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bonkhrnyjail · 4 months

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sweet plum | chapter four

masterlist | pinterest board | spotify playlist

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: mature (will become explicit in the future)

warnings: mentions of alcohol/drinking, mild mentions of weight discrimination

summary: a late night facetime turns into a midnight adventure

a/n: well shit yall. thank you for all the love on what i've posted so far. the validation is like crack for my stupid little dopamine deficiency. and strap in for a slow burn. also, i want to note, you definitely don't have to live in a bigger body to enjoy this story. give it a try if you're on the fence. <3

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“Leave me alone,” you whine at Bella, their shrill laughter crackling from your shit-quality phone speakers.

They continue to poke fun at you for watching Bridgerton for the fourth time in the past few months. Work has been painfully slow, and you have to wait until after the premiere to take on any other big projects. With your NDA, you can't exactly put the best job you've ever booked on your resume until the show is aired.

You continue to defend yourself, huffy and stern, glaring at them through your camera lens.

“I love a slow burn romance… it’s not my fault.”

“I know you do,” Bella mumbles in a somewhat accusatory tone, chuckling to themselves with a shake of their head.

“Excuse me?” you question, a palpable underlying meaning to the statement clear as day. "That felt pointed."

“Pfft, it's nothing,” they quip with a jovial eye roll.

“No, no, please. Enlighten me.” you playfully push, somewhat perplexed by their vagueness.

“I mean… you—”

Bella gets cut off by the familiar notification sound of someone joining the call.

Pedro’s face appears massive on the screen, his head propped up against a pillow on his green leather couch. His hair is completely disheveled, sticking straight to the heavens on the left side. He smiles, beamingly, the majority of his pearly teeth on vivid display.

“So this is what happens when I don’t see you for a few months," you jest.

“Got drunk, slept face first on the couch. I just woke up,” he explains, his voice cloaked in a thick rasp, clearly still acclimating to his consciousness. “But you’re right regardless. I am a bed-headed disaster without you.”

A fantasy floats into your head, you helping him tame his unruly mane in the morning, planting soft kisses along his forehead with every huffy groan, denying every whine and protest to return with you to the bed.

“You need to hire her as a live-in,” Bella jeers, “It’s really… really bad.”

The three of you chat for a while, weaving in and out of conversation topics with lubricious ease. Embarrassing moments, family memories, recalling inside jokes from your days in Canada, the leisure of it reminds you of how effortless it is with them. Your incessant laughter burns your stomach as tears prick the corner of your eyes.

“One time, my mum and I went to a dairy farm and the baby calves would not stop sucking on my fingers,” Bella recounts, wiping the tears from their eyes. “I tried to put my hands in my pockets but they started going for the pockets too. I eventually had to run away and they kept trying to chase me.”

“That sounds like a dream! I'd love to go to a dairy farm,” you exclaim, puppy-eyed with a gentle pout. “Cows are my favorite animal, you know.”

“Let's go to a dairy farm then,” Pedro blurts in.

You scoff, taken aback by his offer.

“With your schedule? Please.”

“Oh hush, I’ll always make time for you.”

Your breath hitches.

He'll always make time for you?

The call falls silent for a moment, your mouth falling open as you process the sentiment. You examine his expression, sincere and warm and ever-so-slightly bashful, and the sight of it sends blood rushing to the apples of your cheeks.

Bella’s eyes widen as their lips curl inward, cheeks blowing out to stifle a giggle.

“Alright! Well… I gotta go... early day tomorrow. I love you both!”

They blow a kiss to each of you and disconnect from the call before you can say goodbye.

An uncomfortable air of silence hangs between the two of you, still heavy and unnerving despite the miles separating you. You chuckle to yourself on instinct, just to create some sort of noise to cut through the tension.

“Are you still drunk?” you inquire.

It’s heavily rumored that Pedro is an obvious flirt under the influence. You’ve heard the stories of him, teasing and lightheartedly flirting with the cast and crew after a couple of drinks. Stupid, corny comments and lots of touching with no clear intent behind it. Maybe that's what he's doing, maybe it's just an offhand sentiment, a product of his lingering intoxication.

