#(if he loses he will be cranky and humiliated and there will be TENSION!)

[southislandwren]

some bitches (me) have fun by drafting up official paperwork for very fake things

[carnalpleasure]

Sleepy Bunny

Just a lil self indulgent Jim x Reader I've been working on💕 I was originally writing this with Michael, but after rewatching TTOPV last night, I haven't been able to get Jim out of my mind. And I think this story works so much better with him anyway. Based on personal experience. TW.

Summary: Reader wakes up in the hospital recovering from a suicide attempt where she meets Jim, who's recovering from the overdose that was supposed to kill him.

Warnings: suicide mention, drug mention, hospitalization, 51/50, needles

You know that feeling when you wake up from a nap, and you’re more tired than when you went to sleep? That was how you felt waking up this morning.

You slowly pried your eyes open and peered around the room. You weren’t completely sure, but the whole layout seemed different.

The lamp was to the left before. There wasn’t a window there. Wasn’t the door on the other side of the room?

Your eyes were still struggling to focus when one of the nurses walked in. “Look who finally woke up,” she said flatly. She was carrying two trays of food. It smelled like burgers and fries... the smell of food made your stomach turn.

She handed one tray to the boy in the bed beside you with a gentle, “there ya go, honey.” You rolled over and pulled the blanket up, hoping to avoid the nurse altogether and go back to sleep. You closed your eyes tight and prayed she’d go away as her soft soled footsteps on the linoleum floor crept closer.

“You have to eat now. You haven’t eaten in days,” the nurse scolded you from behind. She didn’t sound concerned or compassionate, she just sounded cranky and cruel. Why is she so mad at me?

You turned back to look at the nurse over your shoulder, glaring right back at her. “I just ate last night. Leave me alone,” you replied weakly before turning away from both of them again.

“That wasn’t yesterday,” she huffed. “You slept through yesterday. You’ve been asleep since Friday night.” You quickly sat up in shock and turned around to look back at her. You searched your mind, looking for any detail you could remember from the vague memories you had lying around.

“You have to eat or they won’t take you,” the nurse’s bitchy voice interrupted and threw your whole train of thought off course.

You looked confused. “Who-?“ you started, but she cut you off again. “Eat. I’ll be back in 30 minutes for the trays,” she snapped. Then she turned to exit the room, but not before giving one last genuine smile to the boy in the next bed.

You pushed the tray away and sat up in bed, pulling your knees to your chest and balling up. There was an awkward silence in the room now. You were too ashamed to look at the other patient.

You didn’t know why he was here, but it couldn’t be more embarrassing than purposely overdosing on your own medication. But his soft, smooth voice broke the silence.

“Their food sucks. Makes me wanna gag too,” he said jokingly. It was meant to help ease your nerves but your embarrassment was growing too fast. Oh my god, do I look nauseous? I feel sick. Be cool, bitch. Be cool.

You peaked your head up to look at him and you were met with the sweetest, most sincere smile you’d ever seen. It lit up the room. Yet the moment you first laid eyes on his face, all you could think was, if there is a god, he fucking hates me.

The only thing that could possibly be worse than waking up in a random hospital bed looking like shit?.. That’s right. Waking up in the bed right next to the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen, while looking like shit.

“What day is it?” was all you could think to say back. A yawn escaped your lips. You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the dried mascara. Everything felt foggy. Your thoughts, your vision, your memory. But you could see his face glowing bright as day.

He sat up in his bed and turned to face you, crossing his legs and pulling the sheet over his lap. “It’s Sunday. So you’ve been asleep for..” he glanced up at the clock on the wall and then back at you, “..about 34 hours? You opened your eyes a couple times but.. you were pretty out of it.”

You couldn’t wrap your head around it. It’s a strange feeling losing an entire day of your life just like that. But it feels even stranger when it finally starts coming back to you.

