#it was super late when I wrote this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thebiggestfuckgiven · 6 months

Text

Ectoberweek 25: Will-o’-Wisps

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of death, of being buried alive, descriptions of gore, brief mention of vivisection, true crime-esque horror, and general spooky vibes

A/N: I really wanted to do a lil something for the spooky month and what better to write than something for the fandom i’ve been sickeningly hyperfixated on for the past four months. Actual prompt had a two-sentence prompt as well, and i went with both <3

- 💜 -

October 2004

The things everybody tells you about small towns- everyone knows each other, ni things big happens, every day is a slow day, and the biggest local teen hotspots are the walmart parking lot or the big chain pharmacy/corner store —are true. The thing that everyone knows about small towns except for the majority of the people living in said town is that their minds are as small as the local post office.

This is especially true of the teens of Casper High in Amity Park, Illinois.

Sam’s black combat boots stomped against the warm pavement as she ran for the next block. Her breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh puffs of air in the autumn cold. She had gotten an SOS text message from Tucker seconds before the last bell rung.

Normally, she didn’t take the Foley kid very serious. They didn’t know each other that well and they barely hung out save for the couple of school projects they’ve worked on together and those rare lunch hour occasions where he’d sit at her table uninvited. Usually to avoid Dash, Kwan and the rest of their jock entourage.

She stumbled to a stop at a crossroads borderline wheezing. Running was so not her forte. Maybe it was cruel of her, but Same fully intended to ignore his SOS. That is, until she saw Tweedledumb (Dash) and Tweedledumber (Kwan) shove a screaming Tucker into their run-down jeep and speed off.

Hence, why Same was ruining her sickly goth pallor by chasing after them.

She glanced to her left just in time to see the run-down jeep screech to a halt. Christ, the stabbing in her sides was killing her. Sue her for walking. The jeep wasn’t going anywhere anymore. She stumbled a few steps, feet burning, as she held a hand to her sides like that would help her.

Dash jumped out from the passenger side, Kwan following shortly after, from the driver’s side. They opened the back doors on each side, where Tucker was. They cornered him. Dash reached in and was soon pulling Tucker out by his feet. Sam could hear his scream now.

“C’mon, guys, please just leave me alone! Let me go, Dash!”

The Wonder Jocks laughed in response. Kwan slammed his door shut, confident that Dash had Tucker handled now that he was out of the car. Kwan rushed to the sidewalk to roughly grab Tucker’s free arm.

“Guys, this isn’t funny!”

Sam was halfway down the street now and she dreaded the idea of having to run again to keep those two muscle-headed idiots from beating the crap out of the geek that for some reason imprinted on her. Ugh, caring for people was overrated anyways. She could still walk away. Save herself the hassle. No one care about her in this stupid town anyways. So, why should she care?

She slowed to a stop. Her feet ached.

Dash and Kwan were dragging Tucker towards the street corner, which just confused Sam, amidst her inner turmoil. Why even drag Tucker all the way out to his own neighborhood? His house was literally a street away, and there wasn’t even a bare-bones playground here. So what—

“No, no! Don’t put me in there, Dash, Kwan, please! Just let me go, guys, it’s not funny!”

Sam felt a sharp chill run down her spine. Something heavy dropped in the pit of her stomach at the sudden realization of where, exactly, they were.

“Shit.”

She broke off into a sprint as fast as she could.

Shithsitshitshit.

Another thing about small towns is that they all have a well-kept secret. A dark past, usually. Sam found that she thrives on such darkness; on those unwanted and discarded things. As it turned out, Amity Park had a surprising amount of those. She made it her personal business to grow intimate with her town’s buried gutter.

The things she learned were both shocking and, for all her boasting, a little horrifying. Things that would be permanently burned into her retinas. Unseeable and unforgettable. So, she scolded herself for not realizing sooner where they were dragging Tucker to. She would’ve run a little faster, cared a little more, if she had.

She zoomed past the jeep and turned the corner so sharply she nearly fell flat on her face.

Tucker wasn’t screaming anymore, but there were tears streaming down his face as he stared in terror at the behemoth of a house towering over them.

In all its abandoned, festering glory: the infamous Fenton House. Even in bright daylight, the house was obscured in awkward elongated shadows, made worse by the house’s freaky, Frankenstein-esque structure. As if imitating a child’s building blocks tower, there were partial structures jutting out of the house’s main body. They creaked in the cold wind, threatening to snap off and crush any trespassers. At the very top, there was a round dome of sorts with something resembling letters across it. They were black with rot now. Unreadable.

Sam wasn’t a fearful person, but she was a believer. The Fenton House was more than haunted. She’s read enough testimonies to not take it lightly. People have gone missing in that house. Hell, they’ve been found dead in there. She may not be friendly with Tucker, but that didn’t mean she was about to leave him to a tragic fate.

Body running on a sudden burst of adrenaline, she grabbed the nearest thing she could find (a sizable stick) and marched towards the two jocks.

“Hey!”

All three of the boys turned to look at her. She stood two steps below them, resolutely ignoring the way the house seemed to want to swallow them whole. Tucker’s terrified face shifted into one of pure relief. A new wave of tears was visibly threatening to spill over.