“I don’t know… I don’t think so. But I did drink almost an entire bottle of wine, and that was only 6 or so hours ago.” He runs a hand through his scraggly, unkempt curls. “Why?”

The compiling list of questions run circles in your head as you attempt to formulate some kind of comprehensible answer.

“I suppose… well... I was just…” you fumble, picking at your already tattered cuticles. “I guess I just want to…. Were you serious?”

“About what? Taking you to a farm?”

A half smile slowly appears on the left side of his lips, an expression of an almost amusement. Heat races to your cheeks in an instant.

“Of course I was," he responds, nonchalantly but with a genuine earnest. “I really like being with you. Farm or otherwise. Drunk or sober.”

A wave of goosebumps erupts across your skin like a forest fire. You instinctively clench your fists to bear through the surging sensation in your chest, the feeling somehow distressing and euphoric at the same time.

You decide to play along, push a little further, despite your better judgment.

“So, if you could choose anywhere to take me, where would we go?”

You lay your head back on the pillow behind you and hold the phone high above your head. The senseless part of you carefully angles a peek of cleavage in the bottom left corner, just enough to hopefully warrant a quick glance.

And glance he does.

Not once, but twice. The first one is almost instinctual, like a natural reaction to something new and foreign coming into his line of sight. You see his eyes widen slightly and immediately dart back up to meet your gaze. He smiles, a nervous smile, and reaches a hand up to run his thumb along the wiry salt and pepper of his jaw.

Now, the second glance is definitely intentional. As his eyes lower, his smile falls into slightly parted lips. It’s akin to gawking, the way his eyebrows raise and his pupils explode. You watch as his fingers curl and press deep into his jawline as he takes a small portion of his lower lip into his teeth and bites.

Seconds pass, achingly slow, and he seems to be entirely elsewhere.

Suddenly his body jolts and his eyes return to yours once more, a flustered pink painting his cheeks. You can feel a prickly heat spreading down your neck and across your chest, a plethora of contradicting thoughts and feelings bouncing rapidly in your head.

"Well, it’s hard to pick just one," his thick fingers lay flat against his cheekbone as he ponders. "There’s quite a few I’ve thought of showing you.”

You curl your toes as another surge of anxious excitement obliterates your nervous system.

“Well, how about a top three then?"

After about ten seconds of deep pondering, his eyes light up.

“There’s this juice place that I’ve been really liking. They have a fruit juice with plum in it, it made me think of you. I bet you’d like it.”

You ball the sheet beneath your hand into your fist, your knuckles surely painted white with the sheer force of it. The thought of him… thinking about you, wanting you to be there with him, makes you ache with pure adoration. You’ve had daydreams like that hundreds of times, trips for coffee or takeout, holding hands, sharing the little things, weaving your way into each other's lives.

“I definitely want to take you to my favorite deli in New York. I still can’t believe you’ve never had a fuckin’ bagel sandwich. That’s just… just wrong.”

The memory floats into your mind; The gasp that left his mouth when you told him was damn near cartoonish. He lectured you for at least five minutes straight as you tried not to laugh, your lips pressed tightly together, tears welling at the corners of your eyes.

“And definitely Spain. I just feel like you’d blossom there. It’d be beautiful to see. Plus, I miss it. If it weren’t for work I’d stay there forever.”

The statement hangs in the air for a bit, not in a stale and brooding way, but more like a wispy cloud passing between you. Your mind goes still and is washed clean with a warm, velvet enchantment.

All of your useless anxieties melt under the gentle heat of his unwavering gaze, his words so tender, so utterly astonishing to hear from the mouth of a man. It’s often hard to believe that he’s real, like somehow everything you’ve ever wanted in a lover and friend came wrapped up in the Adonis masterpiece that is him.

The profound worry that plagues you, incessant since the day that the already precarious line between friends and lovers have been blurred, is really just a deep-rooted fear. Fear that you’ll lose him, fear that things will change, an irrevocable leap could irreversibly damage one of the most meaningful connections you’ve ever experienced. If you could just know what he is thinking, exactly what he is thinking, maybe the violent kick in your stomach that seems to accompany every flirtatious interaction with the man would finally leave you be.

