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justcallmesakira · 7 months ago

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BESTIE IF U DONT DO THIS REQ N I WILL FACKING EAT UR MUTUALS

DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER!!

she has black cat energy and err makes suicidal jokes here and then but never does t and chuuyas always the one who pulls her away from dazais tendencies because he DOES NOT want reader to follow dazais steps and err dazai and reader have a 2 year gap and err basically dazai took her away with him when he left and thats were she sort of stopped talking BECAUSE BOOM CHIKA BOOM ODAS DEATH LEFT HER MORE TRAUAMATIZED THAN THE KIDS ASAGIRI BLEW UP!!! so errr crack and chuuya and reader is ummmm AHEM AHEM AHEM (cough coug)

AND BASICALLY MORI HAS THIS like obsession of bringing reader back to the mafia like he constantly says stuff like "Dazai, my offer still stands but please remember that i would really really love to see your dear sister back first" LIKE YKNOW WHAT I AM SAYING???????????

DAZAI AND HIS YOUNGER SISTER!

Sypnosis: you are the younger sister of Da-dazai! Is he a great brother or not? UPPP TO YOU! >< oh and maybe hide your secret vists with chuuya please!!

Genre: crack and heavy angst! (dont question it)

Warnings: suicidal themes! cans of gasoline, glitter bombs, reader is very quiet type, manipulation (for good use!)

A/N: yummy yummy

uh oh! this is gonna be so damn messy

so um first of all! i really think reader would be very intelligent like dazai like oh fuck! i just got under a whole rubble of rocks by some guy who btw is the enemy of my brother quick! think of something

and then theres this bsd aesthetic plan you make and just survive! to the shock of your horror... :D

okay but in all seriousness! he defiently jokingly gave you his suicide guide to if u ever felt inspired by him

VERY VERY NORMAL BROTHER ACTIVITY!!1

dazai stop influencing people around you to plug off them self challenge impossible: GO!!

if you do however join his meticulous activites kunikidas actually going to blow up

😇

but imagine how cute it would be a black cat energy young sis and a golden retriver brother like bish forget romantic relationships like dazai who sometimes forget he left his sister at work!

but ynkow mf dazai always wants to keep close to you because he was never really there (like my fake as friends🙄) back in the mafia! woohoo

so now you can asks him for whatever you want but now he actually feels guilty because you have now become the silent type and dont really talk that much

Great job dazai! best brother everr!❤️

Imagine running away from the mafia with ur lil sister then realising she doesnt even want to talk anymore and that you might actually failed as a big brother even after buying her a whole lotta stuff

COULDNT BE OSAMU DAZAI GUYS!!!

tell him to take you to an amusement park and he will! but dont be surprised if you see him trying to run to jump off a bridge because he does not have for the sake of god any money!

AYY dazai cosplaying toji to get milk? real or fake??? find out here!

dont click on the link :3

ANYWAYS he definetly tries his best to get you back to talking sure the only thing he could do is talk to himself with you beside him doodling some stuff but yknow...it genuinely makes him form a sad smile when he gets reminded that maybe if he were a better brother and actually comforted you it would have ended better

"I saw a cat today yknow! it had a black eye and orange patterns. Somehow it looked wise" dazai said relazing on the chair, his hands behind his head, the whole night of yokohama was quiet only the flicker of the dim light placed underneath the balcony ceiling could be heard.

The night was calm too, it had a soft storm-like feel to it. Dazai knew you were listening thats probably why he would talk to you all these months, no one else was there for him anyway. So its better than nothing.

All of a sudden amdist the silence several pokes tapped on his shoulder which made his eyes widen slightly. You held up your sktechbook infront of his face, a bunch of doodles of him and a full sketch of his side profile

"(Name)... This is amazing! Wow you could be a talented artist yknow!!" he said you didnt know whether he was just flattering you or not because of the emptiness in his eyes. Depression changes a person. But the slight flicker of light in his made it visible to your loud mind. Dazai was glad you made some progress.

Okay now hb your interactions with da agency??

I am pretty sure both you and him joined da agency together (gotta make sure his sister ACTUALLY doesn`t follow his steps!😋😋😋😋)

kunikida may act all cold around you and view u as some kid especially when you randomly make the most random ass suicidal jokes in the middle of a meeting but...

Lets say he sort of checks up on both of you every morning! cant let the dogs out now kunikida! you never know what they do....

iykwimyk

now yosano girlypop is the only person who shows genuine concern for you when you get hurt why? because she was bamboozled when she found out you are dazais sibling like

"huh- are you actually capable of being a brother? more so having family"

dazai be at the corner weeping because of the amount of slander

DESERVEDDDD😍😍😍

I can totally see fukuzawa patting both of you and dazais head after you two collaborated on a mission

IDWGDHYWDFYUDFILOVEFATHERRELATIONSHIPS

he prob randomly call you for tea i mean not too randomly but he likes your black cat energy

speaking of which ranpo and you bully da heck out of criminals before they ultimately mistake you for some god!! /nj

kenji and kyouka just chills around you and tries debating what you and dazai have in common.

belonging in the mental asylum. thats whats common between you two/nj again😁😁

With chuuya

NAWWWWH BRO NAWW☠️

Chuuyas gonna end upl like this emoji☠️☠️☠️

Okay maybe i am over exaggerating this but yknow dazai is like really smart

UNFORTUNATELY!!!

So he will definitely know when ever you two act a little🤭😝😘🤗😍🥰👍

Hes going to get tjat expression from chapter 114 and chew chuuyas expensive tuxedo!!

I bet after he finds out hes straight up going to give chuuya a flashback of stormbringer era!! 😍😁

#verynormalbrother

"W-w-w-what da SKIBIDI [name]??? YOU WILL NOT AND NEVER MEET CHUUYA AGAIN" "wow... and i thought you were trying to become a better brother :(" "YOUNG LA- i-" ":("

He was about to say lad

like manipulative ass brother like sister ig! :33333333

He prob had suspicions back in the mafia especially because of how you mostly stuck around chuuya when he wasnt there

YOUR FAULT BRO!!!

And then u rizzed chuuya up with double black eyes (get it?)

"You know [name] it still hurt me, though i promised i would never say it infront of your face but.." Chuuya said seriousness in his tone looking at you eyes "But please stop looking at me with those cat like eyes they deeply remind of someone and I DO NOT like it"

He ended this funny note with a genuine fear and irritation in his eyes. you only nodded and continued to stare at him, your eyes rivaling a black hole not that hole by the way.

A tingling feeling gathered in himself as chuuya looks at your blank stare "Dont look at me like that!" he raised his flustered voice, a small hue of pink appearing on his cheek which only grew as you held on to his sleeve, snuggling against it like a cat.

But before he could be more flushed a really dark aura crept up behind you and then, right then you knew you fucked up bad.

"i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-cant believe this!" your brothers voice perked up behind you genuine horror on his face as if he just saw his bestfriend die infront of him twice.

"Oh my fucki-" chuuya sighed, both of you are caught. "[name] ICANTBELIEVETHISOMGIAMGOINGTOENDMYSELFLIKEMYOTHERVERSIONFROMANOTHERUNIVERSEWHOLOWEREDYOURSTANDERDSICANTBELIEVETHISHIT" dazai rapped at super speed, an anger and shock unwordable enough for you to be confused at whatever hes yapping about. "DAZAI what the fuck??" now chuuya was confused too.

"ANDYOU, HERMANADAPUTA (sisterfucker in english) YOUUGLYSHORTMFWITHNOFLAGSNONOTHING,YOUTRUSTISSUED?IWILLGIVEYOUPRISONFORLIFEISSUES" "WHAT IS YOU BROTHER YAPPING ABOUT?"

And all you could do was watch in horror as the scene unfolds infront of you. But safe to say you got in big trouble when you went back home!

anyways dazais going to go full on 8 cans of gasoline on the portmafia if more is obsessed with you like him

and then you realised..

"fOr tHe fIrSt TiMe iN fOrEVer" he actually did/nj

Okay okay but in all seriousness (litearlly @justcallmesakira catchphrase guys!!) Dazai would genuinely become more protective of you if mori was targeting towards you.

i would run away to antarctica too if mori even tried interacting with me

SHES A RUNNER SHES A TRACKSTAR!!!!!🏃💨

But if you are intelligent then i guess you met fyodor too? And maybe some sort of rivalry goes on between you two like "oh its my brothers enemy, gotta help my bro blow him up!"

I have nothing much to say because dazai would make secret plans (which you alrdy know) to make sure mori doesnt get too close with you

Like oh he was planning to approach you that day? BOOM dazai is already there. Yeah like that

If mori says that however... Dazai will reply with a dark eyed gloom,tilting his head back creepily "You will have to need more then the whole of port mafia to interact with my sister"

Dazai hates mori alot and though he knows that you are old enough to handle situations that doesnt mean he wont care for his only sister. You are the only thing left that he can protect without feeling inhumanity or faraway.

A/N: HATE THISSSS NOOOUUU

Tags: @inojuuy @biscuits-spooky-corner @terururuko @little-miss-chaoss @saelique @silverbladexyz @typcallysid14 @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years ago

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Matt and Peter trying to see who can fuck you better but they both fuck you so good that you become a babbling mess

i meshed two requests together, this one as well as matt and peter fucking villain! reader :)) i had a lotta fun with this one, enjoy!

VIGILANTE SHIT- P.B PARKER & MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Peter! Matt! x Vigilante Black Cat! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: SMUT, praise and degradation kink, mocking/ babying, petnames, teasing, swearing, mentions of blood/ violence (matt also bandages readers wound), bondage, dry humping, masturbation, breeding kink, man handling, overstim, fluff tho<33

"and i don't dress for villains, or for innocents.. i'm on my vigilante shit again. i don't start shit but i can tell you how it ends..."- vigilante shit, taylor swift

You had married the night.

It was your escape, your desires, your dreams. The stars were rings upon your fingers, the moon a shining spotlight through the clouds as you’d stalk your prey during the hunting hours.

You came alive in the darkness.

You felt like a burst of light, energy and power bursting through your veins. It was when you could take charge. When you could sneak up on people, make them fall to their knees and beg for salvation.

It was when you could get revenge on the people who deserved it most.

You had trained yourself to be a soldier. To have your guard up, to be alert and stealthy. The Black Cat, is what they had called you. You were quiet and flexible, getting in places the average person couldn't.

It was ideal for stealing.

“Stealing” things that didn't belong to the people who had stolen them in the first place. They didn't belong to the white, rich old men the prowled the upper parts of New York.

They didn't belong to the thugs and gangs in Hell's Kitchen either.

They belonged to you.

It was a waiting game, finding the right time to swoop in from your spot on the rooftops to scurry down and collect the goods. But it was one you were willing to play. You had played many games since your time on the streets in the twilight hours, like cat and mouse.

Matt Murdock and Peter Parker were crawling on you like spiders, and you had run into them more times than you could count. As fast as they appeared, you had fled.

They had no idea who you were, but you had made headlines. The thief in the night. The media didn't know anything. They liked to spin and twist lies for their own benefit, so that things would sell and people would become frightened.

What they didn't know- is that you only stole from people who deserved it.

Your own version of justice.

And right now, the men you were watching from the alleyway deserved it. You had been watching the Pirus gang now for days, hiding behind old warehouse containers and perching yourself upon balconies and ledges to spy upon them and their dirty deeds that made your own hands feel greasy with grime.

They had something that belonged to you. You had noted the 18k gold ring getting pocketed between them, a ring that had been gifted to your mother before she had passed.

You didn't care about the imaginary price tag that was attached to it, like these crooks did. You didn’t care you could sell it and easily make a hundred thousand dollars, waving goodbye to student debt and mortgage rates. You just cared that it was in a safe, and valuable place.

Tucked away in the little vintage jewelry box she had gifted you before she took her final breaths on that old, creaking bed.

A growl ripped through your throat as you saw them flip it up like a coin, hearing their mutters about ‘thank god the bitch is dead’. They were just a leap away. With a push, you could jump down upon the pavement, ripping them to shreds with your claws.

You had been patient enough, a clock ticking in your head with each second that had passed where the ring wasn't in your possession.

The ring was an easy target, and you shifted your weight stealthy to propel your body forward.

It was all coming together. It was easy.

Almost too easy.

As you guided yourself, eye on the prize- a sharp jerk yanked you back. The breath was stolen from your lungs, your scream muffled as a hand was placed across your mouth.

“Shhhh. Not a word.” the low voice murmured in your ear, his warm breath making the hairs on your neck rise with anxiety as you struggled against his chokehold grip he held on you against his large, solid body.

You were brought back in through the large warehouse window you had so stupidly turned your back on, too focused on the activities below to realize what was going on behind you.

Who was behind you, for that matter. You twisted your foot to step on his own, but he avoided it, clearly trained in combat as he fought back against your contained fight.

“Don’t make this harder for yourself sweetheart.” he growled, twisting you around to smash your body against the cold brick, the wind knocked out of you, too stunned to cry for help as he tossed you like a rag doll.

A black bandanna covered his eyes, toned body was hidden under the same black fabric, blood smeared across his cracked knuckles. You searched him for some recognition of who he was, but you were too dazed from the sudden assault, heartbeat racing too loud in your ears from adrenaline to think clearly enough.

“She's got fight in her man.” the mystery man smirked, as if you were a wild animal in a cage, desperate to get free.

Shivers broke out across your skin from under the leather as shocks went through your whole body, white, sticky webs clinging you to the wall like a mouse in a trap.

Then it clicked. Oh. Fuck.

“Oh you fuckers.”

A second body hung from the ceiling, emerging from the darkness into the dingy warehouse lighting, attached to a web as he waved at you from upside down.

“Well hello there!” he said cheerfully as if the three of you were all buddy-buddy and this was an everyday event.

“Was that a goddamn Star Wars reference?” you huffed, wanting to strangle the both of them.

“Yes. Maybe. Maybe yes.” He dropped from the ceiling, bouncing on his heels as he looked at you with interest through his mask, head tilted with curiosity.

“You need to slow your heartbeat. Calm down.” the masked man murmured lowly, listening to the increasing speed of its thumps as he neared you. It was then your vision cleared, and you could get a good look at them in the dimmed lighting.

Matt and Peter.

“I would be calm, if I wasn't webbed to a fucking wall right now.” you sang sweetly, making him smirk.

“It's for your own good.”

“Well technically, it’s for our own good because if she weren't bound she’d be clawing our faces off right now.” Peter noted, his voice fading in the distance as he found some random old chairs that were scattered in the corner.

“Peter’s right ya know.” you played along, the dragging of the chair's feet against the stone floor coming to an abrupt halt.

“You know my name?”

“Well duh. I’m not stupid, no matter how much you and Mr. Matthew over here may think I am.” You couldn't keep the sly smirk off your face, knowing you had them right where you wanted them.

You couldn't defeat them, and you knew the gang had most likely scrambled by now, along with your ring- but you could keep them talking.

“It's nice for us to finally be acquainted again.” Matt sighed, watching as Peter brought up the chair, plopping himself in one directly in front of you. As if you were a circus act, or the hottest new movie in the box office.

