Creepypasta x Reader Oneshots

My Place Eyeless Jack x Neko! Reader

Life could never be kind to anyone who was different. People fear what they cannot understand. 

I suppose in a way, I fear myself. I can sympathize with everyone else who doesn’t understand me because I understand even less than they. Every time I see that horrible white ail, and even worse those disgusting white ears, I cannot help but ask why. Why and how did this happen? Both of my parents were just like any regular suburban family. I can’t even find it in me to blame them for kicking me out on the street at the tender age of nine. If I had such a grossly deformed child, I might have done the same. 

It’s not like I could ever go to the police, or find any sort of help. If my own parents threw me away, what would the police do? Turn me over to some sort of facility, I assume. To be experimented on like a lowly mouse. That would be a fate worse than the one I suffer through now. 

In all fairness, my life is not the worst. Not like any normal child that’s for sure, but still better than being a lab rat to some cruel organization. I made peace with my life. I would never be a house cat, just another stray who needed to hide a little better. 

That is why I could never occupy the streets, so I stuck to the dark forests. Sometimes if I couldn’t catch anything wild, I could throw up my hood and do a little shoplifting. 

Which was, unfortunately, how I found myself in a tight situation. 

The small corner store seemed a good place to get some much-needed sustenance. The only employee present was a middle-aged man, who I was sure could never catch me if I ran. His receding hairline and protruding stomach told me he must have been somewhere in his forties. Mostly brown hair, but slightly grey at the roots meant most likely late forties. He wore a slightly stained white shirt and black jeans. Sloppy, but definitely fit for this dinky place. 

The paint could have been in better shape, and a few coolers seemed to be broken. Not to mention the shelves were mostly empty. The place was the kind of corner store that sold peanut butter or jelly. Not that it mattered to me, I didn’t need a delicacy. Just enough to keep me alive. 

My worst mistake was underestimating the man. What followed was a series of slightly smaller mistakes. 

I was adept at surviving, but mostly in the wild. Unfortunately, I’d only shoplifted a handful of times, and living in the wilderness made me terrible with social cues. I’ve also only had a handful of conversations, so I suppose my behavior was suspicious to him. 

He waved hi to me when I entered, but I did not reciprocate the gesture. My sharp eyes picked out which foods I wanted, stuffing them into my pants and pockets away from the prying eyes of the man. 

My second mistake was not saying a word when he attempted to start a friendly conversation. I was not interested, and frankly slightly nervous to talk to anyone at all. 

Mistake three was allowing my gluttony to get the best of me. I really must work on my restraint. I collected far too many items, making my clothing lumpy. When the fat man crossed his arms and glared at me, I knew I was in trouble. 

Mistake number four was charging for the door when I was too far away. His wide body blocked the door. He glowered at me, starting a stern threat I did not care to listen to. My brain was whirring too quickly to pay him enough attention. 

I ripped my hand out of my pocket, letting my claws make themselves known. The man seemed to pay little attention to my hands, instead busying himself with trying to rip my hood off. I immediately flew into a rage, leaving a long and fairly deep scratch on his offending arm. 

He cried out, quickly yanking his arm back into his body. His eyes were wide in not only fear but disgust as well. 

“What in god's name are you?”