The Snowstorm (Jacksepticeye x Reader)

Chapter One: The Storm

"(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N)!" You look up from your phone, rolling your eyes. Your mom had been yelling at you for no reason ever since she and your father decided that you spent too much time on social media watching Jacksepticeye and posting on every social media know to man. Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram. It doesn't matter.

By the time you turned seventeen you had 12k plus followers on Twitter. You were proud of your hermit lifestyle. Your parents on the other hand..

You begrudgingly walked out of your room, your phone in your pocket and your arms crossed as you walked down stairs for another screaming match with your parents. "(Y/N)! Get down here this instant!" 

"I'm right here."

You mother turned around to face you, her face scrunched up into a scowl and your father with the exact same facial expression. Your brother was somewhere else doing god knows what to his new girlfriend, Veronika. 

As far as you're concerned, he stays out of your way and you stay out of his. That's how your relationship worked.

"How many times have I told you to get off that damned phone of yours?!"

You closed your eyes, mentally counting. You were good at this, you knew. "Exactly.." You scrunched up your face in concentration. "Thirty-seven times in the last week."

"(Y/N).. I've had about enough of this." Your mothers face turned pleading. "Please, (Y/N). We barely ever spend time with each other anymore. That- Lackpepticspy has taken over your life!" She started to tear up and you rolled your eyes. "It's Jacksepticeye!"

"-And can you please stop with the guilt trip thing?"

Your father rubbed your mother back and glared at you. "(Y/N), Stop. You know how much your mother misses the time you two spent together!" 

You sighed, bringing your hand to your face in irritation. "I'm not five anymore!" Your father stepped away from your mother and stood in front of you, pushing out his chest like all men do to act intimidating even though they're an insecure little girl on the inside.

"(Y/N), pack your things. Now."

You stared wide eyed at your father. "B-B-But why?" 

"You're going to stay at (B/F/N) all week. No computer, no internet."

"But, dad! You know (B/F/N)'s parents are hardcore Christians!" You pouted, sticking your lip out. "No but's, (Y/N). Go. Now." You huffed, turning around and heading back up stairs. "-And don't even think about bringing anything other than your phone! I'll know if you have!"

You slammed your door, cutting off anything your dad or mom had to say after that. You opened your closet and brought out your (f/c) suitcase, stuffing whatever clothing you could fit inside. "This isn't fair! (B/F/N) lives two hours away!"

"I'm better off staying at that stupid cabin my dad bought.."

Then a lightbulb went off in your head. "That's it! The cabin. It doesn't have internet but.. it's better than having strict parents up my ass 24/7.." 

"-And it's only one hour away."

You finished packing your clothes into the suitcase and hurriedly ran down stairs. "Bye mom, bye dad!" You parents watched in complete shock and bewilderment as you hurried out of the house, putting on your snow boots on the way out.

You packed your things into the back of your silver Ford Raptor your parents had gotten you for your birthday last year and got into the drivers side, sniffing that new car smell. -Or truck smell.. whatever.

You started up the vehicle, backing out of your driveway and heading down to your parents cabin. On the way there, you got bored, turning on the radio. Black Soul by Shinedown came on and you started getting lost in the music, bobbing your head to the beat.

Your skin grew goosebumps and you started to noticeably shiver. "W-When did it get so c-cold in here?" Your crystalized breath worried you and you turned on the heat, instantly melting under it's warm blast.

"That's better."

Twelve minutes of listening to your favorite songs, the radio cut to a weather report. "Are you fookin' kidding me?!" 

"News of a snowstorm has baffled us all-"

You angrily turned down the report and settled back into your warm seat. "Snowstorm my ass, that's the same thing they said in October. Fookin' idiots." Your Irish accent was as thick as ever when you were pissed. You didn't like your accent at all. You hid it any chance you got. 

It embarrassed you, only your parents, brother and friend knew about it. One, your family is from Ireland. You moved to L.A. from Ireland only to move back a year later because your father hated it there.

You drove over the dirt road and through the trees, parking in front of the large cabin. It's a wonder how you managed to remember directions to get there. If it wasn't for your photographic memory, you would have forgotten.

You grabbed your thin coat and pulled it over your shoulders, shivering profusely in the now cold weather. "M-Maybe they were r-right about the s-snowstorm." You rubbed your arms to create warmth while dragging your suitcase out from the back and shutting the truck doors, grabbing your keys out of the ignition.

You opened the front door with the key your parents made for you a few weeks ago and quickly shut the door behind you, sighing as you looked around your new home for the next week. It had light brown leno flooring and a huge leather couch sitting by the fireplace. 

Pictures of wolves hung from almost everywhere in the house- including the occasional dreamcatcher. The kitchen was fully stocked with things that wouldn't go bad for a while. Canned goods- chips. Cookies, your parents knew you loved cookies. 

In fact, they stocked a whole two cabinets with a variety of cookies for you. It was fucking cookie heaven. You had once had a dream about Jack breaking into your kitchen and you catching him red handed with cookie crumbs all over his mouth and his hand reaching out for the cabinet, a doe-eyed looked gracing his angelic features as he smiled apologetically.

You didn't care that he looked sorry- you still hit him in the head with the handy frying pan you had kept in your room in case someone got the bright idea to come down in the middle of the night to steal your beautiful cookies.

 Even if the famous Jacksepticeye came to your house to steal your cookies- you would not let him get away with it. You didn't care if God himself came down to ask you for a damned cookie- they were yours. 

YoUr PrEcIoUs..