You huffed, not meeting his eyes as Peter curled his feet under him, sitting crisscross in the old, rusting chair. “What is this a therapy session?”

“Does it need to be? Tell me, my darling- how is your relationship with your father?” Peter asked mockingly, making you hiss out in response.

“Alright, alright enough. We just want to talk to you…”

“I’m not giving you my name.” you replied sharply, slightly struggling against the webs, having no luck of them weakening.

“How is that remotely fair?” Peter scoffed.

“Peter- enough. Fine, be that way. As I said, we just want to talk.” Matt exclaimed, cracking his knuckles as his head tilted to listen, surveying the nearby area with his ears.

“I think they left.” you murmured, and he nodded in response, mouth drawn into a hard line. “They left cause you scared them off with all your thrashing. Settle down woman, the webs won't break that easily.” Peter hinted, watching in amusement as you finally gave up, putting your head down in defeat.

“I hate you.” you murmured softly, quiet as a pin drop as you stared down at the cold concrete.

“Yeah, yeah tell us something we don't know.” Matt sighed, your eyes flickering back up to look at Peter, his legs still crossed in an almost childish manner as he leaned his head in his hands- appearing bored.

“Let's get this over and done with. What do you want to talk about?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

They were going to threaten you- obviously, or they'd try and talk you over with their magical words of wisdom, about how being ‘good’ was better than whatever the fuck you were doing. You didn’t care for it.

But you knew they wouldn't let you go until they said what they had to say.

You fought the urge to shiver, a cold breeze filtering through the broken windows, seething to chill your bones. Your nipples hardened, and you swore Matt’s head tilted slightly, a smirk dotting his face.

“You. Helping us.” Peter retorted, and before you could stop it, you laughed.

You laughed and laughed and laughed because what the fuck? That was the last thing you had expected them to say, his words seeming like an inside joke you weren’t involved with.

The cold had now disappeared, replaced with a warmth and bubbliness that pooled in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” was all you could gasp out, your sides hurting from the continuous laughter that poured out of you. You laughed partly because yes- it was funny, but also because you were confused and anxious. Not that they needed to know that of course.

“We need your help taking on Kingpin.”

There it was.

The laughter stopped. That name had left you scarred, your insides shriveling up at the whispers of memories that trickled through your brain.

“I don’t get involved with him.” you stated, voice hardened like cracked sugar. The air was sucked out of the room, and you saw fear and darkness slither across the brick.

“I know you don’t. That's why we’re now asking you to get involved with him, with us. We need another hand to play in his card game.”

“I don’t. Get. Involved.” you hissed, drawing out each symbol as if they were illiterate. Which they must have been. They must have been borderline stupid to think you would help them, with Kingpin nonetheless.

He was way out of your territory, and there were even lines you didn't cross once they were drawn.

“We’ll help you get your mother's things back.” Peter said cooly from his side of the room. Your head whipped towards him, eyes wide.

Maybe you didn't have the upper hand afterall.

“I don’t need your help.” Peter snorted, hand extending to the broken window, the one you had been perched out of a few minutes prior.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” he said sarcastically. “I had it under control, until you two showed up and ruined it.” you snarled.

“We saved you. They had multiple firearms on them, and you were severely outnumbered. The second you dropped, you would have been shot on the spot, too many bullets to stand a chance.” Matt replied to your outburst coolly. “But you wouldn't have known that, would you? They were tucked away, in their boots and under their jackets. Because if you did know, you would have been openly committing suicide, and that seems unlike you since theres jobs that still need to be done.”

You were silent. They had you in their webs. Quite literally, at that.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.” Matt replied softly, his demeanor seeming to change. Almost as if... as if he felt bad for you. As if he could see right through you, could feel the pain and sorrow in your heart that ripped and clawed at you daily, could feel the loneliness and anguish that haunted you.

Maybe he didn't have many choices in his lifetime.

His words were nearly comforting, but you knew they were one-sided. You did have a choice, but if you didn’t accept their offer- things wouldn't turn out good. Not that they would working with them anyways.

But what ‘choice’ did you really have?

“Fine. When do we start?”

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

“It’s fucking cold.” you groaned, the air around you seeming brisker with each passing second. New York never seemed to be warm, the skin-tight suit plastered to you not helping the cause.

It was lightweight and stretchy, its fabric perfect for fighting and climbing- but it provided next to no warmth.

The sirens shrieked as they passed by under you, the city lights illuminating the two men next to you as you sat perched on the roof.

It had been a few weeks since the webbing incident, and you now waited- bored out of your mind for an instruction. It was unlike you to listen and not lead, but you wanted to see how the dice would roll.

You crouched low, the concrete block rough and bitter to the touch as you knelt at Peter’s level.

“It’s not cold. You’re just being a pussy.” Peter drawled, the wind whipping through his messy locks as he looked down, taking in the bustling traffic below.

The cars were all fancy here, all Porches and Bentleys on this side of town. It made you feel out of sorts, and uncomfortable in your skin.

“Did you just call me a pussy?”

“He meant it romantically.” Matt replied, your eyes meeting his sharp jawline as he sourced out the area from the other side of you.

“I did not.” he scoffed, a blush burning on his cheeks as he turned away, suddenly very interested with the stone ledge.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. When are we moving in?” you asked impatiently, rocking on the balls of your feet anxiously. It felt like you had been sitting up here forever, despite meeting them back near Hell's Kitchen over half an hour ago.

So in reality, you had really only been sitting here for a good twenty minutes. Yet, it dragged on.

Where was the action? The fighting? You were sick of waiting.

“Don’t even think of moving in without my signal.” Matt stated, sensing your anticipation as you sighed.

“What are we even waiting for?!”

“For them to take their fighting somewhere else.” Peter snorted, obviously as anxious to get going as you were, but it appeared he was more collected. He had been working with Matt a lot longer than you had, and you hoped to keep it that way.

You watched as Matt listened closely, obviously aware of the conversation that was appearing behind the glass in front of you. The two men were tall and build, almost double the size of you. Anger was written across their faces, buried in the creases of their foreheads as they yelled, hands frantically moving. Their black suits were wrinkled, blood dotting one's forehead as if a fight had occurred before this one.

You tilted your head, curious.

Were they not on the same side? Were they not both fighting for Fisk, defending him?

“They seem pretty angry for people who appear to be on the same side.” you hinted, trying to think of reasons they could possibly be so mad.

“You’d be surprised how competitive his men can get, when he's angry the way has been lately.” Peter stated, looking to Matt for instruction as a gun was cocked, hands going up in surrender.

“Should we intervene?”

Matt just shook his head.

“Let it play out.” was all he said. You despised how calm and collected he was about this. Part of you wanted him to be rash, so you could save him and yell at him for how stupid he was. But that wasn't his style, and you knew it never had been. He and Peter waited in the shadows, counting down the minutes until it was right to strike.

Suddenly another man appeared from the hallway, breaking up the fight. They left the room, and you felt your body instinctively moving forward, ready to leap, though you couldn’t reach.

“The documents Peter and I need are in the office across from that one, in a safe behind the painting behind the desks. All the offices look the same, it's an industrial office. You’re in charge of making sure no one comes up on this floor.”

“So what I’m on watch duty? You brought me along so I could protect you guys while you play capture the flag?” you scoffed. Seeing as to how they quite literally webbed you to a wall, asking for your help- you figured it’d be for something much cooler than this.

“For now.” was all he said, a tone in his voice indicating something else was on the table for a later date. “I don’t really have a choice in this.”

“You always have a choice.” he repeated, words echoing those at the warehouse.

“I’m going to fucking punch you.”

A laugh escaped Peter and he was quick to cover it with a slap to the mouth as he watched the stand down you had with Matt. Nothing was coming out of this, and you weren't expecting it to. But it was still fun to try and bother him anyways.

Nothing seemed to get under his skin, which irked you even more. He was the water to your fire, the voice of reasoning. Fuck his reasoning.

“Punch me and I’m telling you right now things will not end in your favor.” Matt snarled, hand grabbing your wrist as you raised it.

“I’ll take my chances.” you hissed back, hair raising on your arms like a cat’s from under your suit.

“Go.” he commanded sternly. “What?”

“Go. The floor is clear, for now. Peter’s taking you over.”

“Wha-” Before you could beg to differ, confused about what the man meant, you felt an arm wrap around your middle. Matt's grip released from your wrist, yet you could still feel the warmth of his skin against yours, the area where his fingers brushed you starting to tingle.

The wind rushed in your ears as Peter grabbed you, a web shooting from his wrist as he swung you off your feet. It took everything in you not to scream, the movement so quick and sudden you felt your lungs come out through your ribcage. You were soaring through the air, Peter's grip tightening on you as you watched the world blaze by in a blend of colours from under you, coming to a standstill as he stuck to the side of Fisks building.

You looked over to where you once were, finding it empty. Matt had already disappeared, not a whisper or a trace that he had ever been there remaining.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” you whispered, looking down and regretting it immensely.

“I thought you liked high places? Don’t all cats?”

“Not this high.” you whimpered, willing for him to pry open the window quicker than he was currently. Although you gave him credit, he was doing it one-handed after all.

“Just don’t look down. That's what I did before I got used to it.” he shrugged, and you clung to him tighter, breathing in the cologne he wore through his suit. It was nice, you realized, sort of hating yourself for liking it as much as you did.

All of a sudden the two of you were much too close, the air becoming hot and saccharine despite being almost twenty stories high, the wind whipping through your hair wildly.

He let out a small grunt as you heard the window click open, the glass freeing enough space for you to wedge your body through.

“This is the storage room, down the hall from the office we’ll be at. Stay close.” he instructed, and you scrambled to grip onto the window ledge. “And don't let yarn be a distraction.” he added teasingly, darting away before you could let out a sly remark in return.

“Asshole” you muttered to yourself, slowly and quietly shutting the window behind you. You had landed upon a shelf, filled with cleaning supplies. The smell of chemicals burned, your nose twitching with disgust as you took in your surroundings.

It was quiet in here, minus the gentle hum of the air vents. Dark as the night outside, you were stealthy and careful not to knock anything over as you leaped to the floor, the hard tile cold under your hands.

Mops, buckets, vacuums and brooms all were dotted against the walls, cleaning chemicals so advanced you didn't even know if you could pronounce them. Sometimes you forgot how much money this man really had. It seemed unimaginable.

Kingpin could probably buy the entire city if he wanted, in all honesty. You were rather confused why he hadn't yet, since that always seemed to be his endgame. Changing the city. Changing the way people lived, changing the way the economy ran to better suit his needs.

All this change that didn’t need to happen. He could change his shitty attitude, or even the paint colour in here. You thought with a sigh, dusting your hands off as you rose to your full height, on high alert as your hand reached for the door handle.

It was quiet outside. Too quiet.

You held your breath, feeling your lungs tighten as you slid beside the door. Your back was to the wall, heartbeat thumping in your chest as you heard a voice call from the end of the hallway, turning the corner.

Waiting wasn't something you were very good at, but you knew you had to time this right. The whole mission- and your life, depended on it. Just as his foot hit the hardwood in front of your hidden alcove, you swung the door open, arm reaching around his throat.

A meer gasp escaped him as you pounced on him, dragging him into the cleaning closet with you. His arm went back to hit you with his gun, but you had wrapped around him like a koala bear- his arms unable to you. His gun clattered to the ground as you kicked it, squeezing your arm around his airways even tighter as he fell back against a shelf.

You winced as the pain shot up your arm as he slammed you back against the wooden ledges, cleaning supplies rattling in the struggle.

“Can you pass out quieter?!” you hissed, feeling his grip lack as he slipped into unconsciousness. You jumped off of him as he thudded down to the ground, limbs spread out as his breathing steadied.

You sighed, dusting off your suit again with the quick bush of your hands. He had got dirt on you- the bastard. Grabbing underneath his armpits, you attempted to trudge the large, beefy man to sit against the shelf.

If he was going to be unconscious, he might as well ruin his posture in the process. It seemed like a fair trade, seeming as he almost pointed a gun at you and smacked your shoulders hard enough to see little black spots dot across your vision.

He would be out cold for a while, hopefully, long enough for your little boy scout duo to get their shit and scramble. You watched as he slouched over, proud of your handiwork. You were lucky he wasn't as large as the other guards you had seen, or else you weren't so sure your strategy would work.

Remembering you had a job to do, you slipped back over to the closed door, poking your head out slightly as you heard the ever so slight creak of a window close from the office down the hall.

Good. They got in.

You were scared to breathe, scared the rush of air whooshing through your trachea would set off some sort of alarm or trigger. It was like walking on pins and needles. The air seemed tighter here, stuffy as it weighed down on you. It was almost an unfamiliar presence was lurking nearby, someone you had seen in a nightmare once before, but had convinced yourself they weren't real.

Shivering, you tried your best to ignore it, slipping off behind the corner- somewhere you knew the cameras wouldn't be able to see you. Peter had already mapped out the floor plan earlier- his long, elegant fingers gliding over the page, his words tuning out slightly as you felt warmth spread through you the longer you watched his fingers point and tap.

You thought of them now as you watched the empty hallways, knowing they were probably gliding across the ridges of the mahogany desk as he waited for Matthew to finish his task.

They brushed against you now as you felt the hairs on the back of your neck raise, a ghost slipping through you.

Someone was watching you. Someone was here with you, and it wasn't Peter.

Before you could turn fully, hands reached for you, tugging you under an invisible wave. You were dragged under the surface, the shock and adrenaline causing you to gasp for air as they yanked you back against the wall.

Men came from all directions, swarming you. You kicked and clawed, getting in a good few punches as you struggled.

You were caught. Again.

But this time, they wouldn't be willing to talk- like Matt and Peter were. You didn’t know what they do, which was the scary part.

“MATT-” You managed to call out, quickly silenced as a butt of a gun was hit to your forehead, the force so strong your neck snapped back, head rolling limp as the sound of the crack reverberated through your ears.

The world turned dark, and you prayed deep down he had some idea what was happening to you at the time being.

He was a catholic. He’d hear.

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

The world was fuzzy.

Everyone said that, that when their eyes opened it was difficult to see for a bit, shapes and colours blending together. But it was bad. Worse than they put it in the books, when they didnt know how else to change the scene, so they just made the character unconscious or whatever.

You feared you were trapped in a watercolour painting as your eyes opened, hand reaching up to grab the place where your head was throbbing like a jackhammer.

You ached for it to stop, moaning out in pain as the word started to reform itself.

“Shh, shh relax.” a familiar voice called, though he sounded slightly out of tune and distant. Matthew came into view as you turned your head, his hand reaching out to press you back into the pillows.

“What happened?” you croaked out, trying to hold back the tears as you felt dried blood crust on your forehead. There was the sound of water trickling as he twisted out a clean rag, the bowl on the bedside table scattered with medical supplies.

You managed to move slightly, allowing him to sit next to you on the bed, a slight frown on his face as he sighed.

“Peter ran out to back you up, but we were outnumbered. He grabbed you and we took off. There were too many of them swarming us for it to be a decent fight, especially because you were knocked out.”

The warm cloth was pressed against your gash, and you flinched from the sudden contact as he tended to you.