Images of Spain waltz through your mind, of sundresses and fresh fruit, music, dancing, exquisite wine and food to die for. Bare feet sinking into warm sand, Pedro trailing close behind you with a camera in hand, capturing you as you blossom.

“Those all sound really, really lovely," you gush, allowing the grin that’s been repeatedly tugging at the corners of your lips to grow wide and toothy across your face. "I’ve always wanted to go abroad. Hey, if you ever need a hairdresser overseas, you know who to call.”

You catch a glimpse of yourself on your screen, your eyes twinkling and a soft glow washed over the apples of your rounded cheeks. You look positively enamored, entirely lovestruck, and you honestly couldn't care less.

“Where do you want to go most in the world?” his voice softens further as he rests a hand on his cheek, cozying himself against the arm of the couch.

The phone is inches from his face, likely because he misplaced his glasses, as he so often does. His eyes have that slight downturn, the innermost part of his brows raised slightly upward and inward, his irises catching every glint of the headlights passing by his window. The movement of the sparkle, along with the rich chocolate hue illuminated in its presence, leaves you struggling to form a coherent sentence.

“I... I think..." you stutter, closing your eyes for a few seconds to collect your thoughts. "I think I'd want to go to Greece. It’s a bit ridiculous, but I had a phase in my childhood where I was completely obsessed with Greek mythology. There are so many things I want to see there. And the photos I’ve seen… I just really want to experience that energy. It looks like it has a kindness to it, I can’t really explain what I mean by that... I just can feel it, you know?”

“You don’t have to explain, I know what you’re saying. Things are more gentle there," He speaks softly, his eyes decorating themselves with delicate crinkles and lines as his lips curl into an upward crescent. "The energy honestly kind of reminds me of you. Your… lightheartedness.”

“You think I’m gentle? And lighthearted?” you let out a hearty laugh, entirely spurred by your surprise.

You’ve never viewed yourself that way, at least from the outside looking in. Most of your life you've felt very coarse, gentleness not ever coming naturally to you.

When you grow up in a larger body, every single thing you do feels too big, too clumsy, too loud, every action feels like it should be followed up by an apology for simply existing. The world tries its darnedest to shrink you, to diminish your presence and lock you into a cage of shame, the only key to escape being a success in the pursuit of thinness. You’ve done endless internal work to break free from that prison, to allow yourself the freedom to be yourself unabashedly and throw a middle finger to the consequences.

But you have to admit, a part of you has always wanted to feel delicate.

It’s not that you want to shrink yourself, it’s quite the opposite. You want to be utterly yourself, and you want someone to actually see the gentleness that lives there. Through all the noise, the rowdiness, the bellowing laughter. Through the rough exterior, you want someone to find the soft woman that lives inside of you and love her delicately.

“Yes!” Pedro exclaims with wide, passionate eyes. “Well, not in a way that indicates weakness. No, you’re definitely a powerful woman."

His irises shift up, searching for words as he continues to play with his beard.

"You don’t let the world harden you. Your gentleness is resilient to… bullshit, I guess. You stay open. And not only that, but you stay playful too. Lighthearted. I admire that about you."

The words land like a grenade to the chest, the sensation coursing through your body completely unfamiliar. It’s almost agonizing, yet completely painless. Your veins must be vibrating, and you can hear the whoosh your blood flowing to and from your heart as it knocks violently about your ribcage.

You instinctively deflect as you attempt to bear through the absolute tsunami of emotions currently drowning you.

“P! Jesus, please!" you let out a fake gag, then another, speaking between each retch. "Too... many... compliments."

His hearty laugh booms through your shitty iPhone speakers, the sound of it crackling through the phone causing you to break from your performance, your unruly cackle echoing off the walls of your room. You only egg him on as he laughs harder and harder, eventually nothing but a wheeze escaping from his lungs. Your stomach burns as tears start to roll down your cheeks, and every attempt at steadying yourself only results in you completely losing it again.

