#i sat hunched at the computer working on this for like... three days and i am quite pleased with it

[patrickztump]

So Much (For) Stardust Stump-O-Matic in seashell pink – 2023

i miss her so much so brought it upon myself to create what i imagine would be a solid contender of a possible color variant. the background almost gives taylor swift lover vibes, in my opinion, but it's to tie into the pink seashell and the yellow tones in the background of the smfs cover photo.

as always, reblogs are welcomed and appreciated, but please do not repost ❤︎

[itsspiiit]

Unexpected…

Parings: Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary:You’ve been staying up at ungodly hours due to the bountiful amount of work you had from school. Your good friend Hobie comes over one night to help you stop your stressing and sleep. But the night had different plans for you both.

Inspo: Wet by GRLWood

Warning(s): NSFW (mdni), mutual masturbation, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, mentions of sex work, NOT proofread (cause I didn’t feel like it). If you see any errors… no you didn’t.

Thursday, 3AM

You sat at the desk in your room typing away on your laptop with a bowl of various fruits next to it. The flexi rod curls you put every ounce of arm strength you had into almost didn’t exist anymore. Your reading glasses slid from the bridge of your nose to the tip of it, making it easier to see the chanel bags slowly forming under your eyes. Unknowingly, your back hunched over the longer you sat down and tried to complete the third essay assigned to you this week.

You were exhausted. But you had a fuck ton of english work to do and insomnia kept you awake. Your regret for majoring in psychology grew with every indentation and word you typed on the keyboard.

Just as you were about to start typing the third to last paragraph, a soft rhythmic knock on the window startled you. Your body jolted at the unexpected sound causing your glasses to slide further down your nose. Using your middle finger to push them back to their proper position, you turned your head in the direction of the window and almost all of your stress left your body when you saw him.

Hobie, your best friend with the cool hair, stood outside with his contagious smile painted across his face as he waved at you with his long, slender, ring decorated fingers. His torso was covered halfway with a black crop top you ripped and designed for him and a spiked leather vest you spray painted the anarchy symbol on the back of. He wore black ripped jeans that were secured on his hips by a spiked belt and chains dangling from the belt loops.

Fuck, he looks so good.

Pushing your thoughts to the side, you pushed your chair back and stood up to open your window for for the 6’5 man. “Hey, Hobie.” You greeted him with a soft smile, watching him climb into your room and start to take his boots off before closing the window. He walked towards your bed and threw himself on it, placing his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other.

“Wagwaan.” He greeted back with a lopsided smile. His smooth, deep voice and british accent always sounded so sultry to you. Every time you guys talked it felt like a challenge to see how long you can keep your self respect before you up and pounced on him.

“Well,” you began to respond as you sat back in your desk chair and tossed a grape into your mouth, “it’s three in the morning and I’m trying to finish… what? Like… the third, fourth essay I was assigned? Been working on it since probably ten or eleven.”

His beautiful pierced face immediately fell into a shocked expression with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. “You haven’t taken a break, have you?” All you could is shake your head and let out a long stressful sigh as you looked at your computer screen with visibly tired eyes.

“Not only is it because I can’t sleep, but I wanna get everything done ASAP. My work is do on Sunday an-”

“It’s due Sunday?!” He cut you off, his tone bursting with disbelief. You felt a laugh bubbling up in your chest hearing his thick accent but held it in, reaching into the bowl and eating a pineapple chunk. “You know that’s in three days, right?” He continued as he pressed his elbows into your soft mattress and sat up giving you a look that read “are you serious?”

“Of course I know that, but-”

“But nothin’, mate. Close the computer.” He cut you off again, gesturing his head towards it.

“Hobie-”

“Close it.”

Not having the energy to go back and forth with him, your eyes rolled in annoyance and you shut your laptop. You turned your head in his direction and saw that a closed mouth smile was painted across his face. “Oh, you’re happy now?” You asked with a deadpanned expression.

A low chuckle escaped his throat watching you mug him as he nodded his head. The sound had you doing backflips mentally as your face began to heat up slightly. “Knowin’ that you aren’t nose deep into a screen goin’ mad about somethin’ that’s due in seventy two hours? Yeah, I’m quite happy.”

He swung his legs off your bed and sat up, reaching over to grab a mango chunk and tossed it into his mouth. As he chewed he saw your face drop into a “are you deadass?” look. He stopped chewing for a moment, awkwardly looked to the side and back to your face.

“Yeah, Hobs! You can take one!” You voiced with sarcasm as you threw your arms up and back down to your sides. He gave you an apologetic smile as he started to slowly chew the sweet and refreshing fruit again. “What made you come here at this time of night though? Can’t think of anywhere to steal from?” You asked playfully with a teasing smirk.

A light laugh came from him as he finished chewing before he responded. “I actually didn’t feel like stealin’ until you mentioned it.” You chuckled and shook your head at his antics. “But, nah. I couldn’t sleep and I knew you’d be up so I thought why not come over and bother you.”

“Ahhh… so what you do almost every day!” Both of you erupted into laughter at your comment. He knew that you were joking, and you knew you enjoyed his presence a little too much.

“Oh, come out of it. You know you love when I’m around.” He spoke as you guys’ laughter died down. Placing his hands on your bed, he leaned back bit and gave you a cocky smile.

Oh, he know he fine.

“Eh, sometimes.” You shrug playfully, reaching into the fruit bowl and munching on another grape. He reaches for the bowl again and takes a kiwi slice, but you don’t mind this time.

Once he done chewing he begins to speak. “Are you saying that because I always beat you in Uno?” You gave him a bored expression as you watched the smile on face grow.

“Hobie, please. You beat me that one time-”

“And I beat you three times in a row.”

You scoffed at his cocky behavior and crossed your arms. “I bet it won’t happen again.” You eyed him up and down with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

He gave you the same look as one of his eyebrows lifted in feigned curiosity. “Is that a challenge?”

It was now four in the morning. You sat on your bed with your back against the headboard and the gorgeous punk sat in front of you with crisscrossed legs, his leather vest now off his shoulders and hung on the back of your desk chair. You guys were two intense Uno games in, Hobie being the winner of both of them.

“Uno.” He announced with a lopsided grin as he placed a yellow three card and red three card down at the same time. You were starting to lose hope. You held the two cards you had thinking hard about the multiple possibilities of how this game could end. Until…

“UNO OUT!” You exclaimed slightly with a proud grin as you slammed a red skip card and red eight card down. You finally won a game after what felt like hours of playing.

He also gave you a proud smile as he began to pick up all of the cards that were piled on your mattress. “You finally beat my streak. ‘M proud of you.”

The voice. The Smile. His Confidence. Now the praise. It was all slowly becoming too much. His comment made your heart beat a bit faster, waves of heat traveling from your head and down to your lower region. It caused your sensitive bud to throb gently, and you crossed one leg over the other to somehow bring it to a halt.

He’s gonna be the death of me, I swear.

“Wanna play another game?” He asked when he was done picking up all of the playing cards. You sighed softly as you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“Nah, I just wanted to beat you in at least one game of Uno. Got tired of you talking shit.” He chucked at your confession and wrapped the rubber band you used to keep the cards together back around them. “But we can play connect four if you’re down. I’ll definitely win the first game.”

“Oh, I’ve got to see this.” He spoke with a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll go get the game.”

He got off your bed and walked towards the closet, opening it and instantly scanning the top shelf for the box. You pulled your phone from underneath your pillows and scrolled through instagram as you waited for him to come back with the second challenge for the night. Your cluttered top shelf slipped your mind as you thought you wouldn’t even have company today.

When he found the game, he tried to pull it out of its position without knocking anything down. But it all happened so quickly. As he began to pull the Connect 4 box out, so did Candy Land which was right beneath it. He reached his unoccupied hand out to make sure that game didn’t fall in the process, but he didn’t know that these two board games were keeping a pink Shoe Dazzle box from falling as well.

He successfully got Connect 4 from your top shelf without another game falling, but he didn’t see the pink box making its way out of the closet as well. When it fell, it landed on the side which caused the top to fall off as it hit the floor. He looked down and watched what was inside of the box roll out in awe.

Various sex toys with different shapes, sizes and functions were now scattered across the floor in front of her closet. A pink massage wand, black seven inch dildo and a black silicone butt plug with a blue gemstone on the bottom of it were the main toys that caught his attention since they were so close to his feet. He wanted to speak. He tried to speak. But he was too stunned to try and even utter a word.

There’s no way she has all of this. Am I dreaming?

The sound of the box hitting the floor made you look up from your phone with a confused expression, but it was immediately taken over with disbelief and shock. Your eyes were so wide you’re surprised they didn’t fall out of your head. Your jaw hung so low it would probably hit the floor if you were standing. The gasp you let out was so sharp and loud it made Hobie turn his head in your direction. You can see the disbelief in his face as well and that alone made tears start to form into your eyes.

All you could do is grab a pillow and sit it on your lap, plop your head on it to hide your face and scream. Your face was so warm in embarrassment that it felt like it could melt off any second now. You can feel your friends stare on you, searching for answers in a way, but you couldn’t even look at the man.

There was a long, unbearable silence between the both of you. So much tension in the room that it could be cut with a knife. You sat with your face buried into your pillow, take deep breaths to calm yourself down before you finally built the courage to get off your bed and walk towards the “mess” that was created. Without looking at the handsome man next to you, you squatted down and placed the box down with the opening facing the ceiling and began putting everything back where it was before.

“Uhh… you need help with tha-” Hobie spoke awkwardly in attempt to break the loud silence. He put his hands up in surrender and backed up a bit when he saw you side eye him with a displeased expression.

(I had to use the picture this was the PERFECT opportunity to do so 😭)

You continued to pick up your toys, still without uttering a word or even looking at him. From your peripheral vision you saw his feet step away from his position next to you and heard his footsteps stop where your bed was located. You assumed he sat and your bed again, maybe to give you some space. You picked up the cardboard top and slammed it onto the box when you were done picking everything up, instantly getting up and putting it back on the top shelf in your closet.

You kept your head down as you closed the closet and walked to your previous spot before all of this: your desk chair. Still not being able to look at the company on your bed, your hand reached for your closed laptop until…

“Don’t even think about it, bruv.” Hobie stopped you with a playful scowl in his tone crossing his arms. All you could do is let out a dramatic sigh, cross your arms on the desk and place your head on them, hiding your face once again.

Hobie eyed your movements the entire time. He understood why you were embarrassed, wanting to curl yourself into ball and just hide. But he didn’t understand why you were acting this way towards him. Of course he was shocked that you out of all people had all of this… material. You’re the introverted, shy, kind of nerdy and laid back friend. Always at home with your head stuffed into a comic or manga, loved sleep more than anything, would rather write than talk. Just the opposite of him and he didn’t mind that.

But he didn’t understand why you thought he cared about your secret box so much. This wasn’t gonna make him think about you any different. If anything, he was more curious and a bit turned on after finding out such covert information.

He decided to try and break the silence again. “This isn’t as bad as you’re makin’ it seem, love.” You can hear the sincerity in his tone, his sultry voice and the pet name he used still had your sensitive bud aching for attention.

He couldn’t see it, but your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his statement. “What do you mean?” You questioned without lifting your head.

“It was a little unexpected, but it’s not botherin’ me in any way. Your personality isn’t in that box.” His honesty never faltered as he let out a light chuckle, gesturing his hand in the direction of your closet.

You scoffed at his statement in disbelief, finally sitting up and crossing your arms as you gazed at the wall in front of you. He was starting to get annoyed at the lack of eye contact and he sucked his teeth, glaring at the side of your face. “Look at me, mate.”

You heard the seriousness in his voice, and you closed your eyes taking a a deep breath before opening them and turning your head in his direction. Finally locking your eyes with his, you searched for any vacillation that could be hidden. But there was only sincerity. He meant every word he said.

“I’m sorry, Hobie. It’s just…” You trailed off looking to the side for a moment before looking back him. “You saw everything in that box. My childhood best friend doesn’t even know what’s in there. How am I supposed to believe that you don’t care about what you just saw?”

“Because I don’t.” He shrugged with a sarcastic laugh. “If I’m bein’ completely honest, the only thing I’m wonderin’ is how and why you have so many. I’ve never met someone with a box full of sex toys. Shit, I don’t even have that many.”

Your face fell into a curious expression as you listened to his words. “You have sex toys-”

“It’s not about me right now.” He spoke quickly shaking his head.

You chuckled at his quickness to dismiss your question. “Well, to stop your wondering…” You trailed off again with a sigh, scratching the back of your head nervously.

Am I really gonna tell him this?

You saw his eyebrows raise, eager to hear what you had to say.

Might as well just tell him. It doesn’t make sense to hide this now.

You blew a raspberry, preparing yourself to inform your friend of your biggest secret. “Long story short… I’m a sex worker. About a year and some change now. The financial aid package I receive from my college falls short on covering the cost of the tuition and other expenses. I don’t wanna put myself through five hours of class and then seven to eight hours of labor to make ends meet. So, I started looking into sex work. Seeing how much I could possibly make, the different types of content that people would pay for, the fact that I’d be working any time and anywhere I wanted was a plus as well. Now, here I am: I make about eight hundred dollars weekly, two to three thousand monthly. It’s enough to make sure I can pay for college and still do what I want.”

When you finished your confession, Hobie was left speechless with a slack jaw. He blinked a couple times to try and process the information he was given. His friend who couldn’t even socialize for more than two hours… Is a cam girl?

…Why is this kind of hot?

He picked up his jaw and cleared his throat, shaking the thoughts out of his head with a deep sigh. His behavior made all of the negative feelings you had before resurface. You looked down at the floor with shame as you shook your head.

“I knew I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-”

“No, no, no, no, no!” He quickly stopped you from finishing your sentence waving his hands. “I meant everythin’ I said before. None of this is gonna change my perspective of you. It’s just…”

He trailed off, the naughty thoughts he had slowly clouded his mind again. He felt his blood slowly rush to the head of his member thinking about the fact that he was sitting on the bed that you made some of your content on. You could’ve made yourself cum on the sheets you currently have on your mattress today, and thought of him sitting in the spot where you probably left a big, creamy mess was driving him mad.

“Hobie?” You spoke with a bit of worry as you noticed him zone out. You watched as he swallowed thickly and blinked twice, the leg that hung off your bed beginning to sway from side to side. You bit your lip to hide the smile that was threatening to paint your face at the scene.

Ahh, I see what’s up.

He felt his length throb softly, the feeling made him groan but he attempted to hide it with a deep, throaty chuckle. The sound not only made your entrance clench with need, but it gave you a bit of confidence to say your next words.

“Do you wanna see how I make my content?” The slight seduction in your voice caught him off guard, his head shot up to look at you with a shocked expression. You could see the desire in his eyes start to expand at your question.

“Wai- what?” He stammered breathlessly. He didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but he didn’t mind as it made it him throb again, his manhood slowly becoming erect.

“I know you heard me, Hobie.” You answered teasingly with a voluptuous grin and. “It’s a simple yes or no question.”

There goes that silence again. Sexual tension building as you eyed each other down. Once you both saw that y’all were on the same page, you smiled at each other with a knowing glint in your eyes. Y’all began to stand and walk towards each other with only one thought in mind:

“Finally.”

You were now laying on your bed with your torso completely exposed, showing off the nipple piercings that Hobie didn’t know you had. He swore it was as if he was finding treasure with every second he spent with you. Your legs were spread wide open to expose the red lace thong you’ve been sporting, revealing a small wet stain that your aching core left on it.

Hobie sat in your desk chair that he moved to the front of your bed, his torso also completely on display. The sight of his lanky yet toned and muscular physique only made you wetter. His boxer briefs were still attached to his lower half, his erection very prominent and aching to see what was next. Your tripod stood next him with your phone placed on it horizontally as it recorded.

“I’m so wet for you already. Dripping through my thong for you.” You spoke seductively, moving your body closer to the tripod and gorgeous man in front of you. Even though you looked into camera the whole time, he knew every word was meant for him.

“I only get this wet for you, baby. I’ve been waiting so fucking long to show you how I make myself cum when I think about you.” As if read each other’s minds, both of you placed a hand on your chest and slowly dragged it down to your most sensitive parts. Your hand slid inside your thong as his began to gently palm his shaft over his boxers, biting his lip to hold the groan that was ready to escape his throat.

The hand you slipped into your underwear made it’s way to your throbbing clit, your natural juices already coated all over your flower. You slowly and gently began to rub your sensitive button in circles, a low moan escaping your lips at the smooth feeling. The sound of your arousal squelching echoed off the walls in your room, drawing a low grunt from the half naked man at the foot of your bed as he continued to palm himself.

“I’ll show you how pretty she is, only if I get to see how hard the sound of my needy pussy made you first. Can you do that for me?” You continued to play with yourself, applying the tiniest amount of pressure. He immediately lifted his hips and slid his boxers off of his hips with ease.

His length was finally revealed to you, springing out effortlessly with him sighing blissfully at the feeling. Watching it slap his stomach gently, the tip going past his belly button, had you moaning at the sight. Your leaking entrance clenched with need as you thought of his member thrusting into you slow and hard, the prominent veins rubbing against your smooth, wet walls deliciously.

“Mmmm~ that dick is so pretty.” You admitted as you lifted your hips to remove your thong. You slid it off your legs and threw it in a random direction away from you. Your other set of lips spread slowly as you opened your legs again, showcasing your beautiful sensitive flower glistening with your wetness. “It’s so hard for me already, babe. I know you wish you stretching this tight, wet, warm pussy with every inch.” Your hand reached for your slit, spreading your labia to display your opening.

It was already starting to become too much for Hobie. The way you uttered such naughty words with ease, how you played with your beautiful pussy so delicately, the way you looked into the camera with such lust and longing desire. He bit his lip at the alluring sight before him, eyes rolling back as they closed for a moment when his shaft throb for attention.

You moved your hand so that you were touching your delicate bud again, letting out a pornographic moan as you started to rub it in circles again. “I wanna watch you make yourself feel good too, baby. Spit on your hand, get that aching cock nice and wet for me, and stroke it nice and slow. I don’t want you getting close too fast, okay?”

He instantly did what your smooth, gentle voice commanded him to do. The sensation of his moisturized hand slowly sliding down to the base of his length made a deep groan fall from his lips. He slid his hand up to his tip with the same pace, hissing at the feeling of himself softly pulsate in his grip. He found a rhythm rather quickly, a rhythm that already had his head lulling back in bliss as he imagined it was your pretty, dripping hole gripping him gently as you rode his erect member.

“Mmn~ fuck.” You whimpered as you felt your opening leak more of your sweet extract at the lustful view of his now glistening girth pulsate in his slender hands. The friction of his hand spreading his spit around him could be heard as he watched you play with yourself. “You’re throbbing so hard for me already. You like watching me play with my needy pussy for you, baby?” Your hand moved downward to tease your leaking hole, and you let out a short, low purr followed by a sharp gasp when you felt the tip of your middle finger almost enter.

The pretty boy in front of you analyzed your face and body with hooded eyes clouded with hunger and eagerness to cum with you, wishing it was the tip of his dick teasing your entrance. A deep, animalistic growl escaped his throat as he began to thrust his hips into hand at a steady pace. “Shit.” He moaned when he started to flick his wrist as he continued to caress his length, stroking at faster pace.

“Ooh~ my finger slides in so easily.” You moaned breathlessly when you felt your smooth, greedy walls suck your digit into yourself. You slowly thrusted your coated finger in and out twice before pulling it out, watching a string of your arousal stretch from your core attached to your digit. The strand of your extract broke when brought your hand to your face, sucking the juices off but making sure your finger was still moist enough so you can slip it into your hungry opening again.

Hobie grunted eagerly as he watched you. His release was building up slowly, but he held it in. “So fucking good.” He groaned lowly feeling his pleasure intensify, the pace he stroked his girth never faltering.

You eased your index finger in after penetrating yourself with your middle for a while, your mouth falling agape at the delightful feeling of being stretched out slightly. Curving your slick digits upwards, another sharp gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the tip of them gently press again a spongy spot inside your dripping core. “Oh, yes, right fucking there.” You whined desperately at the new feeling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you continued motioning your fingers upward.

At this point you and Hobie forgot about the phone that was recording your sinful actions and naughty sounds. You were both in a state of euphoria— the sensual noises coming from guy’s mouth, your arousal squelching and leaking nonstop with every thrust of your fingers, the sight you both had as you watched each other masturbate intensely with the same amount of eagerness. It was enough to bring you both closer to that release y’all were so desperate to receive.

Your hips bucked into your hand as the pace you thrusted your dripping fingers became faster and sloppier, your free hand gripping the covers on your bed tightly as you felt the small pressure in your stomach start to expand. “Fuck, Hobie, I’m gonna cum so hard for you. I’m so close, baby~, i’m so close.” You babbled mindlessly as you brought the hand that was gripping your sheets to you aching clit, rubbing it in steady circles to quicken the arrival of your powerful orgasm.

“M’ right behind you, love. Get that nut, baby. Fuck… I’m right there with you.” He encouraged you with a growl. The pet names, his seductive voice, and seeing the pace of his thrusting hips increase as he watched you bring yourself to the most mind shattering orgasm was all you needed to make the pressure in stomach pop as you made a delicious mess on the bed and floor below you.

Your eyes slowly rolled to the back of your head and jaw fell open as you came with a long, loud, moan. Your juices flew out of your pulsating entrance when you quickly removed your fingers from inside of you, rubbing your clit in circles rapidly making your squirting essence fly in any and every direction.

Hobie watched the voluptuous scene in front of him with a slightly gaped mouth, breathing heavily and rapidly as it brought him to his climax. His eyebrows furrowed in bliss, his stomach and testicles tightening as he milked himself with his hand. A loud groan exited his throat as he angled his girth towards his stomach and released, ropes of his seed painting his beautiful melanated torso. The hand he used to jerk himself off reduced its speed as he slowly came down from his high.

You both sat in your current positions regulating your breathing after the intense mutual masturbation session. When your breathing began to balance out, you heard a quiet whimper come from the attractive man in front of you. Your eyes made their way to him, seeing him slowly stroke his still erect girth with his head thrown back.

You threw your legs off your bed and got off of it, walking towards the tripod and stopping the recording. You sent the video to Hobie before making your way in front him, kneeling down and gently placing your hand on his thighs as you looked up at his pretty fucked out face. He felt your hands run up his thighs and to his hand to remove it from his length.

He looked down at the beautiful woman in front of him with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she planned on doing. All of his wonder went out the window when he watched her bring one of her hands to his thick, long member jerking him up and down once just to feel him throb. She then brought her head down a bit, slowly licking a wet line from his balls to the sensitive spot below his tip as she looked him in his eyes with hers feigning innocence.

“Fuck. Baby, don’t tease me like that.” He he groaned breathlessly at the sensation. She chuckled seductively at his words, kissing the head of his dick before spitting on it. She brought her hand back to his length to spread the moisture around him, feeling her lower region begin to ache for attention again when she heard him whine at the feeling of her warm fist starting to jerk him off at an agonizingly slow pace.

Hobie’s eyebrows creased in confusion when he felt her stop her movements, but his confused expression was immediately replaced with a slack jaw and his eyes rolling back when he felt her lips wrap around him gently. “Mmm~ so soft.” He moaned as she pushed her head lower onto him with her humming at the taste of him taking over her tastebuds.

“Oh- ooh, shit. What the fuck?” He moaned blissfully in bewilderment as she immediately slid his girth down her throat. She contracted the walls of her throat around his manhood as she started moving her head up and down.

The feeling of her warm lips and wet, tight throat wrapped around him has his eyes behind his head for the thousandth time tonight. One of his slender hands made their way to her soft, messy hair, gripping it gently as he held her head down and began to thrust his hips into her face. “Your throat feels so good, doll. Oh, my…” He trailed off with a needy whine.

He thrusted his hips faster, her eyes beginning to water as he slid further and further down her esophagus. She felt him gently throb in her mouth as she mentally thanked the man above for not having a gag reflex. She hummed around him once more to bring him closer to his second release.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! Oh, f-fuck, baby. I’m gonna cum. I’m-” His babbling stopped abruptly due to his climax crashing down on him. He groaned breathlessly as he throbbed repeatedly and came down her throat, still holding her head down and keeping his hips still.

Once she felt his member slowly start to become flaccid, she pulled her head up and removed her lips from him with a pop. She looked up at him with innocent eyes as she swallowed every drop of cum he fed her, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out to show him afterwards.

He smiled proudly at the sight, watching her come up from her position on the floor and straddle his laptop. He wrapped his arms around her waist and hers made their way around his neck and rested on the back of her chair. “I didn’t think you had that in you, love.” He spoke teasingly as he looked up at her with his bright, gorgeous smile.

She chuckled at his comments before responding. “You didn’t think I had a lot of things inside me. Now look at where we are.” You both laughed lightly at your statement, Hobie pushing you down towards him by your back and gently pressing his lips onto yours.

You instantly melted into the kiss as he gripped your thighs and stood up with your legs wrapped around his hips. He walked towards your bed and laid you down on it, him laying next to you as you guy’s lips separated. You faced each other, one of your hands making their way to the back his neck as you started to playing in his hair.

“So, about those sex toys you mentioned earlier…” You spoke with a playful grin.

“Oh, my days- no. Good night.” He responded with playful frustration, Shuffling his body closer to yours and stuffing his face into your neck and wrapping his arms around you. You laughed at his tone and words, holding him close to you as you rubbed his back gently.

Both of you enjoyed the fact that after engaging in such sinful activities, you can still joke around like nothing happened. You also really appreciated how he didn’t judge you and made sure that you knew his intentions and perspective of you were still pure… kind of. He really enjoyed what went down tonight, and he hoped that you guys could do it again sometime.

And you felt the same exact way.

I know the ending seems rushed I apologize guys 😭 I said this was gonna be posted Thursday night and I MEANT IT okay. But I hope you guys enjoyed!! My first smut on tumblr and more to come 💕

[bangtaninborderland]

KNJ- Not so dinner date.

It’s late when you arrive home, the lights are off and the regular sounds of your boyfriend are null. You sigh as you shake off your jacket, sliding off your shoes only to replace them with house slippers.

The clock above the refrigerator is the only light in the kitchen and as dim as it is you don’t flick on a light, instead you slouch at the table snacking on the random fruits Namjoon had piled into a bowl.

The truth is you loved your boyfriend with your entire heart, there wasn’t ever a time when you felt as if you wanted to be away from him. Of course, his job as an idol was one that put distance between you, your own job not accommodating time for you to travel as often as he did but you still made it work.

“Baby?”

You almost jump out of your skin as you whip your head around to see him sulking towards you, his shoulders hunched over.

“I thought you were sleeping joonie, did I wake you?” You stood up, closing the space between you to wrap your arms around his middle.

You breathed in his smell, finding comfort in it. He had been addicted to this new rain forest scented fabric conditioner that Jungkook had introduced him to, he had explained to you for the hours BTS had to wait during music shows just how the different scents were drawn from different plants and trees and although you didn’t completely understand it you did your best to keep up.