Who would have thought? Not you.

“I thought the Matthew Murdock never backed down from a fight?” you asked curiously, knowing it would twinge a nerve or two. But it didn’t. He just shrugged, setting the cloth back down next to the others.

“I do when someone who is on my side is hurt.” he stated, voice seeming to be filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decide on. It was a factual statement, and you were honestly shocked he wasn't more upset with you.

You were silent as he stood, bed creaking slightly from the removal of his extra weight, his arms hanging limp at his sides. It was then you could get a good look at him, though the lighting was dim in his apartment.

His knuckles were slightly smeared with dried blood, some slashes dotted across his forearms that seemed fresh.

But he was unbothered.

He had put on the mask you had put on so many times before, becoming a soldier. Becoming guarded.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” he noted, sensing your gaze on the marks that dotted across his exposed skin. All you could do was clear your throat as you peeled your eyes from him, desperate to think of anything else but running your fingers across his skin.

You focused on the red numbers from the analog that stared at you, seeing it was an odd hour in the early morning. The heavy rain pattered against the windows, the comforting sound reminding you of nights at your mother's, listening to the rain hit the tin.

Her soft perfume would wrap you in an embrace as she’d lie with you, book in hand as you’d drift off to sleep. The sound always brought you back to a place of serenity, even in the toughest of times. You urged to find yourself back to the memories of her, but were interrupted by the sound of the door slamming, and the squealing of wet boots.

“He returns triumphant.” Peter called from the entrance, a plastic bag dropping to the ground with the water that dripped from his coat as he shrugged it off.

You groaned, forcing yourself to swing your legs over the bed, the hardwood cold against your feet. Pushing up, you wobbled slightly as you rose to your full height- feeling like a fawn on its new legs.

“Did Claire cause a fuss?” Matt asked, flicking on a light from around the corner. You heard water run from a faucet as Peter shook out his dripping hair, running his fingers through it before carrying the bag over to him.

“No, no she seemed fine with it. Kinda rushy but-” His attention slid over to you, concern across his features.

“Hey, hey you're supposed to be in bed.”

“I don't like you.” you murmured, trying to shoo him away as he walked towards you.

“I don't care. You’re supposed to be resting.” he sighed, rolling his eyes as you protested. Peter's hands were warm, despite being outside in the crisp, chilled New York air as they picked you up gently.

He treated you as if you were a piece of fine china when he walked, moving ever so slowly to avoid jutting you around more than necessary. It was odd, considering you both had given each other the side eye more times than you could count.

You weren't used to the attention. You weren't sure if you liked it or not, it was too unfamiliar and new. But you accepted it, tucking your head to your chin as you clutched his sweater tighter, the clenching of your fists bringing you relief.

He carried you to the bathroom, the brighter lighting making you squint as he entered. Matt stood at the vanity, the bag of goods Peter had picked up scattered out on the counter. You gulped at the sight of the medical tools, the needle and thread making your skin crawl.

“I think I’m fine.” you said, anxiously clearing your throat as Peter set you down beside the sink. Matt resumed his doings, gathering the thread as if this were an everyday occurrence for him.

It very well could be, you realized.

“Seriously, I’m okay-”

“Hold her still.” Matt insisted to Peter as you made a move to slide off the counter. Panic swarmed you like flies, maggots chewing away at your lungs as you found it harder and harder to breathe.

It wasn't because of the boys, far from that. They had taken quite good care of you, despite the circumstances. It was the needle, the damn needle that made your stomach turn in on itself.

The idea of something sewing through layers of your skin did not sit right with you. You wanted to turn to the invisible camera, break the fourth wall during this shit.

“Can you believe this shit? I can help take down Fisk, but I’m scared of a small needle? (and commitment sometimes)”

“Breathe.” Matt commanded sternly as his hand gripped your thigh, sensing your bubbling fear. You shook your head frantically, your stomach starting to clench.

A gentle touch to your other thigh startled you, and you looked over in alarm as Peter's fingers brushed your skin, his eyes seeming to bleed raw with empathy. He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and you welcomed his touches with open arms as you started to shake and buzz with nerves.

“Kitty, it’s okay. I promise you, he knows what he’s doing.”

”I used to stitch up my dad after his fights when I was a kid. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Matt replied softly. “It’s not that it’s just… it grosses me out. The needle- I mean.”

Matt tilted his head slightly, a small little smile on his face. The one you had seen so much when you were around him in the short period of time, the one he did when he was teasing you.

You wanted to rub it off his face, smear it like chocolate into his skin with the palm of your hand.

“You’re a brave lil thing. You’ll be okay.” You closed your eyes, doing anything to dissociate, anything to convince your mind you were in a better place. Knuckles clenched around the counters edge, nails scratching the sharp surface as you keened.

“I’ll be gentle.” he murmured in your ear, close enough so that you could breathe in his scent, could feel the heat that pulsed off him in a sinusoidal wave.

He was far, yet so close in your mind, sight like tunnel vision as you tried not to be consumed by him. But it was impossible. The soft gentle squeeze on your thigh took away from Matt's actions, and you exhaled softly, steadily.

In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. In for four. Hold for-

“Which one of them did this to you?” Peter asked you benevolently, finger strumming a steady rhythm. You were scared for him to stop.

Suddenly, you didn't want to be left alone anymore. It was strange how the human body could react like this, how it could change and fluctuate depending on each situation was thrown at it. It wasn't equipped to handle them alone. It was a machine, but was unusable, nor was it well-oiled if someone wasn't there to support it.

In some cases, that was the last person you'd ever expect in your life to keep its maintenance.

“I’m not sure. He had a scar, right across his cheek. That’s all I could see of him, before the others came.”

Silence. Then another beat.

“We’ll kill them all.” was all he said, eyes slipping up to admire Matt's handiwork. Matt nodded, humming to himself softly as he patched you up with ease. Your eyes threatened to bulge out of their head at their comments, shocked that they could talk about this so… so lightly.

And for you? They would kill for you, someone they could barely stand to work with. It rubbed you the wrong way.

There was more to this than you realized.

“I thought the two of you didnt kill?” you asked hesitantly, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt as you felt Matt tug on the final stitch.

The two of them just shrugged. You didn't like how much they shrugged.

“We don't really.”

Then this was personal. This was about Fisk. You needed- no ached for more answers for the more questions that brewed in your mind,

Why Fisk? Why bring you into this? They most likely weren't planning on killing them because of you. You seemed too insignificant. There was a larger cause behind this, if it was driving them to killing instincts.

“So why?” You couldn't help but speak your current interest, too many questions churning deep inside the labyrinths of your mind.

“Done.” Matt sighed, ignoring your questions. A chill spread through your thigh as you felt Peter's hand slip from the surface of your skin, slightly scarred but smoothen after healing.

It felt like a shock, his hand retracting as if he was zapped from you. As if the trance was broken, and things were back to normal. Where you hated him, and he hated you, and neither of you could look at each other for more than two minutes without making faces like children.

His footsteps were silent, cat-like as he removed himself from the tension sharp enough you could cut it with a knife- as he should.

You’d go, or he would.

You slipped from the counter, watching as Matt started to put his supplies in random drawers, although they weren't random to him. He opened each one swiftly, knowing exactly where to put each item where.

You stood still, hoping he’d provide you with the answer you desired. You didn't want to leave this apartment without one.

But he ignored you, acting as if you weren't there. A childlike tendency was brewing inside you, and you fought the urge to not stop your foot against the cool tile and huff.

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

Why won't you tell me anything? Why am I being left in the dark? Why, just why can't you tell me anything? But you didn't want to push anything.

It was too soon. You had a feeling deep down, small but visible, that’d they'd tell you at some point. Patience was key. It was key in that cleaning closet, and it was key now. It had overtaken so many parts of your life- being patient. It was difficult to master, but it was essential for independence.

“Thank you. For stitching me up, and taking care of me. I appreciate it.” you nodded, not waiting for a reply before you stepped out of the bathroom, heart heavy in your hands.

It had weighed on you- how exhausted you were. It was a lot for your body to handle, in such a short period of time. It was hard for you to admit it to yourself, but you registered the fact you hadn't done something as extreme as this.

Of course you had taken down organizations before, small little street gangs and such that caused disturbances to your true targets.

But this? Fisk? It was a lot. And you had a very strong feeling it wouldn't be ending soon.

The sound of a glass shifting across the table made you jump, the scraping of the glass against the mahogany an uncomfortable pause in the everlasting silence.

Peter’s hand closed around the cup, adams apple bobbing as he chugged the water back.

“You gonna sleep in just that?” he asked, eyebrow raised with a sly grin on his face. You looked down, the oversized tank top hanging down just past your knees.

You presumed it was one of Matt’s considering how large it was on you- and the fact all you had on you at the time was your suit.

They had seen you mostly naked. Oh my god.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you looked back up at him, determined not to let the humiliation you felt win. Besides, Peter was more pretty to look at than the floor anyways.

“What else am I supposed to wear? You gonna be a pervert?” His hands flew up in mock defense, eyes widening.

“No, no I’m a gentleman. Just worried you’ll be cold, that's all.”

“These floors better be heated then.” you shrugged, snagging a warm fuzzy blanket off the arm of the couch.

“No ones sleeping on the floor. I’m on the couch, you're with Parker in the bed.” Matt chipped out, emerging from the bathroom at last. It was as if he was your conversation- not wanting to interrupt in case someone said something snarky and he’d drop the popcorn.

It took you a second to understand what he said fully, feeling incompetent.

“The bed?”

“The bed.” You shook your head hectically, the room blurring.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“I know you can.” he replied, hand touching the lower area of your back as he passed you, making you shiver.

“But it’d be much better if you slept in the bed with your injuries. And besides, what guest sleeps on the floor?” he asked coyly, fluffing up the couch pillows.

Peter’s smile was mischievous as ever, a glimmer in his eye as he took you in.

“C'mon kitty. I don't bite. Promise.” You refused to trust a promise from Parker. But you felt your feet begin to automatically walk over to the comfort of the bed, with its warm sheets that smelt of lavender.

Today was bundles of nightmares all smashed into each other, toppling over one another to cram themselves into the twenty-four hours.

What would sleeping next to Parker do to add to that?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ He added a lot.

Though it wasn't nightmares- the opposite in fact, it was more trouble to your own morals than you thought was possible.

You woke just as the sun rose, only managing to muster a few hours of shut eye despite the events before. Though your injuries were numbed from pain meds, it was spent tossing and turning between the sheets, trapped in the labyrinth of your own mind.

You were internally angry at yourself, mad at the attraction you felt towards the two men. It had only been a few weeks, and anytime their eyes lingered on you for too long you felt your panties start to dampen.

You wondered if they could tell.

The idea that they could excited you even more.

This wasn't supposed to happen, this little rendezvous of sexual tension between the three of you. You were the villain, they were the heroes. The villain wasn't supposed to clash with the hero in that way- it was off-script.

Yet you felt frozen in place as the birds chirped, Peter's warm body so close to yours you felt the hardening bulge in his pj pants- his large arm draped over your body.

Everyone was still asleep as far as you knew, but you wouldn't be surprised if Matt was awake. He was as quiet as a mouse, most likely listening to your quickening heartbeat as Peter's arm brushed against your hardened nipples, and you opened your legs slightly.

You swallowed, too afraid to make a sound.

“Mmm here kitty, kitty.” he whispered, voice husky and laced with sleep against your scalp.

Your eyes widened.

Was he dreaming about you?

Shifting, you brushed the curve of your ass against his bulge, making him groan. There was no harm in a little fun- was there? It’s not like you were in love with them or anything.

Who said you couldn't mess around for a bit- act on that sexual tension?

You heard his breath catch in his throat, eyes opening slowly to feel you pressed up against him.

“Were you dreaming of me?” you asked innocently, starting to slowly tease him, his fingers brushing circles against your hardened nipples.

“I like when you do that, ya know. They're so sensitive.”

“You minx. You're being a tease.” he growled softly, pinching your nipple harshly as you softly yelped.

“Don’t you like it when I’m a tease though bug boy? It just means you’ll have to train me real good.” you smiled, turning back to give him puppy dog eyes, resulting him practically dry-humping you.

You knew Matt could smell your sweet arousal, and you wondered how long he would hold off before yelling at the two of you to stop fucking around on his bed.

“I thought you hated me?”

“I do. But you feel so good.” you sighed, coy smile blooming as he shimmed lower, teeth sinking deep into your neck as he slid his hand down to part your legs even further.

“Such a fucking whore. Just some cock will shut you up- won’t it?”

You nodded frantically, the hiss that slipped from his lips sounding like music to your ears as he felt how wet you were through the flimsy fabric.

“Please. Please I’ll be so good I promise-” you begged, squirming with anticipation as he chuckled lowly.

“Oh so now she switches up hmm? Silly girl.” he cooed, slipping your thong to the side. You couldn't believe this was really happening. It made your head spin, made your limbs tingly at the thought alone how wrong this was.

Wasting no time, he tugged down his boxers, slowly teasing you as he slid the tip along your wet folds. You knew he was doing it just to spite you, and you were insistent on not giving him the satisfaction.

Biting your lip, you shivered as he toyed with you- a cat playing with its dinner.

“Oh so no back talk now? Good.” he growled, sliding it in to the hilt, making you slap your hands over your mouth with a means to silence the moans that threatened to escape.

Though there was no point, Matt heard every little breath and whimper you protruded, cock hard and heavy in his hands as he stoked it like some pervert.

Peter stuffed you to the brim, brushing your g-spot as he tossed his head back in pleasure.

“F-fuck-” you whimpered, almost unable to speak with how sudden the stretch was. It sent fire coursing through your veins, an adrenaline rush bringing you back to when you were in his arms on the rooftop.

“Fuck is right, Jesus Christ you feel so good. So fuckin tight.” he moaned, slowly sliding out of you, feeling your juices coat the base of his cock as he thrust into you hard enough to send your body jolting before he steadied you.

A new body had entered the room, his presence searing and as hot as embers. Little moans escaped your mouth as you stared at Matt, mouth agape, eyes wide as Peter hammered into you.

“In my bed? Really?” he smirked, and you followed his happy trail down to where his large, veiny hand palmed himself as he heard your heartbeat skip a beat.

“Well someone’s happy to see me. Hmm kitty?”

You moaned, hiccuping on your spit and drool as Peter’s thrusts became more erratic. By the way he was handling you, you knew he didn’t care how quickly you came.

He was using you as a toy, a means to get off. That turned you on even more.

“You’ll get your turn with her after Matty. We talked about this.” he mused, watching your breasts bounce from his harsh manhandling.

“Oh, I know. It’s only fair, isn't it kitty?”

“Y-yeah.” you choked out, Matt’s fingers reaching out to wipe the drool that had dribbled from your lips, swirling his tongue around the coated digit and releasing it with a pop.

“She’s already going dumb. Like a bitch in heat.” Peter smiled, him and Matt holding you steady as your body instinctively attempted to wiggle away from the intense waves of overstimulation, his moans ringing out throughout the room as he came in you with a grunt.