You finally catch your breath, doubled over and clutching for dear life at your abdomen.

“I’ve missed you.” he mumbles through a heavy breath.

“I… I’ve missed you too.” you whisper back, just audible enough that you’re certain he can hear.

An inquisitive expression washes over his face, before he springs into an upright position.

“Well, we’ll have to do something about that then. Are you hungry?”

Does he mean… now?

“I mean… I could eat. Why?”

“If I come and get you, will you go get a burger with me? I’m having a craving.”

A pang of excitement explodes in your belly. Shit, of course you need to change, tame the current state of your hair, and honestly you could even use a shower. Some of the particularly heated scenes in Bridgerton caused you to break a sweat.

And, there’s no way in hell you’re going to let Pedro pick you up in his half-drunken state.

“I’m not letting you drive wine drunk, P. I’ll come get you," you announce, surprising yourself with your sudden assertiveness. "Send me your location, I’ll see how far you are from me.”

You suppose your tendency to take care of others triumphs over your jitters in this moment.

“Um… I… don’t... think I know how to do that.” he furrows his eyebrows with confusion as he focuses diligently on his screen.

Old man.

You’re able to walk him through it, but not without a proper teasing that he doesn’t know how to use his phone.

“Oh, ok, you’re like 25 minutes from me. I can swing that.”

You wonder if he can see through your facade, your pressed efforts at being nonchalant. Because truth be told, you’d drive for hours if he asked.

“Be ready, ok? I’ll see you soon.”

. . . . .

You’ve never gotten ready that fast in your life. You were able to assemble your hair into messy-yet-stylish fashion, apply a speedy coat of mascara and brow gel, spritz yourself with a subtle perfume and throw on an "I was just planning on sleeping in this" yet cute outfit. All in roughly… five minutes?

Now you’re dangling out of your car, throwing things about so Pedro can actually sit on the passenger’s seat. You’ve managed to wrangle up all of the various empty coffee cups and receipts floating around on the floor, and you cross your fingers that with the seat all the way back he'll have enough leg room.

He’s seen your car plenty of times, seen the mess that always seems to accumulate despite weekly clean outs, but he's never actually been inside. For some reason it feels very personal to drive him somewhere, to let him inside your car though you're sure he's used to far more luxurious modes of travel. But alas, here you are preparing to pick him up, and it makes you so nervous that your hands tremble.

You finally sink down into the velour fabric behind the wheel and select a playlist to keep you company. You choose the one with the most songs you can sing along to, anything to release an ounce the unidentifiable buzz swarming through your veins.

You can't help but chuckle at yourself, the fervid state of your mind and body absolutely laughable in its dramatics. Yes, of course you’re excited to see him in person. There are so many little things you miss. It’s been almost four months since you've heard the roar of his bellowing laugh in person. You miss the weight of his palm stabilizing himself on your shoulder as he crashes his head into you, the sounds escaping his throat akin to that of a tea kettle that's reached a boil. That was often a daily occurrence, the two of you overcome with giggles, holding on to each other for dear life, unable to catch your breath or maintain any sort of upright posture. You miss the morning coffee runs that left you scrambling for time while Pedro innocently sipped his six-shot monstrosity of a beverage, knowing full well it was his fault because he needed his espresso. You miss the feeling of his hair, how it would glide along your hands, intertwined in your fingers, yours to bend and mold in exactly the way you needed. You miss how he'd soften and slouch under your touch when you'd softly massage his scalp, how his shoulders would sink and his head would roll about like it was attached by an overcooked noodle. You miss the way his scent would fill the trailer and linger slightly after he would leave, the air laced with spice and wood and leather…

You sing to distract yourself, tapping complex rhythms on the back of the steering wheel with considerable force, trying to channel your giddy quivering out of your body through the tips of your fingers. The headlights of the cars in front of you shine and splinter in your vision like a supernova, and it soothes you just a bit, just enough to stop visibly shaking.

