, all his stuff is gone. All your stuff is where you left it, but any trace of Jay has disappeared. You go on the computer, checking the YouTube channel to see if he’s okay, or in danger, or hurt. What you see instead is text of the screen that says “today, while in the forest, I discovered something terrible. Then, footage of a small cabin. The conversation you had mere hours before. Jay gasping, then running. The camera cuts, and the words on the screen say “Tim, if you’re watching this, wherever you are, stay safe. And Alex, and the people working with him, stay away from me.”

[4kingz]

masky nsfw headcanons warnings : 18+ minors dni, rough sex, degradation, breathplay, manhandling, dubcon vibes, sadistic tendencies

Acts like he’s in control—because he has to be. Masky doesn’t just like control. He needs it. It’s not a kink, it’s a survival instinct. Every movement feels deliberate, like he’s trying to pin down the chaos in his head by pinning you down. His dominance isn’t showy or theatrical—it’s rigid, intense, and a little suffocating in the best way. You feel like you’re being handled, like every inch of you is being assessed, tested, and claimed.

Silence isn’t mercy. He’s not talkative in bed, not unless he’s whispering commands or low threats right into your ear. But the silence? It’s heavy. Charged. He watches you like you’re prey, and when he does say something, it’s sharp and cutting, designed to make your stomach drop and your thighs twitch. And if you try to get smart or bratty? He won’t yell. He’ll just tighten his grip on your jaw and say, “You’re not that cute when you talk.”

He’s not talking to you, but you’re the one he’s inside When he is more talkative, it’s not for you—it’s because he’s spiraling. Muttering about a fucked-up job, someone testing him, or how he messed up. His voice is low, bitter, angry, and it doesn't stop once it starts. He fucks through it. No eye contact, no softness—just tension bleeding into every thrust. His grip is bruising, rhythm punishing, like he's trying to outrun the noise in his head. You’re not the target, you’re the outlet. The tether. And when he’s like this, you feel everything he’s too angry to say.

Unrelenting. Calculated. And kind of a sadist. Masky isn’t a frantic fuck. He’s methodical. He takes his time like he’s solving a puzzle—except the puzzle is you, and the goal is to break you down piece by piece. He doesn’t rush to the finish; he drags it out, keeps you right on the edge until you’re shaking, begging, and losing your mind. The more you fall apart, the more satisfied he looks. There’s a glint in his eye when you cry a little—he lives for it.

Hands-on, always hands-on. He uses his hands like they were made to hold you in place. Around your throat, gripping your hips, yanking your head back—he grounds you with touch. He’s not afraid to manhandle you, and if you resist? That just makes it more fun for him. He’s not into “gentle correction,” nah. He’ll push you into position with a shove and growl “Stay.” If you move? That’s a whole new punishment.

You don’t fuck Masky. Masky fucks you. You don’t lead. You don’t set the pace. He does. You’re lucky if you even get to ask. But the flip side? He pays attention. He knows how to break you down, but also how to build you up exactly how you need. He won’t call it “care,” but when he wipes the tears off your face with his thumb or steadies your trembling legs post-orgasm? That’s his version of it. He’s not heartless—just wired to hide the softness under control.

He never really leaves. Even when it’s over, Masky’s energy lingers. He doesn’t do sweet cuddles or soft pillow talk, but he looms. Smoking outside your window. Sitting silently on the edge of your bed, fully dressed while you’re wrecked and naked. Watching you sleep, then disappearing before morning. He haunts more than he stays—but the space he takes up in your body, your head? That’s permanent.

[veaspo]

EJ, toby, and tim/masky getting into bed with sleeping s/o and cuddling together

YES😩

CREEPYPASTAS X SLEEPING!READER

JACK NYRAS // EYELESS JACK

-> he was trying so hard to go to sleep

-> jack was facing away from you so he wouldnt be tempted to just stare at you

-> he felt something rub against his back

-> low and behold it was you

-> he gave in and turned around to hold you🙏🏼

TOBY ROGERS // TICCI TOBY

-> he had woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep

-> so he was watching youtube, as one does

-> you had wrapped your arm around him

-> toby honestly thought you were awake so he started talking

-> but when he looked over at you, you were asleep

-> he was lowk kinda embarrassed

TIM WRIGHT // MASKY

-> he could not sleep for the life of him

-> but you on the other hand, were LONG asleep

-> he was reading and then he felt something against his hip

-> it was you, you had subconsciously moved towards him

-> he smiled at you and went back to reading

------------

meow

[cherri3berri3s]

Bull in the Heather Pt.1┃Ticci Toby x reader

Warning: maybe brief mentions of self-harm, in-depth descriptions of manic episodes, active violence, verbal/physical abuse + drug use

Synopsis: After your bipolar boyfriend is placed in the psych ward on account of murder, you're faced with the task of understanding why and more importantly, what forces are leading to his odd behaviors?

Word count: 3k+ words Category: angst

Death plagues my senses.

Various flickering lights scattered across the dense room as the bright contrast etched into my memory. The white plastered walls were muddied with the occasional grease stain and random droplets of blood, more than likely a result of a petty fight from at least one of the patients. Not to mention the smell reeked of old urine and medical supplies, almost like being shoved inside a ginormous latex glove. 

They say it goes against human nature to ignore death and walk right to it, yet I still find myself rushing to embrace even the slightest glimpse of it. The sound of my flats obnoxiously clacking against the imperial textured floor strains my ears, making each step that more nauseating.

I feel sick. Almost as though my stomach could spill any second knowing what I know now. And still, I'm here to see him.

Walking eagerly down the dingy hallway, a man in blue right at my side. I feel the pressure of his gaze watching each movement I've drawn to make. Stopping abruptly at an isolated door, his calloused hands dashed straight to the keys buried deeply within his pockets.

"He's been raging like a bitch in heat for a couple of days now," the man before me remarked, a small hint of a southern accent peaking in between words. "Just don't do anything stupid enough to make the aftermath my problem."

" Trust me, it doesn't matter what I do," I announce, an eyebrow raised as my eyes dart to the name tag hung near his chest. "Watching him, you'll understand soon enough."

A vivid chuckle escapes his lips. Unfazed yet humored by the words that cheekily spilled from my mouth. Like clockwork, the clicking sound of the now-unlocked door rings throughout the hall. His hands impatiently awaiting my response to turn the knob.

"You think you can handle this one, don't you."

" I think I got this from here on out… 'Mr. Wright'." 

As sudden as it was, the door flew open. Revealing two other staff standing firmly on either side of  Toby; unburdened by the underlying unruliness of his demeanor. Sitting amongst the room of empty seats and active surveillance was none other than the one person I traveled all this way to see, the one person I needed so desperately to be near.

As each vigorous step loudly ricochets throughout the near-empty room, the only active movement other than mine was Toby's eyes furiously following my every move. His body remaining as still as it was long before I entered the room.

Seated across from him, I felt dejected. The sorrow in the situation briskly destroying the little pieces of admiration I'd been holding onto just for him. All the while those eyes I've grown to cherish seemed even more lifeless and dull than they did before. 

"Hi baby"  I said lightly. My gaze fixed upon the man I could've sworn I was beginning to understand even the tiniest bit.

His elbows laid across the table as support, bringing forth his scarred body just inches closer to mine. Our faces leveled to each other as a bewildered grin met his expression. 

"You worthless bitch." He says between gritted teeth, that smirk never faltering. "Don't walk your prissy ass on over here thinking we're gonna play house just that easily." He spat, lingering closely before slowly sliding back into his seat. His brows remained furrowed as his body simultaneously looked both calm and tense. His intense stare stuck on me in deep thought.

"...You put me here." He claims with surety.