“She just needs to be bred.” Matt smiled, tugging off his boxers and your eyes nearly rolled at the sight.

This was addicting. The way they were making you feel, the way they spoke to you as if you were just a toy for their pleasure. But that's what you liked. Which made it so you knew it would be even harder to avoid this scenario again. It was like a drug.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing your gaze on his as Peter slid out of you, cum oozing out all over your puffy, swollen cunt as you whined from the abrupt emptiness.

“Shhh. You’re fine.”

Your body was limp as Matt took over, flipping you on your stomach, knees bent with your ass in the air. Kisses trailed down your spine, thin tanktop slung somewhere in the room.

You didn’t know. You didn't care.

All you cared about was the way he handled you, so gentle compared to Peter. But you knew he’d get rough soon.

“S’too much-” you mumbled sleepy against the sheets, feeling spent.

“She's spent. Fuckin whore is cockdrunk.” Peter smirked, shrugging on a t-shirt as he watched the scene unfold in front of him.

It felt dirtier with him watching in a way, knowing his eyes would linger on you in your most vulnerable state.

“But she had so much backtalk with us these past few weeks. What happened to that now angel?” Matt asked mockingly as he slid back in you, stuffing Peter's cum back into your abused hole again.

“Mhm-” you moaned, fisting the sheets as he entered you. He was more patient than Peter, slowly filling you instead of slamming to the hilt- but the stretch was just as delicious.

“M’so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” you mindlessly babbled- for what you didn't know. You just wanted to be good, to make them happy, and to please them. If that meant shattering your ego, then so be it.

“Silly girl.” Matt provoked, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he started to use you as he saw fit. You sunk your head deeper into the pillows, tears starting to stream down your cheeks from the sensitivity.

“M’gonna cum-” you hiccupped cautiously, seeing as Matt’s pace was not stopping for anything, or anyone.

“Yeah? Go ahead baby. I’ll let you, since Parker was being so cruel.”

“She was being a tease. She had to learn a lesson.” Peter mused, teeth digging into his lower lip as he watched where you and Matt connected, knowing his cum was being shoved further into you.

“But she’s such a sweet girl. Deep down, you just wanna please us, don’t you baby? Your little demeanor doesn't fool us.”

You felt your brain go fuzzy, his voice sounding distant as you came around his cock with a high pitched whine.

“Atta girl kitty.” Peter called, creaming Matt’s cock as he stilled, filling you up just the same. His grunts were like music to your ears, following you as you came down from the little cloud you were perched on.

“So good baby. Just stay put, yeah?” Matt murmured, and you didn’t even have the strength to nod as he slowly inched his way out of you, both of their cum now slowly spilling out of you as your legs twitched and quivered.

You couldn't move even if you wanted to. Your body felt like jello, and you felt your lower half slowly slide down onto the bed as you whimpered.

“Hurts s’bad.” you groaned, Peter's hand finding its way to stroke your cheek bringing you some form of comfort as you heard Matt start to run the tap, warm water spewing out onto a clean washcloth.

“I know kitty. But you did so good for us. It’s okay, just go back to sleep yeah?”

You nodded, eyes starting to droop as you clung to consciousness.

“I fucked her better you know.” Peter called, making Matt scoff as he returned with the damp fabric in hand.

“Yeah right. Older men just do it better Parker.” he shrugged, and you almost wanted to deride them. They were bickering like children and if you were in the position to bicker back- you would.

The feeling of the cloth against you made you jolt, and Peter reached out to steady you, rubbing small soothing circles on your back as Matt cleaned you.

It was strange and unfamiliar, the kindness and soothing physical contact the men were showing you. You bathed in it, scared it would all slip away like sand when the after-orgasm haze wore off.

“I’m sure Murdock. But who got to have her first?”

“Because she was sleeping right next to you! In my bed, may I add.”

You rolled your eyes, their endless arguing lingering over to the kitchen as you clung to the warm blankets that smelt of them.

It was going to be a long day indeed.

1K notes · View notes

flowerbxuquet · 1 year ago

Text

The only truth

Amber Freeman x fem!reader

A/N: GOD GUYS I HAVENT WRITTEN FANFIC IN LIKE TWO YEARS SO THIS IS probably really shitty but shut up just take it :P

WARNINGS: uhhh gore i think..there’s a lotta violence and it’s pretty angsty

The small town of Woodsboro had been rocked with fear when the gruesome Ghostface attacks were brought back to the once quiet and homely town. Among the chaos though, between your friends, you had found comfort in your best friend of all, Amber Freeman, your girlfriend.

Amber was beautiful, witty, artistic, athletic, she was perfect, she was your rock, a shoulder to lean on in the darkest moments of the Ghostface massacres.

You spent countless nights with her after the news spread, terrified you were next.

Amber consoled and soothed you in her arms those nights, you slept like a baby through the whole night.

Loving the way that you thought she would stay in bed with you those nights when Amber had really been sneaking away when you were at your most vulnerable.

The sound of the gun shot still rings through your ears even as you hide in the closet of the house- Stu Macher’s house, the house you had been mindlessly staying at for nights for comfort, turned out to be the most horrific house you’d ever stepped foot in.

You can still see the look on Liv’s face when Amber—your rock—the love of your life, had shot her right in the head.

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear heavy boots clunking through the hallway at a rapid rate, you knew it was Amber.

Your breathe catches in your throat as you cover your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes as you desperately try not to make a sound.

Suddenly, the door slams open and you let out a scream of terror. Amber looks pissed but her gaze immediately softens as she looks at you, lowering her knife that her gloved hands were holding, the gloved hands of the Ghostface costume.

“Baby..” Amber coos softly, her voice is so quiet and soothing, completely different to when you could hear her screaming and laughing mockingly at Sidney and Gale just downstairs.

Amber sighs, seeing your terrified expression. “Sorry, baby, i’m just..um..looking for Tara. Why don’t you come out? I’m not going to hurt you..” Her voice sounds so loving, so caring and trusting.

But you see her hand reaching out to you and you can see the ghostface gloves and come back to your senses.

“How could you do this to me?”

Your voice is meek, it cracks slightly as tears roll down your face and you stare up at her with a look of utter betrayal.

Amber’s eyes fill with remorse and she sighs, “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I never wanted you to get hurt.” A lie, it was all a lie, she manipulated and lied to you for months, she was a monster. You loved her so much and she betrayed you.

Your heart shattered as you struggle to comprehend the betrayal. "You used me. All this time, you were lying to my face while people died because of you!"

Amber reached out, desperate to touch her beloved girlfriend but you flinched away from her touch, backing up into the wall of the closet like a feral cat.

“You..lied to me for months.” You whisper softly, Ambers heart breaking each time you spoke with that damned broken voice that just made her want to kiss and comfort you. “Is there any part of you that’s real?”

Amber nodded, her voice barely audible. "The part that loves you. That's the only truth I have left."

You were torn between conflicting emotions. Those words tugged at your heart strings and made your heart soar..but you knew what happened in all of these movies. You knew the gruesome deaths that each Ghostface faced, and with Sidney and Gale in the house now, you were certain she wouldn't make it out of this alive.

Out of nowhere, Tara comes stumbling out, slamming her crutches into Ambers face and Amber screams, falling onto the ground while Tara takes heavy breathes, bringing her crutches down and onto Amber over and over and over again.

You stare in shock and quickly leave the closet when Amber gets back up and moves to grab Tara, you move swiftly and barrel your body into your lovers. Amber yelps in surprise and is thrown over the couch, wincing in pain as she falls against the glass table.

Tara quickly grabs the knife from Amber’s hands, staring down at Amber who’s trying to get up but her body is impaled with the glass from the table.

Tara hands you the knife slowly, her hands shaking as she gives you a nod.

You’re confused, hurt, angry.

“The second you’re not of use anymore, she will kill you just like the others.” Tara whispers softly with a frown, she knows how hard this must be, especially since Amber was also her best friend.

You feel like you’re not in your body anymore as you stand over Ambers limp body, completely dissociated.

Amber’s face is covered in blood and there’s some glass in her cheek as she stares at you with pleading eyes.

“Y/n..I love you..no one will ever love you the way I do.”

Amber whispers, her voice shaky and frightened.

You take a deep breathe, pushing aside your emotions as you close your eyes tightly. Thoughts are flashing through your mind, your first date with Amber, her little laughs, how possessive and jealous she would get which you used to find cute, how she would hold you close, whisper in your ear, kiss you so tenderly.

You exhale as you bring the knife down in your hand and feel the knife enter Amber’s forehead, suffering the same wound as Liv. Your heart breaks, your eyes still squeezing shut—

—After you killed the love of your life.

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katnip-canvas · 2 months ago

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Cotl Doodle Dump Part 1: The Lamb

(I get really rambly about character design)

I absolutely love storytelling through design and when character design changes as the character grows

It's great as a creative exercise but also means that I have like 4 different designs for the same characters anyways onto fanart

Lamb designs!

(Still experimental and liable to change as I draw them)

The Sacrifice

The Vessel

The infant god

Design notes

References from multiple species - merinos, scottish bighorns, valais blacknose and suffolk sheep

Horns get longer and curvier as they grow, fully curving after fight with narinder

Their face changes to a more mature grown up one from a young adult one

The collar lines are meant to symbolise a split neck

The cape is meant to look like a flower from above with the edges resembling petals(I'll draw that too)

and yeah I absolutely hate drawing the crowns they're so weird

Some lamb expression practice!

Conversing with the red crown..... or Narinder ?

they just had an "amazing idea" read:'about to do something extremely reckless and die a stupid death '

They're a determined dumbass

Teasing idk who, ratau or the goat probably (i haven't figured out their design yet but will soon :))

my what a silly little goober they are ~

ya done fked up

When they get angry they accquire sharp teeth, slit pupils and the markings on the horns open up to reveal eldritch eyes

Also they'll get a second set of horns after full ascension, rn it only grows out when they really pissed off

I really do struggle drawing the lamb more than Narinder, herbivores are just difficult to draw for me Or maybe I've had more experience with drawing cats since I was in the warriors fandom

I'm pretty happy with how these doodles came out it took a lotta trial and error to get to a point where I was happy with the designs

one thing done atleast

I've hit tumblr's pic limit so the spicy catman will be on another post

#artists on tumblr #cotl lamb #cult of the lamb #cotl fanart #the lamb #my artwork

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meeks-just-wants-to-scroll · 1 month ago

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Catman Worldbuilding Brainstorming

I’m bored and wish to brainstorm more ideas about what a world where catmen existed alongside Homo Sapiens would look like.

Western Society known now vs a western society that was conceived alongside catmen would differ for sure.

This is an open pool of my ideas and then anyone who wishes to add on can.

If western society didn’t changed (aka: modern western society)

- I am 100% sure it would just be crazy ass speciesism. People would use the same tactics used by racists but apply it to catmen and because they *are* different species, the see that as proof of their racists explanations being true.

- 🥲all the racist Christian’s who would say shit about man being made in god’s image and “god wasn’t a cat so you are frowned upon in his eyes” or some shit.

- Not to mention how Catmen (female or male) will look like a mlm relationship to humans.- also shit about catmen being born with fangs and claws and them being “uncivilized” for having animal characteristics. They would be seen as dangerous just because of how they’re born.

- efforts to hide tails, claws, paws, ears, or other feline features would likely be done; like wearing concealing clothes or trimming fur and whiskers.

- ^ adding to this: in the efforts to conform with western binary gender, catmen may ham up nonexistent differences between their sexes. Depends on if the catmen are in a group that values the gender binary forced upon them, of if they’re in a group that intentionally disregards binary gender.

That’s a lotta really depressing shit. But let us consider what if the jointed evolution of the two resulted in a more accepting society…

Alternate Universe Western Society:

- Catmen exist /migrated anywhere humans settled and traded so there would be differences across the world, hence why I focus on western society. My history knowledge isn’t incredibly detailed, hence why this is not going into a lot of specifics

- the main visual distinguishes between Catmen and humans is the cat features and the lack of sexual dimorphism.

- A society with these normalized would result in a wider acceptance of genders, sex, and visual looks (I would hope. Historically, just because two cultures differ doesn’t mean they’ll come shake hands and become buddies).

- btw, Catmen was a term given to them by humans. I don’t have a name at the moment for what they would have referred to themselves. Considering they live around the world, I am sure they too would take up a nationality-centric identity as opposed to labels that identify them as a member in the collective species. A little like how humans don’t say “ah, well I am a human!” to other humans. They say “I am *insert nationality, ethnicity, group or etc.*”

- catmen gender in their society likely differed from being binary. They lack sexual dimorphism and had no reason to draw lines between the sexes (that is unless they wanted to make a mountain out of a mole hill in relations to which sex carried the baby). Because of his, I bet gender fluidity, genders that would be outside of the western gender binary, would be common place.

- the diversity in appearances would surely create tension between human and Catmen even in this AU west society. Look at our own society, being distinct lead to stronger in vs out grouping which snowballs.

- but to inject some hopecore into this, let’s say Catmen and human interaction led to a better understanding of accommodating people’s bodies and wishes.

- ex: kids are taught to not touch catmen ears or tails without asking. It is also frowned upon to ask a catmen stranger “can I touch your fur?”

- Another ex: there are clothes and hats made to accommodate ears, tails, and claws. Toddler clothes are durable so the kids don’t tear the fabric as they get used to their claws and retracting them.

- being gay is hopeless less frowned upon. 🥲 catmen can present themselves very androgynous so at the very least, relationships and bonds between those who don’t resemble human male and female pairings would be normalized through exposure.

Misc additions and world building:

- to tie this AU back into RDR2 (if you aren’t aware, this is world building for a rdr2 AU), catnip/catmint could be a deadeye thing. It can be interpreted as calming the hand of twitches or energizing the cat and making them quicker at firing. So… maybe humans try catnip (to no effect).

- catmen across the world would of course differ, but in the west, catmen social groups are mostly familial with a loose collection of loners that join. There is no strongly defined hierarchy, it’s a group come together to help with hunting and survival. The offspring of a family often leave to join or create new colonies.

- ^ this idea can explain why being a loner / joining a group you’re not biologically related to is more normal. Society is so stringent on in and out groups, but perhaps catmen values can make the barriers for entry or exit from a group less barbed.

I’m running out of ideas and have a headache but yeah. Feel free to add on and have a conversation with me.

#cat boy #catboy #catboy AU #Meeks rambles #cat boy lore #world building #lore #discussion #meek’s headcanons #meowcah bell #meowcah

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k0iy0 · 17 days ago

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From Dusk Till Dawn Chapter One - Dusk 0

Skeleton/undead Luffy and reader (platonic)

Slight Trafalgar x reader (maybe)

3,821 words

Modern au where Law and reader are childhood friends and Robin is your older sister. I actually wrote this before my other Law fic but I was too lazy to post it earlier. My first fic in about 10 years.

Reader has female pronouns and is a bit of a scaredy cat. Some swearing. You hyperventilate. Living characters are pre-time skip design-wise. Might be OOC. Uhhh Rosinante and Law's family are alive though they don't appear(in ch 1 at least). Not edited.