Somehow you arrive to the pin Pedro sent you in once piece. You haphazardly park on the dimly lit street and bounce your knee endlessly as you wait. You give yourself one more mist of perfume, the sweet scent wafting through the air in the car.

You need to just get a fucking… grip...

A loud bang jolts every bone in your body, your heart nearly leaping through the bones of your sternum and onto the black leather of the dash. Your head snaps to the left to see two flat palms and a thick pair of foggy black frames pressed up against the driver’s side window.

Idiot.

You open your door to hear his proud laughter echoing down the empty street. Before you can berate him, he pulls you into a tight hug, his strong hands grasping at the softness of your hips. The two of you spin around in the street, your arms still wrapped around each other, your legs doing something resembling a waddle back and forth. A prickly warmth spreads throughout you, radiating from the very center of your chest.

He pulls away to examine you, his palm resting gently on your right shoulder, where it seems to fit just perfectly. His smile softens as your eyes meets his, the street lights creating a freckled glimmer in his deep brown irises.

“I should punch you for scaring me like that,” you murmur, feeling suddenly bashful under his unwavering gaze, fixed on you like you’re the only other person in the world.

“You should, but you won’t,” he winks and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Now come on, I’m starving.”

He opens the driver’s side door for you with a satisfied grin and guides you into the car, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. His fingers shift, slipping just beneath the hem of your shirt and brushing against your bare skin.

Your knees nearly buckle.

You grip the steering wheel as you lower yourself into the seat and squeeze, straining to bear through the sudden panging need in lower belly. Jesus, you’re far too touch-starved for your own good.

Pedro slams his body weight into the passenger’s seat, causing your car to bounce a few times from the recoil. You jokingly shoot him a look of disgust and he throws his head back, cackling and reaching over the console to smack you in the arm.

“God, just put the address in my phone you idiot!” you exclaim through your own chuckles. He snags your phone from your extending hand and begins searching on your maps app.

He has on his purple Laker’s shirt and some black athletic shorts. The shorts are the perfect length, showcasing just enough of his thigh to garner a bit of attention but not so much that you can't keep your focus elsewhere. He paired the outfit with striped socks and sneakers, an almost copy-paste of every casual outfit you've seen him in, very on-brand for his day to day. You once tried to explain the concept of being on-brand to Pedro, but he just went around telling everyone he was “serving brand” for about a week straight. You honestly regret ever teaching him about “serve” in the first place.

You start to drive, a quiet and comfortable hum falling over the two of you. Your music is still playing, so soft that it's barely audible over the growl of the engine. Pedro reaches to crank the volume, veins protruding on the back of his hand as he turns the knob gently.

“You know how much I love Fleetwood Mac,” he speaks in his low, growling baritone, his scent filling the air and mixing with your lingering perfume, creating a fragrance intoxicating enough to give you a head rush.

You take a beat before responding, transfixed by the width and curve of his fingers and the spiral of ink at the crux of his thumb.

“I know, I picked the playlist with my passenger in mind.”

“Well I won’t subject you to any singing,” he teases. “Since you’re such a music snob.”

“I am not!” You reach over and shove his shoulder. “I have a deep appreciation for good music, that doesn’t make me a snob.”

“Sure… says the girl who was critiquing my playlists every goddamn day.” he shoves you back, this time against your thigh.

“What playlists?! Purple Rain fifteen times in a row is not a playlist,” you jab.

An offended, dramatized gasp fills his lungs before he scoffs ostentatiously, prompting an immediate eye roll from your side of the car.

It’s truly like no time has passed since you last saw each other.

. . . . .

You plop down into a slightly cramped, cherry red booth in the back corner of a slightly shoddy, time capsule of a diner. The vinyl cushions are cracked and peeling, beige crumbles of the filling erupting from the openings and spilling over. You scoot in carefully, hoping to avoid causing any further damage.

When you'd pulled in to park moments ago, your knee-jerk reaction to the sight of the place was a look of genuine concern. The lot was packed with toxically masculine trucks and seemingly refurbished vintage vehicles, and a hoard of beefy, somewhat terrifying men crowded the entrance in a haze of flickering red light and cigarette smoke.