“Motherfuckers..” you cursed under your breath as the memories played back in your head like a reel of film. A single tear formed in the corner of your eye and then strolled leisurely down your cheek.

You saw it as if you were hovering over your body, watching from above as two nurses held you down by your arms. You were lying flat on your stomach with your shorts pulled down while each of the nurses stuck a needle in your ass to sedate you because you wouldn’t stop crying. They said they needed to calm you down, not knock you out cold..

The boy in the matching gown stayed silent, giving you time to process. Unlike the nurses, his face did seem full of concern and compassion. He looked at you the way you looked at lost puppies on the street. Like he wanted to rescue you.. or at least give you a big hug and hold you for a while.

“This isn’t the same room,” you said, unsure of whether you were talking to him or to yourself. But he answered anyway. “No, you were across the hall when you first came in,” he nodded towards the doorway. He could see how out of it you still were and he wanted to protect you so bad.

“You put up quite a fight,” he gave a short laugh and you thought he was just teasing until flashbacks of you cussing out the hospital staff and shoving the security guard off you started to resurface.

You threw your hands over your face to hide the humiliation and fell backwards on the bed. You wanted to hide from him and everyone else. But he just sat patiently, studying your every reaction.

He’d spent the last couple days watching you sleep, wondering what you were like on a normal day outside of here, what made you laugh, what kind of music you were into.. everything about you was a mystery to him. But like the sad kinds of mysteries that go forever unsolved. That have people mourning and reminiscing still a hundred years later. She seemed like she wanted to take all her secrets with her to the grave.

More than anything, he wondered what could’ve happened to this girl to make her dread being alive so much. It was tragic to think about. But it actually took his mind off his own problems, and for that he was grateful.

Thinking about her distracted him from all of his dad’s bullshit stories, and his mom’s constant compulsive drama, and his sister’s quiet sadness that never seemed to go away. It distracted him from his constant urge to get high. For as long as he’d been around her, that longing to escape was replaced with a longing to be loved.

“I’m glad you’re awake now,” his soft, syrupy voice spoke up and pulled you from your thoughts into a warm embrace. He paused for a moment and you heard him digging around in the drawer on the other side of his bed. Then he sat back on the edge of his bed criss cross. “Now I have someone to play cards with,” he announced cheerfully.

You pulled your hands off your face and looked over at him. You couldn’t help but break into laughter at the sight of him holding up his deck of cards and smiling at you like a little kid who just made a new friend on the playground. Something about him was so innocent and gentle. The way he looked at you like a boy with a schoolyard crush made your heart melt.

“I only know how to play Go Fish,” you admitted shyly. His smile seemed to brighten after you said that, his excitement growing evident on his face. “That’s my favorite game,” he said with a wink as he slid the cards out of the box and began shuffling. They had pictures of pin-up girls in bikinis on the back.

You turned to face him and crossed your legs too, mirroring his position on the bed. The two of you took turns calling out numbers and passing cards back and forth. You were shy at first but the tension quickly melted away. His calm demeanor relaxed you beyond what you thought was capable.

Every once in a while you’d catch him peeking over his cards at you, stealing glimpses of your face when he thought you were too busy looking at your cards to notice.

Each time he’d quickly avert his gaze, hiding behind his cards until his cheeks stopped burning red.

And each time, it made you feel like a kid with an innocent crush again. Back when you thought true love was just holding hands with someone at nap time.

About halfway into the game, you finally got up the courage to ask the question that’d been floating around in the front of your mind. It hurt your heart to think about, but that’s why you had to know. Your mind would just keep coming up with sick scenarios to taunt you with unless you found out for yourself.

“Why are you in here?” you asked nervously, searching his face for his first reaction.

His eyes looked up to meet yours and he sighed. He looked like he’d been waiting for this question. “Overdosed on my mom’s percs,” he said with a soft laugh and a side smile. He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing serious. Like it didn’t scare him.

