oneshots: legacy edition (jalex)

Then Fuck The Ghost You Coward

Jack's apartment is haunted, that's for sure.

When his landlord said the cabinets would open sometimes, he'd left out that they'd slam closed again after. Also, for some reason, the landlord's definition of 'sometimes' is every single night.

"Leaky faucets" leak blood. Disembodied voices scream bloody murder. Flickering lights change colors and eventually cause the lightbulb to explode. Moving furniture wakes Jack up in the middle of the night to what feels like a major earthquake.

But Jack's contracted to live here a few more months, and he's starting to get used to the mostly harmless chaos.

He's tried seances and mediums, but they haven't helped anything at all. If anything, trying to un-haunt Jack's apartment has only made it worse.

One day he takes to Twitter, asking nobody in particular how to scare off a ghost, but the most promising response was to essentially flirt with danger.

Every other response was something Jack's already tried.

The premise of the recommended course of action, is to make the ghost think Jack's... into the haunting.

"Just let out your raunchiest, horniest moan and the ghost will show itself out." Had been twitter user T@d_Str@ng3's suggestion. It was worth a shot, aside from the worrying concept that the ghost might, um, return the favor.

When Jack expressed his concerns though, the same user told him to fuck the ghost. It's likely a really bad plan, but currently it's the only one Jack's got.

The thing is, if Jack's going to follow a bad plan, he's going to do it right.

Every day, the ghost follows the same schedule, like clockwork.
Eight AM, cabinet slamming, at noon, the kitchen sink bleeds, around five, the lights will flicker.

The screaming usually only lasts a few seconds starting just before the furniture shakes, but the moving furniture always happens at exactly 4:02 AM.

In effort to set his plan in motion, Jack starts off slow. A simple satisfied hum when the cabinets slam, a shaky sigh in response to the bleeding sink. He groans softly at the flickering lights, and it stops sooner than usual.

The lightbulb doesn't burst.

Jack marks that down as a win and goes about the rest of his day as normal. Any other random spooky shit is met with soft moans, just to keep up the charade.

He almost considers pulling an all nighter, but gets bored around two. The screaming will wake him up, and he'll probably be conscious enough to "finish the job" by 4:02.

With all the lights in his apartment out, Jack turns in for the night, but he's barely gotten under the covers when the screaming starts.

It's almost two hours too early, but Jack figures, go big or go home, and, well, he's already home.

He reaches past the waistband of his boxers, not nearly turned on enough to actually do any real jerking off, but it must be enough of a show, as the figure of a young man appears above him, straddling Jack's hips.

"What the fuck is wrong with you!?" The ghost shouts, scaring Jack half to death.

Haha, death.

The guy doesn't look much older than Jack. He's dressed in regular street clothes; a flannel, t-shirt, and skinny jeans. He's not wearing any shoes.

This ghost has mousy brown hair that falls over his face in the classic "emo" fringe, and eyebrows big enough to rival Jack's own. A bit of stubble lines the guys chin, and Jack almost wants to run his fingers over-