#*whispering* or if any1 has any on hand they can tell us too

[symerr]

scorpion tail cc for adult sims

[sabraeal]

Kiki and obi shenanigans, modern au. Up to no good… pranks on the squad :P probably Mitsuhide but zen or shirayuki would be good too.

“This health food thing has gone on long enough.”

Obi bangs around the cabinets blearily, scowl pulling his mouth long, tossing aside small crinkling packages that read whole-grain quinoa and flaxseed, to rummage in the deep recesses of the kitchen. Mitsuhide watches distractedly, sipping at his protein shake and hardly even noticing the chalky taste.

Don’t worry, Dad. Even now he can see that slant to her smile, the way her lips seemed to be holding secrets at bay. I’ve got the husband thing handled.

“Look at this!” Obi holds out a shimmery bag at arm’s length. “Kelp. Not even seaweed. But kelp. She puts this in her cereal, Big Guy.” He presses a hand to his chest, scandalized. “All I want is to find a freaking box of Cocoa Puffs the first time through, and I find this. You know,” Obi is warming to the topic now, dropping his voice to a loud whisper, “she brought bran muffins to study group –”

“Obi.” Mitsuhide’s hands pale where he grips at the counter. “Can I talk to you?”

Obi so stands abruptly he clips his head on a shelf, the whole cabinet rattling with the force of it.

“Ah, fuck,” he hisses, rubbing at the back of his head sheepishly. “Yeah, sure. What’s –” Obi’s voice stutters when he turns, finally looking him in the face – “up?”

He laughs, nervous. “That’s some look, Big Guy.” His hand comes up, rubbing at his shoulder. “I haven’t even done anything yet –”

“No, no.” Mitsuhide shakes his head, trying to force his mouth to smile but – but he doesn’t feel it, not now, not when –

I’ve got the husband thing handled.

“That’s not it,” he grits out, his hands in tight fists on the countertop. “I just wanted to ask you about…about something personal.”

Obi stares at him wide-eyed, and really – no one is more surprised than Mitsuhide himself that it’s come to this, that there’s no one else he trusts more about this kind of stuff than someone who thinks kid’s cereal is a meal.

“Please,” he says, eyes fixed to where his knuckles have gone starkly white against the formica. “Don’t tell anyone else.”

“I –” Obi bites off whatever he was about to say, turning his head away and pulling hard at his shoulder. “Yeah, sure, Big Guy. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Do you know if…” Crisse, he can’t even look at him. This isn’t any of his business, and it’s even less of Obi’s but – “Do you know if Kiki is, ah…seeing anyone?”

Obi stares dumbly for a long moment, the only movement on him the slow blink of his eyes and the incredulous huff of his breath.

His mouth crooks, his eyes narrow, and Obi sits back in his hips, letting his hands drop to the island. “Well, I guess you’ve found us out, Big Guy.”

There is literally nothing about this that he trusts. “What?”

“Me and Kiki have been fooling around for a while now,” he drawls airily, flashing him some sharp canines. “You know. Friends with bens. Eff-dubya-bee.”

He winks.

“Fine,” Mitsuhide sighs, shoving away from the counter. “Don’t take this seriously.”

This problem set is going to be the death of her.

Kiki is excellent at crisis management – a savant really, which is good because Zen can be a public relations nightmare without even leaving his bedroom – but she’s six problems into a ten page set, and she’s about ready to strangle CEO B (head of a Fortune 500 company) with nothing more than the drawstring of her hoodie. He’s the issue owner of every gaffe for the past five problems, and honestly, if she didn’t think Professort Luigis would take points off, her solution to ‘how do you resolve the issue?’ would be arranging for CEO B to have an accident in his thirty-fourth floor office. Namely taking the fast way down to the lobby.

“Uh,” she hears from the doorway. “Kiki?”

Her papers are strewn across the coffee table, spilling off the edge onto the floor and creeping up the couch. She’s not sure how long she’s been there, but there’s a stale taste to her mouth that says hours at least, and her tea’s gone cold in her thermos. God, what is she even wearing? Not a bra, that’s for sure. Fuck midterms, honestly.