"The police put you here-"

"You told them to bring me here,"

"It was either that or jail," I add harshly. The air in the room growing thinner as my once active attempt at being nonchalant slowly began to vanish.

"I still don't know what you are," I delicately claim, not once removing my eyes from the person in front of me. "And I still don't know what you do either," I pressed on. Focused on his abstract mannerisms. "But I'd be damned if after all of this you'd still want to hold what I don't know against me." I finished, irritated and worried.

"You'll know exactly what I can be once he's found me." He asserts, an eerie yet light-hearted smile meets his lips. His brows finally softening in its wake.

"Who's he Toby?"

"Him; The operator. The operator and all his little-" He begins, shortly raving on as I shake my head in detest. Uttering 'no' continuously out into the open.

"Not this 'operator' bullshit again,"

"He made me what I am," He proudly voices, almost confused as to why I despised the thought. "As perfectly fucked as it is, I can't wait for him to change you too."

"Don't tell me this shit! Toby, these police fucks found human remains linked back to you and all I've been trying to do is get your nut ass back home." I bitterly voiced. Toby's now partial silence and unmoving expression eating away at my thoughts. "Don't tell me this 'operator' bullshit is the reason."

"Not possible…" He confusedly says. Without warning, he leaps out of his seat, yanking my arm to move my body closer to his regardless of the table barrier. The staff unhesitantly sprinting to action yet soon stopping at my gesture against it. Leaning into my ear, Toby whispers-

"How can a body be found when I've burned them all."

"I never said how they found the body…" I reason in a low voice. My eyes never leaving his even after his fast-paced movements. Locked in his stupefied daze, I continue, " I know you're guilty, but right now,  I want you back home anyways." Our bodies trapped in an unmoving touch beginning to soften with his now lighter grip. "Just tell me why baby, tell me how to help you-"

"The cops tell you to say that?" His head tilts, smirk returning to his cheeks."Bad enough your ungrateful ass is why we're sitting here to begin with, right?" The grip he held on my arms once again continued to tighten, rage displayed all throughout his brown pupils.

"Not even a fucking fool with a dick for brains and a head between their thighs would wanna find their way home with you." Arrogantly, he plops down into his seat. Everyone else in the room left standing and on edge.

"Y'know, you've changed everything but the fucking situation at hand, and come to think I thought you were smarter than this Y/n." 

Glaring upwards, his clenched teeth continued to expose his thoughts.

"I know my place in this world, and it will always be by The operator."

Steadily, I found my way back onto my seat. Arms crossed just as the curly haired brunette across from me. "Why choose a life in all of this when you know damn well I've been loving you." I say, soft-spoken as his expression remained unfazed.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to play dress up too?" he chuckles, sneering as he looks me up n' down. "You wouldn't know what love is even if it fucked you to sleep every night."

"Tobias," I breathily utter, despondent in my approach. "Just help me understand this shit and I swear I'll get you outta here."

Playfully, he states "You think I've been needing you? You think I fucking want your help?"

"I think you're forgetting every sacrifice I have made and will continue to make for you." Leaning into the table, my arms still linked together, I assertively imply "You can kill me if you think I'd let it all stop right here."

"Well then, I guess you can add one more body to the list. You'd be a good human only if you were a dead one anyways, right my love?" He leans in closer, the table keeping us both distanced yet barely disengaged.

"Tell me now, what is 'The operator'?"

"May he have mercy on what's left of you after they're done." Toby muttered, leaning comfortably back in his chair. "Es ist zeit mein Vögelchen." He relays, a void yet cocky expression overtaking every inch of his face.

"You're a piece of work, Toby." 

Without a second to spare, one of the lingering staff swoops in. Tapping my shoulder to signal that they did indeed want me out of the hospital room. 

Swiftly getting up from my seat, I couldn't help but look to my lover one last time. His signature black gloves were long confiscated, exposing the tears in the brittle flesh of his hands from excessive biting. The gash in his cheek covered with gauze and medical adhesive tape preventing him from moving to the next best thing when it comes to his picking habits. 

As pained as I remained seeing him in such a bland and revealing setting, I couldn't help but get this twinge of understanding telling me that he was cleaner and possibly far healthier than before. 

Realizing I'd been distracted by my brief observations, I avoid settling the score, opening my mouth to speak to him once more.

"Is this your final choice?"

"Fuck you." He spit. Anger and aggression seeping from his lips in a final attempt to draw me away. The guard escorts me back to the main entrance impatiently as an air of embarrassment hit my cheeks.

Nearly stumbling out the door, I adjust my leather trench coat and place on my metal oval sunglasses. 

'What a waste of my fucking time. I already knew he would try pushing the buttons.'

"Y'know, even I could've told you that he's been manic all damn week." 

Shooting my head towards the unknown yet familiar voice, I immediately realized it was the same asshole who escorted me in.

"Oh wait, I think I actually did." He sarcastically shrugged, leaning against the entrance wall.

"Oh yeah? Well I think I need a fucking smoke." I pessimistically added. Reaching straight for my coat pocket.

"Well now you're talking my language, what kind?"

"Virginia slims." I said smoothly. Flickering the lighter until it sparked on the tip of the cigarette.

"Virginia slims? Might as well get you some Parliaments."

"Yuck," I exclaimed, making a feigned face of disgust. "You insult me."

Undoubtedly, the two of us erupted in a brief fit of chuckles. Amused by the other's bitchiness at such a time of momentary significance. However, the now swift silence ate quickly at the other's tongues. Leaving what felt like an odd bubble of time to speak what's really been on our minds.

"So, you come out here dressed like Carrie Moss and wonder why you get thrown back to the door?" He addresses. An eyebrow raised; less in a questioning way as much as it was humorous.

"That's far from what happened."

"Oh right, he told you about The Operator first, then kicked you out." 

Almost instinctively, my head speedily bolts back up to his face. Ignoring the cigarette lazily hanging from my mouth as I snatched it with both my pointer finger and my thumb.

"Sounds like he knew you'd bite off more than you could chew." He finishes. Pretending to analyze the situation as though he'd discovered the secret of the year.

"So what are you saying," I sputtered out intensely. No longer shying away from the truth that this guy knows something. "He thinks he's helping me?" 

"How charming of him." He smirks, indirectly answering my question. "Gee- I didn't think his balls were full grown."

Without a chance to process, he pulls out his own cigarette. The bent pack of Marlboro reds still shining in the afternoon light. "Before you got here he was just a twitching- time bomb with a strange habit of stuttering." Lighting up the cig, he takes one long inhale before releasing the strong vapor into the air. "I didn't think he'd control it the way he did just to tear you a new one."

" Correct me if I'm wrong," I rushed in, slight confusion riddling my face as my motives for understanding the situation changed. "But I didn't know hospital staff were allowed to dabble in their patients' personal lives. If that's what you are, Tim Wright." 

" I suppose," He said, placing the cig back onto its resting spot on his lips. Silence overtaking the mood once again, leaving only thoughts to fester.

Turning back around, I place my attention towards fetching my car keys to immediately get the fuck up outta there. Walking with haste, I momentarily stop to respond.

"Well it was nice fucking around but-" Briefly turning back, I realized that… he's gone. '...How freaky.'

Making it to my car, a white lined piece of paper remained folded onto my windshield. Hesitantly, I snatch the sheet straight off. Flipping it to see the bold words written in black Sharpie.

'He's always watching' Underneath, the note's signed by Tim. 

"How sweet," I snidely whispered. Paranoia and worry getting to my head.

A faint hint of gas drifts past my nose, wafting in the air alongside a more savory smell. Cans of diced tomatoes and marinara lay empty as scraps of cheese littered the counter. The T.V. in the next room serving only as background noise to keep my head temporarily occupied.