“Sam,” he croaked.

Dash barked out a laugh.

“Samantha Manson? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey, wanna help us lock this dweeb in the Fenton House?” Kwan smiled brightly, pointing at Tucker.

Sam scowled. People always confused her apathy for cruelty. She hated it.

“It’s Sam, and like hell I do. Drop the nerd, assholes, or else,” she said, pitching her voice lower in an attempt to sound intimidating.

Maybe she should’ve spent her time running thinking up a plan instead of hating on Tucker for making her run in the first place. She clutched the stick in her hand tightly.

Kwan scoffed.

“No way. I just said we’re gonna lock him in the house.”

“Yeah! We wanna know what happens when you put a techno dweeb with murder ghosts,” Dash said, smiling cruelly at a Tucker.

“He short-circuits. It’s not impressive. Let him go.”

Dash must’ve realized, finally, that Sam was being serious. He narrowed his eyes at her, the stick in her hand, and smiled.

“Or what? You’re gonna hit us with the creep stick? Ha. Last I checked, Sam, girls don’t have the balls to pull that off, so why don’t you get lost and forget you were ever here,” Dash said before adding to Kwan, “And Paulina says I’m not a gentleman.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. She went up a step as she spoke.

“Like any girl would let you get that close, Dash. Besides, I promise mine are bigger than yours. Here, I’ll prove it.”

Before he even had time to blink, Sam jabbed the stick hard into Dash’s crotch. A gentlemanly oof broke past his lips and he let go of Tucker’s arm to clutch at his wounded pride.

“Augh, bitch.”

Kwan also let go of Tucker to check on his friend. Sam didn’t waste a second and grabbed Tucker’s hand.

“Run.”

They bolted down the stairs, Tucker nearly slamming into her from the sudden force.

“Sam, I didn’t think— I mean— shit, thank you. I thought- Ah!”

“Shit. Let me go, jackass!”

They had barely cleared the Fenton House’s shadow when a large, thick arm slammed into Sam and Tucker’s bellies as Kwan— just Kwan —grabbed them by the waist and lifted them up.

Note-to-self: never piss off a linebacker.

Sam knew Dahs and Kwan were big for their age, being football players and all, but jesus fuck this was insane.

She kicked and punched for her freedom, but either rage was a hell of a pain nullifier or her punches were child’s play.

Crap, and she dropped the stick when he grabbed them. Just her luck.

“You better let us go right now, Kwan!”

“Or what?”

He was effortlessly taking them up the stairs and— oh that’s the door.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, they— they can’t actually lock us in. There’s no key. We-we can just leave,” Tucker whispered, panicked.

“You don’t know much about the Fenton House, do you?”

Sam’s voice was small. She felt small.

They were about to be locked in a horror house.

Dash opened the door. Sam didn’t even see him get there.

“Sayonara, losers. Have fun in the Fenton House.”

The world tilted and blurred for a split second, Sam’s stomach lurching at the weightless sensation, before she and Tucker landed hard on the linoleum floor. Pain shot up her elbow and hip. Beside her, Tucker groaned.

“If you even make it the whole night! Ha!”

Bam!

Tucker scrambled up at once, but as soon as his hand touched the doorknob a sound like a lock sliding into place echoed throughout the empty house.

“Wha…”

Sam waited with bated breath. Then—

A low droning sound buzzed across the floor, seeping through Sam’s hands in an odd pins-and-needles sensation. Red emergency lights flickers throughout the house, bathing everything in muddy crimson, and the droning sound was replaced by the most horrifying screech of twenty-year-old rusted metal scraping against itself.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Thick sheets of metal began dropping over every conceivable entry. Including the windows and, of course, the door. Sam pulled Tucker back by the collar of his shirt just in time to keep his hand attached.

Tucker yelped, clutching his hand close.

“What the fuck—”

Warbled, distorted speech boomed from somewhere in the house, the voice and the words long ruined by time. It was like someone was trying to speak underwater. The message was only a few seconds long, but it was disgustingly haunting. Sam knew exactly what it said.

Ghost attack imminent. Fenton Security measure Christmas Ham activated.

If she remembered correctly, the measure lasted six hours. But the last time it was activated (that anyone knows of) was five years ago. Who knew how much the technology had deteriorated at this point. They could be here for a whole day.

Sam broke from her thoughts to glance at a hyperventilating Tucker. She couldn’t blame him. The Fenton House was creepy enough on the outside. Inside? With flickering red lights? Sam was making an active effort not to throw up from the fear writhing in her intestines.

The shadows kept moving in the corner of her eyes, she swore she kept seeing a green glow (but she couldn’t tell where from), and it was freezing cold. Colder than it was outside, which should be impossible, but it was the Fenton House. Impossible was inconsequential.

Sam shuddered. They had to find a way out.

“Tucker—”

“Sam- ohmygodSam- this is- I mean what the fuck was that? We’re literally trapped here. In a tomb with linoleum floors. Shit, and you’re trapped, too, cuz of me. I shouldn’t have sent you that text. Fuck it I shouldn’t have flunked Dash’s essay. Now we’re gonna die here and—”

“Tucker!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly. Their eyes met, both wide with incessant panic.

