#i havent seen ttopv since 2017 and i dont want to hurt myself again

[emmyrosee]

Sober Up (Fluff)

Uhhhhhhh I got bored at work and settled into a soft mood. That’s pretty much the only explanation I can give for this. Hope you enjoy regardless!

Warnings: Language, needy Jim, mentions of drugs. 

Jim Mason x Reader; After a seemingly crazy party, or at least crazy enough to interrupt date night, Jim comes back hours later, and you know you have to care for this needy, drugged babe

Pawing at your nightstand to silence the buzzing that interrupts your sleep, you can’t help but feel a pang of anger. You know exactly who this is from, there is not a single doubt in your mind.

Hey, it me. Am ouside. The bright screen shows, solidifying your assumption. The text is from none other than your boyfriend, who left your date night at 8 to go to some bullshit party across town.

And apparently he had fun, considering the bright clock on your phone reads 2:45.

In your heart, you almost expected nothing else from Jim, his desire to be insta-famous and loved by the masses was what originally made you fall for him. But over the course of your relationship, you knew that Jim was a double edge sword- exciting and free came with the usual task of taking care of him.

You swiftly swing your legs out of bed and waddle down to your front door, gently creaking it open. You immediately notice Jim’s slight sway as he stands on your steps dopily.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask in annoyance.

“I’m here to finish what I started,” Jim slurrs, stumbling into your house. “Date nights not over yet.”

You grab his arms to sturdy him, “actually, yes it is.” You hoist him up to stand taller, but the weakness of his body flops against you. “Jesus, what’s the matter with you?” You ask, tapping his face lightly to make him look at you. Sleepy, unfocused eyes look up at you with a smile to match.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, “what the hell did you take?”

“Some wicked shit from the party, that you,” he points an accusatory finger at your chest, “abandoned me at.”

“I abandoned you?” You bite, helping him inside to your room.

“You abandoned me.”

Rolling your eyes, you gently push Jim onto your bed, “we’ll talk about this when you’re fucking sober,” you scold. “For now, just let me take care of you.”

Jim looks at you as seductive as he can muster before grabbing the waistband of your pants and tugging, “let me take care of you.”

Chuckling, you remove his hands, “relax, Romeo, let’s wait until you can walk a straight line first.”

“Nuh-Uh, I’m fine,” Jim assures. “See?” He points his index fingers out before extending his arms, folding his arm in and out as he touches his nose.

“Don’t fight me on this, Jim, I’m far from in the mood,” you warn, bending down to remove his shoes. You capture his swinging feet, and he rolls back on the bed, giggling like a little kid.

“Wheee!”

“Jim, come on,” You groan in annoyance. “I’m fucking tired!”

“‘S nice to meet you tired,” he jokes, eyes struggling to stay open.

It’s almost endearing, how gone he is. But you can’t ignore the fact that this isn’t Jim- you aren’t quite sure what he took to make him like this. It’s a mixture of drugs to be sure, but the natural dulling in his eyes, despite the laughter he’s spilling hides a secret ingredient to the mixture. Sadness? Embarrassment? Guilt?

“I’m going to get you something that’s going to flush this out of your system okay? Get in bed and be quiet,” you command, already guiding his feet over the edge and flat on your mattress. You gently take his shoes off, the giddiness of falling over clearly far from his fuzzy mind.

“Where you goin’?” He asks, reaching out for your wrist. His face is full of worry, cloudy eyes wide at you.

You sigh, “I’m gonna get you some juice, okay? A special juice, you stay right here.” You can’t help but hate the feeling of talking to him like he’s a child, but the absolute lack of attention and focus is all he has.

“I come?” He asks, sheepishly smiling. You shake your head, “no jimmy. You stay here and be a good boy.”

You gently but quickly pull your hand out of his grip, making him whine deep within his chest. “Jimmy! Shush!” You scold. Jim seemingly ignores you, whines and whimpers still prominent and loud.

“Here, take this,” you growl, quickly sliding off your shirt and giving it to him. Jim quickly calms down at that, but his eyes are fixed to your chest, staring at the nipples that begin to perk up at the sudden cold.

You sigh in annoyance as you pick up another shirt, sliding it on as you make your way to the kitchen. You wrack your brain trying to remember the recipe your father taught you after your first hangover.

Kale, spinach, celery, avocado... would it even make a difference? God knows if Jim was drunk or not, only Christ knew what was currently abusing that boy’s body.

Or was he abusing his own body?

Of course he was, this was his choice.

He left you anyways, why are you helping him?

Thoughts like these swam through your tired mind as you struggled to make the mixture, fear of waking your family weighing on your shoulders.

After a long struggle, you finally managed to blend the ingredients together sufficiently enough for Jim to drink with supervision.

“Here, drink,” you command, walking back into your room. Your shirt dangled from Jim’s hands as he clutched the fabric to his nose, huffing it, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to question it.

“What is it?”

“It’s a special juice to help you sober up. Drink.”

Jim gently leans forwards to take the cup from your hands, “can you come to bed with me?”

You groan, “drink first. Then we’ll talk.”

Jim slowly brought the concoction to his lips, and he could barely get a sip back before his face contorted in displeasure.

“What the hell is this?” Jim whined in betrayal. You shushed him gently as you sat on the foot of your bed, “I know it’s gross, but you’ll feel better.” You gently grabbed his hand, “for me? Just drink it?”

Jim eyes you like a frightened puppy before drinking what he can of the drink.

“That’s my good boy,” you praise. “Thank you, Jim.”

He slowly finishes the glass before wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “I wanna go to bed,” he whispers, knuckling his eyes. “I don’t feel good.”

“And you probably won’t for a few days,” you say quietly, petting his hair.

“Can you stay with me?” He asks quietly, leaning forward to lay his forehead against your shoulder.

“Could you stop me if you wanted to?” You ask back, making him chuckle. He was definitely coming down from his high naturally, and once that drink filters through his system, he was definitely going to need you by his side.

“I’m still mad at you for abandoning me tonight,” you whisper to mostly yourself.

“‘M sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you plant a kiss to his head. “You’ll pay for it in due time.”

“How?”

“Dunno. Let’s see how bad this hangover gets. Or how annoyed I am at you later.”

Jim merely chuckles again.

Taglist 💕 (please let me know if you would like to be removed or added!)

@peachesandfern @sojournmichael @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @rosegoldrichie @hecohansen31 @ticklish-leafy-plant @wroteclassicaly @your-daddy-langdon @souriemickey @avesxtxnas @mega-combusken @coollangdon

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