A full week had passed since I'd last seen Toby, and as tough as it was, I had gone on convincing myself that it wasn't too bad. Just more ominous and lonely than usual.

My phone rested on my ear as I remained attentive in a short-lived conversation with my mother. Extremely tired of the bullshit 'I told you so' responses I had been getting. It only took a day and a half for word to get around that Toby got thrown in the psych and suddenly, this woman couldn't stop blowing up my phone.

Dusting off my hands, I listened to her unfiltered banter as my arms crossed to my chest.

"I always knew I gave birth to a fucking felon. Had you done as I said almost two years ago now you'd still be home you rotten bitch! "

Pacing the floor in my white baby tee and low-rise bell-bottom jeans, I measly affirmed her every word. "You've done nothing but bring shame to me and break our family apart! All for that basket-case you laid up with, "

Taking a deep breath, I rolled my eyes. Harboring the truth of what I'd actually wanted to say, opting to only listen to her mouth run instead.

"You're an unwanted embarrassment that's made herself some psycho's TRAMP !"

"Ma," I said in a serious yet unfazed tone, "Have you been taking your meds?"

"Oh, so NOW I must be crazy for saying what I think needs to be said?"

Chuckling lightly, I switch my phone to my opposite ear. Amused by my mothers' rampage and active attempts to ignore my current concerns.

"Not crazy; unmedicated mama."

As she huffed in annoyance, her constant shifting can be heard on the other end. "I can't believe you're the only one of my children to do this to me."

"Do what ma? Talk?" I jokingly pressed on. An unintentional smile meeting my face. "Look, If you need more antipsychotics I'll gladly give you mine. Just go bake a cake or something. Maybe sniff some crayons…" 

"Listen here you ungrateful bitch, just bring the pasta you made over and…blah blah blah." Was all I heard amidst her next response.

 Interrupted by a deafening crash upstairs, my movements came to an immediate halt. Glass toppling over and crackling into tiny pieces echoes over the static of my phone. Sharp crunching can be heard as another set of footsteps resound throughout the whole house. Dauntingly, it stops near the stairs in complete silence.

If there was one thing I could thank Toby for doing, it was stressing about my safety so much that he taught me self-defense. Hearing the creaking of the steps, I recognized two male voices. Low and steady, not loud enough to differentiate. Watching idly behind the kitchen wall, I stand close to the archway, knife in hand.

For every step that made its way towards my direction, I positioned myself and prepared to make a silent move. Seeing feet just barely pass the walkway, I swing my arm around in a defective punch drawing attention away from my grasp on the knife.

Expectantly, the unknown visitor ducks away from the punch, discarding the knife as he begins restraining both arms above my head, roughly pinning me against the wall. As my back abruptly slams into the sheetrock, I instinctively lift my leg to kick him in the balls. Watching as he only gasps and clenches my wrist tighter, I lunge towards the guy's neck. Biting down as hard as I could without letting go.

In an instant, I'm yanked from the man by his 'friend' and restrained midair, not yet ready to go down without a fight. Struggling against my captor, I aggressively kick and punch before hearing the two voices word vomit defenses.

"Y/n, baby it's me! Scheiße…"

"Let me the FUCK GO-" I screamed, elbowing the one holding me in the throat.

Backing off towards the wall, I get a clear view of the pair.

Without a doubt, there stood Toby before me. His curly brown hair messily framed his face as he stood on edge and ready. Unlike his hospital attire, he wore a black " Smashing Pumpkins" t-shirt, loose jeans, and some black Vans. Next to Toby grasping his throat in a coughing fit stood a very familiar face as well, still recovering from the massive blow to his neck.

"What the hell Tobias," I said in a stern yet breathless voice. "You dickwads just broke into my fucking house!" I pressed on, beyond angered and befuddled. 

"Well no shit we did!" continued the man in a red flannel, "I'm glad we're all on the same page-"

"I knew you weren't some fucking doctor or whatever bullshit you said you were," I raged on, "You brought this fucking liar to my house?!"

"No, no, I brought Tobias to your fucking house! Now say thank you so we all could fucking move on," Tim sorely stated, rubbing his throat as he exasperatedly stares into my direction.

Side-eyeing the both of them, I calm down just enough to speak through a huffed sigh.

"What are you doing here?" I exhaustedly replied

"Damn, I almost thought you wanted me here," Toby said with a tilted head and a partial smirk on his face.

"Don't fuck with me-"

"I just got out, can I explain this to y-you later?" he brushes off, attempting to walk away.

"No."

"Great," Tim perked up, "Now we can talk about important things. Like how you brought out a damn meat cleaver to chop up dear ole' lover boy to pieces-" he calmly states.

 "I didn't know who the fuck you both were-"

"Well I'm glad you know now," Toby smiled, a gentle laugh escaping his mouth as he sits down on the couch. "I guess I came back here just 'cause I missed you so much" He muttered, tilting his head back to release a prolonged sigh.

"I find that hard to believe." I relay with an unamused look.

"Maybe you w-wouldn't if you were sitting your ass down with me," Looking up at me with wishful eyes, Toby doesn't budge. Taking a deep breath out, I find myself walking over to my boyfriend, his eyes never truly leaving mine as I sat close by.

"Mein vögelchen," he lets out in a soft tone, his eyes fluttering as his doe-eyed expression ate away at my thoughts

"You're an idiot." I breathed out, a distance still marked between us.

"I know," he whispered, his lips curled in an almost saddened reality. Hurt passing right on by as he longingly wanted to say more. "You still like me?"

"If I didn't, you'd probably be chopped n' fed to the neighbors' dog by now." I laughed, garnering a chuckle from Toby himself as he relaxed. "I'm actually surprised I didn't hear any barking this whole time,"

In a heartbeat, the room stilled. Toby looked to the side in a slow yet guilty manner as Tim refocused on the conversation. 

"I had no parts." Tim casually said, irritated nonetheless as he remained still by the window. Looking out occasionally as though there were more to spy on.

"What the fuck did you guys do to the neighbor's dog?" 

"I don't know, maybe you should ask him." Toby said, nodding to the window as if the dog could speak for himself.

"I need a fucking cigarette," I exclaimed, hopping outta my seat to make my way back to the kitchen. "You fuckers still haven't told me why you're here and now you've killed a fucking dog!" I passive-aggressively spit.

"He's not d-dead he's just knocked out," He claims, gesturing for Tim to pass him a light "Our little puppy friend is trippin' off some trazodone from the ward" He mumbles with the cig between his teeth, taking a long ass hit.

"Like that makes it any fucking better!" I add, "Bad enough your ass is already wanted for 'alleged' murder."

"Bad enough I had to break him out of the hospital for that exact same reason," Tim buts in, arm lazily thrown on the wall as he goes back to watching outside the window.

"Un-fucking-believable, un-believable." I shake my head, pissed that I'm now caught in the middle of it. "You need a chaperone and even your chaperone is a fuck up."

"Look, you wanna know why we're here?" Toby nods to me, resting his cigarette between his two fingers. "You wanna know what the fucking operator is?" 

"Yes, I think I actually do."

"Don't be stupid," he bites back, placing his smoke back onto his lips as his next breath in was rugged and deep.

"You have any visitors coming?" Tim questions, my head rushing towards where he stood.

"Hell no,"

"Great, well you both can be stupid later," Tim says, shutting the window and ushering towards the lights in the house. "There's someone on their way here."

Hurriedly burning out the ash on the tip of his shoes, Toby runs up the stairs with familiarity. Hearing a knock roughly shake the door, Tim looks at me, muttering a short plan as he rushes far into one of the rooms upstairs.