“You didn’t wake me, I waited up. Do you want to order some food or did you eat?”

You shake your head reluctantly. “Joon it’s 11 pm, you have work tomorrow.”

“However could I work if I starved to death?”he groaned frantically, feigning a laugh.

You quirked an eyebrow. “You haven’t eaten?”

“I did. Sort of.”

“Ramen does not count.”

“I did not.”

“How about we order fried chicken?” You smile.

Your first date had been at a park with awful fried chicken that you had gotten from a definitely dodgy van. You had both gotten stomach aches and ended up being treated at the hospital for food poisoning, through your short but required hospital stay you were put next to each other and despite the way you were both doubling over in cramps every few minutes you made the most of the time with one another, learning as much as you could.

He leads you over to the couch, pulling you into his arms. “You really want fried chicken?”

“It’s fast, just chose a good place.” You shrug earning a playful pinch from him.

A lot of your firsts happened over the simple meal, your first fight had occurred over it. You had only been dating a few weeks and Namjoon had gotten extremely busy planning a comeback with his members, it had left you barely any time with the man responding once a day if you were lucky. He had hauled himself up into his studio for almost a week straight refusing to do anything other than work on music. You were worried when Taehyung, whom you had only met twice prior, had called to ask for backup. You had stormed into the hybe building holding a box of fried chicken from his favourite place, you punched the code into his studio earning a harsh reprimanding from him as you demanded he saved his work and step away from the computer. He had argued how you couldn’t understand his stress and how it wasn’t going to work out between you, he had told you to leave and that you were just like everyone else; misjudging him. You remember the way his jaw fell open as you threw a pillow straight at him mid-rant. Soon enough he sat beside you on his little couch and picked at his chicken before devouring it in minutes. You had forced him to take you home where you had a three-hour-long conversation that ended up in him falling asleep in your lap.

“I ordered, it will be here in a little.” He threw his phone against the table.

You run your hands through his newly dyed hair, you always loved how black hair looked on him. “How was work today baby?”

“We filmed a run episode and I nearly won.” He smiled pridefully. “When will you come next?”

“I have been given tomorrow and Friday off if you want me to come with you?” It wasn’t a complete lie, you had requested the days off in order to make time for him.

He pushes you back a little, allowing a clearer look at your face. “Really? That soon?”

You smile at him nodding. “I guess I got lucky.”

“I don’t have work tomorrow, though.”

“Then stay home with me?” You smile, placing a kiss to his lips.

He says nothing but affirms by kissing you back before pressing a few more to your forehead.

You sat talking about your days until the food came 25 minutes later. As always you had requested to have it left at the door, it was always safer that way. After waiting for the driver to place the food outside and to leave the building Namjoon snuck outside to grab it.

You help set it out on the table as he put on a random show. You ate In silence watching the tv until a thought crossed your mind that you had to resolve.

“Joon can I ask you something?”

He looks at you worried, pausing the TV before turning to you. “Anything.”

“Do you ever wish we were different people? Maybe just farmers or something..” you half-joked, pushing your almost-finished meal aside.

“If you want a farmer you should try Jin Hyung or Taehyung.”

You can’t help but laugh as he flashes you a dimpled smile. “No I haven’t, amidst all the stress and lack of time we have with one another I could ever imagine being with someone different.”

“Why?” You watch his face twist in thought.

He hums for a moment before responding. “I love you. I liked you and then I loved you and in that time I learned that I’d rather have one day with you than a hundred days with anyone else.”

You let the weight of his words settle before responding. “You know joonie we have a lot of firsts over fried chicken.”

“What’s the first this time?” He laughs pushing his own food away before leaning back against the couch.

You started. “I could come home to an empty house for the entirety of your tour but I wouldn’t have it any other way because my heart is with you always and I know for every day you go we will have a week to make up for it. I was scared at first, scared we wouldn’t work, that you’d get too busy and forget about me but it’s small moments like these that give me the most clarification on my wants for the future.”

“And what are those wants?” He holds your hand in between his, something he does to show he is paying the utmost attention to you.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to eat fried chicken with you at midnight even though we have to be awake at 6 am, I want to share the excitement of what trees have their DNA stolen to make up fabric softeners you like, I want to be the one to give you comfort and happiness along with my unbridled support.”

“I want to give you the world.” He says the words softly but you know there’s a weight that they bare. “And I will but for now can I have your last wing?”

You scoff shoving the man off the couch onto the floor. “Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable enough that I can have your last wing?” He eyes your chicken box and you raise a threatening finger.

“Don’t you dare.”

Before you could say anything he had already grabbed the box and ran halfway through the house, you cursed his long legs for aiding his getaway.

“Touch my chicken and your Pokémon cards get it.” You threaten.

You can’t help but laugh at his footsteps slap against the tiled flooring. “LEAVE MY CARDS ALONE”

“Give me my chicken wing.” You hold your hand out, as he does the same. You hand over his extra large Pokémon folder as he does your chicken box.

“Hey?” He calls as you turn to head back to the couch, box in hand.

He grins at you, before holding his arms out, one hand bearing his folder and the other your chicken wing.

“KIM NAMJOON!” You throw yourself over the couch as he scurries off.

About twenty minutes of play fighting and chasing later you both collapse on the bed in a laughing bundle. “I can’t wait to tell Yoongi Hyung we wrestled over a chicken wing.” Namjoon giggled.

“He would be horrified.” Your eyes widened.

“He would, he would probably lecture us on why we should never eat fried chicken again.”

A bout of silence befalls you before a great idea comes to mind. “Let’s call him and tell him we broke up over fried chicken.”

“You have such a sexy brain. He will go insane.” He agreed rushing to grab his phone.

You smiled at the ceiling, memorising the events of your not-so-dinner date. This is exactly why you made it work, because even at midnight you could run around and laugh with him, you could have thorough discussions and most importantly you would both indulge e in listening and sometimes enacting your wildest thoughts. Even if it did mean annoying a poor Min yoongi over Fried chicken on a Wednesday night.

[pinkthrone445]

hii hun, i was hoping to request a melissa x reader (mels wife) and i know you’ve written quite a few of these lately but they hit me in a way because i struggle with it.

anyways.. where the reader is dyslexic and is having trouble trying to get the lesson plan together for one of the modules for english. mel starts to notice her wife struggling and starts helping.

-Do you know your ABC's?-

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender:pure fluff and soft Melissa

Warnings:talk about dyslexia

Summary:When work stresses you out, your wife is there to help.

Hello darling, I hope you like this, thanks for the request! I hope you are handling better now, rough days are normal and it's okay not to be okay sometimes, but you got this! You're capable and strong and there's nothing to be ashame of, never doubt that.

This was already the third time in the last hour that Mel had stopped by the dining room to check on you. Your back was hunched over looking at the computer, which had a low glow because your eyes were tired, your glasses were half crooked, three cups of coffee around you and a half-full water bottle in front of you, your legs were crossed over each other, a blanket over your shoulders that Mel had put there, your had a big frown, your hair a little disheveled from how many times that you had run your hands over your head in a nervous tic, your leg bounced several times when you changed positions, causing the wood to rattle and the plastic of the couch to squeak, on top of all that, your eyes were red from having been in front of the computer for so long.

Mel knew that when you were stressed you didn't want to be interrupted, that's why every time she went to check on you, she helped you without interrupting you. Mel would leave the water bottle in front of you without saying anything because she knew that if you saw it often you would drink more water. When she saw that your body was shivering, she put a blanket over your shoulders without uttering a single word, she also refilled your coffee cup and brought you something to eat.

Mel was very patient with you, especially when you had to make your study plans, but when you had already been in the same position for more than 4 hours, it was time to interfere.

-"Hon?"-Your wife spoke softly trying to get your attention but only earned a hum from you-"Let's go to bed, it's late..."-Mel sat next to you trying to close your computer but you wouldn't let her

-"I can't, I don't have many days left to do my study plan and Ava told me that she needs them..."-You spoke without taking your eyes off your computer

-"Love, you've been in front of that computer for hours, if you haven't made more progress, it will be hard for you to do it now with how tired you are. Let's go to bed and tomorrow, since we don't work, I'll help you put it together...please" - Your wife begged and you sighed nodding, if you continued in front of that computer, you would go blind. You carefully closed the computer and followed your wife into the room, who had held your hand to make sure you didn't run away.

When the two of you went to bed, the redhead hugged you carefully and gently scratched your head

-"I know it stresses you out putting together the class plan and nerves make your dyslexia worse and make you feel bad. But today you've been more stressed than usual. What's going on?" - she whispered and kissed your forehead

-"The thing is that I'm used to teaching second graders but now that I have to cover some classes in kindergarten and teach them the alphabet and things like that, it stresses me that they get confused when writing the letters and because of my dyslexia I don't always notice the mistakes... How am I supposed to teach them well if even when I write I get confused?"-You whispered stressed and your wife hugged you tighter to her body

-"Tomorrow we'll figure it out together, okey?"-She whispered and you nodded and then slept with her.

The next day, your wife was no longer in bed when you woke up and the house smelled of freshly baked cookies and coffee, plus soft music was playing from the kitchen. You carefully went downstairs and found your wife muttering a few things to the beat of a song, so concentrated that she didn't notice you were there

-"Good morning my love"-You smiled and kissed her shoulder

-"Hello sweetie, I didn't realize you had come down... Breakfast is ready and I think I have a great idea to help you with the kids... I was looking at your study plan and the things you need to teach them and I remembered how much the lyrics of some songs help you so you don't confuse the words so much... Do you want me to tell you my idea while you have breakfast?"-The redhead asked excitedly and you nodded sitting on the counter listening attentively as you ate breakfast.

For the next day, you and Mel had put together your study plan and several of your classes and that gave youI a lot of peace and confidence, not only you had classes ready, but also because your wife had controlled them and they didn't have mistakes.

When all the students arrived, you were very excited to show them what you two had prepared, when you opened your computer there was a little note from your wife, you would recognize her handwriting anywhere

"Today you will do great, I trust you and I know what an amazing teacher you are. I love seeing you worried to be a better teacher for them and that already makes you perfect. love you more every day"

You smiled as you read the note with a new wave of confidence in yourself. You carefully caught the children's attention, once they all looked at you you started to introduce your class

-"Well kids, today we're going to have a very special class, as we've all been having trouble differentiating some alphabet letters, we're going to sing a song. And we have a special guest to help us... The tree times in a row champion on the Reading Marathon, please give it up to the most beautiful woman, big welcome and applauses please, to one of the best third-grade teachers, and my beautiful wife, Melissa Schemmenti!"-You shouted introducing your wife as if it were a boxing match, your wife understood you perfectly and came in fist-pumping in the air like a boxer which made the children scream with more excitement. Your wife smiled as she stood next to you and greeted the children almost as excited as they were.

After finding the right catchy music and going over the lyrics you and Mel had done one more time, you started singing the alphabet paying special attention to some letters that could be more difficult than others. The song, although it had very few rhymes, was a good help for the children, while they were singing the lyrics, you were writing them on the board so that the children understood and it would stay more engraved on them

-"The letter B(b), to write the word bright, looks like it's a woman with a big belly with her tiny baby hidden inside. To write it we have to pay attention, it starts from the ceiling and falls to the floor, jumps to the front and goes back to the pole." - You and your wife sang while the kids payed attention, writing the letters on their papers

-"The letter d, to write the word drink, looks like a dinosaur with loooong neck and a big butt, that dumps everywhere with a lot of smell"-When you said that, the children laughed, anything that was disgusting was funny to them-"To write it, start from the ceiling, fall to the floor, jump backwards, and go back to the beginning"-Your wife continued to sing amidst the laughter of the children

-"The letter p, to write the word pony, looks like pasta rolling on her own. To write it pay attention, start from the floor and jump down one step, then go back to the beginning and make it a big head!"-You screamed making the dancing kids excited as they wrote their letters

-"One more tricky letter, before we forget about them, let's see how we can write the letter q, to write the word queen..."-Your wife pointed at you as she said the word queen and you laughed-"looks like the fluffy tip from a q-tip. Open big your eyes, and get your pencil ready, Start from the ground and work your way back down, then go back to the beginning and bend backwards until you find the start line again"-Once ypu finished singing the alphabet, the children asked you to sing it once more together which you did, you were surprised to see how quickly they had memorized it and how well they were differentiating the letters.

While the children were singing and laughing, you held your wife's hand smiling as you watched her sing, murmuring a silent thank you. Your wife could be harsh or closed off about some things, but when she showed love to you or the children, she certainly didn't hold back in the slightest.

[amuromi]

★ ₊ ⊹ ⋆˙ ┈ 𝐈𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐊𝐎 X ᶠ!ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ┈ 5.0k

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐀!𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ┈ I think it’s fun that Gege said Shoko cheated her way into her doctor’s license.

✮ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 & 𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓!! ✮

✦ ⋆˙ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ┈ NSFW! unestablished relationship (fwb-ish), pet names (baby), sleepy sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering

The buzzing of fluorescents and the whirring of an overworked laptop fill the frigid air of the examination room. Everything is cold, sterile. Severe chrome and polished tile void of anything that might disrupt the uniformity of it all. Not a scratch on the metal tables or a chip in the pale blue tiling. Even the light is carved into strict form, beams of glaring light bearing down from the ceilings in rings of blinding white. Glass jars and plastic boxes line the counters and the only break from the monotony is the staggered dripping of the leaky faucet but even that has gained an almost rhythmic pattern after listening to it for so long. The truest break from the carefully curated environment is Shoko. 

She interrupts the room like a flower blooming in a desert, something lovely standing alone in a featureless wasteland. She’s sitting too close to her laptop screen, bluish light carving out the contours of her face in harsh monotones. The shadows beneath her eyes stand out, deep bruises staining her pale skin. A cigarette sits between her lips, unlit and stained pinkish at the filter from her lip tint. The same color is printed on the straw of her drink that sits precariously close to her computer. It’s old, not worth saving if it gets doused in whatever caffeine-laden drink she’s sipping, but it would surely ruin her night. She hasn’t saved anything in awhile and you’ve been watching her for the better part of an hour according to the steady ticking of the clock mounted on the wall. It’s creeping close to midnight and your body is starting to ache from being perched at the edge of the examination table for so long. 

An arrhythmic clicking disrupts the metronome of the silence; the clock, the sink, as Shoko pauses in her scrolling to finally type something out. She’s been hunched over this essay for longer than you’ve been watching her, reading and rereading the same lines of text as if she was worried she’d accidentally added a paragraph about the lifecycle of a goldfish into her lengthy thesis about human anatomy. It was something she was well versed in given her medical inclination. It was what best suited her as a reverse cursed technique user. So few existed in the Tokyo branch of Jujutsu Tech and even if Shoko wasn’t going through the exact proceedings to achieve her doctorate, she was meticulous about the classes and examinations she needed to take. Something about nepotism and forgery had gotten her foot in the door and now she was two years into her higher education and only a few months short of the national exam. There was no doubt in your mind that she’d pass with flying colors so it made it all the more frustrating that she was ignoring you in service of her exam preparations.

It had been three days since you’d last seen Shoko and at least twenty-four hours since she’d so much as sent you a text. It was blind desperation that led you here after another call went unanswered for the third time today. She was exactly where you’d expected. There was no worry of infidelity, yet it still felt strange to be so thoroughly ignored. She was a busy woman but hearing her answering machine drone at you for the third time had knocked something gnawingly desperate loose in your head. So here you sat, like a dog waiting for a treat, watching her work on an essay. The edge of the table was bruising the back of your thighs and your back aches from keeping such a rigid posture. All this and she’d barely even glanced up at you when the door opened. Your eyes slip away from her towards her drink. 

There’s a feline urge to knock it over because surely that would get her attention. It would disrupt her environment to suddenly have her drink dripping off the edge of the table, but then she’d probably be annoyed with you, and you’d surely have to clean up the mess yourself. The thought of sticky hands and cold tile digging into your knees kept your hand from tipping as you reached over to grab the can. The straw was a silly quirk likely borne of her oral fixation–the same reason she’d kept a cigarette in her mouth this whole time–but it fit nicely between your lips, and you could feel the tacky spot where her lips had been as you left your own pink print on the straw. It was as close as you’d gotten to kissing her in a long time. 

She’d call you spoiled if she could read your mind, and you’re glad she can’t because you likely would’ve been sent away the moment you’d poked your head in the room looking to seduce her away from her work. You’d gone through extra effort to look nice before coming to see her. Your hair was styled and your makeup done, clothes smoothed of any wrinkles and in the colors she said you looked nicest in. Desperation oozed from you in thick waves and Shoko still couldn’t spare you a passing glance. The clock ticked by another minute. It had been your hope to get her out of her cold little cell before midnight but that plan was crumbling quicker with each passing moment. She’s gone back to scrolling, fingers stroking against the touch pad. It makes your legs shift, thighs squeezing at all the thoughts her endless scrolling conjured. 

It’s seventeen minutes past midnight by the time Shoko sits back in her seat, her chair squeaking at the sudden shift in weight. She stretches her arms and her shirt rides up the slightest bit. Just under the raised hem you can see a slash of skin and you have to swallow a mouthful of spit. She groans as her back cracks and you cross your legs. The break is fleeting because she goes back to typing, but it seems more purposeful. From the angle you’re at, perched next to her laptop because you thought that would be the easiest way to get her attention, you can’t clearly make out the size twelve font, but you like to imagine that every word is articulate and insightful; a perfect thesis paper. And even if it isn’t, she’s made it this far without going through the proper channels. It wouldn’t be so hard to forge her credentials to get her into the exam. She could pass it even without all the expected years of education. She was far more intimate with anatomy, both human and otherwise, than anyone her age had any right to be. It was your hope that she’d come out of her academic stupor to reacquaint herself with your anatomy. Sooner rather than later. But you wouldn’t pout and you wouldn’t whine because she didn’t like that. Gojo is the only one she’ll tolerate acting like that, and their bond is different than what you have with her. 

Girlfriend is far too charitable though you’d like to have such a formal label. You’re a girl that’s a friend at best. One she has wrapped around her pretty little finger. She starts scrolling again. You take another longing sip of her drink. It’s gone flat and tastes like cough syrup but you can feel the buzz of caffeine starting up just from those few sips. Whatever is in the can is going to leave you wired and you hate to think Shoko’s been downing energy drinks in lieu of sleeping. A thousand questions perch at the tip of your tongue; are you almost done, when was the last time you slept? You’d like to ask but it would disturb the clinical symphony of the room and you’d hate to shatter her concentration and further prolong your wait. So you sit in obedient silence wondering why you’ve bothered to wait this long in the first place. 

Shoko hasn’t so much as spared you a glance since her first brief look when you came tip toeing in. Her gaze remains glued on the screen of her laptop, a grayish square reflected bright in her brown eyes. Her lashes flicker as she reads through the lines of text and you try to find something else to focus on. Something that isn’t Shoko’s big brown eyes, or that pretty little mole high on her cheek, or her graceful fingers skating over the keyboard. Instead you focus your eyes on your nails. Freshly done in a purple so pale it’s almost white; the same color you heard Shoko compliment Utahime on a few weeks ago. It’s pretty but as you watch the light dance off the pastel polish, you realize it’s unlikely that Shoko will even notice. 

Another drop of water hits the sink basin and you consider getting up to leave. Shoko hasn’t acknowledged your existence in her space as a positive or negative and the neutrality of her ignorance is starting to grate on your pride. Slowly, you start to descend from the high top table, but before your feet can hit the ground a hand is catching your thigh, keeping you perched on the edge of the table. Shoko doesn’t look up from the screen but her hand is now resting imploringly on your leg. She can’t be bothered to look at you or tell you not to go but her touch will have to be enough. You readjust yourself, scooting back onto the hightop. Her hand brushes mindlessly over your skin, drifting high enough that her fingers drift under the hem of your skirt. The same skirt you’d bought on her recommendation during a trip to the mall. 

“Almost done,” she mumbled so low that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t already staring at her. Her lips barely part around the words and she sounds utterly exhausted. Shoko always seems to have everything together despite always looking like she’s fighting to stay conscious with every blink. Her eyes have gone glossy as though she isn’t paying attention to anything in front of her but her hands don’t stop. Not where she’s scrolling through her essay and not where she’s thumbing circles against your thigh. A few more swipes of her finger and she reaches the final line of the document. Her hand leaves your leg long enough to hit save and close her laptop. The chair squeaks beneath her weight as she finally leans away from the desk, tired eyes pointed towards the ceiling. White light dances across her dark gaze before her lashes flutter closed with a sigh. She gives your leg a gentle pat before pushing away from the desk with a discordant scrape of her chair. It interrupts the monotony that had settled over the room but the disturbance is welcome as Shoko goes about packing up her things. She shoulders her bag and holds out her hand to help you down from the table. 

“Let’s go,” she hums, brushing her thumb across the back of your hand as she leads you out of the examination room. The halls of the school are dimmed and quiet so late into the evening. The sound of your footfalls echo through the emptiness, preceding your arrival just enough for Ijichi to parse who’s approaching. The door to his office is open, spilling white light into the darkness and he cuts through the glowing haze like a towering tree, a willowy silhouette against the bright light. 

“Done for the night?” He asks. Shoko hums, prompting Ijichi to tidy up his office. The jingling of his keys leads the way outside. It isn’t so late that the trains have stopped running but Shoko seems close to falling asleep where she stands and she’d likely only be made more irritable after commuting home on public transit. Ijichi is a blessed pillar of Jujutsu Tech staff, always willing to act as chauffeur for the most minor trips. He knows the way to Shoko’s apartment without the assistance of a GPS and he doesn’t seem to spare a thought to consider if you want to be ferried back to your own apartment. You don’t but an embarrassed flush blooms warm across your cheeks as you realize no one takes any time to consider that you won’t always be where Shoko is anymore. Truthfully, you could’ve gone home hours ago, but you stayed to keep Shoko company, clinging to her like a puppy. 

“Here we are,” Ijichi says as he pulls up in front of Shoko’s building. “Do you need any further assistance?” It’s so formal, though that’s just how Ijichi is when he’s on the clock. You’ve only seen him lose his staunch manners once when Gojo insisted all of you go out to celebrate one thing or another. Instead of poking fun at his civility you thank him for the ride and usher Shoko out of the car. Ijichi waits until you’re inside the building before pulling off. 

In the comfort of her own home, Shoko seems to be a bit renewed. The fatigue still lingers in the way her movements lack the usual precision that must come with the medical training. A hair’s breadth of error in her movement might spell disaster in an examination room but here, she’s free to be less exact. She takes her shoes off at the door and kicks them to the side rather than lining them up neatly against the wall. Her bag is dropped on the couch, nearly spilling over with how she tossed it. There’s a laziness that belies her exhaustion but it seems like the last dregs of her energy drink are still simmering in her system as she deposits you next to her bag, pushing you to sit with a hand on your shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen. 

When she returns, she sets a plate of fruit on the coffee table before padding off to the balcony. No matter how tired, Shoko has never been one to smoke indoors. The scent of the cigarettes might linger in her hair and clothes but her apartment always smells like vanilla and jasmine, courtesy of her favorite scented candles. She leaves the sliding door half open as she leans against the bannister and you decide that she deserves this small moment of peace. Though you haven’t really done much to disturb her in the last hour or so, you suspect she could use a moment of solitude to decompress from the stresses and strains of academia. Instead of following her past the billowing curtains you busy yourself with the tray of fruit, wetting your fingers with pineapple and watermelon. 

Shoko joins you after a while and you nearly melt as she sits close beside you, wiping away a smear of juice at the corner of your mouth. Your thanks gets caught in your throat as she pops her thumb between her lips. If she takes note of your shock, Shoko doesn’t mention it. Instead she turns on some mind numbing period piece and sags into the couch. Exhaustion catches up with her quickly and she falls asleep somewhere at the midpoint of the film, lips parted around kittenish snores. She’s easy enough to carry on account of your combat training. She curls up in your arms, shifting until her nose is pressed against your neck and you stifle a yelp at how cold she is. She’s half lucid as you set her at the foot of the bed, moving her limbs with wooden fluidity as you strip her out of her clothes before tucking her in. There’s just enough consciousness left in her to remind you to come to bed when the movie is over. You’re not particularly interested enough to see how it ends but you do go through the motions of winding down for the night as the movie plays softly in the background. The dishes are washed and the doors and windows locked. By the time you’re yawning yourself the credits are rolling. 

Shoko rouses the moment you slip beneath the sheets, rolling over to wrap herself around you. Her breath is slow and steady against your neck as she tucks her nose behind your ear and sighs. That’s all you expect from her, arm tossed loosely over your waist as she falls back to sleep, but then her hand begins to move. Subtle at first as she traces her fingertips over your stomach through your shirt, then more purposeful as she dips beneath the fabric to tease at your bare skin. Her hand trails higher, taking your shirt with it until it’s crumpled beneath your chin, your breasts bared to the cool air of her bedroom. Her eyes are half lidded and dark in the dim ambiance, lit only by the grayish glow filtering through the curtains. It highlights the broadest strokes of her face as she lazily climbs over you, blanket pooling around her hips as she settles in your lap. The curve of her cheekbones and slope of her nose all glow silver as her hair slips over her shoulders in a tousled waterfall. Her hands have just the slightest chill as she traces her hands up the ladder of your ribs to cup your chest in her palms. Your nipples perk against the softness of her skin, pressing into the gentle touch as she traces her thumbs over the stiffening buds. 

“You should sleep,” you tell her, hand stroking over the length of her arm. 

“I will,” she promises, “after.” She’s been asleep for at least an hour and it showed in her voice, sultry and graveled as she leaned down to press hot kisses over your neck. Her tongue finds the shape of your collarbone, tracing the sloping imprint before slipping lower to wrap her lips around your nipple. 

“I wanted to do this the moment you walked into the exam room.” She confesses. Her words ghost breathy and ticklish across your skin as she slinks lower, leaving wet imprints of her lips against your stomach. She noses against the waistband of your pants, taking her time to pull them down. With each newly exposed inch she presses a kiss against your skin, stopping only to leave a more lasting mark. Your pants are shucked to the floor as Shoko replaces the lost warmth with her body laid between your legs. Her teeth and tongue leave marks against the soft skin of your thighs as she works her way back up your body. She leaves a burning kiss beneath your navel, then higher and higher until her lips are sealing over yours. 

Her legs cage one of yours as she steals the breath from your lungs, tongue dancing over yours as she lowers her hips with purpose. With a shift of her weight, Shoko presses her thigh flush between your legs and your hips move to meet her. Each roll of your hips is like the strike of a flint that sparks but refuses to catch fire. Shoko isn’t much better as she whines pitifully, rocking hard against you with little relief. The sound of your desperate mewls turns to groans of frustration, both of you too desperate for the full shocks of pleasure to stop long enough to shed the rest of your clothes. Shoko decides on a compromise.  