“Calm down,” she spoke slowly. Tucker gulped and nodded shakily.

“Okay, okay, yeah.”

“Breathe. You’re good with computers and stuff, right?”

Tucker scoffed, but more in a self-deprecative way rather than an offended one.

“Sure am. It’s what gets me in trouble, isn’t it?”

Sam shook him again.

“Forget that. We need good with computers. The Fentons were notorious for their unorthodox advancements in technology. Supposedly had patents on really futuristic shit. Most of it buried, obviously. But they were good enough that their security system still activates nearly twenty years after their departure.”

Ridiculously good, she thought bitterly.

There was a moment of weighted silence as they looked around the house. The lights, the rusted yet intact panels over the windows. It was eerily quiet. She stepped a bit closer to Tucker, who thankfully didn’t say anything about it.

“Yeah, alright, okay,” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat. “The-there should be, uh, a circuit breaker somewhere. We could cut off the power—”

“Won’t work,” Sam stated, eyes furtively glancing around them. She had the weirdest sensation they were being watched. “The town cut the power away from the Fenton House ages ago. It runs on some kind of external power source, but nobody knows what.”

Sam kinda hoped they didn’t get to find out.

“Shit. Man, what the fuck. Who the fuck were these people?”

Sam let out a manic sort of laugh. The hysteria was boiling up in her like toxic chemicals.

“Do you want the short answer or the long one?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be here a while. Long answer?”

A pause.

“We should find a way out.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them moved an inch. They stood in the middle of the living room. A trashed one at that. Although, looking closely from where they were, the whole house looked trashed. Wasn’t the place SWATted?

She spotted a flash of green in the hallway, right there in the corner of her eye, and snapped her head towards it with a small gasp. There was nothing there.

“Hey,” Tucker said softly. “Let’s check out the windows for loose panels or something and you can tell me about the Fentons’ own loose panels.”

Her mouth went dry, but she nodded.

“Sounds good, yeah. So, uh, what do you know about the Fentons?”

Tucker shrugged and went towards the first window, by the door. Sam followed closely by. He didn’t mention it.

“What everyone else knows. Mad scientists who went so crazy after their son’s disappearance that they tried to summon him from the afterlife. They got so obsessed that they never left the house and just, died here, waiting for their son to come back. Pretty sad.”

That window was a bust. So was the next, as well as the door. They ventured into the hallway. There were a few square and rectangle imprints on the walls, but only one hanging frame left. With a picture. Hands shaking, Sam reached up and snagged the picture from where it was, careful not to cut herself on what was left of the glass.

It was a family picture. A wall of a man stood at the back with a practiced, dashing smile. To his left and a little below him was a woman with short, bright red hair. They were both in brightly colored hazmat suits, goggles hanging around their necks.

In front of them were two teens. A girl with bright red hair as well, but styled much longer. Next to her was a boy, younger and slightly shorter than her, with black hair. They were all smiling wide and bright, except for the boy. His was more hesitant, not quite reaching his eyes.

Sam pointed at the young girl.

“Did you know the Fentons had a daughter, too?”

Tucker’s eyebrows went up slightly.

“No… Something tells me I won’t like why.”

“You won’t. Um, kitchen?”

Sam saw another green flash and was anxious to get away from it. They bee-lined to the kitchen, and Tucker checked the windows there.

“So… There’s a few things you got right. The Fentons—” Sam pointed at the two adults in the picture “—were renowned scientists. They did some impressive breakthroughs. Like the kind they still teach in universities, but with a disclaimer attached. The more they went into their work, though, the more obsessed they got…” she trailed off in a whisper, tensing.

The house was creaking.

Tucker stopped in his tracks, too, eyes wide but lips pressed tightly together.

Nothing happened. The house stopped creaking.

Tucker let out a slow breath, eyeing the cabinets.

“Think there’s anything edible left around?”

She glared at him sharply.

“If you open any fridge or cabinet doors, I’m leaving you here alone. This place is bad enough, we don’t need to add rats or rotted food to the list.”

Tucker pouted but conceded.

“Fine, I’ll just starve. Keep telling me about the creepy doctors and their stupid creepy house while we check upstairs.”

Sam sighed in temporary relief. She didn’t think she could handle seeing a fridge full of maggots. Even if it has been almost twenty years.

They continued up the stairs, carefully, and Sam went on with the Fenton tragedy.

“The Fentons started growing obsessed with other dimensions. Specifically… the afterlife, and its inhabitants.”

“Like… ghosts?”

Sam nodded.

“Exactly like. They became convinced they could create a doorway into the afterlife, at the cost of their reputation. They got ostracized by the academic community once they started referring to themselves as ‘ecto-scientists’.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t. Bunch’a wackos,” Tucker muttered as they ventured into an organized room with cool colors. Light blue walls, light green bed sheets coated in blankets of dust, so the only reason Sam knew they were light green was because she’s seen pictures of what the room looked like twenty years ago. She ignored the uneven pattern of small dark spots on the wall.

It was the girl’s room. Jasmine Fenton’s.