“Just, trust me, will ya? It’ll be the best burger you’ve ever had," he insisted, shooting a subtle wink and a flash of pearly teeth, glimmering off of the sole street light illuminating the entirety of the parking lot.

He sits down opposite to you, raising his hand to greet the waitress from across the counter with a quick wave. You catch sight of her as her remarkably wrinkled, heavily kohl-lined eyes brighten at the sight of him. Her cherry red lips spread wide across her bony, slightly sullen face. She whispers something to the line cook standing next to her, and then immediately hightails it over to your table.

“S'been a while since we’ve seen you, Mister Pascal, I was startin’ to worry you’d went n' forgot 'bout us! But I know you’re a busy guy n’ all, bein' Hollywood's latest and greatest.”

Her voice is steeped overnight in a viscous southern drawl. It’s so thick that it almost makes the words move slower from her mouth, like they’re coagulating on her tongue on the way out.

“Darlene,” Pedro reaches a hand to grab hers, a tinge of Texan twang tickling the vowels in her name. “You know I can’t stay away from you for too long. And you know better than to call me anything other than Pedro.”

He gives her hand a little squeeze and you watch as the woman melts under his touch. You really can't blame her.

“Now, who is this sweet thing?” Darlene cocks her head slightly in your direction, her eyes still fixed on the cocoa irises gazing back at her.

“This is my… friend,” Pedro smiles, glancing towards you as his dimple indents beneath the bristles of his scruff. “And coworker.”

“You n' actress, honey?” she diverts her attention to you, her head bobbing slightly with a palpable sass.

“Oh, no, a hairstylist actually,” you explain, inexplicably embarrassed by the implication. “That’s how we met. I did his hair for a more recent project.”

“She’s very talented.” he chimes in. “She managed to make me look like an old man!”

“Darlene, it was one of the easiest jobs I’ve ever had, I’ll tell you that much.”

Pedro attempts to take a jab at your shoulder from across the table, but you duck slightly at just the right moment, his hand colliding with shiny smooth cushion.

Darlene lets out a laugh, one that sounds more like a prolonged smoker’s cough than anything else. She takes down Pedro’s order, the usual, and after a solid minute of convincing from both parties, you decide to go with the same thing.

Darlene hurries back to the kitchen and leaves you with a hungry-eyed man studying your every move.

“I promise you’re gonna like it. You’re gonna love it. It literally melts in your mouth. Hey—”

He reaches quicker than you can dodge him and his thumb and index finger grab ahold of your chin, slightly squishing your lips together.

“Quit making that face at me! I’m serious, it's really good!”

Another waitress swings around the corner, dropping off a pot of potent smelling coffee and two mugs, medium-sized and a robin’s egg blue.

“Always good to see you, Pedro.” she speaks in a low rasp, deeper than you'd anticipated from her petite frame and soft features. Pedro shoots her a wink before immediately reaching for the coffee pot.

“I’ll get this in right away for y’all. Anything else I can getcha in the meantime?” Darlene questions.

Pedro meets your gaze as you shake your heads in unison.

“Y'all've a real cute, uh, friendship,” she speaks hesitantly, one of her pencil-thin eyebrows cocked up with suspicion and her ruby lips curled into a smirk. A soft chuckle lilts in her trail as she turns away from you and slinks back to the kitchen.

“This place feels like a fever dream,” you mouth in a hushed tone as you attempt to sip on the scalding coffee in front of you. “Is she… is Darlene real? She doesn’t seem real.”

“Like straight out of a time capsule, right?” he grins.

“How the hell did you find this place?" you question him as you glance around to people-watch, catching sight of the elderly biker couple to your right, decked head to toe in worn black leather, demolishing two double cheeseburgers with reckless abandon.

“An old agent of mine took me here a long time ago. Since I’ve been in LA so much, I just find myself drawn back here,” his disposition softens as he speaks. “Reminds me of home, I guess, I can’t put my finger on why.”