“Here,” Shoko pants, detangling one of your fists from the wrinkled sheets to slide it beneath the waistband of her pants. The warmth is immediate as you slip your fingers lower until they’re enveloped in the wet heat that’s gathered between her legs. Her thigh presses harder against your pussy, pace stuttering as you circle your fingers over her clit. It’s wet and clumsy as she grinds against your fingers. Her whole body trembles as she sits up to toss aside her shirt, hands immediately cupping her chest. Her breasts spill between her fingers as she pinches at her nipples. Between her soft exhales she whines something that sounds like “inside.” Her eyes are half lidded, lashes fluttering as her eyes roll back the second your fingers slip inside her. 

“That feel good, baby?” You ask, gripping her waist as she rides your fingers. She’s nodding, whining a thick deluge of praise between each shallow breath. 

“Feels so good,” she sighs. Her fingers that are usually so dexterous suddenly feel clumsy as she brushes her fingertips over the seam of your lips, chuffing out a soft laugh when your mouth opens to taste her skin. There’s the lingering taste of the fruit she ate earlier spreading sweetly over your tongue as you bit softly at her fingers. And when she pulls away a mess of drool dribbles down your chin and drips onto your chest as she circles her wet fingers over her nipple, hips stuttering as she shivers from the air caressing her wet skin. You can feel the goosebumps raising as you thumb at her trembling stomach, feeling the muscles shift beneath her skin as she fucks herself on your fingers. Her clit twitches under the pad of your thumb as you curve your fingers inside her. She comes with a long whine, head tossed back as she grinds hard against your hand. Her pants are soaked through when you pull your hand out, patting her pussy through the sodden fabric. Shoko shrinks away from the feeling, falling back to the mattress with a satisfied huff. 

In the muted light you can’t see the soft flush you know is coloring her cheeks, but she looks beautiful all the same. Hair fanned out around her head and stuck to the sheen of sweat shining on her forehead. Her lips are glossy and parted as she tries to catch her breath. You pat her hip with your wet hand, unbothered by the mess. 

“You done?” Shoko shakes her head and rolls onto her back, legs untwining from yours as she moves to shove her pants down her thighs. Her panties are so soaked they’re nearly transparent, sticking to every contour of her pussy. Shoko cringes at the slick sound it makes as she peels off her underwear, kicking them to the edge of the bed. 

“You too.” She’s shaky as she pushes herself up to pull down your pants, thumbs hooking into the waistband of your underwear. She gets them halfway down your thighs before her hand is tucking between your legs. She kisses you gently, murmuring “good job, baby,” as she tosses your panties aside. 

“On your back, baby.” She’s regaining some semblance of control as she guides you to lay back against the pillows. The warmth of her body still lingers in the sheets as they brush against your bare skin, but Shoko’s hands are still cold as she maneuvers your body with ease. She can pluck each muscle of your body like a string and she’s always careful of how she moves you. Never stretching too far to strain or pulling so hard it hurts. She straddles one of your legs then lifts the other, wrapping it around her hips until she can get close enough to meet you in the middle.  

Shoko pauses for a moment and you try to catch your breath, taking in the feeling of her cunt pressed against yours. Then, the air conditioning kicks back on with a gust of glacial air and Shoko shivers. The short burst of a movement drags her swollen clit against yours and you keen, falling flat on your back and bucking to recreate the feeling. It’s an awkward dance at first; she’s hot and wet against you, arousal dripping down your thighs to stain the sheets, but you need her just there and she’s rushing to meet you halfway. After another moment of erratic pleasure Shoko leans back on one arm and reaches for your leg with the other. She lifts it off her waist, pulling it over her shoulder until you can feel her shortened breaths ghosting across your skin. 

Her swollen lips are whispering frantic words against your ankle that you can’t decipher, mind too lost in ecstasy to register anything past the feeling of her pussy kissing yours. Locked in the moment, Shoko pushes herself up to lean more of her weight on you. A wanton moan falls from your lips as she grinds down on you. She rest her hand against your chest, thumbing over your nipple as she fucks you into the mattress. You revel in her lack of control as her praises turn to unintelligible slurs, knowing you were the one to turn her composure to ash. She smacks her hand over yours, strengthening your grip as your hands grasp desperately at her hip. The weight of her flesh spills between your fingers as your nails bite crescent shapes into the plush of her hips. 

“Closer, want you closer.” She pants, falling forward and taking your leg with her. It leaves you utterly exposed to her as she ruts drunkenly against you. The sounds coming from between your bodies is sinful, loud and wet as the slick sound of skin on skin. “Fuck, such a good girl.” Shoko praises and you feel how the words pool low in your stomach, heat gathering at the base of your spine as the sweet words start to tumble from her lips with reckless abandon. 

“Always so good for me, so patient–fuck! Sitting so pretty waiting for me, baby. Thank you for waiting.” Heat gathers between her bodies as she balances on her forearm, letting your leg off her shoulder to join the other knocking around her ribs as she cages you to the bed between her thighs. She has you curled up, only half balance on the bed as she holds your hips off the mattress. 

“Feels so good, m’not gonna last.” She whines. “I’m so close.” She cums hard, all shivers and stuttering breaths as pleasure seizes through her body. She’s shaking yet still desperate as she fucks herself through it, using your body for her own satisfaction. Sweat pastes the two of you together when she finally comes down, body going limp as she falls against your chest. It’s hot and sticky as Shoko nuzzles against your neck, pressing wet kisses against your racing pulse. Your own orgasm was lost somewhere in the fray, simmering just under the surface as Shoko cuddles against your chest. She’s so close that you can feel her heartbeat against yours, the quick fluttering slowing to a steady thump as your hands play in her hair. When her breaths start to shallow you wonder if she’s fallen asleep. It wouldn’t be a surprise. The day was long and exhausting, and she’d already been asleep when you joined her in bed. But after a few more beats of silence, Shoko sits up and reaches towards the nightstand. You expect her to grab the half empty water bottle sitting there but instead she finds a hair tie. There’s a look of sultry determination on her face as she pulls her hair back into a messy bun. 

“Your turn, baby.” Shoko has never been one to leave you high and dry, and she clearly isn’t going to start tonight. You can hear the lethargy dripping from her tone but it doesn’t douse the flames of desire still burning in her eyes. She presses a kiss to your parted lips. One, then another, before working her way down your body. She licks at the marks blooming over your through and the sore peaks of your nipples, down the heaving expanse of your chest to kiss just below your navel before her head settles between your thighs. 

“You don’t have to.” The words are full of worry. Far more concerned with her health than your own pleasure. Shoko clicks her tongue and mumbles something about “want to,” as she pulls your thighs over her shoulders. 

Her eyes trail from the sopping mess between your legs up to your eyes and back down again. Your entire body jumps as she drags the pad of her thumb over your pussy, rubbing at your throbbing bud. Her tongue cleans the mess from her finger before she presses her head between the heat of your thighs. Her tongue spreads your folds as she licks up the length of your slit, gathering the cocktail of your joiner arousal on your tongue. As she flicks at her clit, you whimper, head falling back against the pillows. Your ruined orgasm roars back to life, heat flooding your body as Shoko groans against your cunt. The feeling shoots up your spine as your thighs start to shake. 

The sound of your voice is almost pitiful as you cry out her name, bucking against her face. Shoko lets you, flattening her tongue as you set the pace, desperately chasing your high. You come hard, shuddering under her hands as you curl in on yourself, barely lucid enough to miss catching her cheek with your knee. The hand that isn’t searching for hers dives between your legs, wrist trapped between clenched thighs as you desperately curl your fingers inside yourself. Shoko watches you fuck yourself through it before pulling your hand away to suck your soaked fingers into her mouth. When she’s satisfied that she cleaned the taste of your cum off your fingers, she kisses your palm. 

Shoko looks to be on the cusp of passing out as you slip out from under her. Cleanup is only a few swipes of a damp washcloth. She lets you maneuver her limp body so you can wipe away the sweat and slick, and you’re able to get a few swigs of lukewarm water into her before Shoko is fully checked out. Her last half conscious act is tossing her loose limbs across your naked body to pull you closer. Her skin is damp from your haphazard wipe down but you don’t have it in you to care as she tucks her nose into the curve of your jaw, humming compliments as you both dip between sleep and wakefulness. Shoko is barely coherent enough to form a sentence but she slurs it out anyway before trailing off into a soft snore. A promise to make it up to you in the morning when she’s more properly rested. 

[whowilllbringtherain]

STRAWBERRY DAIQUIRI

~ One Shot ~ Jake Kiszka / Drunk Reader

Content Warnings: alcohol, drinking, being drunk, mentions of drunk driving (doesn’t happen though), drunk confessions, drunk decisions, embarrassing drunk escapades, desire/ flirtation, kissing, sexual advances, undressing, vomiting, gagging, fluffy fluffy/ caretaking/ respectful Jake.

“Okay girl, I did not realise you were gonna get this drunk,” Sara commented, taking your arm and pulling you away from the dance floor.

“Nooo,” you whined, trying your best to pull your body back to the space of flashing lights and music, but the intoxication had rendered your muscles useless, and your efforts futile.

Your friends had taken you clubbing as a birthday surprise. You usually weren’t too big on birthdays, or at least your own. You felt that a nice home cooked meal and a favourite movie was enough for a birthday activity, and that making too big of a deal out of it just wasn’t how you were brought up.

You also weren’t typically a party person, much preferring to spend your time cuddled up on the couch with a good book. Or cuddled up on the couch with Jake. Or both.

But tonight, after endless convincing, you were finally swayed to take the night off.

Work had been stressful lately, forcing you up at ungodly hours while you hunched over your computer in an attempt to make a start on the mess of work you had to sort through.

Jake was practically begging for you to go out by the end of the week, as seeing you stressed was the most painful thing for him to endure. And finally, you had agreed to ‘let your hair down for a night’.

Jake. Your absolute love. You had been dating for almost three years now, each day somehow better than the last as your love flourished like a garden of tender care and devotion. If anything was going to convince you to let off some steam and celebrate your birthday with your friends, it was going to be him.

You weren’t planning on getting drunk, as you usually preferred to sit on the sidelines anyways, sober and watching in amusement as your friends embarrassed themselves on the dance floor. In fact, you weren't sure if you'd had so much as a drink in all three years that you and Jake had been dating.

But somehow, in the midst of the night, one drink turned into two, and two turned into seven in a flash, carrying you through the dark and dizzy air of the club and straight onto the dance floor.

Hair stuck to the sweat on your face, and the straps of your little black dress fell off your shoulders as you danced shamelessly to the music that filled your ears.

Though, throughout the night you often caught yourself thinking of Jake. Wishing he was there with you.

As you danced, you wondered what he was doing in the same moment, and imagined him laying back on the plush cushions of your couch as he watched the TV. You imagined his ankles crossed as he rested his legs on the coffee table and you imagined the glass of red wine he would have poured for himself. You imagined how the liquid would pour past the glass and onto the soft flesh of his lips, and you imagined how the wine would seep past those lips and into his soft, delicious mouth. His skilled mouth.

“Hey guys, the Birthday Girl has had a bit too much to drink so we’re gonna head out,” Sara explained, pulling you from your wandering thoughts and you smiled at the sight of your friends, all sat around the table you had abandoned so early in the night.

Your eyes somehow caught the drink you were cradling before you had joined the dance floor, still half full, and before you knew it, you were downing the last few gulps of the fruity drink.

It slipped down your throat, icy and refreshing, and you were surprised that you could no longer taste the alcohol at all.

“No, no, no. No more for you,” Sara reprimanded, snatching the now empty glass from your clutches and setting it back down onto the table.

Begrudgingly, you said your goodbyes to your friends, before Sara pulled you out of the club.

The street before you twisted and turned, and you felt like the victim of one of those circus houses that throw your consciousness around in confusion and unbalance.

The feeling was familiar though, and you realised that you hadn’t been this drunk since high school.

Sara eyed you cautiously, laughing at your antics but still worried for your safety as she had never seen you get anywhere near this drunk. But she did find amusement in the way your eyes glassed over in intoxication, and the way your feet tripped over nothing on the flat concrete.

“I can’t wait to get in the car,” you announced, “M’feet, they so- it is so hurt,” you explained, unable to pick up on your mistakes as you fought to keep yourself upright. The street was spinning worse than before, and you wondered if maybe that half a drink before you left wasn’t such a good idea.

“I know girl, just a little bit further,” Sara encouraged.

When your balance returned, and you were able to focus on the other people walking down the street, you had a sudden flush of confidence. Feeling truly unstoppable, you came to the stark realisation that nobody cared what you did.

“It’s my birthday!” you yelled, arms flying into the sky and head tipping back in joy.

The world began to fall backwards, and you quickly felt Sara’s hands steady you, saving you from your inevitable collapse backwards.

Never one to turn down enthusiasm, Sara matched your energy to the fullest, “Hell yeah it is!” she yelled with the same excitement, whooping as she held onto your elbow tightly.

Sara helped you stumble into the car once you had made it there, and somehow talked her way through your drunk ramblings for the duration of the drive home.

“I want Jake,” you complained, head hitting the window painfully when you fell to the side to rest it, "Ow."

“Well good thing we’re nearly home then,” she said enthusiastically, making you instantly perk up.

“Oh yes, that’s the best,” you chirped, realising that the words that left your mouth were foreign, as you was unable to process or register what you were saying before you spoke them.

You tried to maintain your bearings for the rest of the car ride, willing away the occasional waves of nausea and focusing on your excitement to see Jake.

When Sara pulled into the driveway, you barely let the car stop before your seat belt was off and you threw yourself out of the car and onto the stone driveway.

You landed haphazardly, luckily still on your feet but sumbling nonetheless to the front door. Once you made the trek up the driveway to the front door, and regrettably realised you must have left your bag with your keys in the car, you reached up and knocked on the door repeatedly, unsure of how many times was the normal amount.

As the door swung open, and Jake’s face came into view, you fell forward into his arms, letting out a soft ‘ahhh’ as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Woah,” he exclaimed, stumbling back at the unexpected impact, “Well hello to you too pretty girl, did you have a good night?” he asked with a chuckle, pulling away to look at your face.

“Mhmm,” you hummed.

His face turned grave in a matter of moments when he glanced behind you to see the black car parked in your driveway, unable to see Sara who was collecting the contents of your handbag that had spilt over the passenger seat.

“Baby how did you get home? You didn’t drive did you?” His hands held your hips tightly and his face held a grave seriousness.

You snorted at his worry, “No, silly,” you laughed, reaching up and touching his nose with your pointer finger, “Boop!”

In perfect time, Sara slipped out of the car, and Jake physically relaxed.

“God, you scared me there for a moment,” he mumbled to you.

“Hey, here’s her handbag,” you heard Sara say as she made her way up the driveway.

“Thanks,” Jake said, taking the bag from her, “And thanks for looking after her. Do you know how much she’s had to drink?” he asked.

“Um hello! Im right here,” you announced, feeling left out from the conversation. Jake’s eyes dropped to your own and a playful smirk toyed at his lips.

“Sorry Baby, how many drinks did you have tonight, hm?” he asked. Thinking back, you had absolutely no idea, so you lifted your hand with what you thought was four fingers held it up in front of him. That seemed like a good enough guess.

Sara snorted from beside you, “You definitely had more than three. Maybe seven by the time we left?” she speculated, and your jaw hung slack at the news. You weren’t sure you’d ever drank that much in your life, as you were always a lightweight and were able to save yourself a couple of bucks by taking advantage of that fact.

“Seven?!” you exclaimed. Jake laughed and pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you and thoroughly rubbing the skin on your arms to warm you up.

You hadn’t even noticed that goosebumps had littered your skin until that moment.

“Alright I’ll leave you both to it. Happy birthday girl, I’m glad you finally let yourself let loose,” Sara congratulated.

“Oh Sara, I love you so much,” you started, lifting your arms to take her in for a hug, your voice quickly turning wobbly.

“Oh no, no, no,” both Jake and Sara warned, creating more distance between you and her.

“Let’s not get into the drunken ‘I love you’s’,” Jake warned and Sara vehemently agreed, bidding her last goodbye before getting into the car and driving off.

You turned back around to face Jake slowly, a nervous smile playing at your lips as you took in his handsome features. Man he looked good.

“Do I, now?” he asked, and you quickly realised you had said it out loud.

“Mhmm. I’ve been thinking ‘bout you all night, Jakey,” you admitted, stepping out of his arms and leading yourself into the house. Jake kicked the door shut to keep up with you as you wandered down the hallway to the living room.

Once you were able, you bent over sideways and grabbed your shoes, practically ripping them from your feet and letting out a satisfied sigh when the first bare foot landed on the soft carpet below.

You hadn’t noticed Jake was holding onto your elbow to keep you steady until you came close to toppling over as you lost your balance while taking your left shoe off.

“Oops,” you giggled, smiling at him sheepishly.

To your unknowing, Jake was thoroughly enjoying himself. This was the first time he had ever seen you even slightly intoxicated, as you never ordered beverages when you went out together, and always opted for a water during meal times at home.

“Okay Baby, c’mon. I think you need to sit down,” he urged, pulling you away from your spot and to the couch.

You frowned when you looked up and he was gone, but he was quickly back again with a tall glass of water.

He sat next to you and put the glass in you hand, “Can you drink some of this for me, please?”

Jake watched in amusement as you stared at the glass, as if you were waiting for it to pour itself into your mouth. So, he unwrapped your fingers from the cup and brought it to your lips himself.

He tilted it slowly, as not to make you choke and also to allow you to control the amount you drank at one time.

You pulled away when you couldn’t drink any more, and Jake frowned at the amount that was left in the glass.

“Think you can try one more sip, Baby?” he asked.

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head, feeling too sleepy to do anything else.

He put the glass back on the table and brought his attention back to you, which made you very happy.

You brought your hands to his cheeks, and took in his features. Just as you’d expected, his lips were traced with deep purple stains from a glass of red wine and you had the deepest urge to taste it in his mouth.

“I missed you Jakey,” you admitted. With a sudden urge of confidence, you climbed onto him, throwing one leg over his lap so that you were straddling him completely. Like instinct, his hands found the sides of your thighs, and he sighed as you ground on his lap while staring into his eyes.

“Baby…” he started, but you interrupted him when you pulled him in for a kiss.

Just as you expected, he tasted of delicious red wine, and your personal favourite, he tasted like Jake. You hummed into the kiss, resting one of your hands on his chest and slowly dragging it downward, feeling your body flush with desire for the man sitting before you.

But, to your dismay, he pulled away with a grunt, “Okay Baby, that’s enough for tonight.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why?” You began to shrink away, insecurity and embarrassment creeping into your skin.

“Hey, hey, don’t get shy,” he started, pulling you back to rest your forehead against his. “You’re just a little bit too drunk for any of that fun stuff.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear delicately.

“But Jakeee,” you groaned, pulling your head away from his and fisting his shirt with your hands. “I want to, I promi-“ you were cut off my a loud hiccup. “I’m not even that drunk,” you added in a mumble.

Jake raised a brow at you, holding back a smile. “I’m sorry baby,” he lifted your hands what were holding his shirt and kissed your knuckles, “You’ve had too much. Tomorrow.”

You perked up at the promise of a reschedule, “You promise?” you asked eagerly.

“Of course, ‘s long as you still want it.”

“I will!” you chirped, making him smile.

“So, birthday girl,” he started, patting your legs, “What was the drink of choice tonight?”

“Hmmm let me remem-“ you were interrupted by another hiccup, but were too lost in your memories to even notice. “Oh! Strawberry da-da... darters?” you slurred the word, forgetting its name completely and trying your best to remember what it was called.

“Strawberry daiquiri?” Jake clarified, an amused smile on his face.

“Yes, that’s the one,” you confirmed. “Wa’sooo yummy.”

Jake hummed, “Sounds amazing, Baby, and you had… seven of those?” he asked in amusement.

You mumbled out an incoherent version of ‘I don’t know’, before collapsing onto Jakes body, snuggling into his warmth.

“Jakey you’re the best,” you slurred and you felt his chest vibrate beneath you.

He slid his flat palm up and down your back soothingly, “Alright Baby, I think it’s time we go to bed.”

Your head shot up, and the world spun violently in return, “Noo, I’m not ready.”

“I’ll help you get ready, sweet girl,” he offered, stroking away the hairs that had stuck to your face in sweat, a familiar motion that reminded him of playing live.

“Oh my God Jakey, I just re- remem- rememembered. How many ‘embers’ is is remem..” you trailed off in thought, and Jake giggled at your lack of coherency.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You need to call Josh. It’s urgent, I promise,” you warned, holding your pinky out to him, but accidentally poked him in the cheek in the process, “Oops sorry,” you giggled, stroking the poked skin with your thumb.

Jake watched you curiously, unable to follow your thought processes or rationality, “Why what’s happened, Baby?”

“It doesn’t matter just get your phone out it’s urgent! Josh need’a hear this,” you warned, and Jake began to wonder if something was seriously wrong.

He lifted his hips and fished his phone from his back pocket, quickly swiping through to get Josh’s contact up. He raised a brow at you before he hit ‘call’.

You repositioned yourself on his lap eagerly, needy to get the information out.

The phone rang a couple of times before Josh finally picked up.

“Hey Jake what’s up?” he asked.

“Joshy! It’s meee,” you sang happily.

Josh hesistated for a moment, clearly surprised that you were on the other end of the call instead of Jake, and by the clear levels of intoxication in your voice.

“Heyyy… is Jake there?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m right here Josh. She said she has something she really, really needs to tell you,” Jake said with amusement.

“Oh? And what’s that?” Josh asked, a playful tone lacing his words.

“Okay, okay. So get this,” you began laughing before you had even told the story. “When I-” you hiccuped. “When I went on the dance floor they played the song, you know the song we wanted to find out, the song and the singer, we didn’t know,” you tried your hardest to explain, struggling to structure your sentences properly.

Josh hummed, “I’m not sure I know which one you’re talking about…”

“Come on!! The song with the-“ you cut yourself off as you began to sing what you remembered as the melody.

Jake giggled and you heard Josh laugh on the other end of the phone.

“Oh yes! I remember now,” Josh said, and you were too intoxicated to recognise his sarcasm.

“Yes! Well it’s by… oh no I forgot again. His name started with a B though I think. Wait! No, it started with a M.”

Jake was trying his hardest to hold his laugh back, not wanting to discourage your happiness, but feeling absolute joy at seeing the love of his life finally letting your hair down.

You laughed, “Hah, oh well, I’ll remember another time.” You snuggled back onto Jakes chest, falling into a place of near unconsciousness as Jake and Josh spoke.

“Alright, see you later,” Jake said into the phone after a bit of conversation, making you jump up once again.

“Wait!” you exclaimed, feeling the sudden urge to let Josh know of the appreciation you felt towards him. Who knew what would happen between this moment and tomorrow?

“Josh you’re such a good brother and, and such a good friend, and I'm so grateful for- for... everything, and…” you trailed off, struggling to keep your composure, your voice wobbling in emotion.

“Never knew she would be such a sappy drunk,” Josh commented, speaking mostly to Jake, who agreed. "But thank you beautiful, you are the bestest friend that I could have.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes at his words , “You really mean that?”

“Jesus Josh, stop it she’s gonna start crying,” Jake warned with a laugh, stroking your hair.

You didn’t remember hearing them finish the call, and were startled when you found yourself standing with Jake’s arm around your waist, walking you to the bedroom.

You let him lead you inside, and bounced when he set you on the edge of the bed.

Exhaustion taking over, you flopped back onto the mattress, spreading your arms out beside you.

“I take it you’re not up for a shower tonight, my girl?” Jake asked, and you thought that you would probably faint if you were subjected to a shower.

“Noooo, I don’t want to shower. Pleaseee don’t make me,” you begged, staring up at the ceiling. Everything was spinning.

“It’s okay Baby, I’m not making you do anything,” he reassured. Jake came back over to you at the bed, setting a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt beside you to wear.

You craned your neck up to watch him as he kneeled before you, taking the delicate zipper of your bag and fishing through it for your phone.

Heat travelled up your neck at the sight of him, on his knees and focused, using his fingers to sort through your things. Guitar fingers.

Jake chuckled when you flexed and curled your toes beside his head, needy for attention.

“Okay Baby, up you get. Can you take your dress off on your own, or do you need me to help you?” he asked, taking your hands and pulling you to sit upright on the bed. The change in direction made your head spin, and your stomach tightened sickeningly.

You clenched your teeth, staring at the floor to try to regain your bearings, willing the feeling of nausea away, but Jake recognised the look on your face immediately. He had seen it too many times on his brothers faces over the years, and was quick to pull you to your feet.

With one hand in your back and the other on your arm, Jake rushed you to the bathroom that was luckily connected to your bedroom, muttering 'go, go, go, go,' under his breath. You practically collapsed onto the tiled floor in a daze.

Jakes hand flew to your forehead as you nearly smacked it against the toilet seat, "Careful, honey." His hand shot out of the way when you gagged into the toilet bowl.

You braced your hands on the sides of the toilet seat, dizziness making it look as if the toilet was spinning in nauseating circles.

“Jake…” you groaned, “I don’t feel good anymore.”

Jake raked his fingers through your hair, gathering it away from your face and holding it all in one grasp.

“I know, my love,” he soothed. He leaned over to the bathroom counter, fingers searching blindly for a hair tie that he knew you would have left there, listening to your heavy breathing and groans.

Just as he grabbed the hair tie, you retched hard, throwing up the contents of your stomach into the toilet. Like anyone else, you typically hated throwing up, but there was something different about being sick like this.

Maybe it was because you were too drunk to fully comprehend what was happening, but although you’d rather be doing anything else, it felt relieving to rid your stomach of the poison.

Still, you groaned at the burn in your throat.

Jake wrapped the hair tie around your gathered hair, and then reoccupied his hands to hold you steady, one hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and the other supporting your balance.

You gagged, and it was soon followed by another disgusting surge of vomit.

You groaned in discomfort. “I’m sorry I'm such a mess,” you apologised, tears springing at your eyes as you threw up again.

“Shhh,” he cooed, “It’s okay Baby, just let it all out.”

Jake sat with you through it all, slightly alarmed at the amount of liquid you threw up, and he wondered if you'd drank more than just seven drinks.

You groaned again, exhaustion taking over your body like a heavy blanket.

“‘M so tired Jakey. I feel like-” you hiccuped, “like shit.”

Jake frowned at your words, and soothed you as you threw up again. He whispered words of comfort into your ears, encouraging you to throw up as much as you could before you retired to bed.

“I wanna be sober,” you complained, slurring deliriously. You looked up at Jake’s face and frowned when it spun. Jake flushed the toilet, and stroked back the stray hairs that had fallen from your pony tail.

“I know baby, you will be, soon,” he continued soothingly stroking your back. “Think you can be sick just one more time? The more you get out now the better you’ll feel tomorrow morning,” he advised.

You turned back to the toilet and let yourself be sick again.

"Thats it, good girl," he cooed. As you retracted from the toilet, Jake had a wet cloth and wiped the sides of your mouth with it. You were too drunk to feel embarrassed.

