ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET? ( Jimmy Ink / Kellie x Reader )
AUTHOR NOTE! Can ya'll see this post? Cause it's not popping up in the tags on my end! <3 pairing: Jimmy Ink / Kellie x Finger! Reader prompt : One bed, one snoring man downstairs, and the question 'what are we?' lingering around in the air. word count: 1,000+ words
The old water park pool was one of the rare places that was still standing⎯for the most part. Sure, it smelt wet and like mold. And sure, the ceiling was caved in slightly from water damage. And sure, you were mostly to get severely sick from inhaling all the mold that was growing in the water damaged ceiling. But, it was better than a patch of mud in the rain with the tarps. Or so, Jimmy insisted, despite everyone’s weariness towards it. You’d endure some mold. You’d find some good in staying in the night here.
Maybe, be able to find some things to salvage⎯a pool cover you could use for waterproof blanket or maybe a piece of a pool ladder you could use a weapon of some sort if you were lucky. For now, you needed to figure out where you were going to sleep tonight. Everyone claimed rooms or what could be turned into makeshift rooms. Storage closets got turned into bedrooms. Mother-eaten couches got turned into luxurious beds. Old pool noodles got turned into pillows or mattresses.
Jimmy, of course, had claimed the head office and pull-out couch. Jones and Snake had claimed a pool jungle gym, using a pool slide as a private room. Jimmy Jimmy had taken an old locker room. Jimmy Fox had claimed the lazy river pool. Jimmima and Jimmy Shite had claimed an old lounge chair by the poolside. All that was left was a storage room that must have been an old break room for lifeguards, and you were determined to claim it for yourself.
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Pulling off the itchy wig on your head, you push open the door to the old storage room, a scowl instantly curls up at the sight of Ink laying on the couch. Your backpack was missing, so was your jacket that had been hanging to dry. Two thoughts popped in your head, where the fuck was your stuff and how did she not notice that you had already claimed this room? Opening her eyes up at the sight of you, she flashes a big cheeky grin, like she knew something that you didn’t know just yet. Ginger-haired bitch. God, you wanted to pluck off those freckles from her face. Tucking her arms behind her head like she was tanning on a beach, it only worsened the scowl on your lips.
“Claimed.”
“What?!” You protest, “No, I claimed it first! I put my bag down and my jacket!”
“Well, you weren’t here when I set up, neither was your stuff.” She argues back, scoffing.
“Because I was helping Jimmima clean off the lounge chairs, and my shite was here.” You argue, “You can’t fucking take this from me! I don’t wanna share a room with Fox, he fuckin’ snores and drools in his sleep!”
“Duh, it’s why I’m fuckin’ taking this room.” She huffs, rolling her eyes hard.
“Ink! Come on, I claimed it first.”
“Well, I’m not moving. Quite comfortable here, actually.” She shakes her head stubbornly, “You’ll have to drag me off.”
Biting back the harsh comment on the tip of your tongue, you clench your jaw tightly, teeth grinding together hard. No, no, no, ( Y/n ). Don’t do it. Don’t fucking do it. She was trying to provoke you on purpose. Forcing a breath in through your teeth, she shifts on the couch once again, kicking her feet up⎯not for practicality, but to provoke. She knew what she was doing. She wasn’t that thick-headed. Smacking her dirty sneakers off the arm of the couch, she loses the smug grin on her face, an icy scowl replacing it.
“Get the fuck out.”
“Oooh-hoo, grown some balls have you?” She mocks, a light laugh in her tone.
“I’m not fuckin’ laughin’, Ink, get the fuck out. I claimed it.” You argue, shaking your head.
“And I fuckin’ told you, you’ll have to make me.” She argues back, “I’m not moving, ( Y/n ).”
Narrowing your eyes hard at her words, you grab her ankle, dragging her hard off the couch. You were far too tired for any of her bullshit and there was no way in hell you were going to share with Fox. He’d do what he always did. He’d cuddle close for warmth, all innocent like⎯puppy dog eyes and sweet words. Then bear hug you until he was snoring in your ear and drooling down the side of your neck like a rabid dog. He did it with Shite. He did it with Jimmy Jimmy. He did it with Jimmima. He did it with Ink. And he’d sure as fuck, do it to you. Hitting the ground with a soft grunt, she kicks back at you in anger, her sneaker hitting you dead in the face hard.