She looks up, and of course, of course it’s Mitsuhide. Not that she minds, he’s seen her vomiting before (unplanned, a stomach flu that took her hard her first week in the chapter house), but they haven’t talked in days, and she likes leaving him a more…put-together image over long periods of time. Something to leave him thinking about.

Fine, she likes to look hot, like a flannel-wrapped dreamboat that he wants to peel his LaFleur jersey off of. Sue her.

“Hey,” she says, so cool. She’s aware she’s on the floor in sweat pants she’s stolen from him, pegged up to her knees because any lower and they unroll, with a sweatshirt that has a ketchup stain (not hers, and only from this morning. One day Obi will learn to use his huge hands to not squirt condiments all over the table, but today is not that day).Sexy.

“Did you need the couch?” She hopes her eyes convey that she would very much like him to come sit behind her. Maybe even massage her shoulders a little with his huge, strong hands, and – “I could move my stuff.”

“No.” He lingers nervously at the archway, face troubled. “I just…saw you and thought, er…”

That he’d come manhandle her? C’mon, let that be it. There’s a crick in her neck and she has been a very good girl lately.

“Obi said something the other day,” he admits, like it pains him. That in itself isn’t strange; Obi is about as pleasant as a hernia on a good day.

“Obi says a lot of things,” she replies, raising her eyebrows. “Did this involve me somehow?”

“You could – yes.” He grits his teeth, and she’s interested now, turning to face him. “He said that you…um…that you were…” His voice drops; she has to struggle to make out, “Sleeping together.”

What. She tenses her eyelids so she doesn’t blink in confusion, doesn’t give away the game. Across space and time, she hears Obi say, trust me.

Well, at least this will be funny.

“Oh yeah,” she lies, “like three times a week. Regular orgasms really clear the head.”

His jaw drops. “Wha – Obi? Why?”

She smirks, leaning on her problem set, so casual. “Come on, Mitsuhide,” she croons, “have you seen those hands? Mm.”

Is there a reason Mitsuhide thinks we’re fuckingA good reason, I mean

its fkn hilarious lolbside that?

That is the question

he wanted 2 no if u were cn any1it ws lik angels cam dwn 2 giv me th sweetest prank f all timwat ws i suppsd 2 do?dnt tell himits funnier this way

….All rightIt is pretty funny

its lik th prank that keeps n givin

Snow still lingers on the grass, but the day is warm, and Shirayuki finds an extra spring to her step when she bounds up the walk to the chapter house. Her presentation went well in art history – even though she’s not sure she could tell the difference between Titian and Carvaggio without her copious notes (painstakingly reviewed and corrected by Zen and Kiki the night before) – and to celebrate, she veered through the campus conservatory, letting the humid air and floral scents wash over her. She’s not sure she could be in a bad mood if she tried.

Mitsuhide is on the veranda, slowly rocking the swing with one foot, creak-creak-creak. They’ll have to oil it come spring, otherwise Zen will complain about the sound all through finals.

“Hi, Mitsuhide!” she chirps, bounding up the steps. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

He shakes himself, like he’s waking from a dream, and blinks owlishly up at her. “Huh? Oh, Shirayuki. Yeah, nice, I guess.”

Her mouth pulls into a frown. Mitsuhide’s been like this for at least a week now; sullen and distracted, almost listless. She would blame it on the weather – it’s hard to keep cheerful when schoolwork weighs heavily on you like this, and the days are so short – but the past few days have been hinting at not only spring but summer, and his mood has only grown worse.

“You know,” she starts, drawling the words uncertainly. “If there’s something bothering you, you should talk about it.”

“What?” He jumps, eyes darting wildly toward the door before skittering across the lawn. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m – I’m fine with…everything. Things are good. I’m just –” sweat beads at his brow – “I’m just minding my business.”

“Okay,” she says, wide-eyed. “Great.” Her hand falls onto the front door, grasping the handle. “I’ll just –”

“I wouldn’t,” he blurts out, hand outstretched. “You don’t – it might not be safe.”

Her heart pounds at his words, and she drops the handle as if it scalds her. “Not…safe?”