Your hands had began to tremble, and Jake knew it was time for you to get to bed. He undid the messy pony tail he had made for you, and re-tied it into a bun, the same type that he did for himself when he needed it out of his face.

Jake got up to take your pink toothbrush from the pot, smiling at its positioning next to his own, and squirted toothpaste on it before running it under the tap.

He then came back down to your level, crouching in front of you and putting the brush into your mouth.

“Brush your teeth Baby, I’m going to get you some water,” he instructed, leaving you on the floor, dizzy and tired.

When Jake returned with a glass of water and two pills for you to take in the morning, he found you on the floor just as he left you, the toothbrush hanging limp in your mouth as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“Alright, I guess I’ll have to do this then,” he said bemusedly with a small smile. “You doing okay, Baby?” he asked as he gently brushed your teeth, careful not to go too far back in your mouth to avoid you gagging again.

You shook your head, and felt a line of toothpaste dribble out of your mouth and down to your chin.

Jake quickly wiped it away with the damp cloth that you had no idea he was holding and you nuzzled into his hand that was keeping your jaw steady while he brushed your teeth.

Once he was done, he helped you stand, supporting you under your arms, and pointing you towards the sink. You spat out the toothpaste, and lazily drank from the running tap, swishing the water around your mouth and spitting that into the sink too.

Jake took you back into the bedroom, and told you to stand as he walked behind you, fingers untying the lace of your dress.

He delicately pulled the straps down your arms, and the dress dropped to the floor, pooling at your feet. You shivered at the chill of the room that crept over your exposed skin as you were left in only your bra and panties.

"Bra on or off?" Jake asked, picking up the t-shirt he had picked out for you to sleep in. You recognised it as your favourite one of his.

"Off."

Jake unclasped your bra and it joined your dress on the floor.

"Arms up," he instructed, and you lifted your arms for him to drop the shirt over your naked body.

You began to tire even more, now that you were out of your uncomfortable bra and dress, and nearly collapsed when Jake pulled your panties down to the floor, helping you step out of them and into his boxers.

Finally, you were able to drag your feet to the bed, still feeling the heavy effects of intoxication as your limbs stumbled, and mind struggled to remember what had caused you to be in such a state.

Jake lifted the duvet covers and helped you into bed, though you flopped in with very little grace or care. He watched you and laughed, while he stripped from his clothes, only staying in his boxers to sleep, like usual. He crawled into the empty space beside you and switched off his beside light, leaving the two of you cloaked in complete darkness.

"Jake," you whispered, reaching for his warmth in the darkness.

"Right here, Baby," he assured, his body becoming known to your hands as he shuffled closer to you in the bed.

"I love you so much," you said, grabbing the first part of his body that you could find, which happened to be his arm and kissed it. "When we-" you hiccuped, "when we are awake, what- what will be the breakfast?" you asked, slurring, and tripping over your words.

"We can have whatever you want for breakfast, sweet girl," he reassured, pulling your body closer to his, and you became very aware of his bare chest against your face.

Puckering your lips, you began to kiss his chest, feeling desire return to your body. You wrapped a leg over his hip haphazardly, kissing up his chest to his neck, while your hands came to hold the sides of his ribs.

"Baby," he warned, as your kisses grew nearer and nearer to his face. You hummed questioningly in response, continuing your movements.

He cradled your cheek gently, lifting it from his neck and looked into your eyes earnestly, though you could't quite see through the darkness and spinning in the room.

He kissed your lips gently, but parted them too quickly for your liking, and you whined, pulling your body closer to his again.

"Baby, no. We aren't doing this tonight," he spoke gently, the sound of him whispering only heightening your desire.

"Please," you begged, and he shook his head.

"Tomorrow, remember?" he reminded, bringing his pinky up and linking it with yours. An empty promise, he thought, as he knew you would be feeling much worse tomorrow than you were now.

"Okay, tomorrow," you whispered, content to just be with him in those moments.

Jake lay beside you in a state of adoration. He realised, that apart from the times you had been sick, you never let him care for you. You were an independent person, and being able to look after you in a state of intoxication had made him realise that the amount of love he had for you was almost frightening.

He sighed deeply at the feeling of comfort he felt with you enveloped between his arms.

"Goodnight, my sweet girl," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Mmfph,” you replied, and Jake chuckled, bringing you closer into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your body as you both drifted into a sleep of comfort and love.

[mushyblushyredhead]

Cure For a Bad Day—MCU

No thots. Just a silly fluffy Irondad thought I had to turn into a story. :3 If you don’t like, don’t read. But if you’re here for Irondad fluff or just fluffy Marvel tickles, then come on in! OvO

Word Count: 5,000

Summary: After a rough week of school mishaps, Peter starts to doubt his future at being a good student and even being Spider-Man. It’s up to Tony Stark to remind Peter he’s still worth it, and bring back his mentor’s favorite smile. (This is a tickle fic duh, purely platonic)

Lee! Peter

Ler! Tony

If there was one thing Peter Parker was good at, was multitasking. How many other teens could juggle the responsibilities of high school while fighting crime almost every night in the not-so-friendly-neighborhood, and still manage to finish their homework on time for the next day?

Somehow he was able to do both.

But like any other student, he had his challenges. Like today, for example. Peter was in the middle of trying to finish a lab report essay for chemistry class. He was pretty stressed out, as he hadn’t had so much time to work on it for the past three weeks stopping midnight crimes and shenanigans almost four nights a week.

Now, here he was, hunched over at his desk, typing away at his laptop attempting to finish his lab report that was due tomorrow. He was mid-paragraph, stuck on page three out of the required five.

Normally, Peter would rack his science loving brain and throw something together quick, but tonight was different. He was having trouble figuring out more words and what to say in the report.

His eyes were starting to hurt from staring at his computer screen so long. His spine ached from being hunched over like a shrimp in his chair for hours. And his stomach growled; he had skipped dinner and was insistent with himself that he could have time to eat after he got his report done.

He looked at his bedside clock. 10:37pm. Oh come on! I’ll have to go to bed soon and I’m not even close to being done.

Peter sighed. Sometimes, his full time job being Spider-Man could really put a dent into his student life.

There was a knock at his door. “Peter? You alright?” the soft voice of his Aunt asked.

“I’m okay, Aunt May,” Peter stifled a yawn. “Just finishing up homework.”

“You said you were finishing up two hours ago.”

“Well this time, I mean it. I am almost done.”

“Alright if I come in?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

The sight of her tired, stressed, hunched over nephew saddened May. “Oh, Peter, you’ve been at that science report of yours all afternoon. Why not call it a night and get some rest?”

“I can’t,” Peter’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. The blinking curser that sat there unmoving for hours seemed to mock him. “I have to finish this tonight. This thing is worth a lot of my grade this semester.”

“Hmm, okay how about this?” May offered. “I’ll let you knock off school tomorrow, and send a note to your teachers that you’re out sick. It’ll give you an extra day to finish your report.” Her lips ruled into a soft grin. “Maybe after that, you and I can head off to the mall and buy you some more of those Squishables things you secretly like.”

Normally, Peter would laugh and jokingly say what a bad influence she was letting him cut school like that. But tonight, he didn’t even crack a smile. “No thanks. I’ll get this done before I go to sleep. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Aunt May saw that tonight would be one of those nights where Peter wouldn’t budge out of his zombie induced state. So she decided to let him be. “Alright then,” she sighed. “Just please don’t stay up past midnight. I don’t want to get another phone call saying you slept through class and other kids decided to draw on your face.”

“Yeah, will do.”

And with that, she shut the door.

Peter rubbed his eyes with a sigh. “C’mon…c’mon…gotta finish. Ugh! Why can’t I finish?” The teen was just about to give up and call it quits when the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood out on end. His Spidey tingle was going off!

Despite feeling achy and sluggish, he quickly stood up and tore off his clothes, slipping into his Spider-Man costume. He pulled his mask over his face and was about to jump out the window when he stopped himself.

Aunt May might come back to check if I really did go to sleep. Dang it! Ok uhh…oh wait! That’ll work!

Peter grabbed some day old clothes off the floor and shoved them under his blanket, pushing them into a sort of Peter-shaped lump. Hopefully, if his aunt came to check on him she wouldn’t look too closely.

Grabbing his phone, he hopped off the windowsill and swung out into the night.

By the time Peter managed to sneak back into his room through the window, he was exhausted. He felt like he was about to pass out as soon as he stepped into his bedroom.

He flopped onto his bed, lifting his Spidey mask off his sweaty face. He didn’t have the energy to take off his costume just yet. He was so tired.

He had stopped a home break-in coordinated by three criminals. Normally, a crime like a break-in was child’s play to Peter. But after spending the whole week fighting off crime and running on four hours of sleep, and topped with the stress of his recent assignment, Spider-Man suddenly didn’t have the energy to do a lot of fighting tonight.

His web-shooting was uncoordinated, one punch nearly knocked him out, and he appeared to be wobbly when he landed.

Even the criminals seemed to noticed how he wasn’t putting much of a fight, and taunted him while having their weapons pointed at the sleepy hero.

Peter barely managed to stop those three criminals, and earned himself a bruise on his jaw and knee. So by the time the boy made it home, the clock read 1:55am.

Peter wanted to scream in frustration. Well there goes another sleepless night, he thought as he quietly stripped himself out of his Spidey suit and grabbed a T-shirt from his floor pile.

He cringed as his brain calculated the few hours of sleep he would be getting again.

The next day at school turned out to be so much worse. First, Peter was late to his first class due to him sleeping through his many alarms he set for that morning. Next, he ended up forgetting his lunch—and even emergency lunch money—from rushing to get ready earlier. And then, as if that wasn’t enough to put him in a bad mood, he completely forgot about his lab report.

His stomach churned as he heard the teacher announce for everyone to hand in their reports to the front.

“Peter?” The voice of his best friend made him whip around.

“What is it, Ned?”

“What’s up with you?” Ned asked in a hushed whisper. “You look like you haven’t slept in a month, and you’re acting way jittery than normal.” Ned’s eyes widened. “Is it the spider sense?! Is there danger somewhere right now? Do you need me to come up with an excuse so you can get out of here?”

Peter could barely register his friend’s overlapping questions. “No, Ned, I don’t need anything. And it’s not that. I just…” he sighed, burying his face into his sweater covered arms. “Trouble in the neighborhood late at night, and I completely forgot to finish my lab report.”

“What?!” Ned whisper-shouted. “Y’know normally I’d scold you like your aunt does, but you look like you’ve been through enough already.” He put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Need me to make up some excuse? Save your skin at least a little?”

Peter shook his head miserably. “No point. I’m screwed enough as is here. Total failure.”

“Are you su—“

Their conversation was interrupted by the teacher snapping at them. “Parker? Your report, please.”

Uneasiness filled Peter’s stomach again. It felt borderline nauseous. He slowly walked up to the front desk. “I uh…don’t really have it physically with me right now.” He pointed towards his lab table. “I-It’s on my laptop.”

“Trouble printing it out?” The teacher asked.

“Something like that.” Peter could feel his cheeks growing warm.

The teacher sighed with a head shake. “Well then if you email it to me in the next three minutes, I’ll still give you credit. But next time, Peter, make sure you are able to find a reliable printing source ahead of time when you’re printing your reports. Don’t just try to print them last minute, that’s when these incidents happen.”

“Yes, of course.” Peter swallowed dryly as he shuffled back to his table. His fingers trembled as he opened his laptop, the unfinished pages of his lab report staring back at him. It felt like a punch to the gut. Well…something is better than nothing, right?

After school, the poor exhausted teen wanted nothing more than to go home, face plant onto his bed, and hope his mattress would swallow him up.

He was surprised to see a text message from Happy on his phone screen. Meet at the Avenger’s facility right after school. Your ride is waiting for you out front. New missions are heading your way. :) -Happy

New mission? That perked Peter up a little. At least he could forget about school for the weekend. Sulking in his room would have to wait. Right now, he was curious as to what sort of new mission awaited him at the Avengers’ headquarters!

The car trip didn’t take so much time. It did, however, leave the boy to replay the events that had just happened prior. He slumped in his seat. Suddenly, a new mission with the Avengers didn’t seem to excite him anymore.

Why can’t I just be more responsible? Peter bitterly asked himself. The other Avengers are able to juggle their normal lives and jobs and still manage to fight bad guys all without breaking a sweat. Heck, even Mr. Stark can do it. So why can’t I? *sigh* Am I really that bad of a student? What’s my future going to look like if I can’t even make it through high school?

Ugh! Why is your entire self worth and future determined by one stupid grade?!

Upon arrival, Peter didn’t seem as starry-eyed or ecstatic anymore. At least, that was the noticeable vibe Tony Stark noticed with his young mentee. He, in fact, looked in bad shape. Dark rings circled under his eyes, he looked disheveled like he had been sleeping under a bridge the whole week, and he seemed very anxious. Not the typical anxious-excitement Peter normally projected whenever he heard any mention of a potential new mission.

Tony wrapped an arm around the silently depressed teen. “So how goes it, kid? Survived another week of school?”

Peter scoffed. “Just barely.”

“I hear ya. But hey, cheer up. It looks like a certain web-slinging hero will be tagging along on more serious world-saving missions with the rest of us. Now how’s that upgrade for your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?”

The boy merely shrugged. “I guess it could be good for my rep. So long as I don’t screw anything up again.”

“Hey, look. You just made a couple mistakes, underoos. It happens to all of us when we’re starting out as heroes. But this a fresh start; a chance to really show the others and the world that your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man protects more than just the neighborhood and supermarkets. He protects the world, too.” He gave Peter’s shoulder a shake.

“Okay,” Peter said with a small sigh. Oh how he wished he could get back to sulking in his room right about now.

Tony started to grow more worried about his mentee that afternoon. He assumed the kid had a bad day at school or was simply tired after a long week, but this seemed much worse.

Peter didn’t go on mini gush-rants about random things. He didn’t spit out any science jokes or puns. He didn’t even quote any old movies. Peter Parker always quoted his vintage iconic quips and lines. It was like his second vocabulary—first vocabulary being talking in only Star Wars lines.

Something was really wrong. And Stark was not going to wait around any longer to find out.

When Tony finally found Peter, he was sitting upside down from the corner of the ceiling, the hood of his sweater almost covering his face, earbuds in and mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

“Peter?”

Said teen took his earbuds out. His gaze softened when he met eyes with his mentor. “Oh, hey Mr. Stark. What brings you here?”

“That’s just what I want to ask you, kid. What are you doing up there by yourself?”

Peter shrugged. “Bored.”

“Bored?! In the freakin’ Avengers’ facility?”

“Well, sorry. Guess I’m just a little too tired today.”

He’s trying to avoid my question, Tony thought. “A better question would be, why have you been moping around since you got here? Happy even said that you were so quiet in the car ride here. No offense, kid, but you’re never the quiet type. Especially around Happy. So what gives?”

The boy averted his game. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Just tired like I said. Y’know, keeping the neighborhood safe almost every night really drains your energy.”

“Cut the charades, kid,” Tony said firmly. “I wanna know what’s up with you. I’ve known you long enough to know that even with your nighttime gig as Spider-Man, you somehow always have enough energy to set Happy’s blood pressure spiraling, and annoy the rest of the Avengers with your weird vine refreshes and those picture things you call memes.”

Peter averted his gaze. How could he tell his mentor and biggest idol all the crappy events that took place that week? It wasn’t like it was a serious topic. It was just his own failure to be responsible.

“I don’t know,” he answered quietly.”

“Hmm…let me guess. Trouble at school?”

Peter looked up.” Maybe?”

“Alright, give me names here. A description of the punk. Who’s organs do I have to obliterate?”

“What? No, no, no, it’s not like that, Mr. Stark,” Peter quickly objected. “It’s just…rough days at school is all. And my student life.”

“I see. Want to come down from there and talk about it? I’ll have Happy make us some hot chocolate.”

“Alright.”

The warm hot chocolate was very comforting. After the long harsh week of events, a hot comforting drink was just what Peter needed. And it helped ease the hesitance he had earlier so he was able to come clean about what had happened.

“Wow,” Tony said, finally breaking the silence. “It sounds like the week really treated you terribly.”

“Tell me about it.” Peter fixed his gaze on his cup.

“Hey, listen, kid. You just had a bad week. Things will get better. You gotta believe that.”

The teen hero frowned. “How do you know I won’t keep failing? I’ve been screwing up nonstop this entire week. And even when I try to do better, everything always turns out worse. It’s like the universe hates me because I’m Spider-Man.”

Before Tony could respond, Peter kept talking. “And its so dumb, too. This whole situation. I’m sitting here whining about something that could’ve been avoidable if I had been a more responsible student. There’s no one to blame but me. And look at you, Mr. Stark. If you were in my shoes, you wouldn’t be a failing student just because you’re Ironman. I just want to do better, but I don’t feel like I can. And I know the school system doesn’t believe I can either.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Tony protested. “You’re a brilliant kid, Peter. Yes, you’re going to hit roadblocks along the way with your full time gig as Spider-Man and as a full time student, but you’re going to be fine. You just need a little encouragement. When you’re out there saving the neighborhood and face-to-face with an enemy that makes you feel like it’s hopeless, I’ve noticed that you never back down. No matter how difficult it is. This right here isn’t any different.

And if the crappy school system that’s been putting too much pressure on their students and treating them like garbage doesn’t believe in you, I do. I believe you can do it, Peter. You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

Peter almost wanted to tear up at the words his mentor was telling him. Damn, he really was good at this inspirational uplifting speech thing. Maybe even better than Captain America.

He couldn’t stop the tears, though. He had been feeling so emotional this entire week and after hearing Tony freakin’ Stark rant about how he was worth it despite everything he was feeling, Peter really needed to let some tears out.

Seeing the boy’s eyes fill with tears made Tony panic. Had he made the kid feel worse with his words? “Oh god, are you alright? Did i go too far with that?”

Peter let out a breathy laugh. “No, no, you’re good.” He sniffed, and wiped his tears with his sweater sleeve. “Sorry I got emotional back there. Your uplifting speech just got me teary-eyed. Thanks, Mr. Stark. I guess I really needed to hear that.”

Tony gave the teen’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “Anytime, kiddo. Glad I could help. Now, I do want to help out with your school problem a little so you’re not feeling traumatized Monday morning.”

The boy tilted his head like a curious puppy. “Huh? What do you mean help out?”

“Well I sort of did a little research on what your next assignments for the week are going to be on for your classes. And I took the liberty to have FRIDAY complete next week’s assignments so you’ll have the entire week off to not worry about your homework.”

“You…wait, are you saying that you had FRIDAY hack into my teachers’ lesson plans and did all my homework for me?!”

Tony nodded, stirring his half drunk mug with a spoon. “Yup. Your homework’s done with all the right answers so it’ll guarantee to bring your grades back up to an A+.” He paused. “Well, an A- to make it seem like you did it.”

Peter didn’t know if he should feel grateful or disbelief. “I-I…thank you? I guess?”

Tony smirked. “What, that’s it? I do you a favor here so you can have the week off. You can have more time to focus on your web-slinging career, or use the extra time to take a nap in home room, or stare at girls more between classes.”

Peter blushed at that last comment. “Okay, fine. Thank you, Mr. Stark. I really appreciate it.” For the first time that week, Peter smiled. A genuine warm smile. Then his face melted to concern. “Wait…do you think that it’s cheating?”

“Uhh….nah,” Tony assured him with a wave of his hand. “Hey, as long as it gets you the grades you deserve. Besides, you aren’t even going to use 90% of the crap they teach you in school. You’re gonna forget it immediately anyways.”

Peter giggled, covering his mouth with his sleeve. “Oh my god, Mr. Stark. You’re just as a bad influence as May.”

“Good! Maybe you can learn something here about all the shortcuts and loopholes to high school.”

“There are noho loopholes or shortcuhuhuts to high school!”

“Hell yeah there are! How do you think I got to where I am today?” Tony gestured to himself. “You think all of this happened by being a full time student? No way. High school did nothing to help me be who I am today. All it did was give me anxiety, student debt, and unrealistic expectations on what I needed to thrive in the real world. Oh yeah, high school teaches you nothing on how to adult or pay your bills. But hey, at least they teach you that the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell, right?”

Peter could not stop his giggles anymore. His giggles turned to laughter, and even while trying to muffle them through his sleeves, Tony could see the corner of his smile and the blush that dusted his cheeks.

It was always so easy to make the kid laugh, and Tony always liked to take advantage of it every time.

“Y-You’re terrihihible, Mr. Stark!” Peter said through his bright laughter. “A bahahad influence! Y-You’re even worse thahahn Loki!”

“Excuuuuse me?!” Tony pretended to be offended. He sat up, scraping the chair back, which made Peter’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Wait, no!” Peter surprised Tony by flipping onto the ceiling. “Don’t—Don’t tickle me, Mr. Stark!” Peter had had enough recent experience knowing what that look meant every time Tony got up from his seat. Having his own mentor know of his one dreaded weakness—the fact that he was insanely ticklish—and using that to mess with him anytime he got depressed or a little too snarky always flustered him to bits.

Tony grinned up at the spider teen on the ceiling. “Huh? Tickle you? Now why on earth would I do that? Oh right, because your ticklishness got dialed up to eleven from the spider bite. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Peter’s blush darkened. “S-Stop saying that so casually! I now what you’re up to!”

“Hey, I’m not up to anything. And honestly, I wasn’t going to tickle you.” A sinister smirk spread across his mentor’s face. “But since that was the first thought that crossed your mind…”

Peter’s tummy did fluttery flip flops. “Oh c’mon!! Mr. Stark nohoho! Dohohon’t you dare!”

“Too late. FRIDAY, a little help?”

“Yep. On it.”

The poor flustered teen squealed in alarm as one of Tony’s Ironman suits came flying over to him, trying to pry him off the ceiling. It was surprisingly easy, as Peter was already too giggly and flustered to concentrate on his sticking to the ceiling.

With Peter off the ceiling, he was dumped ungracefully onto the floor in front of Tony where the Iron suit immediately grabbed and pinned the kid’s wrists above his head.

“What the—FRIDAY you traitohohor!” Peter squawked. He pulled on his wrists, internally pouting that his spider strength wasn’t working in that moment.

“Hey now, don’t you insult FRIDAY,” Tony playfully scolded with a poke to the boy’s stomach. Peter squeaked at the touch. “We’re just here to help you out. I know how rough it’s been with school lately, and I don’t want to lose my underoos just because of that. You’ve been real upset ever since you got here and I know you’ve been upset all week. So no more of that now. You should know the Avengers’ facility is a no-sadness zone!”

And with that said, Tony right away scribbled both hands into his kid’s belly, making Peter screech.

“EeeAAAHAAaahahaaa! HeHEHE—Heyyyy! No faHAHAhahair!” Peter thrashed and kicked, instinctively trying to pull his arms down to no avail. “Mr. Stahahark! Nohoho pleasHEEAheeheehease!”

“Sorry, no can do, kiddo,” Tony casually answered over his mentee’s squeaky laughter. “I haven’t seen my underoos’ favorite smile in forever so I’m making up for lost time!”

“B-But nohohot like tha—HAAAHA! Heheheyyy!” Peter arched his back as Tony’s fingers crept up to his ribs. His blush now spread to the tips of his ears. He was cursing internally at how his Spidey strength was suddenly no longer there as he was laughing like a maniac.

Any other intense situation, Spider-Man would be able to easily get himself out of, but this was different. The ticklish sensations buzzing throughout his nervous system plus all his laughing was sapping any strength he had left, including his spider strength.

As Tony let his fingers inch closer to the teen’s underarms, he was playfully shocked when Peter tried to bite him. He pulled his hands back with a gasp.

“Whoa! What the heck was that?! What are you, a biting tarantula now?”

“You were getting too close to my armpits!” Peter shot back.

“Ohhhh I see.” Tony flashed him an evil grin that reminded Peter of that creepy, murderous knife-hiding doll from that 80s movie that always came back from the dead. “That’s your death spot, isn’t it?”

Peter shifted uncomfortably, his blush darkening. “N-No..?”

“Wrong answer.”

“AAAAAAHHERRHWHRHFEAAHAAAAAHAAAHA!! No Mr. Stahahahark!! NAAAHAHAHAO!!” Peter squirmed like a fish out of water, his body instinctively trying to twist away from Tony’s evil scribbling fingers. But no matter which way he turned, it didn’t help much. Tony’s fingers seemed glued to his hollows.

“EEEEAAAAHEHEEHHAAAA!! M-MR STAHAHARK!! IT…IHIHIT REALLY TIHIHAHAHA TIHIHICKLES BAAAAHAHAHD!!”

“That’s the point, kiddo! It’s more—whoa! You are just extra kicky today, aren’t you? FRIDAY, a little help here?”

“NOOOHOHOHO!”

Tony and FRIDAY had switched places; FRIDAY grabbing ahold of Peter’s flailing legs while Tony grabbed the boy’s wrists in one hand. Even as the two switched places, Tony couldn’t help but notice how Peter wasn’t putting up a fight to get away. He could’ve easily gotten up and bolted the second they let go of his limbs, or curl up with his arms wrapped around his torso so they couldn’t bring his arms up anymore, but he just laid there with a silly smile and blushy cheeks. Almost as if he secretly wanted this to keep going.

Tony had to ask the billion dollar question. “Y’know Pete, despite all your complaints, you’re not even putting up a fight to stop me or FRIDAY. Could it be because…you actually like this? You like getting tickled?”

Peter fell silent. He looked anywhere but his mentor’s eyes. He opened his mouth to answer but all that came out was stutters and keyboard smashes.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Really? Look, I’m barely holding down your arms here and you’re not even trying to get away!” Peter’s face felt like was on fire now. “You know you can easily break out of my grip—even FRIDAY’s—and hightail it outta here, buuuut…I’m starting to think you don’t want to. Am I right or what?”

“I-I…” was all that came out of Peter’s mouth. Finally, he sighed and locked eyes with his mentor. His flustered, trembling lip suddenly curled into a crap-eating grin. With a defiant smirk, Peter stuck his tongue out. “Bite me, old man!”

Tony’s mouth formed a perfect O. Oh the kid was so asking for it! Recovering in a millisecond, Tony cracked his knuckled for dramatic effect. “That’s it! You’re finished, kid! You know I’m sensitive about my age!”

Peter actually had the nerve to stick his tongue out at him again.

Okay, so maybe truthfully he didn’t want this playful attack to cease. It was a great stress reliever after the rough week he endured. And if Peter wanted to dig a little deeper into it, while he was being tickled to pieces and screeching at frequencies only dogs should hear, he couldn’t think of all the bad things that had happened—his lab report incident, academic pressure, or even any general insecurities he had as Peter Parker and Spider-Man.

All he could think about in the heat of the moment was the playful ticklish feeling, the waves of dopamine, and the pure fun bonding vibe. So despite all the squealing and squirming, Peter was genuinely having fun. He’d be bummed if Tony stopped so soon. So he had to provoke his mentor some more to keep the fun going.

And that’s just what he did.