Letting out a pained yelp at the impact, you drop her ankle, clutching your throbbing nose with your hands. Son of a fucking whore. Your eyes watered involuntarily, a faint taste of blood in your mouth from biting down on your cheek. Trying to blink away the tears in your eyes, you could feel a second heartbeat in your nose, it throbbing every second. Spitting out some blood on the floor, she smiles proudly at the sight of you bleeding, only fueling the anger within you. She wanted to play dirty? Fucking fine by you. You could play dirty as well. Tackling her to the ground hard, you grab a handful of her wig, yanking it off to pull at her real hair underneath.
“You bitch!”
“Oww! Fuckin’ cheatin’, no hair grabbin’!” She yelps, grabbing a handful of your hair back in retaliation.
“Fuck that! You kicked me!” You argue, not caring about any ‘rules’ you may have broken.
“You fuckin’ grabbed me!” She argues back, as if it was a good enough excuse to kick you.
“You fuckin’ stole my bed from me, you ginger-haired bitch!”
Hissing as her nails dig into your scalp, you were sure that she was pulling out chunks of your hair by now, only fueling you to not let go. If she gave you a bald spot, you’d give her one right back. You did not go through the hassle of hiding your unshaven hair from Jimmy just for her to fuck it all up. Pulling hard at her hair, you play a tug-a-war with each other, yanking and pulling at each other’s hair in retaliation. She’d pull on yours, you’d pull back on hers. Then, the cycle repeated. Yanking your head back to an awkward angle, you do the same to her, the both of you tangle together like a painful game of twister. An elbow jammed here, a foot pressing on there.
“I’m not giving up the room!” You argue, gritting your teeth in pain.
“Neither am fuckin’ am!” She argues back, “There’s only one bed left and you’re not fuckin’ taking it!”
“Neither are fucking you! I claimed it first, put my shite down and everything.” You argue back, refusing to back down.
“Well, I already unpacked!” She snaps back, refusing to back down either.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah!”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 10 : 00 PM
Staring up at the ceiling in dead silence, neither one of you acknowledges the fight, or the fact that your shoulders were touching from how tightly packed you were on the old couch. You could just about feel every time her chest rose and fell. Up and down. Down and up. If you did not hate her so much, you’d have found comfort in having someone so close. Jimmima was a kicker in her sleep. Shite slept like a stone statue. Fox was a cuddler, but it was more like smothering than cuddling. Jimmy Jimmy talked in his sleep. And Jimmy..he swore that he didn’t have them, but everyone knew, everyone knew that he had nightmares. Ink was the only one who was decent enough to share a bed with. Playing around with the gold chain around your neck, you don’t dare to move, fearing she would take the space the moment she gets the chance.
“Your elbow is pressing against my ribs.” She cuts the silence short, making you scowl.
“And your stench is pressing against my nose.” You argue back, knowing it’d piss her off.
“I do not smell, I’m cleaner than you.” She scowls, her nose scrunching up in annoyance..
“Bull-fucking-shit.”
“No, it’s not.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“You smell of sweaty balls and an infected’s arse.” You counter back, “Licking Jimmy’s teeth with my tongue is better than smelling you.”
“You take that fucking back.” She hisses, her eyes widening in anger.
“Nope! Can’t make me.” You shake your head, “I’ve already said, you reek and I’ll tell all the others tomorrow morning how you smell.”Clenching her jaw tightly in anger at your insult, she rams her elbow hard into your side, making you wheeze out in pain. Totally worth it. Smugly smirking at provoking her, you push your elbow deeper into her ribcage, scooting closer to smush her against the couch cushion. You liked getting her angry. You liked the way that her jaw clenched. You liked the way she mumbled to herself in anger. You liked the way her eyes darkened as she restrained herself. You liked the way that she dug her nails into the palms of her hands. You liked every second of it, because it was fun⎯and a little part of you liked her. Even if she was more closed off than the rest of the Fingers.