WARNING: you won't catch me updating this much, my bad

Cross posted on Ao3:

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Summary:

Original prompt: "Your archaeologist father has recently passed and his will makes you the sole owner of the skeleton of a cursed warrior king. All seems well till the king wakes up at sunset and demands his crown. Describe the adventure with you and the skeleton king on a hilarious road trip quest to finally put him to rest."

In which you find yourself in possession of a skeleton due to your recently deceased father. Having that thing in your house already gave you the creeps and your sister telling you it was cursed certainly wasn't helping.

Coming to terms with the skeleton, you find yourself sleeping peacefully in your room.

At least, until the sound of something rummaging through your fridge at 3 AM awakens you.

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The reality that your father was deceased didn’t really hit you until you find yourself staring at the ridiculously large casket in front of you. Not… Not your father’s casket - well, technically yes, it was your father’s but not the one he was currently and already buried in. No, no, you see, your dear old dad was an archaeologist who, before he passed, for some reason, had the foresight to write you as the next sole owner of - of some dead guy?? Okay, to be fair, yes, you had some(you say veery loosely because wow that’s a lotta zeros) financial inheritance amongst other things but you’d think he would give all… the ‘weird’ things to your older sister, who is also an archaeologist. To which he did, like the mummified hand of a so-called Celestial Dragon, or the Devil Fruit that once belonged to a tyrannical king long passed. Well, you supposed what you got was better than the contained Dyna Stone that you’re pretty sure is illegal to be in possession of but whatever.

You had thought about giving the corpse + coffin bundle to your sister, who would undoubtedly find a better use for it than you but had decided against it. She was already swamped with organizing your father’s assets, dealing with his investors, and just ensuring his research could continue without many setbacks. Not to mention she had organized the entirety of his funeral on her own within a day, and that’s on top of her own projects and hobbies she had to focus on. It… made you feel a little useless if you were honest. You had offered, multiple times to help, whether it was going through paperwork or physically moving but every time your sister simply waved you off with her signature smile and told you to not worry. Not because she thought you were useless or in the way, but because she wanted you to relax after your father’s passing. That and you’re pretty sure she enjoys the work, keeping herself busy.

Regardless, you find yourself in possession of some dead guy’s bones and his ivory packaging. You understand that your father had hoped you carried at least some sort of interest in archaeology, like your mother and your sister but no, it seemed the gods skipped over you when bestowing that particular interest into your family. You tried, really. You went to their excavations and research facilities when you were old enough and while something piqued your interest every so often, it just never clicked with you.

Despite this, your parents and sister never loved you any less. They would often send letters during their travels and called whenever they could get a signal as they often found themselves in rural areas. Your parents never left you wanting either; their successful after-successful excavations left them with an abundance of grants and funding - much of their earnings they sent to you and your sister, ensuring you both were well-fed and clothed. At least, until your sister graduated college and went off with your parents. She mostly sends you letters of things she’s discovered along with a trinket and a brief history lesson about said item. Most of the time they’re mildly interesting, though sometimes she’ll send things that run a shiver down your spine. Part of you thinks she does that on purpose; she had a morbid side to her sometimes, saying or doing things to freak you out.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as you hear a familiar ringtone emitting from your phone. You blink, taking a second to process the chime ringing in your ears and the buzzing in your back pocket. Retrieving your phone, you don’t even have to look at the contact to know who it is, the custom ringtone belonging to only your older sister. You do check the time, however. You wonder briefly what your sister had to say when it was already eleven p.m. Shrugging, you tap the screen.

“Hello?” You greet, pressing the receiver to your ear.

“Apologies for the late call,” She starts. “I heard the Pirate King’s remains had been delivered and I wanted to make sure everything was going alright.” Your sister explains, and you wonder if now was the only time she could spare to call you considering it had been delivered a couple of days ago. It made you feel a bit guilty - using her downtime to worry about you. You weren’t a kid but you appreciated the thought. It was only your sister and you now, with your mother passing a few years back and your father’s funeral mere days ago. She just wanted to make sure you were okay.

You stare at the thing in question; you had the movers place it in the middle of your living room - it being the only place it could fit in your humble abode. It wasn’t as if you couldn’t afford a bigger place, but you lived alone and you didn’t feel the need to have anything extravagant. Though you suppose you could relocate to a bigger place, the housing market was kinda fucked and you should probably strike while the iron was hot. Or something like that. You also weren’t sure if your landlord would allow… human remains such as this to… well… remain here(heh heh).

“Um, yeah it’s going okay I guess,” You tilt your head in contemplation. “It’s a bit hard to uh, integrate it with my current home decor though.” You joke. She’s silent for a brief moment and you can just imagine her nodding in understanding.

“I see. That’s understandable. Let me know if there are any issues, I will see to it if so.” She stops as if mulling something over. “However, if you find yourself needing assistance with decorating your house, do not hesitate to ask. Though, I do not recommend placing the Pirate King’s remains within close proximity of the Leopard’s Paw.” She warns.

“The what now? Why?” You’re almost afraid to ask, trying to remember why it sounded so familiar.

“The Leopard’s Paw,” She repeats, and you can almost hear the wicked smile gracing her lips as she resumes speaking, her tone even and calm with a hint of mischief. “I sent it to you a while back after coming across it during one of my excavations. While it’s entirely harmless on its own, it’s still a cursed artifact.” You freeze at her words, now remembering what she was talking about.

“As I wrote in my letter,” She reminds, much to your dismay. “the owner of that paw was once known as the “Massacre Weapon,” and records indicated that he was regarded as a formidable man with incredible strength. Sadly, there isn’t much information on him aside from those tidbits. Although from what we’ve gathered thus far, we can conclude he was an agent who worked for the Old World Government; considering all records of him are from classified documentation within the OWG.” Your sister rambles, and while it was mildly interesting, you were way more concerned about the possible negative implications of the combination of the two artifacts.

“Right. And uh, why would it be unwise to place it with the skeleton..?” You stare down the King’s Retirement Box, mentally glad you had stuffed that stupid paw in the back of your bedroom closet. Gently, of course. It was silly but after your sister told you it was cursed you were slightly afraid of angering whatever was probably possessing it. Slightly. Your sister simply laughs, and to anyone else, it would sound normal, cute even. But not you. No, no, you know better. That was the laugh she makes when she’s about to tell you something she knows will freak you out.

“Robin,” You plead, taking a step back from the coffin. “Please, it’s almost midnight.” Yeah, okay, you were twenty-three and afraid of the spooky and occult, of what goes bump in the night, so what? It certainly didn’t help when your sister often told sinister tales to you during your youth, when your parents were off around the world. Okay, maybe she didn’t do it that often, but still! Not to mention how she used to use her Devil Fruit to spook you throughout the week. You take a seat on the couch, turning away from your father’s parting gift.

“It’s nothing really. Just some newly discovered records show that as opposing sides, the late Pirate King and the Massacre Weapon were often at odds with each other. The cursed energy within the Leopard’s Paw may awaken if in close contact with its owner’s sworn enemy. Not to mention the skeletal remains of the Pirate King are also said to be cursed.” Robin’s explanation causes a single, metaphorical tear to run down your cheek. She continues in your stupor. “You’ll be sure to tell me if anything occurs, yes?” She asks, almost sounding hopeful at the thought of some long-forgotten grudge reviving within your very home.

You reply meekly, slouching in your seat. The conversation shifts to a more normal casual topic as you both talk about how the past week has gone. You begin to feel more at ease as you chat, you always found her voice to be calming when she wasn’t messing with you. The chat comes to an end when Robin tells you she has to go, as she has an early flight to catch and that she might not be able to contact you for a few days. You wish each other a good night(and a peaceful flight to her) before hanging up.

Setting your phone down on the couch next to you, you stand up to stretch, a yawn escaping you. Stepping around your temporary coffee table, you make your way to the kitchen. The time on the microwave tells you it is currently a quarter to twelve, and your conversation with Robin was a bit longer than you had thought. Not that it mattered, you tended to stay up late into the night on your days off.

Humming a tune to yourself, you open the fridge, intent on whipping something up for yourself. You mull over what to cook, eyeing the fridge and pantry as you rummage through your mental cookbook. You decide on something simple - eggs on toast. Placing the sliced bread in the toaster, you get started on the eggs: heating the pan, melting the butter, and cracking two eggs into the pan. You briefly debate overeasy verus sunny side before just flipping the eggs. Overeasy it is. You take out the maple butter you made the other day and spread a bit of it over the finished toast. Reaching for your spice rack, you season the eggs just the way you like it; which happens to be the way your mother made them, though yours could never come close to her cooking. Sliding the eggs onto the toast, you make your way to the counter next to the sink, content to just stand and eat. You could feel your stomach rumble as you pick up a slice of toast.

Before eggs on toast could meet your lips, you hear a loud growling sound. You pause, slowly lowering the toast, frowning. It... almost sounded as if the noise came from in front of you in the living room but there was nothing?? You scan the open area from behind the counter, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Your eyes linger on the box containing the Pirate King’s remains. Not wanting to entertain the thought of Robin’s warning, you tear your eyes away from the stone casket. It was probably your own stomach growling, right? Or just the typical old building noises. That’s what you tell yourself as you continue eating. You finish relatively fast, placing the plate in the sink. You wash your hands, drying them on a nearby towel. You glance at the pan sitting on the stove. You’ll wash it in the morning.

You give the area one last look, just to reassure yourself. You didn’t hear any growling, and again, you don’t see anything. Letting out a sigh of relief, you turn to head to bed, shutting the lights off on the way. Entering your room, you make sure to close your door before changing into something more comfortable. Some shorts and an old T-shirt from high school. You make your way under your covers, the cool touch of the sheets feeling nice against your skin. Shifting around to get comfortable, you realize you left your phone out in the living room. The sigh that leaves your lips embodies the feeling of laziness that took over you. You’ll grab it tomorrow, you don’t feel like getting up right now.

Your head hits the pillow, and you stare at the alarm clock sitting on your nightstand as the food in your belly lulls you to sleep. Eyelids feeling heavy, the last thing your brain registers is the bright red numbers on the screen.

12:05 A.M.

Your eyes close shut as sleep embraces you.

Thump.

You shift, the noise slightly stirring you. Your eyes open briefly, eyebrows furrowing as your brain tries to decide if you were still sleeping or if you were hearing things. Eyes blurry, you stare at the ceiling. A few moments of silence has your mind drifting back to sleep as your eyes slowly close.

BANG

You jolt awake, mind going haywire as you stare wide-eyed. It sounded like something heavy collapsing. You hear an odd clacking sound, like a rattling of… something from beyond your bedroom door. The noise stops before a steady thumping takes its place. The rhythm makes you realize it was the sound of footsteps. Breathing heavy, you don’t dare move an inch, afraid of alerting whatever was out there. The footsteps stop, and you strain your ears to hear anything else. You don’t hear anything over the loud beating of your heart. You glance at the nightstand.

3:02 A.M.

Steadying your breathing, you try to muster up the courage to get up. You slowly peel the sheets off you, sliding your legs over the edge of the bed, and rise to a slouched stand. You tiptoe your way to the door, grabbing your spare umbrella that was propped up nearby. Clutching the umbrella in one hand, you reach for the door handle with the other; with a shaking hand, you twist the knob, slowly pulling the door open.

The door opening slightly, you poke your head out. Peering down the hallway, you are greeted by darkness. The once familiar hallway warps in the dark, twisting itself into something sinister.

‘It’s all in my mind,’ You think to yourself, taking a step out. ‘It was actually nothing and I was just dreaming. I am simply going to double-check.’ You hold back a sniffle, both hands grasping the umbrella so tight your knuckles turn white. Careful to not make a sound, you silently make your way through the darkened hall. You’re almost successful in convincing yourself until the sound of the refrigerator door opening makes you jump. You tense up, unmoving as the goosebumps on your arms rise. Gulping, you resume walking towards the kitchen, the light of the fridge illuminating the sink and the living room behind it. There’s a shadow within the cast light, shifting about as they rummage through the fridge. It… it sounds like they’re eating?? What the fuck?? Between the sound of things being tossed around and torn open, you hear the clacking of teeth and the dedicated… munching akin to some voracious animal.

You’re close enough that the entire kitchen comes into view. You see a figure hunched over as they dig through the fridge, their frame blocked by door. You hold the umbrella over your shoulder, preparing yourself to swing if necessary.

You take a step forward.

…And your breath hitches as the floorboard beneath you creaks.

You hold back a whimper as the figure stops, slowly rising from their position, standing tall. Their head turns towards you slowly, the light reflecting their features.

A skull.

You scream.

The thief(skeleton?? Was it even a person?) takes a step back from the sudden reaction, raising its hands almost defensively.

“Woah! You-” It starts, and you watch its jaw move animatedly as it speaks. Your eyes follow the slice of cheese sliding down its teeth, it falls, landing on that thing’s very, very bony foot. “-startled me! What’s with the screaming anyways?” Your gaze flickers back up at the skeleton’s face, or lack thereof. It puts its skinless, meatless, bloodless-whatever else it has less of!- hands on its hips, tilting its head. You could imagine that if it had a face it would be staring at you like you were the weird one.

You blink. Again. And again.

And then you scream. Again.

“Hey!” It moves to cover its ears- that it doesn’t have -and oh so very stupidly, you throw your only weapon of defense at the thing. The umbrella hits it square in the face and bounces back, hitting the refrigerator door before clattering to the ground. The undead monstrosity yelps in pain as it gets knocked off its feet. Quickly you turn, deciding to just leave. You dash through the living room to the front door but trip over something before crossing said room.

You gasp, stubbing your toes rather painfully on whatever you tripped on. You fall to the ground, holding your arms out to brace yourself. Grunting, you turn to look at what you tripped on. You just cleaned the other day, so nothing should-you freeze, your blood turning cold.

It was the coffin. Or, well, the lid of the coffin. It was laying on the ground as if tossed aside casually. The extremely heavy stone lid that you weren’t able to even budge? The very same lid that took several curious movers to just slide it a smidge? You don’t even know how they got it in the fucking house!

…

You slowly look down at the lid and crane your neck up at the skeleton who was hunched over, a skeletal hand on its forehead, as if trying to reorient itself. It stands back up and you remember Robin’s words from earlier. The stupid cursed Leopard’s Paw and its equally stupid supposed sworn enemy, the Pirate King and his stupid stupid cursed skeleton.

The thing looks over to your fallen form(why aren’t you getting up, get uP ) from over the counter. It slowly begins walking, presumably making its way over to you. Your breathing quickens and time seems to slow down, your vision becoming blurry as hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Oh god, you were going to die. You were stupid and threw away your weapon, and like some stupid cliché, you tripped and found yourself unable to move; only able to pathetically weep as some fucking cursed monster bestowed by your father made its way to eat you after ravishing your fridge. Powerless to do anything but cry, you could barely hear the sound of its feet clacking against the tile(and eventually the hardwood floor) over the sound of your sobbing.

Then, you hear a ding.