Oh, but if only FRIDAY hadn’t been traitorous enough to actually look up other sorts of tickling methods and suggest them to Tony to use against Peter.

“W-Wait! Wahahahit!! NonononoAAAAAAHAHAHEEHEHAHAAAA!! EEEEEHHAAAHAEHE!! THAT FEEHEEHEEHEELS AHAHA—AWFUFUFUL!! *snort* NAAAAAAHEHEAAHAAAAHAHAAA!!”

“Did you just snort, kid?!”

“N-Nohoho!! Shuhuhut uhuhup!! AAAAH! Waitwaitwait!! I tahahahake it baHAAAAAAHAHAAAAA!!”

Better hope that none of the Avengers nor his enemies finds out about Spider-Man’s adorable little weakness.

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Stuck storming Pt.2

Pairings: Weems x R (Platonic)

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: You and Weems are still stuck in Burlington. Your still sick, weems is in touch with her parental side.

TW: flooding, sickness (like flu symptoms), medicine

A/n Im slowly working my way through your requests :)

When she returned with the supplies, she looked over at you. You had drifted off to a fevered sleep and she was thankful she had locked the car when she left. She reached over and felt your check for signs of improvement concern only growing as she felt that your fever had risen in her absence.

Placing the goods in the backseat she turned the engine on and made her way back to the apartment.

She looked over at you and immediately felt bad. She couldn’t carry you and the things from the chemist so she would have to wake you up. She felt guilty for making you come with. After gently rousing you from your sleep she guided you back to the building under the safety of the umbrella.

After the two of you were back in the apartment, you beelined for the couch and curled up in a ball planning to go back to sleep asap.

However, weems had other plans. After fixing you a glass of apple juice she came over and crouched in front of you. You cracked open an eye and looked at her making her chuckle softly at your threatening expression.

“Darling take these and let me take your temperature then you can go back to sleep.” She reasoned and you grunted and sat up. She passed you the tablet and then the juice. Deciding not to give you the fever reducers just yet until she had a read on how hot you were. Depending on that she may give your body a chance to fight it on its own.

With a gentle hand she placed a finger on the underside of your chin and tilted your head to face her. She used her thumb to open your lips and slipped the thermometer inside. You were confused and the glaze in your eyes seemed thicker now than it had been in the car. Weems was only growing more worried.

She took the juice from where the cup was tilting dangerously in your loose grip and placed it on the coffee table. She waited and after a minute was rewarded by the beeping of the stick. You jolted slightly half asleep and forgetting it was there. The principal chucked despite her worry and took the plastic from your mouth. She looked at the little screen and frowned.

“I guess you're getting those fever reducers after all my darling girl.” She said and you nodded still seeming only distantly aware of what was going on around you.

The principal popped two white tablets from a blister packet and put them directly in your mouth before bringing the glass of juice to your lips and telling you to swallow. You did and she guided you back into a lying posting. Lifting your legs up onto the couch and propping you up and pillow. Once you were asleep, she went over to the dining table and pulled out her laptop, aiming to get some emails she knew she would have, sorted before you woke up again.

You slept fitfully for an hour, the fever dulling but still hot enough to make you have some questionable and mildly horrific dreams which had led to a lot of whimpering.

You were laid on the couch in the living room with the TV on a low volume. You whimpered again as you dreamt of fire and brimstone. Weems looked up from where she was answering emails from teachers at the dining table nearby. She glanced over your sweaty and pale form before another ding from her computer drew her attention again as a new email pinged into her inbox. Nothing too interesting, a couple requests for changes in lunch duties and two requests for sick days and an alert of a three-day absence to attend a family funeral, so she would need to organise a substitute. Apparently nevermore was safe from the flooding so that was a relief. Another whimper drew her attention again and she stood, trying to avoid her chair making noise as she stood.

She made her way to you and crouched down on the flood, sitting on her hunches beside where you laid your head against the pillows. Your face was screwed up either from the nightmare, fever or a mix of both Larissa couldn’t quite tell. The small crease in your brow looked tight. She gently wiped the sweaty curls from your forehead with her left hand gently holding the hair back, before bringing the back of her right palm up to your brow to gauge your fever. Your face was pale with a dark flush of fever over your cheeks. Under her hand your skin felt hot and clammy. Much hotter than it been before when she checked. Your fever reducers must have worn off and as she checked the time on her gold watch she sighed. Yes. They had worn off about fifteen minutes ago and it was time for another dose. Which had given your fever enough time to amp right up.

Flipping her hand over she used both to brush your hair back, smoothing it with tender gentle care she stood and went to fetch you a fresh glass of water, the medicine, a fresh cool cloth and the thermometer. She easily located the items from where she had left them earlier that day and quickly hurried back to your side.

Using the back of her hand she stroked your cheek and whispered softly to wake you up.

“Y/n/n, honey. Time to wake up sweet girl.” She said and you stirred, whining softly and shifting your position turning slightly away from her. Larissa chuckled and tried again.

“Y/n darling you need to wake up.” She said still softly, her hand cupping your cheek and her thumb running soothingly over your cheekbone. This time your eyes fluttered open. And Larissa cooed softly.

“Oh darling.” She said sympathetically when she saw your eyes were glazed and glassy, looking around sluggishly evidently confused. You clumsily tried to sit up but Larissa gently pressed her hand flat against your chest.

“Sh sh shhh. Its ok. Stay lying down darling. Let me help you. Slowly does it.” She said, her hands under your armpits to guide you gently into a sitting position without hurting yourself. You were limp and let her manhandle you into a better position.

When you were finally propped up against the pillows on the couch Larissa smiled softly at you.

“How are you feeling Y/n?” She asked and you smiled lopsidedly still half asleep. Merely humming a response. She chuckled softly.

“That good huh?” And you hummed again still giving her nothing useful to work with. She leaned down to pull the wet cloth from the bowl of water, not taking her eyes off you as she wrung it out.

Your eyes were drooping as she ran the cloth over your face and arms to cool you down. Occasionally dipping it back into the cold water and ridding the excess water. You made small noises when the cloth came into contact with your feverish skin which made Larissa smiled softly. You were adorable even when sick. She had quickly developed a soft spot for you in her heart.

Once the cloth rested on your forehead, she pulled out the thermometer from behind her on the coffee table. You thought it was impressive in heels, however if you had been more lucid you would have noticed she wasn’t wearing her usual heels but fluffy socks. She tapped your cheek, and you opened your mouth obediently.

“Good girl.” She smiled and you beamed from behind the thermometer she had slipped in your mouth.

She moved to sit beside you and started flicking through Netflix now your show had ended. She moved to put on another studio Ghibli film, my neighbour Totoro this time. You smiled at the choice.

You jumped slightly when the stick you had forgotten about beeped and Larissa chuckled softly and rubbed your arm.

“Alright sweet girl let's take a look.” She said and slowly removed it. She frowned slightly.

“101.3” she turned to you, seeing your sad expression as you fed off her energy. “But that’s ok we can fix that.” She said with a soft smile. You nodded and she reached for the glass beside you on the table.

She helped guide the glass to your lips encouraging you to take small sips. She gave you the medicine and fluffed the pillows a bit. Gently she guided you back into them for more rest. Your eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and you smiled sleepily.

After a bit she moved from beside you and went back to the dining table. Slowly slipping back into her work she settled back into the rhythm listening to your soft breathing. Every once in a while, she would pause to hazard a glance in your direction to check on you. More than twice, she gauged your temperature again with the back of her hand and made note of its lowering intensity. At one point she had replaced a wet cloth on your forehead which now sat limp and dejectedly on the floor having fallen from it spot on your head whilst you rolled around in a fevered haze.

After about an hour your fever broke, and Larissa was glad that that was over. You were still sick but on the upswing of it all and it was now late evening after she left you to sleep though lunch.

After an amazing dinner that Larissa hand fed you despite your half-attempted excuses and failed tries to feed yourself with shaking hands. After diner she tucked you into a real bed this time and the rain was slowing outside. It would likely be another day before the roads cleared and the principal was sure you would be ok by then. But to be honest it felt good to be cared for instead of isolated when you were this sick. Maybe the principal wasn’t as uptight and professional as she seemed. After all she had provided you with a fresh band t-shirt after your fever broke and you had sweat through the last one. Imagine dragons this time. Cute.

MASTERLIST

[fandomtherapy44]

Sober buddies Chapter two: Email chains and party facts

Summary: Y/n is new at college and trying to find a footing in everything. When she meets a guy who introduces her to something that could really help find her path.

warnings: Swearing, Alluding to SA, Y/n getting hurt

WC/ 3.029k

AN/ Hey Ya'll welcome to my series I'm so excited to make this series. So it will use some plot lines from season six but a lot will change including CJ but his key character notes will still be there. Without further ado enjoy Sober buddies.

I got the divider from

Firefly Graphics

Friends…I haven’t had one in a while. Jack, Jen, Joey, Pacey, even Audrey, and I had become quick ones. I just hope I won't mess up these friendships too. Joey was going through the ringer right now. I know how it feels. She and Dawson always seemed to have something pulling them apart from what I've been told about their previous years as friends.

I went out to get some coffee and doughnuts hoping that would cheer her up. “Hi, can I please get three americanos and some chocolate glazed doughnuts?” I told the underpaid employee. 

“Yeah, sure.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out a twenty, and handed it to her. Her face lit up. “Thank you!” 

“No problem. Thank you, and have a great day!” I was mostly focused on the coffee and food that I almost ran into with my sober buddy. “Hey CJ, what’s up?” He looked down at the close mess in my hands. 

“Coffee, it looks like it needs some help?” 

“Oh my gosh yes please!” I handed him the coffee. 

“Where we heading?” 

“My dorm,” I happily replied. We walked and the morning air was still a little crisp and the sunlight was hitting the trees to make pretty shadows on the sidewalk. 

“So, are you excited to start training?” CJ asked me as I was a little distracted by the lighting. 

“Yes I am, it's also going to be good to be away from Audrey and all her dramatic flair. I mean, she’s great but it's like looking through a mirror sometimes.” 

“What do you mean by that?” CJ asked and I realized what I said and tried to backpedal. 

“Uh, you know, girls being girls.” Ok, that was not a very good response. “So who’s training me?” I try to distract both of us. It works. 

“Me.” I stop in my step. 

“That’s awesome!” I excitedly say. 

“You get happy easily, don’t you?” CJ half commented and half asked me with a chuckle. 

“Is that a bad thing?” I hope it wasn’t- it’s kind of what I’m betting on I thought. 

“No no, it’s kind of refreshing.” We had already arrived at my dorm. I stopped to look at him and to think about his response- no one had said that to me before. I looked around and it seemed, for just a second, time stood still. 

“Well, thanks for the help and I’ll see you tomorrow,  ok!” I grabbed the coffee and went into the room, pushing him out. 

“You’re wel-” I closed the door. It was getting a little too… real.

The sight I walked into was sad. Joey was hunched over her laptop, agonizing over this email to Dawson that she hadn’t even sent. I put down the drinks and food, walked over and turned off her computer. 

“Wha- Y/N!” Joey whipped around. 

“Joey, you have been staring at that screen for two hours, the entire time I’ve been gone, and you still have only ‘Dear Dawson’ written. You need a break.” I picked up her doughnut and coffee and handed them to her in her baffling state. “Which is why I got you these.” She breathes in deeply. 

“You’re right, thank you Y/N.” 

I sit down on my bed and turn to Joey. “So, now you have caffeine and food. You want to tell me why you haven’t sent the email yet?” I finished by sipping my coffee. Joey sighs looking into her cup almost wishing she could drown in it. 

“I’m stuck.” 

“Why?” She gets up and starts to pace back and forth. 

“Because of the way we left things were so awkward and I just wanted to scream and hug him at the same time.” I patted the seat next to me and she sat down. 

“It sounds like you know what to say.” Joey looks puzzled. “Joey, Dawson is one of your best friends. Whatever is in that email, at least you have gotten it out. I'm sure he’s stressing out over a similar email to you.” She seems unsure. “You can always blame me if it goes wrong.” I joked as I bumped her. She smiled at that. 

“Thank you Y/N, you’re a pretty great friend.” 

“You are too, Joey.”

That night as I was closing my eyes, my mind was active. My life is going pretty great! I have friends that like me, a job I help people with, a guy that is-

“Y/N WAKE UP!” 

I screamed as I tumbled out of bed causing Audrey to wake up too. “WHAT IS IT? EARTHQUAKE- A FIRE?!” I responded as I was half asleep and panicked disorderly grabbing my robe. 

It was Joey who screamed at me. “No, nothing like that!” I paused to look at her. 

“Then why the Hell the military wake-up call!?” Her face was red from being embarrassed. 

“I sent the email to the whole school!” My eyes went wide as Audrey replied. 

“Well, why did you do that, sweetie?” 

“Audrey! Not helping!” I told her over my shoulder. She grubbles and falls back down with a flop. 

“I don’t know what to do!” She sat down throwing her hands in her face. 

“Okay, this is what we do: we ignore it.” She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. 

“Y/N! What do you mean, ignore it!?” 

“Well, it’s not like everyone knows you so maybe you can get away with it?” I tried to help but honestly, she would just have to face the music.

Thankfully I hadn’t heard about the email, but to be fair, I hadn’t been in a lot of classes. I walked into The Stand building and saw CJ sitting on a desk looking over some papers. He was so focused on it that he didn’t see me enter. 

“What are we looking at?” I slide right next to him. 

“Y/N! You startled me.” He put his hand over his chest as if I caused a heart attack. 

“Sorry, I thought you saw me.” 

“It’s okay. I’m looking over a few practice questions to ask you.” 

“Great, I’m ready!” He smiles at my enthusiasm and sits down in the chair. 

“Okay, question number one….” 

It had been about an hour into our session ten questions in and I had been nailing all of them. “Wow Y/n you’re a natural at this,” CJ exclaimed. 

“Really?” He nods his head agreeably. 

“You will be answering phones in no time.” I blush and try to hide by turning my head down when my ears peak an interesting conversion. 

“CJ- give me one sec, okay.” I didn’t even let him answer before I overheard another conversation and listened in. 

“I mean, did you see that email? It’s so pathetic.” A redheaded girl was sitting on a desk laughing at her boy-toy whose eyes were going right up her skirt. 

“Yeah, it’s so pathetic haha,” He mindlessly responded. Of course, he didn’t have an original thought. The only thought he did have was what was below the waistline. “I mean who writes about sex like that.” She laughed again and this time her laugh really irritated my ears. 

“Hey guys!” I walked over to them, taking a friendly approach- maybe I could go about this peacefully. The redheaded girl looked me up and down and scoffed. 

“What the fuck do you want loser?” My eyes widened at that and CJ turned his head to hear that. 

“Linsey!” Even the boy-toy was surprised at her response. CJ walks over quickly ready to defend me. 

“CJ- it’s okay, I got this,” I said to him making sure that he didn’t get too mad. He steps back but is disgruntled. I turn back to Linsey. 

“It was Linsey, right?” She gets up off the desk and in front of me. 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” 

“Well, I’m just wondering why you’re making fun of a girl that you don't even know when you’re working at a helpline. Seems kind of hypocritical, don't you think?” Lindsey is left speechless and her face turns beat red. 

“I- You-” She stomps out. “Ryan let’s go!” She yelled after him. 

“So, you doing anything after this?” The guy tried so smoothly to ask me. 

“RYAN! LET’S GO!” She yelled after him. 

“I think your owner is calling for you,” I responded and his F-boy smile disappeared. 

“Whatever bitch, you could have had all this.” I now scoff at him. 

“Yeah, if all it takes for you to stay is an open invitation to someone’s legs who makes fun of strangers like that, then I think I’m good.” I nod at him. He goes running after Linsey. “Sorry CJ about that, what was the next question?” I walked back over to him and he was just staring at me. “What is it?” 

He shakes his head, “Nothing, you just seem to surprise me every time we meet, Y/N.” He finishes with a smile. 

“Well, I have to keep you on your toes somehow.” We just laughed at my joke and I’m left with this feeling of…comfort that I hadn’t felt in a while. It's nice.

A couple of days have passed, and luckily the email talk died down a little. I didn't tell Joey about Linsey because it would have just made things worse for her. I was studying when Audrey came running into the room. 

“Y/N what are you doing?” I looked at the book and then back at her we really needed to work on context clues. 

“Studying, Audrey, which you should be doing too. We have a test next week.” She comes right next to me. 

“Y/N, all you do is study.” 

“Not true… I eat too.” I chuckled at my own joke Audrey did not. 

“It is the biggest party of the year! You’re coming!” Before I have time to reject she grabs my book and locks it in her chore.

“Audrey!” 

“You will get it back at the end of the night.” She saw my disappointed downfall look and got to my level. “You need some fun, Y/N, you are twenty-two; the books will be there tomorrow, but tonight will not.” I thought about it, Audrey was right. I needed to let loose- hopefully the loud music and friends would help that. 

“Okay, I’ll go.” Audrey claps in happiness.

“You’re not going to wear that are you?” I look down at my simple outfit. 

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing- nothing, you look great!” Audrey responds in a not-so-sure voice.

We had gone into a bar to meet up with Jack and Jen. “Hey guys.”

“Hey.” Audrey goes to call Pacey while the three of us chat. Suddenly, Audrey comes back to us with a sad face. 

“I think I’m going to go home guys.” Jen and I both look at each other as if to say: really. 

“Audrey, the whole reason I came out was because of you.” I took her hand in mine and gave her a small smile. 

“Pacey can’t come out.” I now understood the change-up from her party mood, things between Pacey and Audrey have been strained to say at least. 

“I’m sorry, but we can still have fun, isn’t that right guys?” I called out to Jack and Jen. Jen grabs Audrey’s other hand. 

“Yeah, I want to forget my troubles like a typical college girl, dance on tables screaming ‘Whoo whoo’ and it will be all for nothing if I don't get reminded of it in ten years by you.” She gripped Audrey’s hand. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me.” I jump in excitement. 

“Yes! Okay, all hands in!” We all put our hands in. “1,2,3!” Our hands fly up in the air of the promise of a fun night.

The four of us were just walking to the party when I realized that I didn’t know where the party was. “Uh, guys, do we even know where the party is?” I asked out loud to the three of them. They all shrug their shoulders. “So we are just wandering around.” I laughed at the situation as we crossed the street. 

“Ohh…ohh! I think I know where the party is, I think it’s in that house down the alley next to that free food bin store.” I was puzzled by that. 

“Audrey, that's a grocery store. You are supposed to put the food in the little baggies and pay for them.” 

“Really?” She questioned when she was walking backward and then ran into someone. “Pacey?” 

The party was what you think a college party is, loud, bright, and dark somehow at the same time filled with tons of drunk people. Audrey was going on about how Pacey was not contributing anything to their relationship lately, especially tonight. 

“I’m sorry guys, we are supposed to be having fun tonight and I just keep on going.” I get up and put my hand on her shoulder. 

“It’s okay, I’ll get you some water.” She was already a little tipsy. I didn't want her to get worse. I knew it could, very easily, from my own experience.

“I’ll come too.” Jen got up and caught up with me. 

The bar was tiny and was half-assed by the frat boys that lived here. Lots of people were crowded around it of course. 

“Hi, can I get a beer,” Jen ordered for herself. 

“Water for me please,” I ordered. We turn and Jen comes in chest-to-chest with CJ, spilling her beer all over him. 

“Oh, my God. Look what l did.” she starts trying to rub it out. I give him a little wave and he nods back. 

“That's okay. it was my fault, really.” 

“Oh, no, jeez. You don't even– l mean, you're-- You don't even drink. Like Y/N. And I’m sure it's cold and smelly, and I’m touching you…and I’m gonna stop.” She pauses and just stands there for a second. “Hi. Okay. You caught me. I’m drunk. Yep, I’m a drunkard. Escaping reality. That's me. But you know what? This is a party… and at parties, people drink. And maybe that bothers you. Maybe you think it's weak. But you shouldn't go to a party where there's gonna be drunk people because that's what's gonna happen. Drinking. It’s just a party fact.” I wonder if she really thinks I think less of her because she drinks. 

“You think I’m the lamest person on the earth, don't you?” CJ countered.

“No. No. Not at all. I’m sure you're, like, tons of fun.” She bit back sarcastically. 

“Okay Jen, I think you need this water more than I do. Why don’t you go back to Audrey to check on her?” She grabs the water and walks back to our friends.

“I’m sorry CJ, that was my first time seeing her drunk as well.” I look at his shirt. “I know a trick to get that out.” I pointed at the beer. 

“That would be great.” We go to the bathroom. I open the cabinet and look for some hydrogen peroxide. 

“Um, can you take off your shirt?”  

“Sure.” He pulls it off so easily. I grab it and pour water and hydrogen peroxide on it. 

“So now we just wait thirty minutes and when you wash it the stain shouldn’t be there.” 

“Thanks.” 

“No problem. I just realized that this is the first party where we can use the sober buddy system,” I said. He gives me a smirk and grabs my cup giving it a sniff and a sip. 

“Yep, just like I thought- you’re good.” The silence was long but comfortable. “So how long have you been sober for?” He asked me. 

“For about two years, you?” He looks down into my cup. 

“Four years.” 

“Four years- wow, that is amazing! I can’t wait to get there.” He grabs my hand in silence. 

“You will.”

We had left the bathroom walking when I saw Jen arguing with someone on the steps upstairs. “Jen, what’s going on?” I ask with concern CJ right behind me. 

“This guy took Audrey upstairs and she’s about to pass out.” Adrenaline mixed with worry flooded my veins. 

“Move,” I said to the guy blocking us.

“Look, my friend is good, you don’t have to worry.” I’m about to pull out my inner Batman. 

“Then it won’t be a problem that we go check.” CJ shoved the guy aside. Jen and I practically run upstairs. Luckily the room was open. “Audrey let’s go.” I gently grabbed her hand and Jen took the other. At this moment, the promise that we would have fun tonight was broken.

“Hey let go!” The guy shoved me back into the wall to grab back onto Audrey. 

“Y/N!” Before he can do more CJ grabs him by the collar. 

“You want to try that again!?” The guy throws his arms up in truce CJ throws him on the bed. 

“You okay?” He helped me up. I nod trying to swallow my tears. 

“Let’s go.”

Unlike the earlier comfortable walk with CJ, this walk back to my dorm was filled with melancholic silence. Jen had gone to her grandma’s house but not before checking on me. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“I am, I'll call you tomorrow.” We hug.

I put Audrey in her bed and she fell asleep instantly. I get a glass of water and aspirin to put on her side table. I step outside the room to breathe and process and CJ is there. “Hey, you stayed.” I walk over to sit next to him. 

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” I wanted to hug him but I didn’t. 

“Thank you but I’ll be fine. About what happened tonight- I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I wasn’t there.” He puts his hand on my knee squeezing it. 

“Well, you were there, and again, you are a great friend.” I smile at that. 

“And thank you for your help.” 

“What kind of friend or sober buddy would I be if I didn’t?” I finally recognize that feeling I’ve been having: it’s of a true friend. 

[lady-squid]

Not As Important

Summary:

Donnie could hear his brothers up and getting ready for the day. Mikey making breakfast on the stove, Raph laughing and talking with him, and Leo skateboarding. All having just risen from a full night's rest. But not him.

Words:2,497

The dark blue shades of night started to turn lighter as morning crept over New York. People walked along the sidewalks chatting, laughing, and going to work. Cars honk as angry drivers are stuck in traffic, late to their endeavors. The city that never sleeps, the saying didn’t just apply to the humans of New York, however. In the city's sewers, three turtles still slept peacefully. All but one. The purple teen sat in his lab, hunched over his invention, illuminated by the blues and purples of machinery. His latest work on the desk, pieces, and wires scattered across the table as he inspected them with his high-tech goggles. He’s frustrated and tired. This was supposed to be an easy fix. There were only a few bugs he needed to work out. But he can’t even do that right. Groaning in frustration he drops a microchip in favor of holding his head, elbows resting on his desk. Why couldn’t he just fix the dam thing?

It was working when he first tested it, he doesn’t know what went wrong. What he did wrong. The mutant could feel tears of frustration brimming in his eyes, threatening to fall. No, no he isn’t going to cry, he’s being ridiculous. Sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes Donnie almost knocks off one of the many empty cups of coffee on his desk. He can’t sleep. Not till he figures this out. Attempting and failing to take a deep breath to calm himself he is about to try again when he hears Mikey and Raph talking in the kitchen. “Wha- What are they doing up?” Donnie asks no one, his speech slurred and voice hoarse from exhaustion. Looking at his computer for answers his confusion only turns to even more frustration. Seven in the morning. This was supposed to be a simple fix, not an all-nighter. God, he had one job. He couldn’t even manage that. The turtle picks up the pieces of machinery again. like beating the piece of metal in a staring contest will give him the answers he’s looking for. He is supposed to be the smart one. That's who he is, That’s how he can help New York, help his family. It’s then Leo started skateboarding through the sewers. Cheering and yelling “Cowabunga!” Donnie’s agitation only grew with the extra noises and distractions of his siblings.

Every small noise the wheels made sounded like nails on a chalkboard, Making him cringe. Like they were mocking him, mocking him for spending so many hours on such a simple task. No, No he shouldn’t blame them for his shortcomings. They are doing their parts, it’s not their fault that he is lacking in his. Much to his relief the skateboarding stopped, but it was soon replaced by the aroma of breakfast in the air. God it smelled good, The purple ninja's stomach rumbled. When was the last time he ate? He pulls himself from the distraction returning to the device. He can eat when he’s done when he’s earned-

“Hey, Don! I would say good mornin' but what you're doin' seems borin’.” He is pulled from his spiraling thoughts by an obnoxious blue mutant at the entrance of his lab. Said mutant takes a few steps more into his space looking very proud of the “joke” he made. Donnie doesn’t look up from his work, he tries to respond nonchalantly, hoping his voice doesn’t betray him. “What is it, Leo?” Judging by the silence that followed, his voice betrayed him. Suddenly he can feel hands on his shoulders as his chair is spun around to face his skeptical-looking brother. His eyes stare into Donnie like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. He hates it, hates it when people try to solve him like he’s a problem. Like he needs fixing. Donnie follows Leo's gaze as it moves from him to his desk, his desk with at least five empty coffee cups on it. “Donnie…” He hates that voice. Leo rarely uses it, he sounds concerned. Not a trace of the usual joking, layback, casual demeanor he just wore. It means Donnie did something wrong. That he is wrong. Suddenly very aware of Leo’s hands on his shoulders he shrugs them off, scouting his office chair back and out of his reach. “Look, I’m trying to finish this very important project so if you could-”

“Did you sleep at all?” Leo's question silences the genius. He opens his mouth to retaliate, to lie, to laugh it off, to say something, anything. But nothing comes out. He can’t even talk right, God. His mouth won’t work with his brain, words failing and dying on his tongue. Why is he like this? None of his other siblings are, so why? Why is he broken? Why can’t he just do his job right? Why can’t Leo just leave so he can do what he’s supposed to do? Why- “-nie, hey!” Donnie’s eyes open to meet Leo’s. When did he close them? He is kneeling in front of the panicking ninja, When did he get so close? “Hey, you with me?” The blue turtle asks, his voice full of concern. His voice should never sound like that, he’s happy and carefree. He’s never concerned about anything, never taking life seriously. He did this to him. “You uh, you ok?” He stumbles, not sure what to say to help. Donnie suddenly feels annoyance and shame creep through his bones. He doesn’t need his pity let alone deserve it. Quickly standing from his chair and walking around a crouched Leo, the tired teen stands over his desk again, hands gripping the edges.