Tucker went straight for the window, but Sam hung back near the entrance.

“They didn’t actually open a doorway, right?”

His voice broker her out of her thoughts. She blinked.

“Hm? Oh, uh, allegedly, yeah.”

This house probably sat on an open portal. There probably was an infestation of something murderous in it. Sam shook the thought away. She’ll drive herself crazy worrying about that.

“Supposedly,” she continued. “The doorway was one of their patents. They had the science backing it up and everything. But they… There were rumors, around the time the supposedly opened the doorway, that there was an accident in the house involving their youngest. Daniel Fenton.”

Tucker frowned at the blocked window. A bust. They made their way to the next room. A queen bed bare of any bedsheets, and a large chest of drawers with an equally large mirror attached to it. The Fentons’ room. It had an extra window.

“What happened to Daniel?”

Sam shuddered, goosebumps breaking out across her arms. The room got colder, so much colder than it had been. A soft crackling sound broke out, like frost taking over with a vengeance. She opened her mouth to speak but her breath got stuck in her throat.

She closed her mouth. Breathe. Another flash of green, this one brighter than the others. Breathe. It was so cold, her teeth started chattering.

“T-t-t-tucker—”

“Y-ye-yeah, I’m-m ignoring it,” he said simply, tugging at the panels.

Fuck, how can he ignore this. Sam was so uncomfortable, consumed by such a sudden unease, she wanted to claw off her skin. She tried to ignore it anyways.

“Daniel— jesus I’m freezing —he was out of school a couple of days after neighbors heard a scream. That same night, the power went out in the whole town, except for the Fenton House.”

The freezing cold seeped away, leaving behind a frost pattern that didn’t melt on the mirror despite the warming room. Sam blew out a breath, sending out a silent thanks.

She frowned, unsure why she did that.

“A lot of people theorize,” she went in, rubbing the remaining cold in her fingertips away. “That one of two things happened that night. One, a backfired experiment drove the Fentons all the way crazy to the point that they started experimenting on both their kids, thinking they were ghosts.”

“Wait, both of—”

“Two, Daniel died because of said backfired experiment and his parents somehow managed to either bring him or his ghost back.”

None of the windows opened. They started for the next room.

“That’s… actually insane. And what do you mean, both their kids?” Tucker stopped for a moment, meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Did something happen to their daughter, too?”

Sam pressed her lips into a thin line. That’s the part rarely anyone knew about the Fenton horrors. Daniel wasn’t their only kid. He certainly wasn’t their only victim.

“I’ll get there,” she replied instead, looking away. “It only gets worse.”

“Christ,” he muttered.

They walked onwards.

“A couple of weeks after that, Daniel disappeared. But in those weeks, the Fentons became obsessive, borderline manic, with ghosts. Their nature, their morality. How to trap them, contain them… kill them.”

They were nearing then end of the hallway, where the last room was.

Tucker shuddered, sporting his own goosebumps.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

Sam grimaced, sticking close to him once more.

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad. What’s worse, the Fentons called off the search party after just one night. They claimed they didn’t want false hope, they just wanted to lay their son to rest. They buried an empty casket, and Daniel hadn’t even been missing three full days.”

Her voice was hollow.

“Shit. They…”

“Killed their own son because they were convinced he was a ghost? Most likely,” she said bitterly. As far as true crime went, Amity Park’s dark secret was the worst she’s ever read.

Neither said a word. For one long minute, intentionally or not, they remained quiet, mulling over the terror a kid must feel when they realize their own parents saw them as something to be killed. And to think, they were standing in the house where it happened. Where two parents killed their son. Allegedly.

And their daughter…

As if reading her mind, Tucker quietly asked, “What about the girl? It gets worse doesn’t it?”

Sam swallowed, her mouth dry and throat sore.

“They—” she sighed. “After their son ‘becoming a ghost’, they got paranoid. Extremely so. If one of their kids was a ghost… They couldn’t stand the idea of having an imposter in their own home. There were reports of screams two nights after the funeral. Like, really awful screaming that went on for nearly an hour, I think. Authorities broke into the house after multiple calls to find the Fentons in the basement and their daughter on a table just… cut open. She died before the paramedics could get to her.”

Again, neither said another word. Sam wished she’d run faster. Hit Dash harder. This house was tainted in blood and betrayal.

Tucker clutched at his chest and Sam realized his breathing was short and sparse. Crap.

“Tucker—”

“I fucking,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “Hate that we’re here. We’re trapped in like they were, but they— Fuck, they were kids. Their kids. Who does that.”

“Tucker, breathe,” Sam insisted lowly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, but only got a few gasps of air.

“I’ve been t-trying to hold it together but I just can’t— what if we can’t find a way out. What if we die here.”

“We’re not gonna die here,” she stated fiercely despite being unsure of it herself. “If the windows are a no go then we’ll just find a way to deactivate the security system, okay? We’ll be fine.”

Tucker nodded again, quiet.

It took another few minutes until he finally got his breathing under control. Sam squeezed his arm comfortingly, giving him a small smile. They’ll make it.

He returned the smile without a word and turned to the last room. They had windows to check.