You recognized it right away. He was downplaying it so you wouldn’t feel sorry for him. He was used to hiding his pain and pretending his problems didn’t matter because he had other people’s problems to take care of. He didn’t want to burden you.

“On accident?” you asked gently. It was hard for him to talk about, but he could see how much you cared by the look in your eyes. He nodded.

The serene smile that graced his face had slowly faded away. His eyes avoided yours and a look of shame seemed to take over. “Yeah. Stupid, I know,” he forced a fake laugh, trying again to play it down.

“I felt so good, I just kept taking more. I just wanted to feel..better.” His voice was low and quiet, just barely above a whisper. He spoke as if he didn’t even want to hear what he had to say.

You wanted to say something to cheer him up, or to at least alleviate some of his shame. But the bitchy nurse from before came barging back in through the door. She was back to collect the trays and to her dismay they were both still untouched.

“James?” she scoffed, picking up the first full plate of food and looking at him disapprovingly.

“What.. now you’re not eating either?” she scowled. He clenched his jaw to keep from saying anything and kept his eyes straight ahead, focused on you.

She came for your plate next but she didn’t take it away. Instead she shoved it towards you again and waved a stern finger at you. “You, Y/N, you still need to eat. If you won’t eat, they won’t take you anywhere. And I don’t have room to keep you here.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” you finally snapped back impatiently. You groaned and put down your cards, side eyeing her. You didn’t give a fuck about what she had to say. She’d been nothing but rude to you ever since you were brought to the emergency room and placed in her care.

She sighed dramatically in exasperation, wanting you to know just how irritated she was before answering. “You’re only here on a 72 hour hold. Then you’re being transferred to a mental health facility for a psychiatric evaluation. I explained all of this to you when you blah blah blah blah-“

You tuned her out and quickly turned your attention back to the cards in your hands. Your eyes carefully studied the bikini girl laminated on the back, desperately trying to distract yourself from everything. You couldn’t let yourself break down again. You couldn’t let them see you panic. You didn’t want another shot.

You had been so wrapped up in your little card game with the sweet stranger, you’d almost forgotten where you were and why. Once again, reality came crashing down on you.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you were too sad to look back at him. You waited until she was gone before finally letting yourself look at him. You could see the worry eating away at him already.

He looked as scared as you felt. At first you thought he was just feeling sorry for you, but it didn’t look like pity. It was more genuine that that. You didn’t want to admit it, but he looked heartbroken to see you go.

It was your turn to break the ice now. “So.. it’s James?” you asked, smiling as his name rolled off your tongue for the first time.

The way you said it made him look up at you like he was seeing God in your eyes. He was captivated by you. His sleeping beauty from the psych ward.

He slowly nodded, still mesmerized. “Yeah well.. I go by Jim” he added nervously. That charming smile returned as he ran his fingers through his wavy brunette hair before letting it fall back in his face.

You stared at him as intently as you could, wanting to savor every last moment you had together. You studied his features like you were cramming for a test, trying desperately to commit the beautiful boy to memory before time ran out.

The freckle on the left side of his face, his baby blue hooded eyes, his pink pillowy lips, the way he ran his hands through his dark tousled waves. You wanted to remember all of it.

You’d only known him a few hours but you already knew in your heart you were going to miss this boy forever.

💕taglist: (lemme know if u wanna be taken off<3) @sexwon131 @jimmason @whatcodysaid @theneverendinghunger @angelicmichael @thewarriorprincessxo

[wincestismyguiltypleasure]

Sam didn't sleep much.

Sometimes he had nightmares, sometimes it was just good 'ol fashion insomnia that kept him up for hours on end. Either way, the lack of rest always made him irritable and mean. Which, given his current status as an emotional sixteen year old boy, was frustrating because he really didn't need help in either of those departments. Especially on days when he had to get up early.

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

"Fuck off," Sam grumbled, forcing himself to roll out of bed.