Green knuckles turn lighter as his hold tightens. He is acting like a child. “I’m fine Leo, just let me work.” Why does he have to care so much? What does Donnie even do to deserve that? He should just go and have breakfast with the others. He should just leave him alone. He’s sure they're wondering where they are. Well, at least Leo. They probably wouldn’t realize he’s not there. Leo stands, followed by a deep sigh. Donnie can hear his steps make their way behind him, Then they stop. Hesitation, Donnie recognizes. Leo is always so sure of himself. Always leaping before looking, that’s probably the biggest difference between them Donnie thinks. He checks too much, never leaping. It’s unnerving to see Leo hesitate like this. Like him. “Don this-... this isn’t healthy dude.” He starts, taking a step closer to his brother. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Why can’t he just go? Why can’t he leave him alone? “You can’t keep sacrificing your health for work.” Why doesn’t he understand? “Talk to me, man. What’s going on in that big fancy brain of yours?” A firm hand lands on his shoulder from behind. Every alarm in Donnie’s brain goes off at once. “Don’t!”

The distressed turtle yells, spinning to face the disturbance. He backs into the table, hitting one of the coffee cups off. The shattering of glass echoes loudly in Donnie's skull, leaving his ears ringing. Fuck. He did it again. He failed. He messed up, he isn’t doing his part. Falling to his knees Donnie scoops up the broken pieces without thinking. He is wrong, he is supposed to be smart. He can’t even help his brother's, his family. “Donnie stop!” Hands grab at his own forcing him to drop the shards. The distressed teen tears away from the grip of his brother, standing too quickly. Everything spins as sleepless nights and stress catch up to him, gripping the desk with one hand for support. “Whow, Donnie take it easy.” Leo stands too, wanting to hold him so he doesn’t fall and hurt himself, but stopping in his tracks realizing that touching him isn’t a good idea. Why is he still here? Why does he care so much about a useless tool like him? “What?!” Leo yells in concerned shock. But it’s loud, everything is too loud, too wrong. He covers his ears in a futile attempt to make everything stop, a sad broken noise escapes his lips as he hears the beating of his heart under his hands. The blue blur in front of him is saying something, but he can’t hear him. Wait, blur? It isn’t till then does he realizes he’s crying. Shit, no, no, no! The purple teen uncovers his ears to wipe the shame and disgrace off his face. “Can you hear me now?” He asks, much quieter than before. Donnie nods, not trusting his voice. Leo’s concern seems to only lessen slightly, his shoulders still rising in alarm. “You are not a useless tool.” Did… Did he say that out loud? Leo looks so sure of himself like he knows for a fact what he said was true. It annoyed Donnie to no end.

“N-No you- you don’t understand!” His voice wobbles and is rough from crying. It hurts, but he needs Leo to understand. Understand what’s so obvious to him. How he can see it plain as day but somehow Leo still doesn’t. “I-I can’t even do this one- one simple th-thing!” He gestures violently toward the heap of wires and computer chips on his desk. Leo doesn’t miss the look of disdain and hatred on his face when he talks about himself. “I can’t but- but that’s what I do! I’m supposed to be the smart one!” Leo’s frown deepens as he talks, only making Donnie more irritated that he doesn’t get it. Leo braves a step closer to his raving brother, holding his hands out so Donnie knows where they are, seeing that the last time he touched him unexpectedly didn’t go so well. “Donatello, it’s ok to struggle sometimes, hell I struggle too with things I'm good at. I spent like five minutes outside you’re lab thinking of that line, And it wasn’t even that good!” He smiles sheepishly as he ends, at any normal time he would never admit that his joke was bad. His smile soon falls though, seeing Donnie's eyes glaze over. Were the bags under his eyes that big a minute ago? “Running yourself dry like this isn’t gonna get you anywhere, you gotta take care of yourself.” Why won’t he listen? Donnie thinks to himself, he’s running on nothing but caffeine and delirium and he gets it! So why doesn’t he? “B-But I have to- if I am no longer useful then… Then I-...” His words trail off as his breath quickens. God, this is stupid. He’s throwing a tantrum like a child instead of working, only proving his point further. “But it’s important to-”

“I'M NOT AS IMPORTANT!” Donnie surprises himself with his own outburst. He’s sure Mikey and Raph heard him, hell maybe even people on the street above. But Leo, oh but Leo. he seems horrified. As if what Donnie just shouted physically hurt him. Pained, he looks pained. Donnie caused him pain. Why does he just keep making things worse and worse? The silence between them is excruciating, Only filled by Donnie’s too-fast, too-short breaths. He can’t think, his thoughts a blurred mess. He’s so tired nothing feels right. “Sit.” Donnie looks up in surprise, The blue ninja still looks concerned but there's a no buts about him, pointing to Donnie’s chair. Almost serious, or as serious as Leo can look. So he listens, slowly making his way to his office chair. He can’t look at his older brother in the eyes, shame and guilt lining his frame. “Where do you keep your first aid kit?” First aid? Why-... Oh. He hadn’t noticed one of the shards from the broken mug cut his hand open. It isn’t deep, but it’s long. Why did he pick up glass shards? He knows better than to do that.

“Don?” Oh, right. He asked him a question. “Second shelf.” The older brother walks to the other side of the large lab, looking for said first aid kit. The mutant genius can feel the exhaustion taking over again, adrenalin slowly fading. He didn’t hear Leo walk back and place the kit on his desk, nor did he hear him open it and grab the things he needed. He jumped slightly when his brother kneeled before him, coming into his vision for the first time. He really is out of it, his ninja training is nothing without sleep apparently. Wait, he asked him something didn’t he? Leo’s hands out, waiting. Oh. He needs to touch him to look after the wound. With hesitation the distressed tech wiz lets Leo take his hand. He gets to work whipping off the blood and taking the glass out of the cut in silence. It doesn’t hurt to much, the touch is surprisingly nice unlike what Donnie had expected. He never knew Leo could be so gentle. He shouldn’t have to do this though. He wants to help his brothers with his inventions, not the other way around, but he can’t find the energy in himself to argue with the blue leader. He lets go of the purple teen's hand but stays sitting on the floor In front of him. Oh, he wrapped it. When did that happen?

He silently hopes the two could just get up and go join the others and forget this ever happened, dreading what comes next. “Why?” Dam it. The older brother sounds so distraught and confused like he’s trying to grasp a reason that doesn’t exist. “Why do you think you're not as important?” He hates it, he hates that he can’t give the blue turtle the answer he is so desperately searching for because it doesn’t exist, he doesn’t even know the reason himself. He hates not knowing. It scares him. He can’t put it into words, he just isn’t. His work, his inventions, are what help the team. He is merely a vessel to achieve that. “Dunno… Just not.” His voice slurs, tired body unable to keep up with his racing mind. Blue’s face softens with concern and love for his brother Like he can read what Donnie’s thinking without him even saying it out loud. He’s always envied that about Leo. His ability to read and understand others. Donnie has never been good at determining other's emotions, let alone his own. Leo stands holding out his hand for Donnie to take. “Come on, you’re going to bed sleepy head.” He inwardly groans.

His mind telling him he can’t, that he has to finish this. That he has to prove his worth before he can. He stares holes into his out stretched hand, But in the end Leo wins. Wrestling him into his bed. Donnie’s pillow has never felt to incredible, he falls asleep instantly. His older sibling barely even getting the chance to put a blanket on him before he’s out. Maybe Donnie imagined it, maybe he was dreaming, but he swore he heard an “I love you” before he was out.

Roses are red, 🌹 Violets are blue, 🔵 Donnie needs sleep, 🐢 And so do you, 🛌 I know u reading this late at night go the fuck to bed. Starting this I didn't intend on Donnie being so autistic, but I'm a diagnosed high functioning autistic and I see myself in Donnie so I do what I want.

[virgils-screams]

Artistic Forgetfulness

Sleepxiety

So apparently when I get serotonin in me I write stuff like this, so again, enjoy some fluffy (maybe ooc) Virgil and his caring boyfriend.

_______________________________________________

"O bury me not on the lone prairie." Virgil sung below his breath, trying desperately to recreate the skeletal hand he had for reference on his laptop. "These words came low and mournfully." Virgil continued, unaware of how little he had actually taken out of his work to care for himself.

"From the pallid lips, o' a youth who lay on his dying bed at the close of day." The pencil glided across paper, lines across lines and work atop work. He had to get this art assignment done, otherwise, his professor would once again fuck him over.

It had been hours since he had moved from where he sat in his computer chair, hunched over his desk. Water forgotten beside him, and every other need of his left in the dust while he focused on his current task.

"O bury me not, his voice failed there." Everything that Virgil did that was not drawing was autopilot, he wasn't really in control of that, just what his pencil was allowing to pour onto his paper. "And we took no heed, o' his dying prayer."

Virgil carried the tune, his voice sometimes becoming inaudible, leaving him mouthing the words as he focused on making a detail, before he would clear his voice and start again slightly louder.

"In a narrow grave, just six by three., O we buried him there, on the lone prairie."

Virgil hissed as he tried to unlock his fingers, leaving his hand aching. "Dammit." Virgil grunted, finally allowing the ballad go unnoticed while he dropped his pencil.

The door flung open, causing Virgil to jump at the abrupt noise. His neck snapped towards the door, being greeted by Remy's signature sunglasses and leather jacket.

"SURPRISE, BITCH!" Remy yelled, stepping into his boyfriends room. It was only a moment or two before Remy crossed the room to see Virgil, tutting softly as he approached.

Virgil grimaced at the arrival of his boyfriend, embarrassed to be caught in this state after the last time. Remy had watched him and would make little comments everytime he would be sitting there for more than an hour without moving or making plans to care for himself. It was sweet, but Virgil doesn't think that he's worth all that trouble, especially when Remy has his own workload to complete.

"Virge, how long have you been sitting in here like this? You must be aching all over. " he sighed, crouching in front of Virgil and watching as he finally unlocked his fingers. Remy carefully took Virgils hand in his own, softly rubbing his joints.

"Uhm.. Not that long?" Virgil lied with a soft blush blooming across his face caused by Remys soft attention.

"Mm, so we started with the cowboy ballads today did we?" Remy placed light kisses along his fingers before pulling away, deciding to hold his hand instead.

"Well, uhm.." Virgil chuckled awkwardly. "Yeah?"

"That's a no then." Remy stood, lightly tugging on Virgils hand to get him up. "C'mon Addams."

Virgil sighed as he stood. Remy wasn't wrong, his back throbbed as Virgil moved around. His neck popped and thrummed along with the rest of his tired and aching body. It seems Virgil did have a problem when it came to remembering to take care of himself.

Virgil followed Remy. He was led him down the hallway to their bathroom, stalling to stop in front of it. "Alright, I'll get a snack and a cold water," he smiled and let go of Virgil. "It'll be in the living room, alright?" Remy waited for Virgil to nod before leaving Virgil alone. Humming to a familiar tune as he walked away.

Virgil stretched some more as he walked into the living room, eyes landing on Remy as he set out the snacks he promised he would, followed by water and a couple of his own energy drinks.

Remy noticed Virgil a few moments later, a smile replacing his judging frown.

"Rem, you didn't have to." Virgil murmured. He walked over and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend. Relishing in the feeling of warmth and stability. "I don't deserve you." Virgil sighed contentedly into Remys chest.

Remy could feel Virgil relax beneath him while he returned the hug. "I know, I'm amazing." He laughed, resting his head atop Virgils.

Virgil scoffed and pulled away, only to be yanked back by Remy. "Let-" Virgil grunted out playfully, trying to pry himself from his boyfriends grip. "gO- aHh-"

Remy chuckled when he abruptly let go of Virgil. Causing him to stumble backwards for a few seconds before Remy caught him again.

Virgil pouted, smacking Remy as he set down with his own soft laughter. Remy picked up a pop tart packet, tossing it to Virgil before sitting down beside him.

"We're almost out of those sundae flavored ones." Remy commented, pulling the tv remote out of thin air and picking an episode of the office to watch.

Virgil hummed as he settled in, snacking on the food and drinks, becoming less and less sore by the minute. God knows how long he had actually spent at the desk before Remy found him. Six hours? It didn't matter. He thought to himself as he sunk further into the couch, leaning on Remy who had his arm around Virgils shoulders.

"Mmphs," Virgil smiled with dope like grin. Man, it was real nice to have a boyfriend like Rem.

_______________________________________________

Hope you enjoyed 💜

Words: 900

Tag list{you can ask to be added or removed}:

@reiney-weather @helloidkwhatimdoing-0 @autumnpleaves @hedgiehoggles @emo-sunshine42 @sky-the-weirdo-ace @from-the-gall0ws @skylar-pansexualnerd19

[edupunkn00b]

It Could Always Be Worse, Ch. 4: The Sun Did Not Shine

Butterfly universe version of Happily Ever After, Ch. 4: The Sun Did Not Shine.

Prev - The Sun Did Not Shine - Next - All - [ AO3 ]

WC: 1826 - Rated: T - CW: self-harm, arguing, hospital, suicidal ideation, self-deprecation, verbal abuse (by OC)

"The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house All that cold, cold wet day." - Dr. Seuss, The Cat in the Hat (1957)

Logan hunched over the case file in front of him, re-reading the statement. He made another note on the yellow legal pad to his left, then stuck another little removable tab at the appropriate portion of the plaintiff's statement. He grit his teeth, shaking his head at the memory of the judge refusing to refer to his client as anything but 'The Victim." She's not a victim. She's prosecuting her attacker. She's not a victim.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Logan tried to refocus on the materials in front of him. Ruminating on the last pre-trial hearing would not help his client. He picked up his pen, right finger slowly scanning through the dense print.

Na, na na, na, na na na

Virgil's ringtone erupted from Logan's phone. Logan picked it up immediately. He had configured his phone so that the ringer would only sound if someone on his starred contact list called twice, otherwise, it would buzz silently. All the boys knew the best way to reach Logan when he was at work was to call the receptionist's line. He quickly thumbed the phone on, his voice a half-octave higher than usual, "Virgil? Virgil, are you okay?"

"Dad?" Virgil's voice was quiet and it was hard to hear over the background noise of the call. Where is he? Virgil had stayed home from school that day, telling Logan that he had a headache and thought he might be feeling nauseous. His school had a terrible culture of 'presenteeism,' where kids would often show up for school with masks or hospital-grade anti-emitrol patches. Logan had been relieved that Virgil was taking his health seriously enough to stay home when he felt ill.

"Dad, can you come get me?" Logan pressed the phone against his ear. That was definitely the sound of a espresso machine. "Please."

He didn't know why, but alarm bells rang in Logan's head. He closed his laptop, stacking the case file and his notepad on top, shoving all three into his satchel. "Of course, Virge, where are you?"

"I'm at a Starbucks near the marina. You know the one by the pier." What the hell was Virgil doing there?

"Yeah, yeah of course I know it." Logan shook his head, pulling the strap for his bag over his head, letting the strap cross his chest. He switched off the light in his office and headed down to the head attorney's office desk. "Hang on just one sec, okay, Virge?" He knocked lightly on the door, waiting for his boss to look up before speaking. "Hey, um Janus, I have a family emergency and will be out the rest of the day. I'm not due in court until Monday. I—" Logan took a deep breath, "I am sorry to leave so suddenly, but, um, it's my son."

Janus looked up, brow furrowed, "Yes, yes, of course, do what you need to do, Croft." Logan flinched slightly, not feeling like this was the time to correct him again. "We'll still be here when you're back." He looked back down at his computer screen for a moment, then looked up at Logan again, "Good luck with whatever it is. I hope the family is okay."

"Thanks, Janus. If I need more than a day, I will call you." Janus waved him off, going back to his work. Logan rushed out of the office, bringing his phone back up to his ear. He could hear Virgil sniffing over the line, like he was crying. The background noise had changed and Logan could hear fewer voices and more traffic sounds.

"Okay, Virge, I'm on my way." He rushed to the stairs, running down two at a time to the garage, not trusting the elevators to be any faster at this time of day. "Virge, it sounds different now... where are you?"

"I'm... I'm outside." Virgil started crying. "Dad... Dad, I went—" His crying got louder and Logan gripped the phone tightly, pressing it against his ear, struggling to hear him over the background noise in the garage, over the line, over his tears. "I went to go buy blades."

Logan held his breath for a moment then slowly said, voice catching, "Virge, are you still outside that same Starbucks?" Logan could just barely make out Virgil's hummed yes over the sound of his cries. "Virge, just stay right there, do you hear me? Stay right there. I'm on my way."

Logan got to his minivan, fumbling his keys and dropping them as his hands shook. He covered the mouth piece on the phone for just a moment as a strangled cry escaped his own throat. Pressing his lips together he breathed in through his nose then slowly exhaled. He uncovered the mouthpiece "Okay, Virge, I'm getting in the car. I'm going to stay on the phone with you until I get to you, okay?"

Virgil murmured faintly, "Okay."

Taking one more shaky breath, Logan replied, "Okay. Okay, I'm putting you on speaker so I can put down the phone." He tapped at the phone, setting it into the little hands-free holder he'd hooked up last year. "Can you hear me?" Logan asked, increasing the volume on his phone.

"Yeah," Virgil's voice was a little stronger but he was still crying.

"Okay, I'm going to narrate as I drive, just like when you were little, okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"Okay, I'm leaving the parking garage and turning right..."

Forty-five minutes later, just as Logan's phone was flashing an angry red low-battery signal, he parked in front of the Starbucks by the Kirkland marina. Virgil sat on a bench, under a patio umbrella, hood drawn down over his forehead, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, earphones plugged in his ears.

Logan got out of the minivan and ran through the rain to the bench where he cowered under cover. He sat next to his son. He reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder but Virgil shook him off. Logan bit the inside of his cheek, keeping an iron grip of control over his features. Virgil looked at him, "Can we just go?"

Logan nodded, standing up, pressing his hands against his shaking legs. "Let's get in the car." Then climbed inside and Logan started the engine, adjusting the heater and blowers to point warm air against Virgil's soaking wet sneakers and pant legs. Starbucks' patio umbrella had done a decent job of keeping the top half of his body dry, but the rest of him had gotten soaked in the rain.

"Virge, I think we need to take you to a hospital."

Virgil was quiet for a long while, the only sound in the car was the air rushing through the blowers and the periodic rub-rub-squeak of the windshield wipers. "Yeah." He chewed on his thumbnail, looking out the window at the soggy street. "Yeah, that's what Matt had to do."

”Okay." Logan took a deep breath, slowing letting it out as he backed out of the parking stall and turned onto the road, headed back toward Seattle and Children's Hospital. "We'll call Mom once we get there, okay?" Virgil nodded, continuing to stare out the window as they drove in silence.

"So what caused this?" Kelly leaned over the small table separating Logan and Kelly on one side and Virgil's evaluating clinician on the other. "Could it be," she glanced at Logan, then looked up at the clinician with big eyes, "Could it be because of, well, the family breaking apart?" Kelly said the last part in a little whisper.

Logan shifted in his seat, folding and refolding his hands in his lap, as the clinician flipped through his interview notes from his evaluation with Virgil. He frowned, looking at what he had written. Kelly patted Logan's knee, speaking more to the clinician than to Logan, "Of course, Logan, this isn't all your fault, right, Dr. Nale?

Kelly looked into Dr.Nale's eyes, nodding her head with a little pout on her lips. Dr. Nale cleared his throat and leaned forward in his seat, gesturing to the clipboard in his hand. "Ye—yes, of course not. We're not here to place blame or point fingers, but to find out how best to help Virgil." Dr. Nale looked between the two of them. Kelly smiled sadly at him as Logan bit the inside of his cheek to fight the tremor in his jaw. "Now, as a first step, we need to get Virgil stabilized to a point where he's no longer in imminent risk...."

Kelly stood outside Virgil's room while he slept. Logan approached carrying two cups of water. Extending one toward her, he murmured her name.

”What do you want?" she hissed quietly without looking at him. A nurse passed and she smiled and nodded at the passing staff before turning to face Logan. He remained silent, holding out the cup. The water trembled slightly in the cup. "Jesus, Logan, don't look at me like that. It's not my fault you snuck up on me like that." She took the water, mumbling a quick thanks. Logan turned to face Virgil's room, carefully lifting the cup to his lips, spilling only a tiny drop on his tie. He looked down, grateful the spot didn't show against the dark floral pattern.

Logan cleared his throat, gripping the cup tightly in his hands, trying to keep their shaking unnoticeable. "Thank you for what you said in the consultation room."

Kelly looked at him out of the corner of her eye, scowling lightly. She shook her head. "What are you talking about.?"

Logan bit his lip for a moment, taking another sip of his water. "Wh-what you said about... about—"

Kelly spoke quietly, eyes focused on Virgil's room. "About how this is all because you decided to leave and break up our family? Because you couldn't just man up and be a father and a husband?"

Logan's breath hitched. He tried to cover it by taking another sip, draining the last of the water inside.

"Virgil tried to kill himself while he was home with you." Kelly's voice was calm, and quiet, and cut Logan to the bone. "What part of this is not your fault?"

He remained silent, bringing the empty cup to his lips as though to take another sip, hiding his trembling lips. Fuck, Logan, man up. You swore you'd never let her see you cry again. Cut this shit out now. He took another shaky breath concentrating on the texture of the cup in his hands.

Kelly finally looked at him, lips pursed and eyes narrowed. Logan kept his eyes trained on the cup in his hands. "Oh, so you're playing the 'ignoring me' game. Okay, fine. Look, I've got to call my office. Why don't you take care of his admittance and then we'll see if you're ready to talk like an adult." She turned and walked toward the exit without waiting for a response.

[takecareluv]

jack gives the reader a head massage and she ends up falling asleep 🤣🤣🤣 i’ve had those before and they just feel so good and a great way to relax.

a.n. i’ve never experienced this in my life but it sounds so amazing and relaxing. i’m jealous 😭

relax, baby || jack harlow x reader

it had only been a couple weeks into your fall semester and you already felt yourself falling behind. you found yourself waking up earlier each morning just to get a few extra minutes at the library, as well as staying up later than usual, shuffling through your never ending list of assignments and attempting to catch up on your readings.

you were beyond stressed to say the least and jack took immediate notice of this.

he hated seeing you get like this, especially with how much he knew you already struggled with your mental health. every semester for the last three years he watched as you shut yourself out from everyone, spending ever waking hour studying and prioritizing receiving an A mark in every class over taking care of yourself. he knew how stubborn you could be, but this semester he wasn’t going down without a fight. he was going to get you to step away from that mountain of textbooks sitting on your desk and finally have you relax.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

it was approaching midnight and you were on your fifth consecutive hour of studying.

jack watched as you tiredly typed away on your computer, trying to finish a paper for your psych class before the sun came up. 

he decided then that you needed a break, walking over to were you sat hunched over a book that probably weighed ten pounds. he threw the book aside, swiftly lifting you into his arms.

you let out a squeal from suddenly being picked up and thrown over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “jackman, what are you doing? put me down! i need to finish my paper!”

“nope,” he simply replied. “you need to take a break, baby. you’re working yourself too hard.”

“i promise i’ll take a break once i’m done but i need to finish this.” you tried to counter, but jack was as stubborn as you were and he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“the paper will still be there in the morning, after you’ve relaxed and had a good nights sleep. and i’m sure you’ll be much happier with what you write after you’re well rested, bub. you need to get some rest, please baby, for me.” jack was almost begging at this point. he hadn’t seen that usual glimmer in your eyes in days, let alone that smile that never failed to light up the room. he missed it, and he missed you.

you accepted defeat as jack continued to carefully carry you into the bathroom that was connected to your shared bedroom.

he softly set you down on the counter before he walked towards the tub, starting a bath for you. you watched with love in your eyes as jack moved around the room, grabbing your favorite bubble bath, that was only to be used on special occasions, along with a fresh, warm towel straight out of the dryer. he was always so good to you and you absolutely adored him for it.

once the bath was filled enough, he helped you undress before assisting you into the warm water.

he turned to walk away once you were settled in, but you quickly grabbed ahold of his wrist asking him to stay.

“of course, baby. i’ll be right back. just going to throw a sweatshirt in the dryer for you so it’s warm when you come out.”

he exited the room and returned only a few minutes later, although it felt like much longer to you, with one of your favorite scented candles in his hand to light. you smiled to yourself, his sweetness was never ending and you couldn’t help but fall more in love with every small, caring gesture he made.

you didn’t realize you had been staring as he stripped and joined you in the tub. “like what you see, baby.” jack teased with a smirk on his face that caused you to blush.

“you know i do,” you admitted quietly, the warmth rising to your cheeks.

* ࣪. ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪ ♡ ࣪.* ࣪ ⋆ ✧ ﾟ: * ♡ * : ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.*

you stayed in the bath with jack resting behind you, and your bodies intertwined until the water became too cold to find relaxing any longer.

jack got out first, quickly drying himself off before holding out a hand to help you get out of the bath. once you were out, he wrapped you up in a towel and guided you to sit back on the counter so he could help you complete your nighttime routine.

he situated himself between your legs, grabbing your toothbrush from behind you, wetting it before putting a line of toothpaste on it and, of course, wetting it again. he helped you brush your teeth, and even held your hair back so you could spit into the sink when he was finished.

he then pulled out your face wash and night cream, softly applying them to your skin, all before placing a quick peck to your lips. “beautiful, baby.”

once he was finished with that, he picked you up, carrying you back into the bedroom, slipping one of his old hoodies over you head that was extra cozy, having been fresh out of the dryer.

you cuddled up close to him, throwing you leg over his and wrapping your arm around his waist. his hand found it’s way to your head, giving you a scalp massage that had your eyes rolling to the back of you head. you didn’t realize how much you needed this relaxation until now.

jack continued to give you a head massage until you breathing stilled and he heard faint snores, the most adorable snores might he add, falling from your lips.

he smiled to himself in victory that he finally got you to rest.

he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead, whispering a faint, “good night, baby. i love you,” before falling asleep himself.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Sound6HashiraSux

Warnings: lot's of swearing, bullying, harrassment, we are making fun of Tengen, no love only hate, mentions of sex, vulgar language

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tengen was a very patient man. He had 4 wives after all, how could he not be? He was quiet when needed and there in an instant if you wanted him. So it was very unusual for him to be so agitated and stressed, even more so when all 4 of his wives were completely unsure as to why.