Letting out a muffled grumble of annoyance as you press her against the cushion, she shifts to lay on her side, her back to you. Taking full advantage, you scoot even closer towards her, forcing her face fully into the old couch cushion. Thrashing around like you were trying to smother her to death, you roll your eyes hard at her, pushing harder to make a point. Blinding grabbing around, you yelp as she grabs a large handful of your breast, squeezing hard. Not the cheeky little squeeze Fox would do when you were wrestling, or the jealous one Jimmima did when comparing the size of your boobs. No, this was the kind of squeeze that others did whenever you gave charity.
“Get off, Ink, that hurts!” You whine, trying to smack her hand off.
“Not until you get off the couch and leave me the fuck alone.” She scoffs, trying to push you off the couch.
“Bitch.” You hiss, pushing back.
“Cunt.” She snaps back, giving your boob another hard squeeze.
Letting out a pained yelp at the feeling, you bite down on her hand, trying to get her to release her grip. Kicking you off the couch hard with her knee, you whine as you hit the floor, pissed that she won the fight. You had been hoping to sleep here tonight. Smugly looking over the edge to look down at you, she flashes you a grin, only making you more pissed. God, you wanted to strangle and kiss her at the same time. Grabbing a handful of her cropped top, you drag her off, refusing to give up just yet. You still had a little bit of a fight in you.
Landing on top of you, you tense up instantly at her weight pressing down on you, your eyes widening. The last time someone had been on top of you like this, they were trying to kill you. Neither of you dare to move, just staring back at each other in silence with wide eyes. Dryly swallowing, you open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.Your tongue feels like it was made of lead. Even if you could speak, what would you say to her? You win or some bullshit? Looking over your face carefully for a second, she pulls back slowly, sitting beside you.
“It’s too fuckin’ late for your bullshit.” She hisses, “Shut. Up.”
“No.”
“( Y/n ), shut up.” She snaps back, her voice raising like she was your Mum.
“You took a room, my room, that was already claimed. You’re at fucking fault, not me. I’m not gonna shut up about it, I’m not Fox. You can’t intimidate me.” You argue back, shaking your head.
“I don’t know where your shite is, honestly.” She scoffs, “The room was empty, I thought it was unclaimed. Now, will you shut the fuck up and go to sleep already?”
⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 3 : 00 AM
Shifting to lay on your side, you silently stare at the side of her face, counting the hundreds of little freckles that littered her skin. When she wasn’t brooding or scowling hatefully at you⎯she was rather pretty. Though, you would have liked to see her face before the upside down cross was carved into her skin. You had been a later edition to the Fingers, fighting some prick named ‘Jimmy Crude’. Tall and lanky like Shite, but with nasty pus fill sores all over his face. He’d died swift and quick after you embedded a knife into his armpit, left you a baggy pair of black trackies and a blonde wig. So, you never got the chance to see her before⎯before Jimmy. She must have been pretty. Jimmima had been pretty before Jimmy. Ink must have been too.
“Mmghh..fuck off..” She grumbles, shifting in her sleep.
“Wanker.” You whisper, watching her to see if she’d wake up.
“Mm..”
Flicking your gaze from her braided back ginger hair down to her lips, you resist the urge to trace the scar on the left side of her bottom lip. You remember how she got it. You remember the way she tried to act unaffected, like there wasn’t blood gushing out from her bottom lip. You remember the way she’d lick at the scab for weeks on end. Slowly glancing back up to her eyes, you watch the light furrow of her brows, the way her nose twitched softly in her sleep. Toying with the drawstring of your trackies, you shut your eyes softly, attempting to doze off to sleep.
Listening to the sound of her breathing, you slowly start to relax, finding peace in it. Then, a loud choked sound comes from outside the room making you bolt upright. Infected? Or was it something worse, other people? Reaching instinctively for the pocket knife hidden in your bra, every part of you was tingling, telling you that you weren’t safe. Jolting up at the feeling of the couch dipping from your shift in weight, she furrows her brows in confusion, her eyes still droopy from sleep. Staring down the door, you expected an infected to come running in, but they never do.