Listening to the steps loudly run throughout the house, I'm once again left to face the brief yet unanswered knock at the door.

"Fuck"

A/N: This shit took fucking weeks to finish and I'm far from actually being finished w/ the plot line. Anyway, there's a lot more in the works that I've enjoyed making

You’re free to reblog if you want!

© CHERRI3BERRI3S - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN

[littlespace-imagines]

Hii! Could you do a poly Masky and Hoodie x little reader fluff? 😋

I absolutely love that you write nonsexual littlespace! I may or may not have read multiple fics, multiple times from you 😊

Cg!Masky x little!reader x Cg!Hoodie

Contains: fluff, established relationships, poly!Tim and Hoodie x reader, Tim had a hard time and needs some care, reader gets woken up by these two idiots.

“Scoot ‘em over.”

“No, we can’t they’ll wake up.”

“So what? They’ll fall back to sleep.”

“Dammit, Tim, it’ll take forever to get em back to sleep!” The small argument woke you up more than if the men had just moved you, you rubbed your eyes and them flutter open. The room was still dark, save for a burning candle on the nightstand. The familiar masked men standing there still arguing as you sat up.

“Daddy? Papa? You’re home?” You mutter sleepily, Hoodies gloved hands are the first to ruffle your hair as press a kiss to the side of your head.

“Sure am, pretty. We are home.” Brian replied, shooting a glare to the white-masked clad man who moved to rub his temples.

“Scoot over, baby.” Tim said softly and you obliged, giving them enough space to sit on the bed. They each tugged off their respective masks and Brian reached over and ran a hand through Tim’s hair the stressed man clearly relaxing a bit at the reassuring contact. Tim turned to look at you, tugging his gloves off as his hand instantly sought the soft flesh of your cheeks. Desperate to feel you and remind himself he’s home. He’s free of the operator even for just seconds.

Brian is already moving, changing into pajamas and fluffing the pillows. The two men had a difficult mission, the kind where they wondered if there was any end to the hell they lived in, but the fact you were here waiting to cuddle between them it reassured them they were doing something right. To have your love, your trust, your dependence obviously meant there was still something left of their souls and hearts.

Tim doesn’t remember changing but you saw how Brian helped him, you saw Brian whisper sweet things in his ear as he helped Tim lay down, you instantly cuddled into his side bringing Tim back in pilot of his body, a weary smile crossing his face.

“You guys think I can sleep in the middle tonight?” Tim asks, you and Brian both look at him.

“Tim, you don’t even gotta ask.” Brain says and you nod, you can feel Tim’s body relax and he nods.

“Just checking.” He mumbles and you lay your head on his shoulder.

“I just… need my loves.” He mumbles, a kiss pressing into your forehead as Brian slides into bed, receiving his forehead kiss with a hum. Brian throws one of his firm arms over the both of you, guiding you all into a laying position.

“And your loves need you, Tim.” Brian mumbled into the other man’s hair, he felt you nod into Tim’s shoulder.

“Goodnight Daddy, Goodnight Papa, love you both.” You mumbled sleepily.

“Sweet dreams, sweetie, love you so much.”

“G’night baby. I love you too.”

You hear before Brian blows out the candle, the room washing dark with only the sound of your breathing filling it until you all drift to sleep cuddled up.

[your-oddities]

╭─────────.★..─╮

Backseat

╰─..★.─────────╯

Cautions: None besides fluff!

Word count: ~1.3k

•——•——•——•——•——•——•——•

You press your foot on the gas nearly as hard as you’re able to. Sounds of the car protesting loudly grow by the second, though the vehicle won’t budge. You can almost hear grunting coming from behind the car, just barely audible over the engine’s roar. Several seconds pass and, deciding it’s not doing either of you any favors, you take your foot off the gas. You stick your head out the open window and look to the back of the car.

“Is it working?” You shout, trying to look around the trunk. All he responds with is a groan before you watch as he comes around to the driver’s side.

The bottom of Tim’s jeans and every inch of his shoes are practically caked in mud, his shirt also somehow getting dirtied up by the sludge. He trudges to the driver’s side, shaking his head. “Nah. Wheel keeps on spinnin’ but it won’t move.” When you lean back into the car, he rests his elbow on the open window.

This couldn’t have possibly come at a worse time. You two were taking the backroads home after a tiring day. It’s been all too long since you two have been home, your bed ready to replace the nights spent snoozing in the passenger seat. But things turned for the worse when a deer came from the darkness of the woods and darted in front of the car. Tim successfully steered out of the way, though also managing to drive into a large patch of mud on the side of the road. And now, after a few minutes of trying to force the truck out of its spot, the both of you silently agree it’s time to throw in the towel.

Silent seconds pass, the conversation lulling. Not a car passes by, not a helping hand. So, not sure what to do, you turn to Tim. "Now what?" He keeps on looking down the endless road, and it seems as though he hadn't even heard you. But he finally answers with a sniffle and a simple shrug of his shoulders.

"Dunno." Tim replies before looking back to you. "Text Brian and hope he's awake, I guess." He wipes his muddy hands on his already dirtied shirt, fishing his phone out of his pocket. You watch while he taps away at the screen.

“Hope? So we just, what? Wait here if he isn’t up?” Staying yet another night in this old, beat up truck is less than ideal. But you don’t have the money for a night in a motel, much less the energy to walk to one. So, before he even answered, you knew what the response would be.

He looks up from his phone and purses his lips a bit. “I mean, what else are we gonna do? We don’t got many options here.” He slips his phone back into his pocket and takes his elbow off the car. He quickly climbs into the back of the truck and slips off his grimy shoes. You lean heavily against the back of the seat with a weighted sigh escaping you. Out of the corner of your eye Tim’s hand snatches his pack of cigarettes from the center console, and mere seconds later the smell of nicotine and smoke fills your nostrils.

Silence takes over in the absence of conversation. Inevitably, you’ll have to fall asleep in here. And, inevitably, you’ll wake up with every part of your body hurting in some way or another from staying in the same position all night. You take a glance in the rear view mirror towards the man behind you. He looks to be even more tired than you are. His eyes are almost fighting to stay open, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His eyes meet yours in the rear view mirror, yours swiftly looking elsewhere.

You curse mentally as he speaks up. “You cold?” He asks, honestly sounding bored. You’re almost confused by the question before your upper body shakes as a shiver runs through you. You hadn’t paid much mind to the cold. The heater doesn’t work well, so you two have been dealing with the chilly temperature for nearly the whole ride. You suppose you’ve gotten used to it.

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Kind of.” The words sound awkward coming out of your mouth. There’s no apparent reason behind it. At least, not that you can think of. “But I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Looking back to the mirror, it’s obvious your words did little to nothing in convincing Tim, eyes fixed on you. But he doesn’t call you out on it. Rather, he scoots over a smidge and gestures with his head as a sort of ‘come on’ motion.

The smiling tugging at your lips is involuntary. You’re not even sure why he’s inviting you back there, but you can’t help feeling pleased nonetheless. Now hopping out of the driver’s seat, you climb into the backseat with Tim. His muddy shoes sit in the open spot for your feet, so you opt for a criss-cross position on the seat. “Sorry about the shoes.” He apologizes sincerely.

You merely shrug. “Don’t worry about it.” You shut the door behind you before looking back to Tim once more. Now, instead of an almost unreadable expression on his face, he’s simply smiling as he looks to you. His hands rest on his legs, the cigarette lazily held between two fingers. If there was just one contagious grin in the world, his would be it.