“Tengen, love. Suma and I are going to go see Hinatsuru at work and bring her lunch, Makio is going to meet us for her lunch as well. Did you want to come?” you adjusted the scarf around your neck while you padded towards the couch where Tengen sat. He was in a very common position of his, hunched over the short coffee table, grumbling at his laptop. He ignored your question and typed furiously on the poor device, he was bound to break it soon if he kept treating it like this. “Sweetheart? Maybe you should take a break from work” Pushing back the silver bangs that were falling into his eyes you tried to soothe his growing agitation, becoming worse as the moments passed.

“Y/N! Tengen! Let's get going! Hina’s lunch starts in 20 minutes and Makio has already left!” Suma bounced into the room, smoothing down her velvet coat, bundled up for the cold weather as much as you were. Tengen huffed under your hand, swatting you away with some more mumbles. You turned towards your wife, eyebrows furrowed at the rejection of your affection. “Tengen don't be mean to Y/N!” Suma immediately latched onto your arm, cuddling into your side as you both hovered over your husband.

“Will you two leave already! You're so annoying!” He growled, leaning back into the couch cushions, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“Fine, let’s go Suma, we don’t want lunch to get cold before the girls can eat.” Tugging on Suma's hand you left a pouting Tengen on the couch, letting him throw his hissy fit.

“And then he just sat there?”

“What is his problem lately? He wouldn’t even take a shower with me after work the other day” Makio spoke over her bowl of casserole, cheeks stuffed with the broccoli and rice dish.

“I don’t know, he's been stuck to that computer since the gala. Do you think the master has him tracking someone?” the annual Slayer Gala. Since the demon slayer corporation was officially recognized by the government and became a branch in their defenses the slayers and especially the hashira had been highly regarded. The safety in the streets wasn’t thanks to the cops, it was the slayers. the top slayers alongside the hashira and the master all enjoyed a televised gala as a thank you from the government's highest officials. As spouses of a hashira, it was only natural that the four of you joined Tengen, attached to his side for almost the whole night. The media took a large turn at the announcement that a hashira had so many spouses, especially ones that fought alongside him and were gorgeous. People swooned, people argued, but most of all, people loved it. Tengen was often sending articles talking about him and his wives, how beautiful of a group they were, sending praises and kissy faces over group texts.

“Hina, do you think you can get onto his computer? If he was tracking someone wouldn’t he ask you for help?” You all turned towards Hinatsuru at suma’s point.

“I’ll look into it tonight, do you think you can keep him distracted for maybe an hour after I get home?” The three of you looked at each other before nodding in agreement.

Tengen spent most of the evening hunched over his laptop, mumbling curse words before beating up his keyboard to type whatever he wanted. Whenever any of you tried to get a look his hulking figure blocked your view.

“Honey, let’s take a bath, please? You’ve been sitting here all day and I'm sure your neck hurts” Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, immediately applying pressure to his shoulder blade to try and ease the overwhelming amount of tension he had. Hinatsuru had arrived home minutes before, heading straight for the bedroom to change out of her stuffy office uniform, asking you to get him out of the living room. “Let me take care of you” you purred the words in his ear, not losing focus on his shoulders as he leaned back into you. He groaned, enjoying the feeling of your hands easing up all the tension he had.

“Okay, just for a bit” He cracked an eye open as he looked at you, smiling before moving to stand. His body released a series of cracks at him finally changing his position, adjusting itself back into a normal stance. You passed Hinatsuru on your way to the bathroom, flashing a smile her way as she moved towards the couch.

"What has you all riled up these days? Did you not have a good time at the gala?" You attempted to ease into the conversation, choosing to finally speak up after your husband was fully submerged in the steaming tub, leaning his head against your bare chest as you absently ran a hand over his massive shoulders.

"S'nothing" he shifted, sinking deeper into the water to avoid your questions. His silence about the situation was quickly becoming irritating, it was affecting the whole household and he was too wrapped up in his own obnoxious bubble of self-loathing to notice how hard you were trying to get him to open up.

“My love” your hand moved to his hair, grazing through the silver strands that hung from his head. “You haven’t been eating properly, you're going to ruin your back hunching over your laptop like that, and you’ve been snapping at all four of us. We’re worried about you, I'm worried about you. You’ve never been this closed off and distant, never once have you snapped at us as you have been. What is happening?” He grumbled into the water, creating his own bubbles before flipping himself over, burying his face into the wet skin of your breasts. You let out a sigh of defeat. If he had been moping like this for 2 weeks and still hadn’t opened up even after all this time and effort, it seemed like he would never be budging.

“I’m sorry” He mumbled the words as he lifted himself off of you, Removing himself from the bathtub and leaving the bathroom, puddles of water following him out.

“Y/N! Suma! Makio! Help!!” Screaming erupted from the living room, followed by crashing of multiple heavy objects.

“Uzui Hinatsuru give me the laptop, now!”

“Girls!” Heavy footsteps barged into the bedroom where you had just finished getting dressed, Hinatsuru ducking for cover behind you, ignoring the water falling from your hair onto her head. Tengen was right behind her, maroon eyes glaring at the crouched form behind you.

“Hinatsuru, give me the damn laptop back” He took a step forward, pointing a finger at your wife.

“Tengen, what the fuck are you doing? Calm down!” you waved his form back, forcing him to step back from where he had begun hovering over you, trying to force you into submission so he could get what he wanted.

“She” He wagged an accusatory finger at her. “She has my laptop, that's for work and is government property, she has to give it back” A smirk made its way into Tengen's face as he stood up straighter, cocking a hip to the side to show off.

“You are acting like a child, chasing your own wife around the house like a lunatic for a damn laptop”

“It’s for work!”

“How do we know that?! It's not like you tell us anything anymore! Since the gala you’ve been such an ass” The irritation was evident on his face, but you stood your ground, adjusting your leggings so they fit properly you turned back to Hinatsuru. “Thank you, my love, you did a wonderful job” She smiled, standing up so she could look at you face-to-face. You grabbed her free hand and turned to Tengen. “I asked her to get the laptop since you refuse to tell us anything. I would understand if it was for a mission, but if it was you would ask for our help. So you can either tell all of us what your problem is or we can have Hinatsuru find out for us? Your choice Uzui” You addressed him by your shared last name, something he loathed. He told you it made him feel drab and normal, not nearly as flamboyant as his full name or even just Tengen. But even then, he only liked being called by your nicknames for him (or god of flamboyance, but that will never happen) The fire in his eyes was snuffed at your words, he was at a loss for words as you stared him down.

“Y/N, it’s not that simple I can’t ju-”

“No Tengen, you can. You just won’t let your own wives know what’s going on with you, we aren’t emotional punching bags like how you've been treating us for these past few weeks but I’m over it” Hinatsuru had let go of your hand, already begun typing furiously on Tengen's laptop, her bangs hooded her eyes as she focused on her task, standing tall as you continued to argue with your husband.

“Y/N, listen to me. You wouldn't understand even if I told you what was happening, it has nothing to do with you guys so don’t worry about it”

“Don’t worry about it? Tengen, don’t be an idiot. Suma and I invited you to come with us for lunch with Makio and Hina, how did you respond?” His eyes dropped to the floor, knowing he was in the wrong. “Tell me Tengen, how did you respond?” He refused to speak, keeping his eyes trained on the floor as you approached him. “If you won’t say it then, I will. You responded by yelling at us and calling us annoying. I had to comfort Suma in the elevator while you sat here and steamed over a FUCKING LAPTOP. TENGEN” The face that Tengen made reminded you of a little boy whose ice cream fell out of the cone, complete defeat at your words.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I’m not trying-” You tuned him out as Hinatsuru nudged you, releasing the hand you still held to point at the laptop screen.

From: Sound6hashirasux

You should really just get a divorce, release the reins you had on your wives so a real man can please them

From: Sound6hashirasux

Can you even get them to orgasm? Admit it, you aren’t a real man. Not even a fancy title can save the fact that you can’t pleasure women.

To: Sound6hashirasux

A real man does not kiss and tell, what my spouses and I do is none of your business, especially not a drab little weasel like you

From: Sound6hashirasux

Sounds like bullshit

From: Sound6Hashirasux

I’m just surprised a pussyboy like you could pull women like that. Is it money? I bet big daddy Ubuyashiki pays really well, well enough for even a man like you to acquire wives like that

You shut the laptop on Hinatsuru, not sure you could stomach reading any more of the messages. Tengen stood across from you, head down.

“Love? What is this?” Tengen avoided eye contact. Choosing to focus on the fibers of the carpet instead. Suddenly the number of carpet fibers was a fascinating subject.

“You know I think we should get this carpet replaced, maybe get wood floors instead, or do you think the bed would move too much, I mean it's a large bed and with 5 of us? Maybe it would slide, maybe we’ll stick to the carpet, what are… your thoughts?” he trailed off at the look’s you and Hinatsuru were giving him.

“I’m sure I can find out the location of these messages Tengen, is this what you’ve been hiding?” Hinatsuru placed the laptop on your bed, moving closer to your husband who looked like he was shutting down.

“I tried, their untraceable, Oyakata-sama thinks that it's a demon. Based on what their account entails, it's one of the upper moons”

“One of the upper moons is sending you hate mail?” Tengen nodded, face stern as he waited for a reaction from you.

“So one of the upper moons is sending our husband hate mail because we are too pretty?” Hinatsuru didn’t hide the laugh that slipped from her lips.

“This is serious Hina, they claim that I can’t even fuck you properly, they think that I’m incapable of performing my husbandly duties. Like a regular man” You had to look away from Tengen, he was too serious about it, he was taking it way too personally. It was hilarious “I am not a normal man, I am a god and they just think I can’t please? Like a chump?” You were going to pass out trying to hold in your laughter, unlike your wife.

“Tengen stop! It’s not that serious” she laughed, clutching at her stomach between the cackles “You can fuck, don't cry it's okay” she laughed harder as Tengen let out an angry huff.

“You guys are the worst, sleep on the couch together tonight. Only Suma and Makio are allowed in the bed” He stormed out of the bedroom, leaving you to finally release the laughter you had been holding back.

[pinkrelish]

Thank you for all of your showstoping obito content that you put out. I’ve never been able to read long bits of writing but somthing about your stories just grabs my attention so well<3

May I ask for a crumb of obito content with a reader who is a little quiet and angsty (maybe a lil rebel babe)?

I wish this new year treats you well because you deserve it :)

a/n: this plot got away from me but i hope you still like it lmaoooo love uuuu 💕

SFW: fem!reader, office au, rivals to lovers, miscommunication trope

Words: 7k

Read: AO3

You had been working at your company for two years and things were going well. You were up for a promotion, the break room had better vending machines than your last office, and your coworkers were leagues more tolerable than the last people you worked with.. Except for one.

You were at your desk typing up a report due tomorrow at noon, eyeing the clock flickering over to a new hour, and panicking. You arrived at the office thirty minutes early to give yourself a generous headstart and still feared running out of time.

The door beeped as someone slid their badge into the lock and opened it. You waited on bated breath for his voice. Bunched your shoulders anticipating his overly friendly squeeze on your arm. Pinched your face in disgust picturing how he would walk in here all relaxed and nonchalant while you were stressed beyond belief.

Instead, Konan walked in, smiling at you. "Good luck," she whispered as she sat across from you in her cubicle. She gave you a thumbs up over her computer monitor and you returned it.

"I'll need it." You gave her a knowing look.

"Has he seriously not finished his half?"

"No, no," you said, keeping your voice low and scanning the area for your partner in question. Leaning towards her, shame hot on your neck as you bitched about him despite being the one running behind. "He finished two days ago, it's just-"

"You ladies talkin' about me?"

Of course. You should've known. He had a knack appearing at the most inopportune moments.

Obito snickered at your flustered state, amused at your little gasp as you sat up straight in your chair, wide eyes on your screen, clicking literally anything to appear busy, furthering your mortified expression when you deleted an important email on accident.

"Thought so."

You didn't need to turn around to know he was speaking to you with his dumb lopsided grin. Growing especially wicked when he curled the end of your ponytail around his finger and tugged ever so gently--just enough to piss you off--before letting it loose, and sitting at his desk. Diagonally from yours. With his annoying face perfectly in your field of vision at all times.

“I’m asking the boss for higher cubicle walls,” you mumbled to yourself, hunching so he couldn’t see you.

It never ceased to frustrate you how it seemed Obito goofed off at work all day, and yet, finished his half of your project before you. You were sure he managed to do it on purpose just to rub it in your face. Using his free time to go out of his way to aggravate you.

All you wanted was an espresso from the fancy coffee machine in the break room, but no. Not when Obito was around.

"Would you move," you grunted, stepping to the left.

"What's the magic word?" he taunted, stepping to his right. Openly laughing at you when you ducked to go the other way and he spread his arms in the doorway to block you.

You put an end to your little dance. You shoved your glasses up your nose and glared at him with all the threatening energy you could summon having roughly three hours of sleep. "If you don't let me get my coffee, I'll-"

"Coffee, hm? Like this espresso drink here?" He dropped his arms and grabbed the to-go cup from one of the round tables everyone used to eat lunch at. He held the drink out for you to take and you scoffed.

"Isn't that yours?"

"Nope."

"Poisoned then?"

"Nope."

Your upper lip sneered in disgust. "Then what's wrong with it?"

Obito considered the cup in his hand and shrugged. “Nothing. It’s two shots with soy milk and one packet of raw sugar, like you like it.”

Skeptical, you snatched it from his hand and peered into the small hole in the lid, closing one eye and swirling the liquid around. Putting it to your nose and smelling it. Inspecting it for evidence of him tampering with it, or tasting it.

Satisfied, you maintained eye contact and took a sip. “Tastes normal.”

“See? Told you.” The scars on his cheek stretched with his smile. Healed gashes of smooth skin from an accident in his youth he never elaborated on. The hand he slipped into his pocket matched; catching you staring at vulnerable parts of him. He moved past you to go back to his desk. “Did you know you get coffee at the same time everyday?” he called over his shoulder.

You sipped. Blinking at where he once stood in front of you. Mulling over his question. “Okay, stalker.”

~~~

You waited outside your boss’ office twisting your fingers into a representation of the knots in your stomach. Obito shifted his weight from foot to foot beside you, humming something, staring off into space. Ignoring you. At least, that’s how it appeared.

“Don’t worry so much,” he said, voice quiet and raspy. A hoarseness unique to him.

You sighed and shook your head. In a rare moment of sleep deprivation, you let your walls slip and confided in him. “I was up so late trying to solve that last problem. I crunched the numbers over and over again to make it work and, ugh-” You slid your eyes shut. “I don’t think I did a good job. Fuck.” Your promotion was toast.

He checked the buttons on his blazer, fixed the cuffs. Assured you, “I’m sure you did perfect. You’re you, afterall.”

“What does that mean?”

The door opened before he could answer. Your boss ushered you in to stand at his desk while he laced his fingers and had trouble discerning where he should begin. You may not be an expert in reading body language, but his disappointment was evident, making your failure palpable.

“Well,” your boss drawled. “I appreciate aspects of your proposition, but for having my two best employees working on a project together, I gotta say, having an entire spreadsheet formatted like this, and not even having the cells calculated correctly is not how I envisioned this going. This client was very important and now I’ll have to..” He continued to point out flaws and how to fix them. Your mistakes. Only yours. Unknowingly complimenting Obito’s half of the work and crushing your dreams of a promotion.

Your blood ran cold. Your heart seized, dropped to your stomach, and plummeted to the floor. Preparing yourself to take the fall and admit all the problems with the project were yours.

“Who did these parts of the project?” your boss scoffed, not believing either of you could’ve messed up this badly.

You drew in a breath.

“I did, sir.”

You whipped your head at Obito. Mouth hung open.

“I’m the one who messed up the spreadsheet. I’ll be sure to do better next time.”

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again, Mr. Uchiha. You two are dismissed. I expected much more from you two. And you,” he addressed you, “You’ll hear from me by the end of the month regarding your promotion.”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

Obito held the door open for you and closed it behind him. He followed you down the narrow hall until you whirled around on him, stopping him mid-step from running into you.

“Why did you do that?” you whispered harsher than you meant to.

“I hate wearing these,” he said, unbuttoning his blazer and shrugging it off. Folding it over his arm. Lifting his half-lidded eyes to meet yours, smothering any emotion from his face except for the subtle raise of his brows. “Hm?”

“Why did you..?” Stand up for me? Volunteer to take the brunt of your boss’ harsh criticisms knowing you didn’t deserve them?

“Because I know this wasn’t the norm. You let the stress get to you, with your neck on the line like that.” His gaze roamed your face. Slow and precise, as if absorbing your features to memorize them. “Maybe you can make it up to me sometime.”

You knew at that moment you must’ve been sick in head, because you genuinely considered kissing the ground he walked on. “Thank you, Obito.”

“It’s whatever,” he shrugged. It was nothing to him. And that was all the more infuriating.

~~~

The next day you made yourself as small as possible. Curling over your keyboard, pretending to squint at the screen like you were in the middle of something, drumming up excuses to leave the room when Obito glanced at you from over his cubicle wall.

Itching to get away from his presence, you meandered in the break room, reading over every single candybar in the vending machine as if you had any interest in them besides your favorite.

“So,” Kakashi started and you yelped, grabbing your chest and uttering a few choice words at him. “Sorry,” he sang, cheesing under his face mask. “I heard what Obito did for you–”

“He told you?”

“Eh, he tells me everything. We’re friends.”

Justifiably embarrassed at your own incompetence being shared around the office, you narrowed your eyes at Kakashi. “You were saying?”

He turned his attention towards the ceiling in search of his reason for ambushing you. “Ah, right, I remember..” he trailed off again and you were starting to lose your patience. Kakashi doubled over and placed his elbow on the counter beside the long-forgotten coffee pot, planting his cheek in his palm while facing you, trying hard to convey his innocence before you smacked him. “You know, both you and Obito have been single since you started working here. Have you thought about taking him out to dinner to thank him?”

“My God, I’m quitting and moving across the damn country to get away from you two.” You hightailed it back to your desk, which did not prove to be a better alternative than being stuck in the break room with Kakashi hounding you about your love life.

Obito was at his desk answering a phone call. Leaned back in his chair. Legs straight out, crossed at the ankle. Arm thrown across his messy back hair to block the fluorescent lights from his charcoal gray eyes, closing as he laughed at a joke the person on the other end of the line told. His tie divided the length of his chest; today it was navy blue with a repeating pattern of orange squares as big as your pinky nail. He erupted in another laugh, straining the buttons of his white shirt across his chest, pulling at the creases where it was tucked into his slacks..

Your eyes snapped back to his face. His smile was easy. Care-free. And directed at you.

The corners of his mouth carved themselves wry. His teeth gleamed.

He winked at you. Answered the client’s question with poise while your knees buckled. Continued to best you when you lost your nerve.

You sank to your chair, staring holes into your screen, listening to him win over the wealthiest client the company has contact with, solidifying another fortuitous deal all due to his charm.

~~~

Konan sat next to you at the round table. She pried the lid off her salad and mixed in the dressing, shoveling it around with her fork before digging in and talking to you with her mouth full. “How’d your last Tindr date go?”

You answered around the sandwich in your mouth. “Awful. I knew in the first ten seconds it was a wash. He was so fucking boring and only talked about himself.”

“You’re so picky. What’re you looking for in a guy anyway?”

“At this point I’d settle for anyone who’s nice and doesn’t stare at my chest the entire time.”

“Yeah, your boobs aren’t even that impressive.”

“Shut up,” you seethed.

Outside the break room, Obito pushed himself off the wall and returned to his desk.

~~~

Days later, you arrived–at most–two minutes late. And yet, there he was. At your desk. Messing with your things.

“Obito,” you hissed, shaking the backrest of your chair, glaring at the man using your computer instead of his. “Sit at your own desk, you–”

Obito cut you off with a smile you loathed. The one he knew softened you around the edges while simultaneously ruffling your feathers. “I was just finishing up here.” He stabbed a few keys and smacked the enter button, grinning at you.

“Whatever, idiot. Out. Go. Leave.” You shooed him and slung your purse over the back of your chair. He swiped your stack of pastel pink sticky notes and slipped them into his pocket. You didn’t have the emotional capacity to argue with him more.

“Your perfume is nice,” he said. You shot him a look. “It’s different, isn’t it?”

It was, but you weren’t about to entertain the idea of him noticing details about you like that.

“Bye,” you stated. You wiggled around him and sat in your own chair, adjusting the height and pulling your keyboard to you, reaching for the mouse and opening a document while he watched you. Unnervingly close. “Can I help you?”

You could feel his stare, see the way his head tilted and his face went lax as he mulled something over. “No, I guess not.” He walked around the cubicles and sat at his desk, eyes moving back and forth like he was reading something on his screen, but they held a certain saddened gloss over them.

Shaking off the weird twinge of empathy throbbing in your chest, you glanced around your desk to see what else his little mischievous hands disorganized and exhaled, exhausted. It was just like him to leave trash in his wake. You picked up your waste paper basket and began sweeping in an excess amount of candy wrappers and balled bits of paper, when a certain foiled paper from a stick of gum caught your eye–folded suspiciously in the shape of a heart.

Huffing, you threw it away, wondering how one man produced so much garbage in such a short span of time.

Reaching for the last item that was not yours on your desk, you realized one of the candy bar wrappers wasn’t empty. “Hey, Obito, is this yours?” You waved it at him over the cubicle wall. However, he had his back turned to you. Nodding at something Kakashi said while dialing a phone number and holding the receiver to his ear.

Quietly, you gave up trying to get his attention and dropped your hand. Languishing it in your lap, turning the candy bar over and over in thought, debating the kind gesture. If he even left it on purpose. He could’ve forgotten to retrieve it amidst all his mess.

But it was your favorite candy bar, and you hated the spark of delight warming your body when you considered the idea of him leaving it there on purpose.

~~~

Subtle, you were not.

This was your third time in the break room. Standing up every time Obito did and rushing there before him, only to end up there alone because he was getting up to socialize or go to the restroom.

So, here you were, making your usual afternoon coffee. By yourself. Sulking.

Until he came in.

Obito wandered in to toss a water bottle in the recycling and leave. Keeping his head down. Avoiding eye contact, his gaze steady on the floor, hiking his leather satchel higher on his shoulder.

You stopped him before he left the doorway, “Hey, do you want a coffee?” Your voice was too airy, too high pitched to sound natural; making your good deed obvious.

“I’m, uh,” he stalled, running a hand through his hair. “I was about to go meet a client for a late lunch.”

“O-Oh.” An awkward silence hung between you. One where you squirmed, rocking on your feet, brain working in overdrive and not producing a solution to get you out of this cringe-inducing moment that will surely haunt you every night for the rest of your life. One where he stared at you, eyes wide. Hopeful.

“But I can drink it on the way there,” he offered.

You were almost certain it wasn’t the first time you smiled at him, but judging by his reaction, it was a rarity when aimed at him.

Removing your lukewarm cup of coffee from under the spout, you replaced it and pressed buttons on the machine. His footsteps echoed in the small room. Watching the black coffee drip into the cup and you shuffle to the side, getting his creamer out from the fridge and lining up four packets of white sugar. The machine beeped twice. You took the cup and mixed in the creamer until the drink was blonde and dumped in the packets, stirring and placing a cardboard sleeve and lid on it.

“Here,” you said, holding out for him to take, pointedly looking at the coffee cup and not a smidge higher. Not wanting to know if he was smirking at you with snark on his tongue, or smiling at you with genuine appreciation for knowing how he liked his coffee.

“Thanks.” His fingers grazed yours. His rough fingertips over your knuckles; calluses from working out brushing your soft skin. Touching you despite you handling the drink in a way to avoid any clumsy touching in the trade off from your hands to his.

Obito checked his watch. “I’ve gotta get going.”

For a man who had somewhere to be, he wasn’t in a hurry. You dared meet his eyes, and had to remind yourself to breathe. He wasn’t smiling, nor was he smirking. Even better, he regarded you with a sweet glint in his stare, and a tender lift of the scarred side of his mouth.

“You should get going,” you reminded him after he didn’t move.

“Yeah.” He curled the coffee to his chest, nodded at you. “Bye.” He said it so gently. Quiet. Not obnoxious like he usually would, with an additional pinch on your forearm or grandiose wave to embarrass you.

“Bye.”

You counted a full minute before you gained the confidence to leave the breakroom, expecting your coworkers to turn their gossipy, sly grins at you, but you were met with–well–nothing. The cubicles were empty. You remembered overhearing Gai talk about clocking out early, and Kakashi was out sick, but you figured someone would’ve been out here to tease you about how long you were in there alone with Obito.

Maybe today was your lucky day.

You sat at your desk. Slouched at your desk. Slumped at your desk. Slammed your forehead on your desk.

“This is so boring.” As you said this, your eyes were trained on the space over the cubicle wall diagonal from yours.

You turned desperate for entertainment.

Finding an errant pen in your mug of writing utensils, you swore it belonged to Konan and found yourself idling in front of her desk in the blink of an eye. You returned the pen to her and stood there. Perhaps leaning over to sneak a peek at Obito’s desk. You’d never seen it before since he was against the wall and you never had an excuse to walk on this side of the cubicles.

Two seconds; that’s how long your morals lasted. You slid his chair out and sank into it, scooting forward to rest your arms across his desk. Dragging your shoes on the carpet, feet not touching the ground since he was much taller than you. For a while you just sat there with the low hum of the air conditioner keeping you company.

His desk was relatively tidy and, impressively enough, lacked crumbs. The fabric covered walls were decorated, unlike yours. He had a little plant in the corner. His pen cup was a mug with a sports team logo on it.

It was like being in a different world by changing your seat. It almost felt like you were.. closer to him. Sitting where he sat. Enveloped by the scent of his cologne. The artificial warmth of his chair cradling you like a hug. Hovering your fingers over his keyboard, worn and missing letters on the ones he used most often. His chair. His things. His decorations.

On closer investigation the walls of his cubicle were lined in photos. Many of them were of him and Kakashi, or group photos of all of you at work events. Directly to your left was one in particular you remembered. Your boss made you and your new coworkers gather round to commiserate the office’s opening; you were in the center, a sour expression on your face because Obito was using you as a place to rest his arm, leaning on you and smiling wide for the camera.

The photo to the side of his monitor was of you and Konan sitting on a blanket in the grass at an employee picnic. She was whispering something in your ear and pointing at the camera. You were smiling; not the type of thousand-watt smile worthy of being on display in someone’s cubicle, but here it was nonetheless. The only odd thing about it was that Obito was pictured in the background on his own blanket. Someone else had taken the picture and now he owned it.

You scanned the rest of the photos. There was a common theme.

You.

The ones of him and Kakashi were outnumbered. The ones featuring other coworkers were conveniently overlapping, covering their faces, but not yours.

“A coincidence. He just ran out of room..”

Your hypothesis fell flat when your gaze drifted beyond the cubicle walls to where you would normally be sitting, imagining yourself there, ignoring him. Below the wall was another photo of you. Just you, from almost the same angle. Glaring at him over the cubicle wall.

“Fuck,” you muttered, pushing yourself away from his desk, face hot with–every emotion.

As you stood, you noticed your stack of pastel pink sticky notes and went to snatch them from his desk. But stopped. Trembling fingers hovered over them.

The top note was written on.

It was Konan’s name. Under it, her personal number. Under that, a heart.

It was her number, you didn’t need to check. It wasn’t her handwriting, it was his. His heart he drew under her name and her phone number.

You checked the photos lining his walls again. While there were more of you, there were plenty of her, too. You looked around the empty office.

Today was not your lucky day.

They were on a secret date.