The thing stops and looks over at the couch. You follow it’s gaze and see your phone. Judging by the sound of the notification, it was probably your weather app. However, the sound snapped you out of your trance, and with some newfound strength, you reached for your phone. You pay no mind to the creature, furiously swiping at the screen, blindly tapping at your contacts as you rise, dashing towards your room. You duck, pushing past the Pirate King, knocking it to the ground(again) with unprecedented strength. Ignoring the sharp pain of your arms hitting bone, you stumble through the hall as you dial someone. Anyone.

You hear the faint ringing as the call tries to go through to whoever you called. Inside your room, you slam the door shut, locking it. You huff, eyes scanning the room wildly for a place to hide. You settle on the closet and practically leap inside, closing the door once in. Confined to the small space, you collapse to the floor; backing up and trying to hide. Your breathing quick and heavy, you hold the phone to your ear as you hear the person pick up.

“Oi, what the hell?” A familiar voice slurs, sleep in their tone. You hear them groan as they try to keep awake. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Law!” You sniffle, glad that he answered. You hear the rustling of bedsheets through the receiver as you ramble unintelligible words between sobs. “Oh god, why didn’t I call the police? Why didn’t I just leave? I was at the fucking door!” You shut your eyes, feeling yourself starting to hyperventilate.

“Hey. Hey .” Law calls your name through the phone. “Listen to my voice. You need to breathe, okay? Breathe.” He orders and you follow, taking a deep breath.

“Yeah just like that. Deep breaths.” He continues, his smooth voice grounding you. “Okay, can you-can you tell me what’s wrong? What’s happening?” You sniff back a sob, sighing out a shaky exhale.

“Law, I-I-” You choke out, momentarily losing your voice. “-I don’t know. I just woke up and the fucking, the fucking skeleton wakes up and it was in the fridge and I threw my umbrella at it andandandnow it’s gonna eat me andI’mgonnafuckingdie!” You weep, sobs now racking your entire body. Under the sobbing, you hear Law moving through the phone as he tries to calm you down.

“I’m coming over right now. Just-just stay on the phone and don’t, don’t hang up. Keep talking for me okay?” You simply nod, unable to speak. You could hear the worry in Law’s voice, along with the lingering groggyness from barely waking up.

Your call with Law distracted you from hearing the approaching footsteps of the lurking skeleton. It banged loudly on the door, muffled words coming through.

“What was that?” Law calls your name when you only sob back in reply. “Is someone there with you? Fuck, what’s happening?!” You listen as the door only bangs louder before ultimately breaking under the sheer force of your soon-to-be killer. It enters your room, silent as you hear bone scratching on bone. Holding your phone in a vice-like grip against your ear, you shut your teary eyes as you cover your mouth with your other hand, attempting to quiet your breathing.

The closet door swings open, revealing the Pirate King staring down at you with empty sockets. You hear Law calling out to you but you don’t answer, staring up at the thing in fear.

You look between teary eyes as the Pirate King’s jaw lowers, as if to say something.

And then you pass out.

#reader insert #one piece #op #luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #luffy x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #nico robin #robin one piece #x reader #fem reader

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leohnoz · 8 months ago

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Random Dump 5 ft. Wips

explanations for the drawings under the cut cause i feel like it (very long under there yer warned)

lotta these are from my old tablet

1st- The song "Sleep" by MCR, with Celeste. From an older version of the "Of Heaven and Mortal" story, where Polaris leaves on purpose and Celeste's pissed about it. Bonus points that Celeste is a dream god!

2nd- Designing every single warrior cat (tm). May get back to this may not. I used a base, to which i have no idea who made it or where i got it from, since its from my old tablet (which is like 7? 8? years old at this point)

3rd- Cold Island Theme from My Singing Monsters, ft. Celeste (the constellation), Strawberry (pink dragon bleeding), and Quetz (wind god, at the bottom protecting strawberry). Later in the "Of Heaven and Mortal"/"Of All and None" storyline, where Celeste drives Strawberry insane. ;)

4th- Random concept doodle, from "Of Sea and Gale", supposed to be a close friend of Samuel's when he lived in the Wind Kingdoms royal palace. The friend had a masssssive crush, as ya do, but nothing comes of it

5th- "Animal" by *repeat repeat. Tord (red cat) manipulating Tom (grey/brown cat) into killing Edd (green outlines...). Forget what the motive was but Tord is de-clawed, and hey, cool poses. And gayness. Always a win.

6th- Another random doodle, made when i was watching demon slayer (specifically the Mount Natagumo Arc). Extravagant for no reason. Just the way i like it.

7th- "Love, Love, Love" by Of Monsters and Men. Ft Marquis (white one) and Holly (purple one). Among us ocs turned furry! Who'da thought. Marquis wants to show Holly all the love in the world but she isn't ready. (Their refs are in this post, if any of you remember)

8th- Was supposed to be a companion peice to Mushroom. "Chicken", as i delightfully call him, was gonna be a sort of opposite/complementary cat to Mushroom, a right-hand man of sorts. Why Chicken? Cause mushrooms taste like chicken. Anyway,

9th- "Grapes" by James Marriott. Tom was supposed to be in this peice, saying the line "I fell for someone new, but she's just another girl that looks like you!", buuuut i could never get how he looks right. So now its just Tord who looks like a spider just jumped out at him.

10th- This meme. But with TomTord. And Jon. Because i cannot help myself. Not Jons final design for the AU, but hey, good first attempt :). Tord and Jon are friends in the AU!

11th- SNOWTUFT!! HIM!! DA BOY!! I just wanted to draw him, honest. Ig some design notes/headcannons, his claws aren't naturally long- he just underuses em, so they're overgrown. He cant really see out of the scarred eye and ear, an perfers to keep his eye closed. Very expressive lil man. Yowls for attention

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princessisfinethx · 2 years ago

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Recom Miles Quaritch x FemReader

I am really getting annoyed with the spam bots that follow you...how do I stop them? Anyways, here's a lil something new. Hope ya'll enjoy!

No Warnings applied

Check out my A03 account here<3

The only true thing to be said about yourself, was you were technically a God. Not literally. But in a cosmic, or comedic sense, yes. You were one of the main scientists who restored deceased soldiers' memories and brought them back to life as a recombinant(recom) as the soldiers called them. Stable bodies 100%, perfectly reanimated. You were damn good at it too

And like a God, your believers shot you out of the sky with greed in their eyes and fangs in their smiles.

You were promoted to main physician/doctor or Medical adviser for the Na'vi soldiers. Some bullshit terminology like that, they just needed some smart ass to babysit the blue cats in case they get colds. A fucking joke that was. You had already perfected their bodies to withstand more disease, more injury than humans or animals could. They were perfect. YOU made sure of that and everyone on your team knew that.

And here you are anyway.

You were scribbling away, glancing up once in a while to look at the clock. You have a new patient arriving soon and you only looked over the picture and title. Colonel. Copying down the last patient's file, just Incase she came back with any side effects. She reported headaches, weird visuals when she slept. That was normal with every patient and headaches were mostly due to stress build up. You were hoping to see her again today, she's always cracking awful jokes that made you chuckle.

As sick as it makes you feel, you actually took your job seriously. You hated being downgraded and you wished whoever higher ups made that decision for you, would get alien bird shit in their coffee. However, you didn't hate it. Not really. You had patients you looked forward to every day, sure there was maybe one or two that gave you hell, really it's the human guys but everyone else respected you. Truly. They haven't forgotten your birthday yet either. You have pictures with most of the recom soldiers and it really made you feel good.

A thought crossed your mind, something that made that good feeling drop. You glanced down at your cabinets, seeing the lock and sighing. You haven't sent anything out yet, you'd hope they could last a few more-

Knock knock knock.

You jumped and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in your pants and shirt. "Come in." You watch the door open, and a tall blue figure ducking into the doorframe to fit inside. He looked at you, then around the office as he got inside. You smiled softly. "Good to see you moving around so early. Most get sick for another hour." You held your hand out. "I'm Dr. Linear."

He was still looking around. "What is this, like a principal's office?" He laughed softly. When he finally looked down at you, he bent down to shake your hand. "No disrespect to you Doctor. It's just nicer than most offices I've seen." he spots the pictures behind you. "Lotta personal touches." That american accent touched his voice.

You had a tight smile on. "Well when you work my position for a while, you grow close to your patients. In this environment it's easy to get the life drained out of you. I find a personal touch eases a lot of people in a state of comfort." You sit back down. "Not too comfortable though. Those chairs aren't cozy for Na'vi." You noticed his face as he sat, even his tail seemed irritated. He glanced at you again and smiled. "Colonel Miles Quaritch, correct?" You flipped his file open and read over a few lines. "We won't go over personal details yet, I just want to make sure you're feeling okay."

He never stopped staring at you. You weren't uncomfortable with it, but it made you wonder what he was thinking. Most soldiers need a few minutes to get accustomed to their new height and how things feel or look around them. You did hear he got to rest for an hour. He probably hasn't seen a human for this long yet. When he didn't say anything else, you continued. "A few yes or no questions. If you're unsure of one, just say unsure. Any nausea or dizziness?"

"No."

"Muscle spasms or twitches."

"Slightly, in the legs." He watched you write in your notes.

"Unusual bleeding?"

"No."

"Cough or vomiting?"

"No."

"Since it's only been about 3 hours, we'll have to wait a while before I can ask anything else." You close the book and stand, taking your flashlight with you. "Mind showing me where the spasm is?" He reaches down and lifts his pants leg. You kneel down and feel the muscle in his leg.

"Below the knee," he watches. "It stopped an hour ago." You nod and stand up again. You motion him closer, placing a hand on his cheek and checking his eyes, flashing a light for a minute and watching his pupils dilate. His ears perking up and down, and again, his tail flicked side to side. A smile touches your lips. "You'll get used to the tail, the ears though," You place the pen light down. "I think it's in touch with emotion and it's a downside that comes with the new body. That should be everything for now. Any questions or concerns you want to discuss with me before you start physical training?"

Miles was staring at you hard, his jaw flexing and you even saw his tail swing a few times. He had a lot to say, smart remarks he decided to keep to himself, until he can understand you better. His ears perk up and he smiles. "Sure." He stood up, crossing his arms. "Not to start any fires, but if you hate your job, just say so."

"Excuse me?" Your head tilted back, raising an eyebrow as you watched him.

He chuckles. "I can read you like a book, even without these new eyes or senses. You don't have to like me either 'cause I know you don't." He smirked. "Don't pretend to like people and think it would make your job easier. It doesn't." You didn't know it, but he was baiting you. How you reacted would let him know what you were really hiding. If you were calm and laughed off his words, then you actually did enjoy your job, and didn't mind the banter he brought.

"I think you've got it wrong here." You put your hands on your hips and he grinned at your reaction. His prediction was correct. "If you think I don't like you already, you're correct. My job isn't to like you, it's to make sure you're still alive." You take a step forward. "I don't pretend to like anyone here, I have my list of goods and bads in this place and I wouldn't mind telling a few off if given the chance." Your figure was tense now, and your face was the opposite of when he first walked in. This was going much better than he thought. "Lastly, nothing makes my job easier. Pretending or not, I'm stuck here. I've accepted that. Just because you're still high up in command doesn't mean you can waltz in and control my office." You were glaring now, and he just found it adorable from his height. "Now, come back in another 3 hours after your physical training and we can get this all out of the way. Then maybe if you're careful, we won't have to see each other ever again."

Usually at this part of the meeting, you would offer your patient a sucker. It was a funny idea someone gave you, so you started ordering suckers and some cheap candies. Either that or stickers. Grown ass soldiers still act like children and it made your day sometimes. But you highly doubted this man deserved anything out of the mystery bucket.