"Mornin' to you too, kiddo," his brother chuckled as he reached out to ruffle Sam's hair. Carefree smile fading from his lips when Sam slapped his hand away and shot him a dirty look.

"What crawled up your ass and died?"

In response, Sam stared daggers at his big brother; clearly agitated that Dean had the audacity to ask such a stupid question. Like he wouldn't be pissed as shit if Sam came at him with that kind of enthusiasm after barely getting three hours of sleep.

"Really?" Sam asked sarcastically as he cocked his head to the side. What the Hell was wrong with his brother right now?

Most of the time, Dean was sympathetic to Sam's situation. He'd let his little brother lay in bed as long as he could without John losing his shit, and he would rub Sam's back, trying to relieve some of the tension that the lack of sleep put there. He'd even let his brother get out of training when their father wasn't around to force the issue. Anything to let Sam rest when he was exhausted like this.

But Sam could tell by the dangerous look in Dean's eyes that today was going to be different. He wasn't going to take it easy on Sam, so Sam sure as Hell wasn't going to take it easy on Dean.

"Deep throat a cactus, asshole."

Sam puffs out his chest and sets his jaw when Dean gets in his face, but that evil grin tugging at the corner of his brother's lips makes his knees feel unsteady.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed this mornin', huh princess?"

Sam shoves Dean hard in the chest before he can think better of it, his brother letting out a string of curses as he stumbled backwards a little bit.

"That's it."

"Ow! What the Hell, Dean?!" Sam shouted, rubbing his arm gingerly where his big brother had just punched him. He knew Dean was going to retaliate, he just didn't think the older boy was going to be so savage about it. "That hurt!"

"Aw, baby."

The inflection in Dean's voice was strange, sounding like something caught between comfort and insult. He was rubbing Sam's arm now, soothing the ache. And that odd look on his face, coupled with his weird tone made Sam feel really funny. Like he was too hot and too cold all at the same time.

"Did you seriously just sucker punch me then call me baby?" Sam asked incredulously, letting out a high pitched yelp when Dean's soft touch turned to iron and he yanked Sam forward by his bruised arm. The two of them nose to nose, staring each other down like an alpha wolf squaring up with a rebellious pup.

"That wasn't a term of endearment, Sam. I was calling you a baby," Dean said with a shit eating grin; the condescending tone of his voice making his little brother blush all the way down to his toes.

"Fuck. You."

Sam had to fight back a needy whimper when Dean tighten his grip. Every instinct he had in his body suddenly urging him to roll over and bare his neck to the older boy.

What the actual fuck was going on?

"Boys!"

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when John came busting through the door, clapping his hands and telling them to get a move on.

"Bitch," Dean muttered under his breath before finally letting Sam go, careful to dodge the wild punch his little brother threw in retaliation.

"Jerk."

-------

Sam's anger did not subside once they were on the road. His cheeks heating up again at the very thought of his brother humiliating like that. It even made him squirm a little when he remembered the sound of Dean's voice, low and full of mock sympathy.

But there was also something calming about that tone. That made his eyes glaze over and his body tingle. Fuck! How was he half-hard and on the verge of falling asleep in the backseat right now? This was the most relaxed he'd felt in forever. And what for? Because his brother had been a dick back to him for once?

Honestly, just thinking about how stupid that sounded made Sam's blood boil. And he made sure Dean knew that by kicking his seat as hard as he could a few times just for spite. John yelled at him, of course but it was so worth it to see his big brother outwardly as frustrated as Sam felt on the inside.

However, by the time they'd reached the diner exhaustion had set in and Sam was less concerned about making Dean's life miserable and more concerned about getting comfortable. Automatically resting his head on Dean's shoulder the minute the older boy slid into the booth next to him.

Dean shot him an annoyed sideways glance, not a surprise, but didn't try to push him away.

And the hypocrite in Sam wanted to tell Dean to stop acting like an asshole and cuddle him, but he refrained. For his sake and Dean's.