With his free arm, he opens it up to you. The wave of his hand only further solidifies what he’s wanting you to do. You’re cautious, of course. He’s never been one for physical contact. You lost track of the amount of times your arm or hand brushed against his accidentally and he immediately steps back or puts his hand in his pocket. But this, this is a warm welcome in contrast to the closed off demeanor he has every day.

Hesitantly, you nudge closer to him. He doesn’t rush you. Instead his eyes follow your movements as you edge closer towards his open embrace. Once you’re close enough, he places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes you into a surprisingly comfortable position. Your body is stiff at first, of course. You’ve never been in this sort of situation with him, much less one where you could touch him at all.

His hand rubs up and down your arm slowly. That alone serves to calm you. Your muscles relax and a deep breath escapes you as you realize that you’re gonna be here for a while. You almost immediately rest your head on his shoulder. A quiet laugh shakes Tim a little and he holds you closer.

He brings the cigarette up to his lips, taking a long, slow drag. The tip burns red until he finally breaks away a few seconds later. Smoke leaves his parted lips and his eyes shut. When he opens them again, he looks down to you. “Want it?” He holds the cigarette towards you as an offer. “Might help you feel warmer.”

You’ve smoked before, and so it’s not like this is far too new for you. Wordlessly, you grab the cigarette from between his fingers and bring it to your mouth. Breathing in deeply, eyes shut. Reluctantly, you pull it away and breathe out. Grey smoke leaves your lungs and your eyes open again. Glancing back to Tim, you hold the cigarette out for him to take. But he shakes his head. “I’m good. You can finish it.”

You’re unsure of what this change in his personality is due to, but it’s surely welcome. You lean against him heavily and his arm tightens around you. You take another drawn out drag from his cigarette, eyes shutting. His head rests against yours as a heavy sigh leaves him.

The night felt a little warmer after that.

• . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . ◠ . •

Thanks for reading !! Reblogs appreciated ヾ(^_^)

probably not gonna post for another month … el oh el … so happy holidays ! ♡

[dolorum-magne]

Decided to draw fanart for my fic Remnants because it is consuming my brain rn

I really love these sketches

[f3arth3for3st]

Fuck You, I'm Chaotic: A Creepypasta Friend scenario series

"Ticci" Toby: First Interaction

Wordcount: 2,325 (2K)

"Ticci" Toby

The two of you met in the street when you had accidentally bumped into him when you were walking.

The souls of your shoes knocked agilely against the damp cement. It's coursed surface, tinted dark as the drizzle overhead dampened the hair atop your head that hung; low, avoiding eyes of passersby. The weighted plastic bag that constricted around four of your five fingers restricting the circulation that coursed the veins, thumb pressed firmly to the baggies folding crease, feathering over it in a sort of self-soothing manner.

You were used to the constant gas station runs at ungodly times and coffee scorched tongue. You rather enjoyed the change in scenery away from your house and the walls that felt as if they were suffocating you even when your parent's shouts stain the painted walls like a blood stain. 

You were a good kid.

At least that's what others have told you. 

You've never touched a cigarette within your seventeen years of life; you've never seen a reason to for the addiction you had developed was that of the smell of aging books and foxing pages that curled under your fingers as your enchanting eyes raked the words, soaking in every and any syllable printed along the organic vellum. Along with the brain buzzing symphonies that sang enchantingly through the miniature speakers that resided within a simple pair of earbuds.

Your home didn't feel homely but more of a cell you were forced to dwell within. You had learned to stay silent during their exchange in harsh words. You've adapted to pressing your spine as close to a wall as possible when they sauntered by; steps usually heavy; ladened with anger that always stained their sharp gazes, daring you to say or do something they deemed unfitting and out of line. 

But you never did.

Despite the ball that festered within the core of your throat and the twinging that clutched the coil of emotions that grew within the confines of your chest, taut against your ribs like a boa constrictor. But you would swallow thickly and cast your gaze to the floor, slipping away till you could no longer feel their fiery gaze that seared the skin of your back.

A shuddering breath fluttered your aching lungs as you released the breath you hadn't realized you were holding as the gentle winds that clinked the browning leaves together like tangerines and the rolling thunder that sang just below a mellow hum akin to that of a muted violin. Faint grey clouds cast overhead. 

If you glanced up, you would be able to see the layers that made up of the precipitation that gathered in the normally crystal blue vastness, it was intriguing to you, watching the lower clouds drift below the others, almost like a moving picture that was blurred every so often when a droplet of water washed over one of your pupils.

You were on your way back home after being sent on one of these said quick late gas station runs by your father which took longer than you anticipated since the card your mother had begrudgedly given to you had Insufficient funds which resulted in you having to pay out of pocket with your own allowance money, which put a rather harsh damper on your already somewhat souring mood considering it was just nearing dusk that cloaked the clouds above in a dreary hue, but when you stepped out, the sun had gone, casting the noon into a thick quilt of evening. Not that you could see it anyway.

The bell of the gas station's door rang behind you as it opened with a groan of obedience and Jeremy, the man who owned the small store bid a fairwell.

The upturn of your chin and lingering of your eyes caught that the air had turned angrier than before you last stepped out into the world. The sky that was lazily quilted in a thin grey was now thick and weeping silently. Small, almost microscopic tears rained from above. Not enough to be overbearing, but enough to be comforting like watching snow fall within the first weeks of winter. 

You hadn't tended to stay out long, especially after the aging reports of the teens that were bludgeoned to death not far from the high school you attended, reporters from neighboring news announcing their unfortunate and rather horrific deaths. 

A shudder rumbled your spine.

All of them, a quartet of adolescent teens although scattered in age and size; were stabbed umpteen times, but one had passed due to an overdose. The stories gave you chills when you listened to the passive warnings and advisories to make do with the little daylight fall brought followed by the extensive hours of night that had come sooner than you had wished. 

Another upcast of your eyes caught onto the inky silhouettes of the tree canopies that waved like a slow dance to your favorite song. 

The thought of music playing to assist the mingling browned leaves made your fingers itch, the tips tingling with the impulse to retrieve the white wired headphones that wrapped around the portable device that sat heavily in your hoody pocket, weighing it down like an anchor to a roaming boat atop settle waters. 

You were always warned by those around that it wasn't a wise idea to stroll about with earbuds in your ears, deafening and blinding one of your few senses that may save your life but alas; impulse won as you slowed nearing a halt. 

The coffee that rested warmly in the palm that lacked the plastic bag now rest, nestled protectively in the crick of your elbow, the bottom resting on your hip to assure it didn't slip from between the folds of your hoodie's loose material. The hand, unoccupied; ferreted around the pocket at your stomach, grazing against the firm material of the earbuds before gingerly pulling one out. Careful not to damage the delicate cords within the thick white casing that protected them. 

Unraveled, one slipped into your ear before the other took its place in the other, the elongated button that was mainly used for volume and phone calls sat achingly under your index finger as it gives a clickyou having pressed the button. 

It was like entering a whole new world away from what you were doomed to reside in. Each tone and groan of a cord made your mind swim with a sense of serenity, the sting of the coffee's solution made your tastebuds dance, the pirouette almost correspondent to the way the leaves swayed with the Zepher, you didn't need to remove the wired earbuds to hear the way the herbiage clicked together. It brought a smile to your dried lips. 

It felt...

Tranquil. Despite the weighted plastic bag that wrapped your fingers with a deadly vice.

Reality had slipped from your fingers for a moment, your legs ambling. One in front of the other. Your brain, so caught in the fantasy of arcadian music. That you had failed to notice the unmoved form that stood before you, seeming just as dazed and oblivious to the oncoming body as you were in this time. 

