Tim Laflour oneshots

Overstimulation

Writing this in class because it's the last day and we're writing a movie! I was feeling the vibe.

Enjoy and please type down in the comments what you'd like me to write next! ☆

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You were sitting at the kitchen table, books spread out in front of you, a pen in between your lips and your face in your hands. You and your assigned group mates had a stupid project to complete, and obviously you had done your part. The problem? No one else did..and was going to complete it. You had been given a week to complete the research, needing it to be ready to present tomorrow. You, being you, wanted to finish it early in order to not be bombarded by a cacophony of demonic voices pestering you about it. But here you were, chewing on your pen as if you hadn't been fed in days whilst you completed the rest of your group mates' part. You had to physically restrain yourself from doing all of the work, seriously you did. For an entire week you watched as none of them even touched the damn project, praying that whatever message you got from them was to tell you that they finished their part..only to be very deceived when you read texts like:

"Soz busy tdy."

or

"Hey, I can't work on it right now. Football practice :)"

and

"Read Fri 18:45 PM."

You knew you should've let them deal with it and the trouble that came with it, but you just couldn't risk getting a bad grade just because they didn't do crap. So here you were, taking one for the team as you did the entire week's worth of work. And boy was the stress catching up to you.

You've been sitting in Tim's kitchen since this morning, not wanting to be alone whilst you tackled what seemed to be satan himself. You didn't know what he was doing, but just feeling his presence felt calming enough for a little while. It was 2 in the afternoon, he was watching a game on the couch and you were halfway done with the assignment...and losing your sanity.

Tim obviously noticed how perturbed you were, but he decided it was best to give you some space whenever you gave him a peck or a hum in reply. He tried his best not to cheer or complain too loudly whenever the team he was rooting for did something. Not even thirty minutes into the game, he could almost physically hear your stress. He didn't even have to look at you to know you were all over the place. Your leg was bouncing causing the table to shake, your sighs got louder and more annoyed, the cracking over your fingers, the list went on. He turned to look at you, seeing how you were often aggressively swooping the loose strands of hair from your face and itching everywhere. You were overstimulated.

"Alright, timeout." Tim said as he got up from the couch and closed your book, gently taking the pen that was screaming for mercy out of your mouth.

"Wait- No! I'm almost done I swear! "

"Y/n, you're gonna fry your brain if you don't stop. You can get back to it later if you want, just not now. You're practically vibrating all over the place."

"But I wanna get it done before tomorrow! Just 10 more minutes I promise!" You begged as you tried to reach for your books again but failed miserably as he raised them higher.

"10 more minutes won't do any good, you lunatic." Tim teased as he pecked your forehead, picking up all of your empty red bull cans. "Jeez, how many of those did you drink?"

"Enough to make me feel like my heart is palpitating."

"Yeah, you're done for the day.

☆Bonus☆

2:30 am.

"Y/n, I can hear you trying to sneak into the kitchen."

"Fuck."