She cradles her hand against her chest, breath coming is short bursts. She must be misunderstanding, there’s no way – Clarines had been the safest place she’s ever know and she can’t – it can’t –

“Obi and Kiki are in there,” he explains dully. “You shouldn’t – you don’t want to interrupt them.”

She can suddenly breathe again. “Oh,” she laughs, bracing herself against the door. “Are they fighting again? Someone should probably stop –”

“No, not fighting, they…” Mitsuhide sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Obi and Kiki are sleeping together.”

Shirayuki’s not even moving, but she stumbles. That’s what happen when the rug is pulled out beneath you.

“What?” she breathes, fingernails scratching against paint. She has to will her hand flat again. “No way.”

“Yeah, it’s, uh…” He grimaces. “A casual thing. Friends with benefits.”

There’s something clinging to her skin, something that makes it crawl and drip and drag, and she – this isn’t – “Kiki? With Obi?”

She could have sworn – Kiki always said –

Mitsuhide nods, slow, painful, and – and he wouldn’t say something like that if it wasn’t true. He didn’t lie, and he wouldn’t spread rumors, so – so –

“I, uh.” Shirayuki shuffles away from the door. Her breath comes harshly, comes raggedly, and she shouldn’t – she doesn’t have any reason to feel like this. “I have something to do. In the library.”

She scurries down the front walk, drawing her cardigan around her, and wonders where the nice day went.

Obi’s not sure how it happens, but their late-night anime watching turns into before-bed anime watching, Doc curled against his side as they lay on his narrow bed, one leg thrown over his and head cradled in the curve of his shoulder. She’s warm against him, comforting, and it’s not really a surprise how easily he find himself slipping towards sleep when they’re like this, when she acts like he’s – he’s –

Normal. The sort of guy you let yourself fall asleep next to, in a platonic way.

God, he needs to not fuck this up. This whole friendship thing.

Two episodes is usually enough to make her go soft against him, to send her slow, even breath curling across his collarbone, but tonight she is rigid beside him, her legs firmly crossed over each other instead of his. He peers down to see her worrying at her lip, mouth tipped at the edges into a thoughtful frown.

“Hey,” He squeezes her playfully, making her look up at him. “You okay, Doc?”

Her eyes dart away from his for a moment, and he’s lost at what to do, how to even go about asking her what’s wrong, when she blurts out, “Do you want me to leave?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I…” She squirms against him, as if she isn’t sure whether to push away or press closer. “You don’t have anything you’d rather be, um, doing?”

Besides giving them another reason to be falling asleep in this bed? “Should I?”

“I…” She lays her head against his shoulder, and it strikes him that she’s sad. “I just though you’d rather be with Kiki, because, um…”

“I like having my ass kicked?” he laughs, eyebrows raised. “That’s like a once a week thing. My pride can only take so much, Doc.”

“No, because…” She gives a little frustrated moan, burying her head in her hands. “Because you’re, you know –” her voice drops into a whisper – “having sex.”

“WHAT?”

Doc jumps, hands clamping down on his shirt to keep her from flailing off the bed. “I just…” Her eyes are wide, earnest. “Mitsuhide said…”

“Wha-what?” He should really, really think before he opens his big mouth sometimes. “No, that’s – gimme a sec.”

Zen is finally home, comfortable in his flannel pants; buried deep in the common room’s best easy chair, feet kicked up as Captain Holt says boNE in varying degrees of incredulity, when Kiki’s phone loudly interrupts.

He grunts, annoyed, and she rolls her eyes. A glance at the screen sends her eyebrows up to her hairline, and she flicks back a simple answer.

“Hey, Mitsuhide,” she says, bemused.

“Mm?” he groans from his place on the floor, half asleep over his law books.

“I’m not fucking Obi.” Zen stares, but Kiki is straight-faced, serious, like she’s pulling off a band-aid. “It was just fucking funny to make you think so. But joke’s over.”

“What.”

Zen closes his laptop, sighing with regret as he levers himself out of the chair. “I’m just going to go…not be here for this, thanks.”

ABORT ABORT PLAN CANCELLED PRANK OVER

K