The heat of the caffeinated beverage that had unknowingly taken its place back into your palm sloshed in its restraints, the fragile thin plastic that entrapped the tongue numbing warmth split, dispelling the libation, splashing against the sensitive skin of your hand, as seconds passed the warmth spread, the sticky liquid soaking into the material of your hoodie, its tint turning a shade darker than normal as it sucked the caffeine like a dry sponge to water.

With an oof the tranquility your body had subjected itself to dissipated as a headphone fell, tugging on the other that tumbled after it, the cord taut as one clinked against the hard coursed cement, the bag that bound your deadened fingers seemed to grow light as it swung forwards, knocking into the others leg before the weight returned seeming heavier. 

You stumbled back as the other jolted forwards regaining lost balance, baffled. Enlarged eyes swam with panic as you immediately discarded your own comfort, reaching out to gingerly touch the others arm that was being used to regulate their teetering balance. 

"Shit, I'm so sorry dude are you alright?" You hissed, tone laced with concern and internal scolding as you stabled the poor soul you had collided with. 

He stood around your height, maybe even taller, maybe shorter, but no words fell from their lips. "I apologize man, I wasn't watching where I was going, I didn't spill anything on you did I?" You respond hastily, tone akin to desperation as the hooded man turned to look at you, deep brown eyes that peered calloused from beneath the hood resting over his head the illumination of a nearby streetlamp cast a soft glow to his abnormally tinted skin. The dark tufts of burnt chestnut hair that swept around the hem of the hood made it look even more illish, but those eyes. Those dark, desensitized eyes; glared. The orbs benumbed, senseless, and obdurate. You paused, taking notice of the almost deathly pale skin akin to grey was marred with old faded, and newer raised pinkish-white scars but before you could explore his features farther, he yanked away. Almost as if he had touched something hot. 

"Don' fuckin' touch me." He sneered; eye lids forced into a trained glare, his voice harsh and raspy, the bite behind the barking words and yank made your arm slump back to your side, knuckles brushing against the bag that sat at your feet, you having carefully discarding it to assure the man's comfort; which was widely unappreciated according to him. 

A puff of hot air snaked past your flared nostrils, brows following close behind with a harsh furrow, the physical contortion of your features seemed to have made his own sour as he scoffed turning back to the road glazed with the light drizzle. 

Your eyes rolled, a shallow whatever filtering your lips as you spun your hanging headphones around your palm, stuffing it haphazardly into the pocket of your coffee stenched hoody, the cup that once held the energy replenishing beverage now sloshed about with little to no contents; your interaction with the man looked to have officially come to an end when he stepped off of the edge of the sidewalk, walking for a moment before slowly progressing into a nimble jog as he crossed the road leaving you alone under the nearby lamp post that flickered ominously. 

"Who pissed in your Cheerios..." You grumbled under your breath before crouching slightly to retrieve the bag of gas station groceries before your eyes caught a particular item discarded; despite the increasingly darkening surroundings as day turns to night it was littered in rain droplets. Slowly, a long breath wheezed past your throat as the bag left the ground, the plastic slick with water as you extended an arm to retrieve the item. 

The round lenses were a faded orange, a few dark stained splotches littered the glass and outer part of the googles, it was heavier than you had anticipated, the thin cold metal resting against your sticky coffee splashed palms made them buzz with numbness as the weight grew. The elastic band meant to hold them to one's face now soaked up a good portion of rainfall that pooled in the palm of your hand that gleamed under the light of the streetlight.  

Upon closer inspection of the face article under the flickering sodium light, you noticed the shallow scrapes and scratches, a few deep lacerations in the metal made the pad of your thumb grow anxious as the impulse to run the flesh over the damage crossed your mind before being shoved aside by another thought. 

He must have dropped it during the collision. 

Although the man was an ass, he probably needed these for his welding projects or something among the sorts. 

Guilt knotted your throat as you straightened your posture, head turning, and eyes raking the surrounding streets to see if the man had come to retrieve his headgear but much to your dismay not another soul strolled the worn, water darkened cement. 

The contriteness that washed your thoughts were the voices of your home folk warning you, reminding you spontaneously that it was unsafe to wander with earbuds dug into your ear ducts. Warning about how you were oblivious of your surroundings and with the recent and rather constant disappearances or slayings of neighbor of different streets; it was especially dangerous. But for some reason the notion of chasing the man down to deliver his fallen gear whispered within the dark depths in the back of your mind, the voice almost canceling the one of reason. 

Just the simple thought of the instances snapped you away from the depths of your mind as you noticed the intimidatingly darkened streets that glowed with electricity. 

A chest swelling rumble from the sky made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as paranoia took its hold, the recent thought of possibly chasing the man down and give him back his belonging was thrown out of the window for the time being as you shoved the gear into your hoody pocket, weighing it down more than your phone had. 

The lightning that flashed overhead and the ominous shadows of the trees to your fear laced mind resembled that of spindly fingers and haunting tendrils curling and stretching to wrap you in their clutches. 

The bark of thunder and nearly blinding snap of lightning was enough to make your fear numbed muscles regain consciousness and comply with your desire to return home. 

With the rhythmic pound of your shoe souls against the cement that grew damper with the hardening rain that dampened skin and slicken the bag between your fingers you bounded swiftly towards the direction of home. 

You would have to return his goggles another time...

_______

Unedited

[rosekiller-addict]

people who post fics under a relationship tag when that relationship isn't really in the fic are my opps

like i dont read tags carefully enough for this 😭

[creeppostss]

HIIII EVERYONE !!!!

MY BOYFRIEND TAKES COMMISSIONS !!!!

ive been waiting for him to do this for AGES.

theyre

- cheap

- high quality

- FAST

- and hes friendly !!!

@jeffthkilurself <333

hes mainly in the creepypasta fandom, but if you give a good description/references …. he can do whatever !!!

[sinshinelennypops]

creepypasta drabble + headcanons

some fanon influenced headcanons for various pastas + Marble Hornets characters. A friend and i have been doing an rp for like 2.5 years at this point and have made quite a few headcanons, feel free to add some

-Tim cannot stand cheesecake, instead his favorite food is pineapple pizza

-Toby desperately wishes he could play guitar but due to his ticks no one trusts him, until his 21st birthday where everyone pitches in and buys him a guitar and amp

-Jeff wears an eye mask to bed because of his eyes being super sensitive

-Smile Dog can and will speak to you and try to manipulate you into giving him food, but otherwise acts like a normal dog just with the ability to speak

-Sally and BEN often play Just Dance and other older games on the Wii and Playstation while the others are out on missions

-Tim and Brian have kissed at least once in the decade they've been in the Slender mansion

-Nina stopped crushing so hard on Jeff at around 18 and instead began to enjoy women (Jeff hates this)

-Brian's favorite movie is Legally Blonde

-Bi weekly adult only sleepovers and weekly movie nights keep morale up across the mansion

-Generally, everyone gets along pretty well, especially since most of the proxies and other people in the mansion have been there for years now

[fr34k0n4l345h]

Easy Come, Easy Go

A Marble Hornets 1920’s au fic

Previous

͙✧˖*°࿐

Chapter Two - Caution

Jingle, jingle.

The post office’s door bells rattled above Jay’s head as he glided through the exit with a satchel full of papers in tow. With one hand wrapped firmly around the strap that sat across his chest, he adjusted the flat cap atop his head, which concealed overgrown tufts of uncombed brunette hair. His clothes, clad in hues of coffee and tan, were wrinkled with evident lack of care. The dark circles which hung beneath droopy eyes pulled together the look of an overworked and underpaid paperboy. The morning Alabamian sun was merciful, but Jay knew that wouldn’t last into the afternoon. Despite its gentle glow illuminating the late May sky, he could feel his retinas frying from lack of sleep. Echos of the night before reverberated in his skull.