~~~

You didn’t know why you cared so much. You really shouldn’t have. You took too long, and now he rejected you. Moved on.

Still, the way they entered through the door together, snickering. Smiling openly like you wished you could. Chests tittering in laughs. Holding their stomachs, and touching each other's arms. Sharing a knowing glance and smothering their blissful grins behind their hands as they sat across from you; you had never felt more alone, unwanted, and excluded.

~~~

The next day was no better.

Konan peeked over her monitor. “Did you get it?” Across the cubical wall, Obito listened intently.

“No, I didn’t,” you said, fatigued from feeling anything anymore. “I didn’t get the promotion.”

~~~

Word traveled fast. You’d been picking at your lunch in the breakroom for mere minutes when a fleet of busy bodies filed in and Konan massaged the tense muscles lining your spine while Genma patted your hand–though, he paled and jerked it away when he made eye contact with the hardened stare of someone above you.

“We should go out for drinks tonight,” Konan cooed in your ear. “I know, I know, not to celebrate, but hey, being drunk’ll make it easier to forget.”

You didn’t need to look up to know Obito was there. His cologne was an easy tell, along with the familiar shuffle of his feet. An unfortunate aspect you regretted growing accustomed to in effort to detect when he was sneaking up behind you to scare you. You surrendered, “Sure. Yeah.”

“Awesome! We’ll go to the usual bar down the street.”

In the reflection of the microwave you saw his distorted face smile at her, and her at him.

It was so easy for them.

~~~

Outside the office building, you waited on the sidewalk with the rest of your coworkers until the last few made it out of the elevator and you started towards the bar together. However, one by one, they conjured excuses to veer off in other directions. Genma had an errand to run, Asuma swore he left his stove on, Shizune had to make soup for orphaned kids or something–she expelled her spiel so quickly, it was all gibberish. Ino dragged Sai by his arm after communicating with him through rapid blinks and death glares; “Remember we had that thing to do tonight?” Ino asked, to which Sai replied, “Huh? What thing?” Konan cleared her throat aggressively. “Oh! That thing!”

That left you, Obito, and Konan walking towards the bar.

Konan was in the lead, talking enough for the three of you. Obito hung around your side, but you weren’t paying attention to what she was saying, far too preoccupied keeping your unease at bay. Trying to not wring the uncomfortable tension from your neck. Guarding your face from spilling your secrets as you passed by windows and had your heart broken pane by pane. Watching him laugh, watching him make her laugh.

“Oh, shit.” Konan patted down her jacket and forced an apologetic smile to the doorman before turning to you and Obito. “Forgot my wallet at the office. I’ll just head back and get it!” She put her Track and Field scholarship to good use; the woman was half a block away by the end of her sentence.

“Uh, well. Should we wait for her?” You looked to Obito for further guidance, but he was showing his ID to the doorman, so you did the same.

Once inside the bar you were immediately bombarded by yelling, accosted by bodies knocking you around as people cheered at TV screens plastered to every surface. A man with a large build screamed something incoherent at the slow motion replay. He swung his arms wildly, gesticulating his anger in ways that endangered you and your ability to see.

“Gah!” You grappled with your glasses before they were flung off your face. Obito noticed your size-related predicament and placed his firm hand on the small of your back, escorting you to the bar; a swift apology on his lips you couldn’t hear.

Obito wedged himself between two people and got the bartender’s attention. He ordered, and seeing how you had difficulty being heard above the ruckus, he rocked you into his body, pushing you in front of him. His palm, fingers spread across your skin. Strong. Safe.

“I’ll have the same as him,” you shouted to the bartender.

While she fixed your mystery drink, Obito rattled you. “Look! Those people over there are leaving. Grab their booth before someone else does.” He was everywhere. His lips tickled the shell of your ear. His breath coasted goosebumps down your neck. His hand moved from your lower back, and you missed having it there, but it was replaced by his stomach, his chest slotting into the lonely places curved to fit him–it was heaven, it was hell.

Praising the break away from him, you rushed to the table and scooted along the round booth seat to the middle position, leaving him room to sit on either side of you without touching.

Of course, he soon came over with your pint of beer and sat next to you. As close as possible. Laying his arm across the back of the seat, eyes on the screen. Casual, nonchalant; like this was a recurrence. A date night.

With that thought, reality reminded you that this was very much not a date.

“Should we order for Konan?”

“Nah,” he said, lifting his pint with a single hand to his lips and taking a sip. Releasing a pleasurable “ah” after swallowing. Bicep bulging under the sleeve of his work shirt. Adam’s apple plunging and climbing. Stippled facial hair highlighted under your studious gaze. Plummeting your rational senses and spiking your heart rate.

You grasped your pint with two hands and leaned into the cushion–hyper aware of his arm relaxing across the back of the booth. Particularly, the warm crook of his elbow at your nape.

He made it worse. He crossed his legs. In your periphery you could see much. Too much. A peek of his ankle. The taut fabric of his slacks stretched across his thighs. The protrusion of his wallet. More, if you were willing to ogle like a degenerate.

He wrung his mouth at something on the TV. Licked his lips.

Cuddled together in a booth like a couple; you could see, hear, feel all of him.

Getting drunk was certainly the only way you’d get through this night.

Obito laughed at you drinking like a fish far out of her water. “Need another one?” You shuddered at the bitterness blanketing your tongue and nodded. He laughed at you again and wove through the crowd to get you a second hoppy beer. “Sorry it’s so busy today. I usually watch the game at home and forgot it’d be this crazy.”

Squinting at the TV, you did your best to ignore his arm asserting itself around the shelf of your shoulders, touching you more than it was previously, and read the score on the bottom of the screen. “Basketball?”

“Mhm,” he hummed a bit too close to your ear considering this corner of the sports bar was rather chill and free of overzealous fans. “Do you watch it, or not really into it?” His intensity burned your cheeks; discerning any emotion crossing your face.

You shrugged and turned to face him. And what a mistake that was.

His proximity was imminent. You witnessed each micro movement of his dilated pupils obsessing over the features of your face. Languishing on your parted lips and snapping back to your half-lidded eyes.

“No, I’ve never really been into sports,” you whispered as a goal was scored and hushed devastation rippled through the men glued to the screens.

Obito’s fingers grazed your shoulder. “If you’re bored, we can do something else. Whatever you want.”

The cold pint glass numbed your aching fingers. His insistence on treating you as anything other than a nuisance in his life chipped at the ice encompassing your heart. Cracking the walls you put up when it came to him; crumbling them into the gut wrenching torment of falling for someone who was taken.

But how sweet was the honeyed voice thrumming in your ear provoking you to make bad decisions. “I’ll watch the game with you.” And then the reverberating sound of your conscience smacking you across the face. “Konan’s been gone for a while. Do you think something happened? Should I text her?”

You reached for your purse and he stopped you. His hand around your wrist, his arm’s presence solidly around your shoulders, no longer shy in his affections. “She’ll be fine,” he said, stern, terse. “This night is about you. Stop worrying so much and enjoy yourself.” Truly asking the world of you, he leaned in to the point of his hair brushing your temple, and pleaded, “Trust me.”

The earnestness in his rasp. The honesty in his eyes.

Maybe you were wrong about him and Konan. Somehow. If you dismissed the evidence you procured indicating otherwise.

Either way, he let go of your wrist, but his arm remained. His fingers remained. Caressing your upper arm, tucking themselves against your side. Squeezing new life into your sorry self. Thumb stroking over your shoulder, and you loved it as much as you hated yourself for seeking comfort in the one person who drove you crazy: your rival. Stirring emotions you buried long ago when he first made you a target of his teasing.

“Okay,” you agreed. He smiled his imperfectly perfect smile. You forced your attention to the basketball game before you sank deeper in analyzing his face, especially the way his scars carved rivers through his stubble.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” Obito asked after a few minutes of silence purveyed between you. Interrupted by cheers or groans in accordance to which team scored points.

“Mmm, not really. You?”

Obito inhaled deep. Face blank, watching the TV. “Don’t wanna bore you by talking about myself-”

“Whoa! Did you see that?” You whipped around, confused as to why Obito seemed less than thrilled. “I don’t know much about basketball, but he made that shot from half-court. That’s impressive, right?”

He snorted. “I’m rooting for the other team.”

“Oh. Whoops.” Now, you realized the other team’s logo was the same as the one on the mug he kept at his desk.

“You can root for whoever you want,” he said, twisting his lips in yet another smile angled in your direction. “I’m just relieved you’re having fun.”

“We can make it funner.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s make a deal.” You smirked and waggled your eyebrows–feeling silly as the alcohol settled in. “If my team wins, we do whatever I want. If your team wins, we do whatever you want.”

Taking his time to contemplate your offer, he read the score, read how much time was left in the game, and narrowed his eyes at you. “My team is down 22 points and there’s less than two minutes left in the fourth quarter.”

“Sounds like you're scared, Uchiha.”

“Never. It’s a deal.”

Finally. Today was your lucky day.

It took ten minutes for the clock to hit zero; plowing through referee calls, whistles, and timeouts, but at last, your team won. Your team won, and that meant spending more time with Obito.

“Where’re you dragging me to now?” he asked, paying for your drinks.

“I have something in mind,” you teased.

~~~

“What in the actual fuck is this?” Obito yelled over the sounds assaulting him.

“Music!” you yelled back, dragging him towards the sea of bodies in the warehouse style building.

He winced; at you, the many lanky men with mohawks, the studded leather jackets seconds from puncturing him, and at the blown amps on stage. “This isn’t music. This is noise.”

“Exactly,” you giggled. His scowl was lit in the flashing lights. “It’s called noise rock.” For his benefit, you lead him towards the back wall, putting distance between you and the people thrashing in the middle. “My favorite band is on stage.”

You watched him openly and ardently for his response. Letting him see the twinkle in your eye, batting your lashes at his surprise. Your dimple upon breaking into a hint of a smile, finding it a bit too amusing–and adorable–to see him out of his element, dressed in office attire at a punk show. Sharing a part of yourself no one else at the office knew. Parting your lips and urging him to read between the lines: the deal was just a way to trick him into spending more time with you.

“It’s..” He fought for words. “Loud.”

“Yep! Well, I’m gonna go mosh.” You made it one step towards the mob before you were yanked backwards as if by a tether and stumbled into his arms.

“Absolutely not,” he said, letting go of your blouse and securing his strong grip on your hip. “No way am I about to let you go in there. What if your glasses get knocked off? What if you get hurt?”

You were flabbergasted. Words escaped you. You did not possess the lexicon to describe the burning desire in your core when he clutched you to his chest and reprimanded you. Pressed tight against his body, his nose to your hair, and protective words curling your toes.

“O-Okay,” you exhaled. “We can stay back here.”

He fell for your tricks again.

~~~

For long minutes, Obito held you. After a close incident with a rogue teenager being ejected from the crowd and running into you, he laced his arms around your middle and kept you safe within the confines of his person. You were both leaning against the wall, but you relied on him to support you, and he held no objections.

During a speech about anti-fascism by the lead singer, he ducked his head to speak to you, and became side tracked. For once, you were the one who caught him off guard. Your fingers found their way to his chin. You ran your thumb over his stubble, entranced by the short hairs prickling your skin.

“You smell good,” you said, finding it easier and easier to smile. “I’ve always liked your cologne.”

Obito wrested his chin from your affections and closed his eyes, eyebrows pinched. “Are you drunk?”

“Tipsy, I guess.”

“Mm.” He almost seemed reluctant, debating something with himself, as he claimed your temple as his. A timid brush of his lips. Settling for a minuscule display of everything he suppressed.

In turn, you rested your weary head on his clavicle. Turning your face to tuck yourself in the column of his neck. Swooning over him overtly. Brimming with liquid confidence in his comforting arms.

~~~

Obito didn’t know how many more songs he listened to–if one could discern when one began and another ended–but he swayed with you, regardless. Entertaining you with cheesy grins and heartfelt strokes on your waist.

Eventually, you both enjoyed yourselves too much. Growing overstimulated under the flashing lights and blaring music. You made it to the fresh air before anybody else did and walked the empty streets in the direction of your apartments downtown. His arm was loose around your waist, but his fingers dug in when you hesitated at an intersection.

“Don’t you live that way?” you asked, pointing across the street.

“It’s late, I’m walking you home.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Alright.”

~~~

“This is me,” you stated needlessly, alluding to the metal placard hanging on your door with your apartment’s number. Just standing there, staring up at him like you were for the past few seconds where he also stood there, hands in his pockets, staring at you, slouching. His face held little emotion. Not in a bored way, but in a way that protected him from showing too much. Forcing you to fill in the space with your emotions first.

You rocked yourself from foot to foot, projecting what you hoped was girlish innocence. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“I did. Did you?”

“I did.”

His eyes became increasingly desperate. Flicking his gaze back and forth into your own. Glancing at your lips. Communicating something you didn’t parse. Pleading you to do something you didn’t understand. “Are you still drunk?”

“I was never drunk, just a little tipsy.” He shot you a look. “But the fresh air helped sober me up,” you finished meekly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call Konan to check in on her and then go to bed, I promise.”

Obito nodded, somewhat. It was a very slow bounce, petering out after a few seconds.

Silence, a distinct and excruciating silence, hung between the heat of your bodies teeming with energy in the quiet hall of your apartment building. A silence encapsulating two years worth of intentions and motives.

“Fuck it.”

He sprang.

He cupped your jaw, hooked his arm around your waist, and kissed you deeply. More intense than he meant to, but he couldn’t help it. Not when your hands climbed his chest and tangled themselves in tufts of his hair. He surrendered the self-imposed restraint he honed for years sitting across from you. The relief was all he ever hoped it to be. Your enthusiasm was as validating as he hoped it to be. Your moan into his mouth was as damning as he hoped it to be.

Tingles of satisfaction enticed your bodies to become one. Your knees knocked his, stepping into his embrace past the point of acceptable. Wanting to be absorbed by him. Craving two years worth of passion he held on reserve.

His every inhale filled the collapse of your exhale. His thumb stroked your cheek like it was wiping away tears, but all it revealed was your smile. A smile for him. Just him. You ran your knuckles along the scars on his throat. Feeling his erratic heartbeat elevating further.

He backed off. Doubt blooming in his head. Checking your face for signs of regret, of not wanting this, of only trying to humor him before sending him away with a letter from HR on his heels.

If he was looking for answers, you answered them in the most pleasing way.

You grabbed his tie and reeled him for another kiss. Crazed, fevered. Escalating when he slid his tongue across your lips and you happily obliged his hunger; hands exploring the clothed curves of the other. Smitten over the silliest details, like the way he flexed his muscles wherever your hands landed in order to impress you, and how he thought he was smooth letting his hand drift lower and lower down the arch of your back until it wasn’t on your back anymore. So irrevocably charmed by his ability to caress all common sense from you.

Dizzy, you broke apart for air and gasped a small, “Fuck.”

“Mhm,” he moaned, taking you for a short kiss between breaths.

“Fuck,” you said again in lieu of anything intelligent.

Obito pulled away, calming the steady rise of his shoulders, cooling the flush across his cheeks. Putting distance between you–but not until he laid his gentle lips on your temple, kissing you proper this time.

You sank to your heels and blinked the haze from your eyes. Searching his for what to do next.

“I had an amazing time with you tonight,” he said. “I should get going before it gets too late.”

He posed to walk away.

And you let him.

You didn’t speak up. You didn’t stop him.

At least, not until he was halfway down the hall and you woke up from your lustful stupor. Like hell you were about to let Konan have him.

“Wait!” You slapped your hand over your mouth, not realizing how loud you were until it echoed. “It’s already too late, I mean–” You groaned. “It’s really late out. I don’t want you walking home alone. You can come inside. Stay with me.”

It was an awfully worded offer, but he turned and smiled. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

[poptod]

Cyber Security (Elliot Alderson)

Description: An online ad leads him to you, though in reality he has little interest in your ad. What interests him is how you accidentally doxxed yourself and how oblivious you are to that fact.

Notes: idrk what to say about this one its one of those things that i wrote at midnight after almost falling asleep to a fantasy and then realizing it could work as a fic. like i did this same thing with ‘close your eyes’ that one was also a before-bed-to-get-to-sleep fantasy. this is also not a particularly romantic interaction, though it can be read as such WC: 2.2k

+

Sweat drenched his sheets, bathing him in the cold wind that breezed past his only air conditioner lodged in a nearby window. He stared blankly upwards, half shivering and half overheated, as he once again found himself in a familiar predicament—the practice of sleep.

It was no secret he had trouble calming himself down, and that aspect of himself reached into the evening, as well. He already downed three melatonin pills hours earlier, along with smoking a joint that should’ve put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, that did not work.

“Xanax,” he mumbled to himself, hearing it bounce back from empty walls. “Need to get xanax.”

In the meantime he raised himself to his feet, padding across freezing floors to his computer. With a click of a button the white screen buzzed to life, shining bright onto his sleep-heavy eyes, that did their best to acclimatize to the sudden change.

Hypnotization—strange as it might’ve been—had worked a couple times before. Not all the time, but decently enough to give it a try. He had work in the morning and he didn’t need to be more miserable than usual, especially since he hadn’t slept almost the entire weekend.

sleep hypnosis

The blinker flickered for a moment before his fourth finger slammed down on enter, the last step in calculated movements. What popped up first was a video titled [ SLEEP HYPNOSIS ] 8 Hour Loop with a screencap of a spinning black and white screen. Below that, however, was something he hadn’t seen before—a YouTube video titled exactly what he’d typed, lacking the caps just as he had. The title screen appeared to be some sort of poorly-drawn painting.

Curiosity overcame his hazy, aching head, and he clicked, finding a playlist of videos containing what could be the titles of songs, along with several different poorly-drawn title screens.

The first video began to play before he could realize it. What he first noticed was it was bereft of ads—that meant the publisher made no money off the album.

Sat in the presence of God

whose name means filthy old fraud

Captions had been manually added by, he assumed, you. The author. There were three views on the video, no comments, and no likes, leaving few other options.

Maybe it was the melody—maybe the lyrics, who talked of a world plagued by aristocrats. But he found his eyelids heavy, dropping dark eyelashes in his vision that blurred the screen. By the third song, reciting verses of an Islamic poem, he was slouched in his seat.

He slid down to the floor, crawling his way back to flop onto his bed. The music continued to play till the first ad popped up, at which time he opened his eyes, seeing a music video from Katy Perry, at which time he promptly reached over and unplugged his computer. He wasn’t sure which cord he pulled out, but the screen still went black. With that, he just barely sneaked into his covers, dozing until the morning.

It was far too easy to get information on you. Your full name was stated clearly in your youtube bio, alongside several different social media tags leading to instagram, tumblr, and facebook.

Facebook alone provided him the means to your address, and he didn’t even have to go looking for it. Your most recent post was an ad, searching for someone good with computers to aid you in your recording process, which you noted as ‘dismal’.

Are you fucking kidding me? He thought to himself, reading the ad once more.

Your address, your real, physical address was stated as the place you wanted to meet those interested in helping you. On the internet. You had doxxed yourself after less than a year of being online.

Okay, he thought, clicking on your listed email. Someone needs to be taught a lesson.

Three days later—after about two weeks of listening to your echoing voice every night—you replied, sending a cheerful email detailing when you would be available to meet him. After shooting a short message back, the date was organized.

Two more days and he was standing at your doorstep, his neck craned upwards as he scanned your tall, narrow home squished between two other apartments. He just barely knocked before the black door swung open, revealing a familiar face belonging to a stranger. Elliot was dressed in his black hoodie and jeans, a stark difference to your long, colorful robes, coming out of a sort of fantasy world.

“Hi,” he said, his voice grating with how low and quiet he kept it.

“Hello,” you said with a smile that did not match his hunched posture. “Are you Mr. Alderson?”

“Elliot,” he corrected, his chin just barely raising to meet you. “Elliot Alderson. Elliot works.”

“Alright,” you said, nodding. “Come inside? I was just making tea. Do you like tea? Or do you prefer coffee?”

“I... I’m fine, thanks,” he said softly, scooting past you when you opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He sucked in a breath as his chest brushed yours.

Your home was modern—far fancier than Elliot’s own apartment, with large windows flanked by soft grey curtains. A small, upright piano was in the corner of the living room, set upon a reed mat lined with Korean symbols. The couch was clinical, made of a sort of black plastic leather that matched the grey skies beyond the window panes.

He sat down, shifting his feet closer together as his fingers dug into his palms, continuing to scan the room in its’ entirety until you returned with your own tea.

“What kind of experience do you have? School counts,” you said, setting your cup down on a tiny plate whose decorations matched your teacup.

“I’ve been... experimenting, with computers, since I was around 9,” he said, mumbling the words out as his shoulders hunched awkwardly down. “Have a job at a cyber security firm. Started a while back.”

“You still have that job?”

“Yeah,” he said with a small nod. “Jus’ thought this would be... fun.”

The dead look on his face indicated no humor whatsoever, but you took his word as it was.

“How’d you find the ad I put out?”

“I... I listened to your music,” he answered honestly for once. “Helps me fall asleep.”

“Oh,” you said, clearly taken aback. Your face grew warm as you glanced away with wide eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You’re not very good with technology, though,” he said in his usual low, grating voice.

“Not really,” you chuckled sheepishly. “That’s why I put out the ad -“

“No, not that,” he interrupted you. “You put your physical address on the internet. You doxxed yourself. Do you even know how dangerous that is?”

The lyrics of your songs pointed towards a kind of brilliance, balanced against emotions felt thoroughly on pages and screens. It didn’t match your actions at all.

“What’s doxxing?” You asked.

Elliot had to physically stop himself from sighing and leaving.

“You want everyone to know where you, a minor celebrity, live?”

“I’d hardly call myself a -“

“I could’ve been a murderer,” he said, reaching into his bag.

He looked you in the eye as he pulled out a gun, clicking on the safety before he pointed it at you.

“This is how easy it would be to kill you.”

As expected, you stiffened at the sight of the iron barrel, your fingers withdrawing to your chest. Your lips pursed as you met his gaze once more.

“Please put the gun down,” you whispered, your voice cracking.

He did as you said, resting the gun on the table.

“That’s a hell of a way to start an interview, Mr. Alderson,” you said quietly. “Please get out of my house.”

His heart sank. What had he expected? For you to fall to your knees and sing to him as he desired you to do? He threatened you with a gun to teach you a lesson, and you reacted accordingly. Calmer than others would.

Elliot stood on shaky legs, sliding the pistol into his backpack before he zipped it up. Throwing the pack over his shoulder, he swallowed through a tight throat, shuffling as he delayed his departure.

“Keep safe from people like me,” he said in a strained mumble. “Take that ad down. Meet people from the internet only in inhabited, public areas.”

You tapped your fingernails on the table for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Suddenly you stood, tugging on his sweatshirt sleeve to get him to face you, instead of staring at his feet.

“Alright. If you’re really so good at the internet -“

He ignored your incorrect grammar.

“- and... if you actually do want to help me with my songs,” your tone softened, “then you’ll be able to find my real name, not my stage name. If you do.. I’ll hire you.”

“Alright,” he said monotone, knowing the battle was already won.

Even though he knew your name already, he turned away and left to his apartment, immediately going to work on figuring out everything he could about you. If you willingly still offered him the job after that, he knew it would take a lot to scare you off. He could impress you.

It was, after all, the only thing he was good at.

Two days later he showed up at your apartment again, quietly thanking you when you let him in. The clean floors and walls remained unchanged since his last visit, and you led him to the same table, sitting him down on the same seat.

“Your name is (Y/N) (L/N),” he started with. You already appeared to be surprise. “You grew up near LA and you’ve had a chronic illness all your life. At eleven you saw your first therapist.. that must’ve been when you first got diagnosed with depression... and anxiety.”

“Killer duo,” you muttered.

“Your parents split when you were thirteen, which came at the same time as your dog, Penelope, died. Or... sometime that year. When was that... 1997?”

“1999,” you said quietly.

“Your mom homeschooled you,” he continued. “That’s probably why you don’t know how computers work. Rather eclectic, in a.. boring way... an ex-Amish, right?”

You nodded and his heartbeat tripled. Everything was right thus far despite a two year difference in his guesstimate of your life’s timeline.

“Then there was your dad... logger in the Redwood forests. Burly guy. Not a great man, from what I saw,” he said.

“He was fine,” you said with a small shrug as you looked away. “Didn’t ever hurt me, or anything.”

“Abuse isn’t always physical,” he said faster than he could think, dizzied by his own memories playing behind his eyes.

“I know,” you murmured.

You went silent, so he continued, hoping to pry more precious words from you.

“Your favorite color is yellow,” he said, leaning closer to you. “On Valentine’s you get chocolate strawberries, and on easter you get kinder eggs.”

Nothing.

“You studied mythology as a kid, and you made paintings of the forest you lived in with your mom. Santa Cruz mountains, I think.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I miss the forests.”

“I know. You want to visit Ireland again because it’s a land of faeries and moss, it’s a breeding ground for your song lyrics.”

“How did you find all this out?” You finally asked.

“You use the same password on everything,” he said, though that was far from the actual answer. “Your web browser tracks all your movements and you don’t try to stop it, or hide ads, or stay away from sketchy websites. Your parents aren’t much better, either.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you brought your hand to massage your brow.

“You’re way too smart to be helping me,” you said with soft laughter, blushing with your smile.

“It’s better than working for E Corp,” he said, huffing out a laugh that was hardly humored.

“E corp?”

“My.. uh, place of work,” he brushed off his slip. “My point is... I’d rather work with you and do easy work than work with my current fucking coworkers.”

You laughed, truly and fully this time, curling into a little ball that shook with the force of it. Your feet tucked into your tiny chair, making you even smaller.

“Bad people or just annoying?”

“Stupid,” he chuckled. “Don’t let me wear my sweatshirt.”

“Ooh, now it’s my turn,” you suddenly interrupted him, earning a strange look. “I’ve noticed things about you, too. I couldn’t learn anything off the computer, but you, you have anxiety too. Probably some childhood trauma.. maybe a dissociative disorder of sorts or a form of PTSD. Your jacket is like your home, and... you have sensory issues. Few types of fabric, don’t like to be touched, if I had to guess I’d say you might be autistic.”

“Blunt,” he said after a full minute’s silence.

“Do you mind?” You asked.

“No, not really.”

“Good. Then you’re hired,” you said with a smile, extending your hand for him to shake. “If you still want the job, of course.”

He watched you with evident apprehension, but took your hand after much thought, shaking with a firm grip.

“When do I start?”