You listen intently as he chronicles stories of New York, letting your fingers unconsciously twirl through your hair, the nasty habit that always seems to return in his presence. It's easy to get lost in the way he muses on about his experiences, like his own trance pulls you along with him into his dream-like state. He speaks with effervescent detail, a syrupy adoration on his tongue with each word that leaves his mouth. You could listen to him talk for hours and hours, utterly entranced by the way he transports you into his world, the lull of his voice like a spoonful of honey.

“Jesus, I’ve been blabbing on and on," he reaches up a hand to scratch behind his ear, a nervous tick you’ve noticed he frequents. "Am I boring you?"

“No no no, hey, you're not boring me," You rest your hand gently on the table, resisting the urge to grab his fidgeting hand and steady him. “You've got a way with words, I honestly feel like I’m right there with you.”

With a brief inhale, his hand falls slowly until it rests atop yours. You silently gasp at the sudden sensation, his touch heedfully delicate as he caresses the back of your hand with his thumb. His eyes are fixed as he wraps the rest of his fingers around and settles them in the crook of your palm. The thump of his pulse echoes yours as he traces up from your knuckles and slowly back to the base of your wrist, drawing a perfect ellipse on your velvety skin, sending goosebumps to riddle every square inch of your body. As your gaze flutters, you catch a glimpse of his face, his lips parted slightly in complete transfixion. You bite down on the inside of your cheek at the sight.

“Alrighty y’all, I go-” Darlene clears her throat as you both jolt violently, your spines simultaneously snapping upright as your hands tear apart. “I… got your burgers here. Just holler if ya need anythin' else.”

She smiles sweetly, a slight smugness tugging at her expression.

An involuntary chuckle escapes you, responding unconsciously to the knotting discomfort you feel in growing in your stomach. You stare unwaveringly at the mass of burger sitting in front of you, cheddar cheese oozing down the sides of the thick patty and spilling onto the plate. The thick veil of tension lies stagnant between you as the knot pulsing in your stomach threatens to snap.

“I’m like… scared of this thing. It’s a bit of a beast.” you murmur uneasily.

“Definitely don’t eat the whole thing. I’ve made that mistake… more than once," he admits, cutting carefully through the gargantuan sandwich down the middle. "I’m honestly amazed I can still enjoy this considering what it’s done to my stomach in the past. Here—"

He reaches across the table, cutting yours into perfect halves with conscious diligence.

"S'a lot easier to eat this way."

A flush creeps across your cheeks, the same sentence repeating in your head like a skip on a broken CD.

Why does he have to be so fucking thoughtful?

. . . . .

“I can’t… breathe properly. It hurts.” Pedro blabbers as he trudges himself from the restaurant, his hand clutching at his stomach as he groans in pain.

“Girl, I warned you to stop after you ate the half!”

After a third and some of the fries you were toast, and you by no means have a small appetite.

“Do I need to help you to the car? Have we gotten to that point?” you manage through a bout of laughter.

“Leave me alone!” he grunts, nearly doubled over at this point, shuffling toward the car with visible strain.

You sling his arm over your shoulder despite his protests, and let him lean a decent amount of his weight into you.

“I look like I’m drunk off of my ass,” he mumbles in your ear as you approach the passenger door. You open it for him and gesture your hand.

“Don't worry princess, I'll get you home safe.” you quip through a teasing smile, almost immediately followed by a shrill cackle.

He gives you a protesting shove as he plops down weakly into the seat.

You don't really want to take him home. Part of you wants to just drive for hours, listen to more of his musings, keep teasing and laughing and wearing out the energy lingering from your multiple cups of coffee coursing through your system. Maybe you could park in an empty lot and watch the sun come up. You just want to be with him, stay with him, just a little while longer.

But you know him. He’s busy. Always busy. Press tours, talk shows, auditions, meetings, he's never not booked for some sort of event. And of course he's never well rested, a borderline insomniac, and you'll be damned if you keep him from the sleep you know he desperately needs.. You shove down your selfish desire and set course back to town.

“I’m takin’ you home, you poor thing,” you turn the key in the ignition and pop the headlights on, a wash of yellowish-white beaming over the vintage vehicles and motorcycles parked in front of you. "You really should be in bed anyways."