She suspected it was Daniel’s room. It was the only one they hadn’t seen yet. Tucker tried to turn the knob but it didn’t budge. She frowned. Weird… thinking about it, all the other rooms had been wide open.

“Rusted?”

Tucker shook his head, shaking off another involuntary shudder. Sam suppressed her own. It was getting colder again. Tucker tried again to open it. No dice. The knob wasn’t budging. He let go of it, hissing through his teeth as he rubbed his hands together.

“The metal is freezing. It, uh, must be something with the heating.”

Sam gave it a try and immediately drew her hand back. Freezing was an understatement. A second longer and she would’ve gotten the world’s worst case of freezer burn.

“Tucker, I don’t think we’re allowed to go in this room,” she whispered, hugging herself to keep warm.

He gave her a look like she was crazy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That’s Daniel Fenton’s room. All the other rooms were open but this one—”

“—is locked.”

“No. Look at the handle. There’s literal frost on it. There was frost on the mirror in the other room, too. I think—”

“If you say ghost.”

Sam glared at him.

“After everything I told you. Scratch that, haven’t you been feeling all the weird stuff in this house? The creaking, the frankly extreme cold spots, the fucking creepy green light!”

Tucker’s eyes went wide at that, mouth dropping open.

“I-I didn’t think you could see them. But that— that doesn’t mean—”

The house gave a violent creak, causing the floor to rumble threateningly. The temperature dropped drastically, covering the entire hallway in a light frost.

Sam’s teeth immediately started chattering from the cold.

“This is too much,” Tucker whispers, that underlying panic settling back in.

Impossibly, finally finally finally, they both saw the green flash at the other end of the hallway, flickering desperately before disappearing.

“Tuck,” Sam let out, mesmerized, overtaken by the overwhelming urge to follow that light. An itch she had to scratch, to claw at until it broke open. “He’s here.”

She didn’t know how she knew that, but she’s never spoken truer words. This she knew with absolute certainty.

“Sam.”

He was struggling not to fall for the light, but he couldn’t ignore this forever. Sam thought he’d be an idiot to do so.

She moved forward without another word. Shortly, she heard Tucker follow after.

When they reached the stairs, another flash of light burst to life at the landing, flickering that desperate staccato.

They continued to quietly follow the light wherever it appeared. It led them down the hallway of missing picture frames. Sam clutched the picture in her pocket. They reached a closed door. It was colder in this area, but the door knob was warm. It opened easily to reveal stairs to a basement showered in white fluorescent lights.

They went down the stairs with no hesitation, following that green light that was growing more and more desperate with each step they took. At the bottom, they were greeted by an empty expanse of white floor.

There were various metal tables, but all devoid of any machines or materials that one would expect in a lab. Because no doubt that’s what this basement was. There were discarded cords and metal scraps scattered across the room. But most notably, there was a large, round arch-like structure at the center of the furthermost wall. It was huge, its top scraping the basement ceiling. It had an indent, with two metal panels that interlocked in the center. As if it were a… door.

“Sam… is that—”

“Tucker, look.”

The little flash of green stopped by a blue button on the wall. It flickered swiftly, faster than any of the other times before it went out entirely.

They stayed there, standing, for a moment.

“Are we… are we about to find a dead kid’s twenty-year-old decayed corpse?”

Sam nodded shakily, not believing it either.

“I think so.”

They still didn’t move. God, it was so cold. She couldn’t feel her fingertips.

“What if something happens to us?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

Two dead people found in the house during its abandonment. Three missing.

“And?”

She looked back at him, a soft smile edging its way onto her face.

“He deserves to rest. Doesn’t he?”

Tucker glanced between the blue button and the closed, arch-like door. Determination set into his features. He nodded.

They went towards the button. Tucker settled his hand over it first, Sam placing her hand over his. Their eyes met.

“This had to have been the world’s worst nap.”

Sam snorted and pressed his hand onto the button. The technology down here must be in better conditions because the effect was instantaneous. Concrete scraped against concrete as a rectangular hole opened up in the center of the lab.

From where they were, they could see it. A homemade metal casket that weirdly resembled more of an iron maiden. They found him. Daniel Fenton. He could finally, truly rest.

That’s when the pounding began.

Sam and Tucker turned to each other in horror. She felt a visceral tug in her gut she nearly threw up then and there. Instead she ran to the metal casket, dropping to the ground halfway there so she slid across the floor. The pounding grew louder, and it was definitely coming from inside. Tucker was frozen stuck by the button.

It only gets worse.

A faint sound, behind all the pounding. Sam leaned closer, listening. Her stomach dropped. Her head snapped towards Tucker, eyes a desperate frenzy.

“He’s crying. He- He’s still- o-oh my g- Tucker, help me get him out!”

This broke him out of his horrified stupor and he kneeled on the ground next to her. His hands were shaking.

“What do we do? What do we do?”

“Fuck, idunnoidunno- uh, grab, shit, shit, go to the other side. Maybe we can lift the lid.”

Stumbling, trembling, Tucker did as he was told and crawled to the other side. But he saw what was on the lid. Fuck.

“There’s a lick. Sam, it’s locked.”