“There’s something out there.” You whisper, not quite ready to relax again.
“Infected?” She blinks away the sleep in her eyes, already looking more alert.
“Don’t know.”
“Wait.” She raises a finger to her lips, signalling you to stay quiet.
Following her lead, you stand deadly still in place, hoping to catch another listen of the choked sound. It’s silent for a moment, then you both hear it. It sounded like one of the infected, gurgling and loud. People didn’t make those noises. Clenching your jaw tightly at the sound, you slowly stand up from the couch, inching yourself closer to the door. Grabbing your wrist to stop you, you furrow your brows, confused by why she was stopping you. Didn’t she want to check what it was as well before it got to the others? Shaking her head softly, she takes a step towards the door, opening it up casually. Furrowing your brows at her, she listens for a second, before scoffing.
“That’s just Fox. The wanker's probably sleeping under the slides, making it echo.” She dismisses, trying to coax you back to bed.
“But, what if⎯”
“Hey, hey, listen to me, Jimmy Jimmy rigged the doors shut. Nothing’s getting in, not here.” She shakes her head, “You’re safe. You’re safe here with me. Come back to bed.”
“Can’t. Something's trying to get in here.” You argue, not quite ready to relax just yet.
“( Y/n ), come back to bed.” She whispers, pulling you closer by the waist.
Weakly shaking your head in refusal, she takes the knife from your hand, throwing it onto the floor beside the couch. Perhaps, it was a force of habit to be wary⎯to always double check something before it gets the chance to harm you. Dragging you back to the couch, she pulls you down firmly, tucking you close to her side as if it was the most casual thing. Tensing up at the sudden closeness to her, she lays down on her side, facing you directly. Shifting your eyes from the ceiling to her, she stares at you silently, her eyes flickering over your face slowly.
“Sleep. Now.” She orders, her nose scrunching up from annoyance.
“Can’t.” You argue, shaking your head.
“You need to.” She argues, “Fuckin’ late and I don’t know when Jimmy will make us leave. Sleep while you can.”
“I can’t..” You argue, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“Why?” She raises a brow, her lips curling down slightly.
Because she was laying really close to you. Because you could feel the warmth of her skin pressing against yours it was so hard to focus on anything else. Because your body was urging you to go and double check that it really was just Fox snoring. Because you couldn't, no matter how much you needed and wanted to. Shifting your gaze away from hers, you stare up at the ceiling, counting the dozens of cracks in it. Her arm firmly drapes over your waist, her fingertips rubbing half-circles over your hip. It was intimate, too intimate for whatever the fuck that you two were. Friends? Enemies? Kinda enemies? Sometimes friends? Frenemies? Fuck, just hours ago, you both were wrestling each other for the couch. Now, you both were cuddled together on the same couch.
“( Y/n ).” She presses, poking your cheek to gain your attention.
“What the fuck is this, Ink?” You blurt out, not knowing what else to say.
“A conversation, dickhead." She scoffs, rolling her eyes softly.
“Nah, this, you fuckin’ holding me.” You argue, “An hour ago, you had me in a headlock and were trying to choke me. The fuck is this?”
She goes silent, only worsening the grumbling in your chest. You liked her better when she was cursing you out, when she was glaring daggers at you. It felt..unnatural to be laying in her arms, like the two of you were a couple. Shifting to turn away from her, she furrows her brows in annoyance, wrapping her arm around your waist to keep you from being able to move. Staring at you with a mixed look of annoyance and something you can’t quite name, she shakes her head, that stupid stubborn streak of hers rearing its head.
“Like, I'd rather you be choking me than acting all..all nice to me.”
“You want me to be mean to you?” She raises a brow, confused.
“I just..the fuck is this, really?” You question, “Why?”
“Because I don’t need you stabbing me in your sleep with your stupid knife. Now, stop being a dickhead and go back to sleep.” She huffs, pulling you close to her chest.
“Is that it? No other reason?” You ask, not really sure what kind of answer you wanted to hear.
“...Yeah.” She nods, but it doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest.
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When you click the tags, does this fic pop up in the 'Latest' tab? ( I think I'm being shadowbanned or something. )
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