He was smiling now, but he gave a nod. He didn't say anything else as he turned and ducked out of your office. Once the door was closed, he chanced a peak through a slightly broken blind of your office window. You were slowly rubbing your face in the middle of the office, turning and walking towards the windows that pointed outside. "Never see each other again huh?" Quaritch had enough info on you now. He would have to peek at your work file later, but he could tell you were sour about something. That, and a pretty face like yours getting pissed because of him was entertaining. He didn't expect to get something out of you so quickly. He licked his lips before continuing down the hallway. "We'll see about that, Dr. Linear."

~~~

You eyeball the choices between dry bagel or dry wheat bread. You've had both for so long you could stomach either one. You decided the bagel would suffice being it could be fixed with a cheese spread or just taste healthier with the seeds sprinkled on top. Your plate now had pasta with meat and a bagel, all you were missing was juice. You’d usually drink coffee but after having 4 cups already, you decided you shouldn’t risk a heart attack. Thoughts and worries kept forming in your head, you weren’t paying attention either and mindlessly sat at a table. You kept staring at the bagel, lost in another world further than this one; you didn’t notice the plate being set down in front of you and a tall body sitting down. You then thought back to the coffee you had on your desk and wished you had brought it instead.

You pick up the bagel and bite into it, but don’t pull away from the bread. You were still. Miles watched with some concern. Finally he cleared his throat. “Are you gonna eat that or-” He couldn’t finish because of your coughing fit. You set the bread down and stare at him. After calming down, he smiled. “Ah there you are. Looked like a completely different person for a second there.” You didn’t say anything, instead you quietly sipped your juice. “I acted like an ass earlier. I’m sorry.”

That didn’t sound sincere. You looked up at him and sighed, placing your juice box. “That’s the only apology I’m gonna get?”

“Did you expect more?” His ear twitched.

“You did scare the living shit out of me just a second ago.”

“You did that yourself, doctor. Your head was in LaLa Land.” He waved his hand around. You sigh, tearing a piece of bread off and eating it, chewing quickly. He looked down at his own plate and gave an experimental taste of the pasta and meat. Still tastes like the same shit he ate before, but somehow worse. Saltier, slimey, the meat was tolerable but chewy.

“So, do you still want to interrogate me about my shitty work life? Or have you come to criticize my eating choices too?” You poke and stab some pasta with the fork. There was a chuckle and you had to glance up at him. He was watching you, those strange golden eyes filled with a curiosity you began to suspect had no end.

“I’m actually wonderin’ why I didn’t get to pick out of this uh, mystery box I heard so much about.” He smirked. “The other were talkin’ about it like it was gold.”

You had to look down to hide the smile. So they must have either ratted you out, or teased him for not getting a candy. It’s just a piece of candy. You look back up. “You ended our meeting in a rude manner, I didn’t see a reason for you to pick out the box.”

His ears flattened but his face was still relaxed. They betrayed his need to hide the annoyance. “So, what you’re saying is I have to be good at our meetings in order to pick out of this box?” Now he was leaning forward, as if you were asking him to do the impossible.

“Colonel, are your soldiers teasing you because you didn’t get a candy?” You tried to ask without smiling. You heard a snort and turned your head. Down the table, four Recoms sat, their bodies rigid and still. One of them was shaking and you realized he was laughing. When you looked at Quaritch his ears were laid back and his tail was flicking back and forth. He was looking at the group while his jaw clenched.

“No, nobody is getting teased.” He stuffed his mouth full of pasta. You nodded slowly, eating some more of your bagel. You heard someone clear their throat and continue talking as if they were having this conversation seconds ago.

“You still have to come by the office to finish up your questioning. I’ll be at the physical training area to check off some things.” You stood up and even with Quaritch sitting, he was still taller than you by two heads. “I’ll see you then.” You turned to the other group and made a face. “None of you are getting candy on your next visit.” And as you turned around to leave, the table erupted into groans and even a gasp.

As you walked away, Miles’ ears perked up, a smile on his face as the soldiers whined about the punishment. It was literally childish to be so upset over a piece of sugar. Yet here he was, however, hoping to get a piece by the end of the day.

#recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #recom miles quaritch x reader #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #fanfic #x reader #avatar x reader #a03 writer #a03 fanfic

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darkpeacemusic · 2 months ago

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Creepypasta Headcanons: Theme Songs

Jeff the Killer - Numb by Linkin Park

Homicidal Liu - Never Too Late by Three Days Grace

Sully - I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters

Randy - Psycho by Hardy

Keith - Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots

Troy - Welcome to my Life by Simple Plan

Ben Drowned - Discord by The Living Tombstone

Jane the Killer - GRRRLS by AViVA

Mary Vaughn - Wrap Me In Plastic by Chromance

Masky - Hide 'n Seek by J-honny

Hoodie - Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day

Toby - Freaks by Surf Curse

Kate the Chaser - Mad Hatter by Melanie Martinez

Charlie Matheson Jr. - Thanks for The Memories by Panic at the Disco

CR - Nowhere to Run by Stegosaurus Rex

Lulling Lauren - Secret by The Pierces

Cat Hunter - Kill the Lights by Set It Off

Third Base - Little Swing by AronChupa

Rouge the Prowler - Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

Wilson the Basher - Another Way Out by Hollywood Undead

Skully - Sleeping Powder by Gorillaz

Chris the Revenant - Where the Lonely Ones Roam by Digital Daggers

Slenderman - Come Little Children by Eurtan

Splendorman - Buttercup by Jack Stauber

Trenderman - Fashionably Late by Falling In Reverse

Tenderman - Death Bed by POWFU

Offenderman - Teeth by 5SOS

Zalgo - When You're Evil by Voltaire

Laughing Jack - Left Behind by DAGames

Eyeless Jack - Cannibal by Kesha

Doctor Smiley - Happy Pills by Weathers

Nurse Ann - Dark Horse by Christina Grimmie

Doctor Pain - Dr Sunshine is Dead by Will Wood and the Tapeworms

X-Virus - Drugs by Falling in Reverse

Dr. Locklear - God Syndrome by Madame Macabre

Lifeless Lucy - Cradles by Sub Urban

Lily Kennett - Dollhouse by Melanie Martinez

Sally Williams - Hide and Seek by Lizz Robinett

Sam Williams - Little Game by Benny

Lazari - Monster by Mia and Dia

Slendrina - Killing Butterflies by Lou Bliss

Nightmare Ally - Whisper by Evanescence

Vailly Evans - Control by Halsey

Lulu - Alice by Avril Lavigne

Nina the Killer - Pretty Little Psycho by Procelain Black

Kagekao - Aishite by Kikiuo

Clockwork - Lotta True Crime by Penelope Scott

Smile Dog - Lion by Hollywood Undead

Grinny Cat - Get Out Alive by Three Days Grace

The Seedeater - I Will Find You by Moikkz

Mr Widemouth - Cartman by SPBeams

Will Grossman - At The Huts of the Underworld by Korpiklaani

Laughing Jill - Carousel by Melanie Martinez

Jason the Toymaker - Hypnotic by Zella Day

Candy Pop - Balloon Animals by Madame Macabre

Candy Cane - Circus by Britney Spears

April Fools - Cirque by Sub Urban

Nathan the Nobody - A Match In Water by Pierce the Veil

The Puppeteer - Cigarette (duet) by Princess Chelsea

Emra - Bloody Mary by Lady Gaga

Zachary the Proxy - Hayloft II by Mother Mother

Sonic.exe - Monster by Skillet

Tails Doll - Can You Feel The Sunshine from Sonic R

Dark Link - Someone Must Get Hurt by She Wants Revenge

Herobrine - Andromeda by Dance With The Dead

Lost Silver - Game Over by Falling In Reverse

Glitchy Red - Haunted by Laura Les

Strangled Red - I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski

Oliver Henderson - Dumb Dumb by Mazie

Stripes - Limbo by Freddie Dredd

Rosie - Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani

Scarecrow Girl - Rät by Penelope Scott

The Skroll - Sarcasm by Get Scared

The Rake - Night of the Hunter by 30 Seconds to Mars

BOB - Six Foot Deep by Creature Feature

Bloody Painter - Heathens by Twenty One Pilots

Judge Angels - Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift

Suicide Sadie - Goodbye to A World by Porter Robinson

Roadwalker - The Zombie Song by Stephanie Mabey

Zero - Everything Black by Unlike Pluto

Hobo Heart - My Demons by Starset

Dollmaker - Creepy Doll by Jonathan Coulton

Killing Kate - Not Nice by Megan the Stallion

Ted the Caver - Blood // Water by grandson

Frankie the Undead - Coming Back Down by Hollywood Undead

Evan - I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy

HABIT - Boogie Woogie Wu by Insane Clown Posse

Jeff Koval - Somebody's Watching Me by Rockwell

Alex Kralie - Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People

Jessica Locke - No Surprises by Radiohead

Amy - If You Seek Amy by Britney Spears

Sarah - Sarah Smiles by Panic at the Disco

Seth - All I Wanted by Paramore

Screaming Dawn (oc) - I Hate Everything About You by Three Days Grace

Queen Blackheart (oc) - Bring Me To Life by Evanescence

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta au #slenderverse #marble hornets #everymanhybrid #note: I do not support Melanie Martinez nor her actions #also ted the caver mentioned

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ponstermenis-writing · 3 months ago

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✩GETTING CAUGHT✩

johnny cade/curly shepard tim shepard / dallas winston

Tim loved Angela to bits, he truly did. But Jesus Christ she had not left the house in a week and it was actually going to kill him.

Darrel still wasn’t letting Dallas in the house on his own—he didn’t quite like him talking to the gang either. So now Tim still had the guy on his tail, but couldn’t do anything because his sister was always home. So, on a last ditch effort, he decides they’ll find somewhere else.

“Let’s go on a walk.” He says, tapping on Dallas’s shoulder. Dallas looked up from the couch—where he was no doubt flirting with Tim’s younger sister, the bastard—and gave him a weird look. They weren’t the ‘going on walks’ type.

”Huh?” He asks, looking at him like he’d grown two heads. Tim gritted his teeth, taking him by the jacket sleeve and dragging him off the couch. “We’re going on a walk.” He bites out, forcing the man out of the front door, yelling for Angela to lock it behind them.

They walked silently for a few moments—until, of course, Dallas had to open his big fat stupid ugly mouth.

“What the hell was that?” He asks, nudging him lightly.

“I need out of that house.” Tim sighs. “Usually Angela isn’t home for more than an hour. And now she’s here all the time because your girlfriend decided she was bored of her.” Tim groans loudly, enough so that a few alley cats come out to see what the commotion is. Dallas wastes no time in chasing them off.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard more complaints about my hygiene. God forbid there’s a single shirt on the floor.” Tim continues his complaints, not even sure if Dallas is listening. More often than not, he isn’t. “Usually she’s always on Curly’s tail. But now he’s never at home.”

“Maybe you should try bein’ cleaner.” Dallas shrugs. “Lord knows you need a few more showers.”

Tim turns to glare at him—sadly they were too far into the public eye to smack him. “Oh please, you take a single shower a month. There’s probably cheese growing on you dick, you nasty—“

”Wanna help me get it off?” Dallas interrupts, raising his eyebrows in at attempt to be endearing. He very much isn’t. Tim grimaces, walking faster just to get away from him. He spares a glance around, making sure nobody heard him.

Dallas catches up quickly, wrapping an arm around his shoulder—to any onlooker they’d seem like pals at best. Even if it wasn’t sodomy, Tim Shepard would never be caught hanging off of Dallas Winston like a broad.

“We outta get somewhere more private.” Dallas whispers, glancing around. “There’s been a lotta’ Soc’s runnin’ around our side of town lately.”

“Good.” Tim all but snarls, thumbing the switchblade in his back pocket. “I’m itching for a fight. ‘S been much too long, don’t you think?”

Usually, when either of them wanted a brawl they’d head out to the east side and beat the life out of each other. As of recently it’s just felt wrong to do—like they’ve gotten to close, their relationship is somehow more than just beating on each-other and stealing booze. Tim doesn’t know how he feels about it, he’d rather not look it in the face.

“Can’t.” Dallas mutters, pulling his arm off and shoving both hands in his pockets. “I gotta stay clean for the next couple a’ weeks. Darry still hasn’t let me back in and John’s worried he never will.” Tim can tell he’s upset—he’s probably waiting for Tim to ask about it—but he is no man’s solace, especially not Dal’s.

“Please,” Tim scoffs. “He’ll do anything if Cade begs him enough. You all bend at his will.”

It’s true, he knows it is. Dallas is the best example. When a kid like that has been denied so much, you don’t wanna deny him anything more. As much as people explained Dallas as Johnny’s keeper, Tim knew well enough to know it goes both ways. He found it funny—A little guy like Johnny having the ability to boss around a thousand pounds of man, but not doing it just because he didn’t feel like it.

“Do not.” Dallas frowns. “Darry’ll only listen if the whole gang begs ‘im. I already pissed Steve and Two off earlier this week, and Pony’s been on a hating streak since he met me.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Tim teases, pushing past him. He’s sure Dallas rolls his eyes from behind him. “Whatever, you love having me around.” Dallas pokes and prods right back, he always does.

“Nawh.” Tim spares a glance back at him, Dallas raising a brow—he does that a lot now that Two-Bit taught him, he thinks it makes him look tuff. Tim thinks he looks constipated. “I like the beer you bring around, though. You got any?”

Dallas rolls his eyes, making two bottles clink from under his jacket. “Course I do. ‘Was waiting for you to ask.”

“Well? Hand me one.” Tim puts out his hand, Dallas pushes it away. “Did you hear anything I just said? I gotta look squeaky clean.”

Tim groans. The two push their way into the old car lot, it’s covered in trees and goes right into a deep forest where no one would find them. It’s not the best—its already freezing cold out as they get into the later months, the ground it wet and squishy from a recent rainstorm—but it’ll do.

Tim actually finds himself looking around to see if little Johnny Cade is spending the night outside again. He wasn’t sure when he started caring about what happened to him—sure, he’s a good kid, but he’s none of Tim’s responsibility. It must’ve been sometime between Dallas getting out of the cooler and seeing his dad chase him out with a hammer.

Angela lovingly called them ‘reluctant co-parents’. Tim and Dallas cared for their own like it was second nature—eventually they started caring for the other’s. Tim would make sure Johnny wasn’t rotting away outside and Dallas would make sure Curly didn’t sneak out for the sixth time that week.

It was weird but nobody ever brought it up. Johnny gave him weird looks when he drove him to Buck’s, and Curly was no doubt suspicious of them. But oddly enough neither of the younger boys seemed to care. Johnny spent more time at the Shepards and Curly finally started warming up to Dallas—they were about as warm to each-other as a winter in the Antarctic, but it’s as better than nothing.

They walked into the deep forest, blinking a few times to get used to the darkness. Very soon the two wished they didn’t go—while the beer helped, their wet shoes and the sound of clay squeaking beneath them got old very quickly. Tim was sure the bottoms of both of their jeans were soaked and dirty, but neither of them seemed to care.

“Tim, Look.” Dallas said finally, nudging him. Tim looked up from his bottle, squinting at something in the trees. Sure enough, a dingy little treehouse was nestled on a thick one, a long rope ladder swinging from it. The two shared a look.

Going into a seemingly abandoned tree house in the dead of night was most definitely not a good idea. But they were wet and cold, a little tipsy, and curious. Against their better judgement the two took slow steps forward—it wasn’t long before they could hear voices coming from inside.

“We should go.” Tim said, even as Dallas took hold of the ladder and tugged to see if it was secure. “This is probably some fucked up midget trap house.”

Dallas looked back at him and laughed. “You scared?” He asked teasingly, slowly climbing up. Tim didn’t say anything, but soon enough they were both clinging to the wet rope with a scowl— trying to climb as quietly as possible.

Luckily, there was a little porch that they could both climb onto—The treehouse has one tiny door and a window that was so dirty they had to squint to see through it. There was a light coming from inside, one that Dallas quickly investigated.

Dallas froze up the second he looked inside, wide mouthed with furrowed brows. He looked like he had just seen a ghost, eyes flitting around the room in wide-eyed shocked. “What?” Tim whispered, pulling himself onto the porch. Dallas didn’t respond—he glanced down at him, taking a step back so he could also stand.

Tim cupped his hands around his eyes and peered in—also rather shocked with what he saw.

…

”You’re such a momma’s boy.”

“Yeah? Atleast I have one.”

“I’d much rather have none at all than one that beats on me.”

A low blow, but then again the two were known for it. It was weird how the could make jokes about each other that no one else could. It was somehow less offensive when it came from the other.

Johnny and Curly were, once again, lighting up in their dingy little tree house. They huddled up together under Curly’s stupid leather jacket for warmth—Johnny had left his at his folk’s place and he wasn’t dumb enough to go get it. Johnny had his legs atop Curly’s, the two leaning into each other and nursing the second blunt of the night.

“Do you listen to a thing I tell you? She doesn’t beat on me.”