She looked back up at him on the verge of tears.

“What! No, no it can’t be- it—”

“Just, hold on. I’m gonna go back upstairs. Maybe there’s something we can use. I’ll be back, I promise.”

She got the feeling he wasn’t really talking to her. The pounding quieted down but there was a muffled sound. A strained whimper.

“Shit,” Tucker whispered before running out and up the stairs.

Sam sniffled and laid a hand in on the biting cold metal of the casket.

“We’re gonna get you out,” she whispered, wiping at the tears streaming uncontrollably down her face. “I don’t really understand how this is even possible, but we’re not gonna leave you here.”

There wasn’t a response. Not a whimper or a knock. She was gripped by the fear that maybe they were too late. Twenty years buried and they were five minutes too late.

Tucker came stomping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She looked up to see he had an honest-to-god metal bat in his hands. Fully intact and not rusted at all. His hat was askew and his eyes seemed wild.

“He- he helped me find it. Nearly ran all over the house,” he said, panting heavily.

“Hurry up and break it,” she begged, not bothering to disguise the desperation in her voice.

Without another word, Tucker aimed the thicker end of the bat downwards and plunged it against the lock.

It broke apart with a resound clang.

“Help me with—”

But Sam was already crossing to where he was. Kneeling, side by side, they gripped the edges of the casket and lifted. A cloud of freezing cold air puffed up, obscuring their vision for a few seconds. They couldn’t see if they really did save a boy’s life, or if it was just his corpse playing tricks on them. But they heard heavy breathing coming from rattling lungs and not from either of them.

They’d both been holding their breaths.

The cloud dispersed. In front of them lay a young boy with matted white hair, brilliant green eyes drowning in tears and a grotesque muzzle caked from within with old and fresh blood. Metal clinked against metal. His wrists were chained to the casket. His knees scraped and bloodied from banging on the lid.

Tucker immediately removed the muzzle, which thankfully wasn’t locked. Sam’s heart broke. Shattered. The boy’s cheeks were caked, blanketed, with that same mixture of blood, his lips horribly scarred.

He sobbed, screwing his eyes shut against the bright lights.

“Thank you,” he rasped. His voice scraped against his throat.

Tucker and Sam held his hand. They cried with him.

“You’re safe with us.”

He always would be.

#ectoberweek2023 #day 25 #danny phantom #shit’s insane #i wrote this in one night #yes instead of sleeping #it ran away from me so quick #i wrote like a beast POSSESSED #when i tell you this story had me in a choke hold #there’s a lot of fenton lore for this one in my head in true crime format #i think said format really adds to the horreur~ of it all #things that didnt make it into the story: sam’s witchiness #she’s studying to be a green witch #tucker is the classic nerd #can you tell i tried to stick to the early 2000s vibes? pls tell me you can #alsoalso can you spot the teensy super tiny monster high reference #i couldnt help myself #badass Sam Manson #i love her #posted a little late but hope that’s okay #sorry for any grammar errors im pretty tired dkdj #tucker foley #he just wants a friend pls #i genuinely like how their personalities came out in this one #will o' the wisp #buried alive #infinite constant: the trio will always find each other

17 notes · View notes

fbfh · 2 years

Text

chillax, I got you - JJ maybank x reader smut

word count: 2.3k

genre: SMUT, comfort, fluff at the end

pairing: JJ x afab reader (referred to as "my girl"/girlfriend as petnames)

warnings: reader has a bad fear of bugs (bug type is not specified), JJ is a good boyfriend, descriptions of something akin to anxiety over said bugs, JJ rails the shit out of you to distract you, fingering, praise, nicknames (pretty girl, my girl), "ask nicely to cum", JJ spits into your mouth so that's fun, creampie, begging, aftercare

summary: JJ is a really good boyfriend; he's so sweet, he kills bugs that you hate without you even having to ask, and he fucks you absolutley stupid to distract you when you see one in the middle of the night.

song rec: idk how well it fits but I listened to guy.exe by superfruit the entire time I was writing this and I'm a little sick of it now lol

a/n: this was bc I saw a certian type of bug I l o a t h e a foot away from me like three nights in a row!!! love that for me!!! /s

anyway trying to knock out my wips so I have enough room to write a shit ton of stranger things fics after s4 comes out so wish me luck with that lol

tags: @afidiofobia @justbookworm @yesv01

as with all nsfw works all characters are aged up to 18+!!!

One thing that sucks about living in the Outer Banks is the way your least favorite bug always seems to be practically everywhere year round. Some people hate bugs, and honestly, you’re pretty jealous of those people. You always convince yourself you don’t mind bugs that much, that they won’t freak you out next time you see one, only to end up doing exactly that. From the way you shake and cry and try to fight an anxiety attack every time you so much as see one, you think it’s safe to say you’re well into phobia territory.

The good news in all this is that JJ is not afraid of bugs, and actually loves kicking their asses when one shows up. He hates how upset they make you, and if there’s any way for him to stop that from happening, of course he’s going to. He’s gotten very good at finding them before you do, and getting rid of them before you even knew it was there. The other pogues have even begun pointing out the bugs you hate to JJ so he can get rid of them before you even notice. Ever since he found out how much you hate these bugs, he’s made sure you basically never have to see them.