—

“You know that guy?” The bartender inquired. The grasp that the lurking shadows had on him finally relented, allowing his body to be free from petrification. Mr. Murphy pat his shoulder, then pulled away to join Jay in tidying the bar.

”Sure do! He’s a swell chap most of the time.. Othertimes, he’s a real wet blanket. Interesting fella, he is!.” The midde-aged man let out a hearty chuckle. He was never one to take things seriously. At least, not from an outside perspective. On the inside, he was sneaky and clever, Jay knew. After all, that’s the type of man it took to successfully run a speakeasy chain without getting busted. He acknowledged the sentiment with a small nod of his head. His hands absentmindedly wandered the countertop in search of glasses to polish. Before he could even reach the next glass, however, his boss was hovering over his shoulder.

”Hey,” He whispered, causing a lapse in Jay’s movements. “you didn’t hear this from me, but some folk are sayin’ he’s an undercover bull.” The gears in his head turned. It would make sense; Brian’s laid-back attitude could easily be a facade. But what in the world would a cop be doing visiting a speakeasy and buying black market alchohol without taking action? Perhaps surveying the crime? Holding his cards, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. The old man slapped the large of Jay’s back, making him jump and crinkle his nose in pain.

”Just keep yer eyes peeled, Birdie! You can never be too careful!” With the warning instilled in the back of his head, Jay’s gaze followed the boisterous man who was wandering off to shoo away the few remaining bar-goers.

—

You can never be too careful, he reminded himself. Heavy legs carried him along the geometical sidewalk that lined Birmingham’s endless maze of blocks. He reached into his satchel, wirey fingers wrapping around one of the rolled prints of today’s press.

You can never be too careful. He tossed the article onto the next passing doorstep. A familiar chill ran down his spine, prompting the paperboy to look over his shoulder. Tired eyes were met with bustling streets filled with commuters. Busy and fullfilling lives flourishing all around him. It was nothing out of the ordinary, and yet he couldn’t shake the strange sensation of wandering glances.

Tap, tap, tap, went the soles of his shoes against the pavement,.

You can never be too careful. Jay swallowed the growing lump in his throat and reached into his satchel. Each set of eyes that passed him by lingered just a little too long for comfort. He could feel his skin writhe beneath the percieved attention. Was his dark secret out? Did his past finallly catch up to him? Did every stranger on this street, old and young, know of the rumors attached to his name? His feet carried him a little faster.

You can never be too careful, said his boss. There was something lurking around each corner. Something completely avoidable if only he were more weary. He extracted the next article from his satchel, then tossed it in the general direction of a residential doorstep. It landed in a bush, but Jay didn’t seem to notice. He was far too caught up in the whirwind that was his own mind. He couldn’t shake this feeling of being watched from a distance. Hunted by a force he couldn’t yet identify. He walked a little faster. He was on the verge of breaking into a jog now. He reached into his satchel once more.

No, he wasn’t being careful enough. He was inches away from losing it all again. Somebody was out there, waiting for a window of opportunity to out him all over again. He couldn’t take it— the rejection. The loss. What little he’d built for himself was so delicate and small. His hand moved to toss the next paper, but before it could leave his hand, a force blocked his path.

Jay’s unsteady feet failed to capture him, sending him tumbling to the pavement. He dropped the neatly rolled stack of print on the way down, causing it to unravel and sprawl out across the ground. His hands caught him. The sudden loss of balance was confusing for the sleep-deprived man. He buffered as his mind scrambled to identify the cause of the incident and come up with a solution all at once. Next to one of his hands, he spotted a lit stick of tobacco wrapped in thin white paper. A frail trail of smoke fizzled out from its still lit end. He lifted his gaze to meet the force that had nearly knocked the wind out of him.

He had to squint his eyes to filter the morning sun obstructing his vision. Before him stood a stocky figure. A man, dressed in denim overalls with dirt caked on the knees and an aged plaid button-up with the sleeves pushed past the elbows. As his vision rose, he was met with the man’s expression. Hard and stern with dark eyes crinkled in concern for a stranger. Aged by life’s hardships. Upon further examination, he noted the side burns that framed the farmer’s face and matching angular jawline. The structure of his face matched that of a face he’d met many years ago.

”Shoot— you alright there?” The unfamiliar voice asked whilst crouching down to gather the scattered prints. Jay’s brain jump started at that action. Dots connected. His mouth moved before critical thinking about catch up with him.

”Tim?” The word barely escaped his lips. Tim paused and tilted his head towards Jay.

”Sorry, what was that?” Chocolate eyes bore into his. Eyes devoid of any mutual recognition. The perimeter of Jay’s mouth parted briefly, then closed again. He swallowed.

”Nothing. I apologize.” His body finally began to move again. He scrambled to get to his feet and brush his knickers clean of the dust that it had collected from the pavement. As the two of them stood, Tim handed him the messily gathered stack of papers.

”No worries.” The brunette would respond. As Jay began to frantically stuff the pages into his satchel, the other spoke again.

”Hey, are you alright? You, uh.. look like you’re in a hurry” He tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his overalls. Jay hardly noticed the way that Tim looked past him, as if searching for something. When he didn’t find whatever it was that he was looking for, he settled his attention on the frazzled paperboy before him.

”Yeah, uh.. started my route a little late. The boss wants me done by noon. You know how it is.” Jay awkwardly chortled. Despite his rushed claim, he took his time studying the rural citizen before him. It wasn’t often that rural life wandered onto urban ground. Both sectors kept to themselves, naturally. Jay had only known one farmer in his life. He spent a summer in the countryside with his family in ’09. In that short span of time, he met a boy by the name of Tim. That was over a decade ago. It was likely that in his flustered state, he’d confused this stranger for somebody that he once knew. Still, he itched to know the man’s name.. just in case.

”Sure do.” Tim replied. His hands were on the move, revealing a rectangular cardboard box. Like a perfectly choreographed dance, he deposited a little stick identical to the one on the ground and pinched the butt between his thin lips. He traded the box for a square tin. He lifted the object to the end of the paper stick, and with a few flicks accompanied by little sparks, ignited the cigarette. He slid the lighter back into his pocket. “If you’ll excuse me sir, I’m late to my appointment—“ As he began to push by the paperboy, he spoke up.

”Wait,” The word hung in the air between them for a few moments. Tim stopped in his tracks, then turned to look back at the other male with expectant eyes. Jay cleared his throat. “Are.. are you Tim?”

Tim’s blank expression seared into Jay. Dark, bushy eyebrows formed a solid crease in the center of his forehead. In that moment, Jay felt his heart sink into the empty pits of his stomach. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. His persistent paranoia always got the better of him. Tim took an intimidating step closer. He felt breath get caught in his throat.

”How do you know my name?” Strongly scented smoke spilled from Tim’s lips as he spoke.

“I— uh, we met in Winston back in 09 or 08. I thought you were familiar. Do you remember Kralie? Alex Kralie?” A hopeful glint made itself present in Jay’s dull eyes. He wanted oh so badly to relish in the memories of better days with an old friend. Instead, he was met with nothing but weary silence.

”Who are you?” Tim broke the silence.

”Jay. Jay Merrick.”

Pause.

”You must be mistaking me for someone else.” Tim averted his gaze. The breath Jay wasn’t aware he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His shoulders deflated with the action. “Sorry. Good day to you, sir.” The farmer passed by him with fervor and vanished into the tall building they’d been loitering in front of. A doctor’s office.