"Sam quit hanging on your brother and sit up," John chastised as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and tossed them on the table.

"Whatever."

Sam huffed loudly and slumped over, his arms folded under him so he could rest on the table. Purposefully slouching because John had told him not to.

"You need to check that attitude, son," his father warned, but Sam barely registered John's words. His brain was too busy short circuiting over the fact that Dean's hand was now resting on his right thigh. Long, talented fingers gently trailing up the seam of his jeans and then back down.

His touch was light, almost playful, but that didn't stop Sam's leg from shaking under the pressure of it.

"What can I get y'all to drink?" A sweet voice snapped Sam out of his daze, eyes darting over to the pretty brunette standing at the edge of their table, regarding her wearily.

"I'll take a coffee, sweetheart. Thank you." John said with that killer smile that always made chicks swoon.

"Milk and sugar?" the waitress asked with a soft giggle and Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Yuck.

"Black, please."

Once Dean had ordered the same it was Sam's turn, and much to his father's dismay, he didn't even sit up when he grumbled chocolate milk at the lady without so much as looking at her.

Big mistake.

"Ouch!" Sam shot up when he felt his brother pinch the inside of his thigh, knee connecting with the bottom of the table hard enough to make the silverware rattle.

"Manners, Sam. This nice lady is just trying to do her job," Dean said through gritted teeth in the most civil tone he could muster. Rough fingertips caressing the bruise that had started to bloom across Sam's delicate skin before inflicting more damage. Only this time, he added a twisting motion that left the younger boy with tears in his eyes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Sam apologized as Dean started rubbing his thigh again, the intense mix of pain and pleasure sending little electric shocks up his leg. Unbearable heat pooling deep in the pit of his stomach as he struggled to find his words.

"May I please have a glass of chocolate milk?"

"Of course, sweetie. And don't worry. I'm always cranky before noon," the waitress said with a wink before turning on her heels and disappearing into the kitchen.

"Sa-"

John was just about to lay into his youngest when Dean caught Sam by the jaw.

"Dean, wha-"

"You gonna start behavin' any time soon?" Dean growled, his bright green eyes full of rage.

God, he was beautiful and terrifying and Sam had no idea why that made him want to defy Dean even more. He wanted to push his brother, poke and prod until Dean snapped like an overstretched rubberband. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was making him so defiant? Or maybe it was the unspoken desire Sam had for Dean to flip him on his back and fuck the attitude out of him that had the younger boy so ready to fight?

"Nope," Sam replied, making sure to put a dramatic emphasis on the P in nope so it would pop just like Dean hated. Fuck, he just wanted the older boy to make him feel like he had earlier. Embarrassed and completely turned on. So relaxed that his body felt like it was floating.

"Mmhm," Dean hummed as if to say we'll see about that, before letting go of Sam's chin to shove his face away. Much to the younger boy's disappointment.

It hurt, but Sam didn't let it show, uncried tears welling up in his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

"I'm going for a walk."

Sam was honestly surprised when John didn't try to stop Dean from storming out, but when he turned to see his father's tired eyes studying him, he knew exactly why he hadn't.

"Christ," John muttered, shaking his head as he pulled a cigarette from the pack on the table. "You two need to stop this bullshit."

Sam bit his trembling bottom lip and looked away. The ambiguity of his father's statement making his stomach go sour.

"I didn't do anything," Sam lied, suddenly finding himself stroking the throbbing bruises Dean had made on his inner thigh with his thumb.

Unable to stop himself from wondering if his brother had really left because he wanted to calm down, or if he was just out there fuming, thinking of all the violent methods he could use to make Sam behave.

Shit. The uncertainty of it all sent a chill up his spine.

God, Sam hoped they were on the same page with this. And he prayed that Dean's anger didn't stop him from tumbling to the same conclusion he had come to earlier in the car. That the best way to help Sam get some sleep and stop acting like an asshole was for Dean to break his little brother down and then fuck him unconscious.