“Thanks,” you croak, and he pulls you to his chest. He rubs your back reassuringly as you cling onto him tight, trying your hardest to fight back the terror that surrounds you. He kisses your forehead. A moment later, you inch back into your room, JJ at your side. You inspect the walls and windows and bedding under your bright phone flashlight for several minutes until you feel satisfied that there’s nothing of any concern hiding anywhere.

However, on the rare occasion you see one before he does, you really do try to take it in stride. Especially when you find a massive motherfucker six inches above your head at 2am, like today. Even though you’re standing in the other room, shaking and crying, biting your hand, you’re still trying your hardest to stay as calm as you possibly can. A moment later JJ’s in front of you.

“Gone.” he states, voice croaky and thick with sleep. God, he’s so hot. You nod silently. You both know if you say anything you’re going to cry, and you’d really like to avoid that right now. You have shit to do in the morning and you don’t want to lose an hour and a half of sleep just because of a stupid bug, just because your stupid brain won’t stop telling you there’s more of them when you know there’s not. JJ knows this. He knows how bad this is for you. How hard it is to get rid of the paranoid thoughts, how draining it gets.

JJ stands behind you, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I know there’s nothing there, I’m just…” you breathe, throat still tight, “so worried…” You’re worried there might be more bugs, worried about having nightmares after this, worried this whole ordeal will consume the bulk of your thoughts for the rest of the day, worried you won’t even be able to get back to sleep. He sways with you in his arms a little, skin warm against yours, breath fanning across your neck and jawline, and he feels you start to relax in his arms. There’s only one thing that can distract you from these distressing fruitless worries, and that’s JJ.

“I know,” he says, voice comforting as he spins you around to face him. There’s only one thing to do on nights like this, and relief and warmth spread across your skin as he begins to press kisses to your neck. He looks at you, with that signature loving, playful gaze of his that seems to melt distress away. He takes in a breath, then sighs.

“I guess I’ll just have to fuck the worries right out of you.”

You feel your cheeks flush, temperature rising on the already warm night as he pulls you closer to his bare chest, hand keeping you securely close on the small of your back. He rubs his thumb across your lips, taking you in for a moment with that signature look of his. God, no one looks at you the way JJ does. Your hands caress his cheeks, gently pulling him in for a kiss, and in the moments before your lips connect, he can see the gratitude and adoration in your eyes. You’re already smiling against his lips, the tides of your mind beginning to turn from impossible ideas that would keep you awake for an hour at least, to your very hot, blonde surfer boy who is currently feeling you up and will keep you up all night, writhing in pleasure.

JJ's lips are warm against yours, and he leans into you, curling your bodies together. His hand moves down, touching you slowly, sending heat through your body, then squeezing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. Simultaneously, he dips you, causing you both to fall into bed. He kisses you and kisses you, mouth open as you giggle against him. His chest warms with each one of your bubbling laughs, knowing it means you're feeling better, knowing he's doing his job and making sure you're as happy and carefree as possible.

One hand holds the back of your neck, guiding your head and deepening the kiss. The other glides up your torso, caressing the curve of your hips, your waist, easily making its way under your shirt. It soon finds its place on your chest, enthusiastically groping the soft flesh of your tits. He kneads and squeezes, thumb rubbing over your hardened nipple, sending jolts of electricity to your core. Your temperature is already steadily rising at his touch, and you're ready for more.

JJ's ready for more too, rock hard on top of you and pressing into the soft flesh of your thigh. All those cute little moans you’re breathing into his mouth spur him further along, and soon he begins to grind into you slowly. He continues to kiss you, playfully nipping your lips and fucking his tongue into your mouth, murmuring dirty thoughts under his breath. You sigh and moan against him, sounding so pretty and growing increasingly flustered. You can feel yourself getting more turned on by the minute, body growing hot at every rock and bump of his throbbing bulge against your soft dripping heat.

You try your hardest to suppress the breathy sighs and little moans he’s already drawing from you, but he doesn't miss a single one. Every noise you make gets him harder for you, throbbing and humping against you faster. You were never that vocal before you met JJ, but now… god, he has you moaning so fast it’s embarrassing.

"JJ…" you finally moan against his lips, and he can't help himself, finally moving his hand down to toy with your clothed cunt. His mouth moves to your neck, and he grabs your hips, lifting them up to pull down your little sleep shorts and panties. He takes a moment to grope you as he does, savoring the feeling of you humping against his hand. You know how much he loves it when you wear little shorts like that, what it does to him. He plunges his long fingers into your dripping heat, spongy walls seeming to suck him in. He groans into your mouth, anticipating when you’ll soon be wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. You flutter around him as he stretches you out.