There, the young man was left alone again. Cast aside like an abandoned puppy. He lowered his head, thin fingers wrapping around the strap of his news satchel. He squeezed the leather material until his knuckles turned white. How foolish of him to mistake some random hillbilly as a childhood acquaintance he’d met a grand total of once. He mustered the courage to continue his task of delivering papers. As he dragged his feet along the pavement, he no longer paid mind to the passing by of fellow pedestrians. He reached into his satchel for a bundle of paper.

Suddenly, he stopped.

He’d given that man his name, but he didn’t receive a name in return.

—

Smoke swirled in the air. The clinking of glasses and an orchestra of laughter and surface level conversations filled the enclosed space. Jay hadn’t slept a wink before his shift at Mr. Murphy’s bar. The shadows beneath his eyes felt equivalent to the weight of an entire ocean. Earlier’s awkward yet terrifying interaction replayed in his mind. His body felt heavy, and yet his muscles were tense and on the defense. Prepared to strike at any wrong move. Human instinct fighting for self preservation.

Tonight was like any other night. Only this time, he was being eaten alive by the knowledge that he’d given his name to another human. A stranger, no less. No matter how he tried to reason with himself, the paranoia festered in the back of his skull like an unchecked disease. Who knew what connections that farmer had? How many people had caught wind of a queer roaming the streets of Birmingham. With a defeated sigh, Jay buried his face in his hands.

Snap out of it, he told himself. That man is nothing but a lonely hillbilly. A nobody.

A firm hand collided with his scrawny scolder, making him nearly jump out of his skin with a short yelp.

”Chin up, Birdie!” Mr. Murphy shook Jay from his thoughts. “Go get the good stuff from the back— we got big company!” He gestured his thick arm towards the entrance, where a noticeable cluster of people had formed. With his curiosity piqued, Jay scanned the backs of heads. Celebrities weren’t necessarily unheard of at these underground joints. Especially one as well renowned as Mr. Murphy’s. While he didn’t care for the culture, he was undeniably a curious creature.

Two figures emerged from the circle of people across the dimly lit room. The first one was a woman. A truly stunning creature with a slender figure and skin pale and smooth as freshly fallen snow. A baby blue rhinestone dress that sparkled under the lights draped over her figure, accentuating her legs and dipping just low enough to highlight her cleavage. Scandalous. She had the trendiest of hair-dos; golden locks that fell just beneath her jaw in stylish pin coils. Her lipstick was as alluring as the rest of her— brighter than any shade of red he'd ever seen before. Crafted from lavish ingredients, Jay was sure. The sparling rock on her ring finger caught his eye. It was no wonder a breathtaking doll like her was married. But to whom?

Well, you know what they say; curiosity killed the cat.

Attached at her side was a masculine frame that towered over her petite form. He was taller than your average gent, that was certain. Polished black shoes. A matching three piece navy tux displaying classy light blue pinstripes. His wrist sported a sparkling golden watch; a mere show of status. His undershirt was a mysterious shade of maroon that pulled the look together. Jay’s eyes traveled further up the man’s body. A head of neatly trimmed and slicked back dirty blonde hair. Stoic eyes resided beneath wired framed cheaters that rested on the frame of his nose.

From across the establishment, their eyes met. At that moment, the world around him froze. He’d seen those eyes before. He’d spent countless hours staring into them, exploring their intricacies. Carving them into the walls of his skull, then working himself to the bone trying to erase them years later.

In the end, his attempts to forget were futile. Nothing could rid him of the scars left by his best friend.

Alex Kralie.

͙✧˖*°࿐

Next

[4kingz]

masky how he kisses you

Masky doesn’t kiss often. Not because he doesn’t want to—he wants to way more than he’s comfortable with—but every time he does, it feels like he’s handing over a piece of himself he can’t get back.

And that pisses him off.

When he finally gives in, it’s intense. Not messy, not clumsy—just controlled and burning. Like he’s trying to ground himself in you, to pin the world down with the press of your lips.

The first time? All hesitation and tension. He lingers too long, almost doesn’t do it—until you lean in. Then he groans into it, frustrated and breathless.

“You’re gonna make me soft, aren’t you?”

He says it like he’s blaming you, but his hands are already grabbing your shirt, pulling you closer. He kisses like someone who’s never had a safe place to land, and now that he has one, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

It’s not always that heavy. Sometimes—when he’s exhausted or low—you get slower, quieter kisses. Thoughtful, almost reverent. He’ll press his forehead to yours after, eyes shut, voice rough:

“Don’t let me screw this up.”

He never says it louder than a whisper. You can feel the weight of it, though. The fear behind it.

You try to pull back, just enough to see his face—but he pulls you in again, tighter, more desperate. His mouth finds yours like it’s the only thing keeping him together.

“I’m not good at this,” he mutters. “But you make me want to learn.”

He won’t look at you after. Just kisses you again, like that’s easier than allowing the conversation to go any further.

He’s not built for softness. But for you? He’s trying. In his own rough, unsteady way. And that might be the most honest thing about him.

[veaspo]

Tim , Jeff , Ben (platonic) , Liu and Bloodypainter has a gf who wears false lashes damn near everyday and one day she doesnt have them and her bf is “oh em gee”

YEAH

CREEPYPASTAS X READER WHO ALWAYS WEARS FALSE EYELASHES

TIM WRIGHT / MASKY

-he thought the false eyelashes were your real ones

-one time you two were cuddling and you were ready to take your makeup off

-you took your eyelashes off while you were cuddling since you didnt need to get up to do that

-tim stared at you and his mouth was agape

-you were surprised he didn't pass out honestly

-he looked at your natural lashes and he honestly fell in love with you all over again

-he started hiding your lashes

JEFF WOODS / JEFF THE KILLER

-one time you two were play fighting

-and one of your eyelashes fell off

-he thought a spider fell off your face or something

-he was honestly so scared and jumped on the nearest surface

-you went with it being a "spider" and picked it up and started chasing him with it

BEN LAWMAN / BEN DROWNED

-you were sitting down, watching your bestfriend play zelda

-the eyelashes were irritating your eyes a bit (idk if they do that, im sorry😭) so you decided to take them off

-ben didn't notice so you had an idea

-you wanted to make him look like one of those cars that have the paper like eyelashes on the headlights

^^like this^^

-you had pinched the eyelashes together to make them look skinnyish

-to not scare him much you decided to put then under his eyebrow instead of his lid

-ben jumped and grabbed them to see what they were. when he noticed what they were he just looked at you in shock and went back to playing zelda

LIU WOODS / HOMICIDAL LIU

-liu was watching the process of you taking off your makeup

-he's never seen you put it on or take it off and he was curious to how it worked

-the first thing you did was take off your eyelashes, you could see his reaction in the mirror

-he thought you took your actual eyelashes off

-literally, he looked pale and he instantly grabbed your face to look at your eyes

-when he seen you had eyelashes still, the color slowly returned to his face

HELEN OTIS / BLOODY PAINTER

-he was painting you, he loved painting you

-the falsies kept getting in your eyes and it was uncomfortable

-"i'm sorry" you said as you quickly took your eyelashes off and then went back to your pose

-helen was speechless, he stared at you with wide eyes and his paintbrush was just hovering near the canvas

-he chuckled then raised his eyebrows and went back to painting

-he never really questioned it till after he finished, "why did you never tell me that you were eyelashes" he asked

- "i thought it was obvious" you said as you were smiling

--------

7 MORE REQUESTS LEFT TILL IM CAUGHT UP🙏🏼🙏🏼

[considerablyworse]

I haven't looked at my ideas list in forever ts took me out so I thought I'd share. what the hell does (death awww) mean

[inkher0]

⦻rigin: Entry #23

CW: Gore, Character Death (Non-Canon), Unreality, Political themes, Problematic Language

Special thanks to @world-of-horrors-au for their contributions to this chapter and all appropriate allowances.

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