“She yells at you all the time and chases you out of the house.”

”That’s different.” Johnny frowned, not looking up at him.

”Didn't she lock you in a cupboard when you were little cus’ she caught you stealing bread?” Curly raised a brow, handing the weed back to him. Johnny didn’t take it, looking at him weird. “How do you know about that?” He asked, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“You told me. Like, last week. You were so high of your rocker you probably don’t even remember.” Curly laughed. Johnny deflated, finally taking the blunt and sucking in a long drag before blowing it back out in his face. “I gotta stop getting high with you. You know too much.”

”So do you. You know more about me than my own brother.” Johnny makes a weird noise, Curly elects to ignore it.

“Whatever.” He mutters, leaning slightly off of him. “But my mom doesn’t beat on me, that’s different.”

Curly just rolls his eyes, glancing down at him. “Whatever you say, Hansel.” He laughs so hard at his own joke he coughs, Johnny staring at him like he’s crazy. “Han—Who?”

”From Hansel and Gretel? That old children’s book about teaching kids to not steal.” The explanation doesn’t seem to help, Johnny looking more and more confused by the second. “You seriously never had to read that?” Curly asked incredulously. He remembered it only because Angela got so scared that she wouldn’t eat at restaurants for a year in fear that she would eat a witches food.

Fun times.

“Who’s gonna read it to me Curly? My mom?”

“…Fair enough.” He mutters, snatching the blunt from him in an attempt to busy his hands. They are quiet for a long while—Curly nurses the weed the whole time, it’s a miracle he didn’t choke. Johnny eventually gets tired of it, reaching over to try and pluck it from his mouth. Curly grabs it quickly, licking his fingers before he can pull back. Johnny makes a loud gagging sound, pulling away like it burnt him.

“You are such a freak!” He yelled, rubbing his hand in the boy’s shirt. “You’re gonna be on death row one day, mark my words.”

Curly leans in to him, smirking as he blows smoke into his face. “Nawh, I don’t believe in that.” He says—he’s just messing with him, but Johnny raises a brow and he feels like he has to keep talking. “I’m this close to becoming one of those hippies who go on strike for everything.”

”Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going on a toothpaste strike too?” Johnny asks, looking down at Curly’s mouth. Curly pulled back, rolling his eyes. “Ha-fucking-ha. You’re hilarious.” He muttered in annoyance, trying to discreetly check his breath. Johnny just laughed, leaning back into him. “ ‘M just messing wit’ you. But yeah, I am hilarious, aren’t I?”

“I wasn’t—“

The door bursts open a moment later, swinging on its hinges. The two quickly turn their heads to face it. Curly doesn’t even realize who it is until Johnny yells.

“Dallas! What—“ He cuts himself off, pushing off of Curly.

They are both acutely aware that Dallas had no clue either of them were smoking weed. Especially not together.

Shit.

This is where he dies, isn’t it?

Dallas takes Curly by the lapels, lifting him up off the ground. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! You little—“ Tim quickly pulls him away, Curly hitting the ground with a thump. “Watch what you say.” Tim bites, barely loud enough for the two younger boys to hear.

”I’m sorry Dal, I—“ Johnny begins, trying to pull himself to his feet—probably to run. Tim holds him down, somehow being the level-headed one here. “I know you told me not to! I just—“ Johnny practically smacked Tim’s hand away in favor of pleading with Dallas.

Dallas freezes, interrupting him. “Told you not to? What?” He asks, incredulously. He and Tim share a look. He couldn’t remember ever telling Johnny not to—it’d be kind of hypocritical, seeing what he and Tim get up to.

“You told me not to—not to get high! Didn’t you?” Johnny asked, just as confused as he was. Curly and Johnny watch Tim and Dallas stare at each other. They both look at the younger boys, then to the blunt fizzling out on the ground, then back to them. Dallas breathes out a sigh that could only be in relief, practically collapsing to the ground.

“Oh, Thank god!“ He cries, putting his hand in a prayer motion. Johnny and Curly shared confused look, trying to understand what was going on. “Oh…” Tim mutters, looking between the two.

“You guys aren’t mad?” Johnny asked, furrowing his brows in an attempt to pick out what exactly is happening to Dallas. “Oh, no, I’m livid.” Dallas says, glaring at Curly. Tim kicks him lightly, hard enough to make Dallas finally stand back up.

“It’s just, we thought you were—“ Tim cuts himself off, seeing his younger brother’s red face. ‘Are you??’ He mouthed incredulously, Curly not responding.

Culry and Johnny share one more look before seemingly figuring it out—both of their faces burn red, immediately turning back to their older counterpart.

“You thought we were fucking?!” Curly yells, looking incredulously at his older brother.

Sure, they experimented—once or twice… but it wasn’t a set in place thing. They were both so high every time they did it that they barely remembered. Or maybe neither of them wanted to. They ever talked about it after it happened—not the first time, not the second time, not any of the times after that.

“Ew, Dal! You thought…?” Johnny frowns, kicking Dal lightly. Dallas shrugged, he and Tim were just as embarrassed as they were. “What was I supposed to think? You run off for hours at a time together, you come back wearing his jacket—“

“Wait—I didn’t know that.” Tim interrupted, raising his brows at his younger brother.

“I can’t believe you think that low of me! I’d never—gross!” Johnny rambled, seemingly losing half of his respect for Dallas. If he weren’t also roped into this, Curly would love it.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Curly frowned, glaring at the boy. Johnny glared right back. “So? Back up of you don't want to hear it.” He bites back, uncharacteristically sharp—at least, to Tim and Dallas. Curly was used to it. “You sure didn’t want me to back up when I—“

Johnny shut Curly up with a loud smack, sending the two into a long bickering match.

Tim and Dallas watched silently, sharing a knowing look. Sure, they didn’t beat each other like they did—but they certainly weren’t kind. “Jesus…” Dallas muttered, watching them. “They really are just like us.” He laughs, Tim agreeing alongside him.

That pulled both of the younger boys off of each other, once again staring at their older counterparts.

“Shut it, Macklemore! We are not!” Curly yells first, Johnny nodding in agreement. Dallas frowns, glaring down at him. “You little—“ Dallas begins, getting a smack on the back of the head by Tim. Tim holds Dallas back, giving everyone a moment to think and collect their bearings. Johnny and Curly share a petrified look—Tim bets they realized just how similar the four of them are.

Dallas doesn’t let them think about it much longer, circling back around to the reason they were here.

”You’ve been smoking weed?!” He yells, pulling Tim off of him and running up to Johnny. It’s not his turn to get grabbed by the front of his shirt—though he’s much gentler with Johnny. “With Curly Shepard off all people?!” He adds, making Johnny deflate a little. Tim sees it, placing a hand on Dallas’s shoulder, oddly pliant.

“Hey, at least they weren’t…” he trails off. Usually he has no problem saying it—Sex isn’t something to be weird about, especially not when you’re a Shepard. But it felt weird saying it now, hanging awkwardly off of his tongue.

“Stop saying it!“ Johnny yells—his cheeks are burning, trying not to look at anyone else in the room. Dallas let’s him go softly, turning back to Tim.

“Why are you so calm about this? I feel like I’m the only one yelling!” Dallas whispers to him. Tim glances back at the two, grimacing. “Who do you think he got the weed from? Besides, I already knew.” He replies, trying to sound casual. Which was, decidedly, the wrong move.

“You knew?! Why didn’t you tell me?“ Dallas yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders. Tim lightly shoved him off, eyeing the door. The two step out onto the porch, leaving too very confused boys in their wake.

“I didn’t tell you because this is exactly how I knew you’d react! You’re scaring that poor boy shitless!” Tim whisper-yells. He doubted the two were sitting obediently inside—Sure enough, when he glanced at the window behind Dallas’s head he could see the two whisper to eachother.

“Why do you care? You said it yourself, Johnny is my responsibility. Not yours.” He says, pausing to glare at him. “I’ll make sure he’s okay how I see fit. You can worry about yourself.”

Tim sucked in a sharp breath. He really was hoping this wouldn’t be a topic the two of them ever touched on. So he did what he did best, deflect the blame.

“Yeah? Lord knows you aren’t doing a good job at it! He’s terrified of you!” He bites back, crossing his arms and straightening his back. He and Dallas are almost the exact same height—it’s hard to loom over him, which just so happens to be his only intimidation tactic other than beating.

“And Curly isn’t?”

Tim stops yelling to stare at him, brows furrowing.

“Curly and Johnny aren’t the same.” Tim replies defensively. “Johnny gets enough yelling at home—“

”So does Curly.” Dallas interrupts. He knows he’s found Tim’s weak spot. And like always, he was going to keep poking and prodding at it. “Don’t throw stones in a glass house, asshole. At least Johnny likes me. Curly stays cus’ he has no where else to go.”

”He likes that you don’t hurt him. You said it yourself, he’ll do anything for your attention.” Tim bites back.

Dallas scoffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re getting off topic.” He mutters. “Johnny and Curly have been swapping smoke for months, and you’d better not make me the bad guy for yelling at him.”

Jesus, they really do sound like a married couple.

“You act like we weren’t doing the same thing at their age.” He knows how dumb that sounds—he and Dallas are both only two years older than one of them. That wasn’t too long ago—the only thing that’s changed in the substance.

“Yeah? And look where that got us.”

“You’re a dick.”

”So are you.”

…

“Somehow I feel like we’re the ones who walking on something.” Curly mutters.

The two watched through the window as they went from bickering to shouting once again, Johnny covering his ears as he watched. Curly spares a glance his way, frowning.

“We outta get out of here before we get dragged into it.” He says, nudging him.

It’s an escape masked as an offer—a helping hand amidst the yelling and fighting that they are both so achingly used to.

“Okay.” Johnny mutters, letting the other help him to his feet. They try to sneak past—the older boys are too busy fighting to notice. Dallas has his back to the door and Tim is staring right back into his eyes. Unluckily for the youngest two—Tim spares a glance at the door just as they are leaving, making direct eye contact with Johnny.

He tries to angrily signal for the two to get back inside, hopefully before Dallas notices. That plan is foiled when Dallas immediately noticed his weird expression and spins around.

“Where the hell do you two think you’re going?” He asks angrily, causing Curly to stop halfway on the ladder.

He could run. He could drop down and run all the way home, Tim wouldn’t even be pissed. But leaving Johnny alone with an angry Tim and an even angrier Dallas didn’t sound like a good idea.

“Get your asses back inside.” Tim and Dallas say in unison—they don’t even seem to notice it. Curly spares a glance back at Johnny, whose prettified gaze in staring at Dallas and only Dallas. He lets out a sigh and begins climbing back up.

“C’mon John.” He mutters, the two of them shuffling into the room and shutting the door behind them. Johnny practically collapses to the floor—it’s not common for Dallas to be mad at him. It never ended well when he was. Curly knew that too, leaning back against the door.

“They’re so angry at us they synced up.” He tried to lighten the mood—it definitely didn’t work, but Johnny smiled up at him anyways. “Maybe their cycles are next.” He says between gasping breaths. Curly let’s himself laugh, falling onto the ground beside him. Soon they are both giggling together like little girls, acutely unaware of the two just outside.

…

Dallas was still whispering angrily to him. He didn’t care to listen, it was just the same shit over and over again. He stared through the window—at first it was to make sure the two didn’t make another escape attempt, but then he was just watching them. His gaze softened, the two joining each other on the floor and laughing together.

He and Dallas were like that once. Back when they were just two asshole kids. Before humiliation and anger brought they both to a fighting stop.

“I just—what are you staring at?” Dallas asks incredulously, annoyed that Tim wasn’t listening. He didn’t respond, staring longingly through the window still. Dallas eventually looks too, his gaze softening all the same. “Oh.” He muttered.

The two boys were huddled up together again, whispering to each other like little kids. They looked so calm, happy. Like they were meant to be like that. Like the world couldn’t see them.

“Look,” Tim sighed. “I get that you don’t want Johnny smoking, I really do. But if you want them separated—you’re gonna tell ‘em.” He said with a sense of finality, uncrossing his arms. Curly looked at him through the window, frowning but not pulling away.

Tim would’ve pulled away if the roles were reversed. Curly stays holding on.

”I don’t…” Dallas muttered, leaning his forehead on the wooden frame. “I don’t want them separated, okay? Johnny seems a lot happier—I don’t wanna take that from him.” He breathed out a sigh, glancing at Tim with pleading eyes. “I just don’t want him smoking that stuff. We both started with smokes, then weed, then beer, and then…” Dallas frowned. Tim wasn’t used to seeing him sad, he was too quick to anger. “He’s got addiction in his blood. Poor kid already worried about turning out like his father.”

”Really?” Tim asks, letting himself chuckle.

“I know. I don’t see it at all, even when he’s angry.” Dallas laughs too. “Still, it’ll save a lot of heartache if he stays off. Y’dig?”

“Yeah, I dig.” Tim smiles for the first time in the last hour. “I’ll back you up, man. I don't need Curly getting any worse.” He finally says. The two share an appreciative look with each other. Dallas barely reaches for him—almost like he’s going if for a hug—but he glances back inside and quickly puts his arms back down.

Tim rolls his eyes, opting to wrap an arm around him and lead the two back inside. Johnny and Curly pull away from each other when the re-enter, looking up at them. Jesus, they really do seem scared.

“I don’t want you smoking that stuff anymore.” Dallas says first, crossing his arm. Tim drags his arm off of him, crossing his arms as well. “You either, Curly.” He adds. Johnny frowns. “But—“ he begins, shut up when Dallas holds out a hand to silence him.

“We’re not mad, okay?” He starts—Tim wants to add ‘just disappointed’ for shits and giggles, but decides this isn’t the time. “You two can still have your little spot, just no more smoking weed, okay?”

Johnny and Curly share a confused look—like they’re a shocked there’s an agreement at all.

“You’re not mad?” Curly asks, almost incredulously. Tim and Dallas look to each other and nod. “Not unless it happens again.” Dallas says—like a challenge—glaring down at Curly. Curly’s brows furrowed, looking between the two. He places a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and they both stand.

“Tim?” He says finally. “Can I talk to you?”

Tim and Curly split off to one corner of the room, Johnny and Dallas whispering to each other in the other. Curly spends a long time just staring at him, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He speaks with a sense of urgency.

”You’re not gonna tell anyone are you?”

He doesn’t say exactly what Tim would be telling, but he has an idea what he’s eluding to. “Nawh.” Tim smiles, ruffling the boys hair. Curly doesn’t even attempt to fix it, furrowing his brows again—he never did that before he and Johnny met, it was the smaller boy’s quirk, not his.

“You won’t tell anyone about the tree house, will you?” He asks, again. Tim shrugs. “I don’t see why I would.” He pauses to glare down at him. “I’ve got no reason to tell. As long as you cut back on the weed, that is. I can’t defend you two if it happens again.”

Curly smiles—in the way every Shepard boy did when they didn’t want to be caught smiling. “Thank you.” He whispered, barely loud enough for his brother to hear. Tim ruffles his hair again, glancing back to Johnny and Dallas.

The two boys were hugging—he didn’t even realize the younger was wrapped up in Curly’s too big jacket. Tim spared one glance back at his brother, grabbing his by the shoulders and pulling his close.

Hugging each other wasn’t something they did. But at that moment it felt right. It felt right even as Curly’s ringed fingers gripped his sleeves, even as he buried his face in his older brothers chest.

There was a new air of hope when they all stepped out, climbing haphazardly out of the tree house. They joked, they walked through the woods light on their feet—Dallas and Tim trailed behind, pretending it was because they didn’t know where to go. They liked seeing the younger two boys poke fun at eachother like they used to.

“Y’know.” Dallas finally spoke, quiet enough for the other two not to hear. “I’m surprised you didn’t want them separated.”

Tim raises a brow. “Why would I?” He asks, though he knows the answer.

”Seeing as we thought they were, y’know…”

Tim shrugged, bumping into him purposefully. “It’s none of my business what they do behind closed doors.” A pause. “Though if I ever hear it, I’m definitely gonna ask them to get out.”

Dallas laughed, loud enough to make the younger two glance back at them.

”Besides,” Tim begins the second they turn back around. “Johnny cooks when he’s over. I can only handle so much of Angela’s over-cooked and under-seasoned chicken.”

Dallas smiled. “Darry was the one that taught him, y’know.”

”Really?”

”Yep. He learned just so he could make me a big ol’ New Yorkian breakfast for my sixteenth birthday.” Dallas says, pride in his voice as he watched the boy. Tim smiled as well, nudging into him. “I guess I have you to thank, then.”

Dallas smirked, leaning closer to him and taking one of his lapels between two fingers—tugging him closer.

“I guess you do.”

#the outsiders #writing #johnny cade #dallas winston #curly shepard #tim shepard #tally #johnnyxcurly

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