“JJ…” you moan again, an unmistakable whine in your voice. Your hands move from his back to tug at his boxers, soft skin brushing against his hips. The feeling of you tugging at his underwear, desperate for his cock while you clench and drip around his fingers is almost too much to bear. You both need him inside you, right now. He retracts his fingers, causing you to whine, fluttering against nothing.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he comforts, shimmying out of his only remaining article of clothing, and you watch, eyes wide, as his cock springs free, red and dripping just for you. He works two fingers back into your burning cunt, scissoring his fingers and stretching you out one last time before lining himself up tantalizingly with your entrance. You're about to start whining, needing his touch more than anything, when he pops the head of his cock inside you. The whine that had been building up falls from your lips as a mewl instead. He joins you, moaning out a breathy chuckle, sighing against your skin. He grabs your thigh, groping you as he works his way deeper inside you.

“Atta girl, just like that,” he coaxes, until he’s finally buried all the way inside you. You sigh, full and satisfied. Heat radiates off his chest, as he starts to roll his hips, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes.

“There’s my good girl,” he breathes, “takin’ my cock so well, such a good girl for me…”

He continues to pound you into the mattress, hips speeding up when you tug at his hair and drag your nails down his back. One thing you can say for sure about JJ is that he sure knows how to move his hips. He hits every single spot inside you with each thrust, reducing you to a whimpering mess faster than anyone else you’ve ever been with, and he can tell from the fucked out look on your face that you’re enjoying every minute of it.

Before long, he can feel your walls gradually tighten around him, and your eyes are already glazing over. He continues to press hot, open mouthed kisses against you, his tongue fucking into your mouth, muffling your moans and whines. When he pulls away, it’s to ask if you’re close, ask if his pretty girl is gonna cream around his cock. Before he can, you watch, eyes wide, as a strand of spit connects your mouths. You squeeze around him, fixated on the sight. He chuckles, knowing where this is going.

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” he asks, hot breath panting over your skin, “Huh? You want to be a good girl, cream around my cock?” You nod, eyes squeezed shut, whining with every thrust. Your eyes snap open when he turns your face towards his, a smoldering expression painted over his face.

“Ask nicely.”

The instructions send heat rocking through you.

“Say please…” he tantalizes in a breathy chuckle. Before you can even think, you’re babbling out messy pleads and prayers for him to let you cum.

“P-please, JJ-” you choke out, “cum ‘nside me, fill me up…” you slur in his ear, drunk on his touch. He does not need to be told twice. Your noises, your words, the way you cling to his muscular shoulders and clench around him have him even closer than before. After listening to you continue to beg a satisfactory amount, he chuckles, catching your lips in another hot, open mouthed kiss. But this time as he pulls away, he grabs your jaw, coaxing you to keep your mouth open.

He puckers his lips, letting a glistening bead of spit fall from his mouth into yours. It hits your tongue, tasting like him, and you clench hard, eyes rolling back as you let out a beautiful moan. He grabs your thigh, hiking it over his hip, reaching even deeper inside you. His thrusts become messy as his hand reaches down for your clit. The added sensation has you climaxing in seconds, burying your face in his neck to muffle the torrent of moans and screams of pleasure falling from your beautiful lips. Within moments of your orgasm, JJ reaches his. You’re always pleasantly surprised by how full you feel when he cums inside you, stretching you out like this, and you revel in the feeling.

“F-fuck,” he moans, face contorted with pleasure, “shit…” his hisses. He continues to pound into you until you’ve both thoroughly come down from your highs, and you sigh at the empty feeling when he eventually pulls out, peppering kisses all over your face.

After you catch your breath, you try to get up so you can clean yourself up in the bathroom, but wobble as soon as you stand.

“Woah,” JJ’s right beside you, holding you steady. He glances down the hall, then scoops you up, setting you back down on the bed.

“Stay here, gorgeous,” he punctuates by pressing a warm kiss to your lips. You’re so wrapped up in everything he just made you feel, his taste still on your tongue, that you don’t even hear the thwack from the hallway, where JJ has just gotten rid of yet another one of those buggy motherfuckers you hate.

“Stay the hell away from my girlfriend.” he states to the smudge, before grabbing a couple warm washcloths.

Soon you’re cleaned up, cuddled together with a fan on high. The windows are opened for a little cross breeze, and you can smell the ocean air from here. You should go surfing tomorrow, you want to tell JJ, you know he’d think it’s a great idea. But you can feel yourself slipping into the warm embrace of sleep, safe in his arms.

‘Oh well,’ you think, ‘I’ll just tell him in the morning…’ It’s your last thought before you’re out like a light, and you look forward to it. Waking up next to JJ is your favorite part of the day, and you can’t wait to wake him up by pressing kisses to his sun kissed cheeks.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks smut #obx smut #also my routine got super fucky wucky for like two weeks so I've been both exhausted AND unable to sleep #so it's been trickier to write lately which i hate for the single reason of i'm addicted to writing fics at this point /lh #so it's annoying that i don't have the brain cells for smth i like #anyway there's way more where this came from #also i'm taking care of myself and stuff so dw babes #make sure you're taking care of youself too <3333 #ily <33333 #admittedly i did get hella dehydrated but I do have my emotional support waterbottle w me rn so that's getting better too #hell yeah working on it!!!!#anyway hope you enjoy this #I wrote half the outline between 2 and like 3am one night when I was so freaked out abt those goddamn bugs #rip me #but yeah I think it turned out well #jj deserves way more love

34 notes · View notes