“You know I don’t need sleep,” he teases, his body slumped over and his head looming fairly close to your body. With a quick peek, you find him glancing longingly at your right shoulder, as if he is using nothing but sheer willpower to stay upright and not rest his head on your bare skin.

“It's alright,” you whisper in a moment of understanding. You pat your shoulder twice, lightly, hoping he’ll register what you mean. “Rest.”

His head crooks up at you, clearly surprised, but with a soft and sweetened gaze. It’s almost as if his eyes are saying “thank you” and “are you sure?” in the same puppy dog expression. You nod slightly, a reassuring smile curling the corners of your lips.

He lets the top of his head settle in the crook of your neck as his cheek rests gently on your shoulder, his scruff tickling at the skin there. The tension in his body is evident, the muscles in his neck stiff and straining and his hands gripped together tightly in his lap. Quickly you fish your phone from your pocket and scroll through your music, finding your "cheaper than xanax" playlist before turning out of the parking lot.

The two of you stay silent, but not an uncomfortable and brooding silence. It feels meditative, almost like a single word would eradicate the solace you’re sharing amongst the hum and glow of the golden street lights. Minutes pass and you feel his breathing start to slow and deepen as he finally allows the full weight of his head to sink into you. You quietly begin to hum along to the soothing song that is playing, unable to remember the last time you felt so at peace.

Because that’s the thing about Pedro. He feels like peace.

If you void all of the external factors, his hectic schedule, the blur of professionalism, the enigmatic feelings and moments of anxious uncertainty… none of it truly matters when it boils down to the core of who you are. You just fit together, inexplicably, undeniably, effortlessly. You can talk for hours, god knows, but quiet settles in just as easily, the pressure to perform completely eradicated in each other's presence. In moments like these, being with him feels like being wrapped in a warm comforter, fresh out of the dryer. You can just… be. He sees you, you see him, and you can take comfort in knowing the other is there, and no one is expected to break the silence.

He falls asleep by the end of the first song and stays dormant on your shoulder the whole drive home. Your chest starts to ache as you turn onto his street. The last thing you want right now is to watch him leave without any idea when you’ll see him again.

You give his hand a little shake and whisper his name into his ear. He groans softly and nuzzles into your skin, the prickle of his mustache tickling the delicate skin of your shoulder. You shake a little harder this time, more of a gentle shove. He inhales deeply as his eyes flutter open.

“You're home,” you speak softly.

He sits himself upright slowly, his hair vertical on the side he was resting against you. You unconsciously reach to smooth the mess for him, a habit you fell into after doing it so often in between takes during filming. He leans into your hand, ever so slightly, his eyes droopy and blinking sluggishly.

“I missed that, you know,” he admits, his voice laced with sleep. “You, fixing my… mess.” He motions to his tousled curls.

You missed it too, the way he would always hum deeply when your fingers ran across his scalp. You missed the way he would always say “Better?” once you seemed satisfied with the adjustment. He loved to tease your perfectionism, and especially loved to try and tousle your hair back.

You miss every minute.

“Me too,” you reply demurely. “Now, you better go to bed once you get upstairs. I won’t have your sleep-deprived grumpiness getting blamed on me.”

“We’ll see. I haven’t fallen asleep that fast in months. Twice in a row would be a miracle," he chuckles. He unfastens his seatbelt and lets out a deep, bellowing yawn. “Now, come give me a hug.”

You oblige through your slight haze, stepping out as he meets you by the driver’s side and wraps himself around you, his arms finding their familiar spot and his hands resting perfectly on the small of your back. You allow yourself to hang gently from his shoulders as you lightly nuzzle your nose into his neck, tipsy on the intoxicating scent of him.

You stay like that, for a moment, until Pedro places a small kiss on your temple.

The warmth of it lights you up in your entirety. You manage to untether yourself from him as you stomach does a flip, and then another, and another. When you meet his gaze, he smiles gently as he unravels himself from you, your arms falling to your sides, completely limp.

“Thank you for indulging me. I promise next time I’ll only eat half,” he laughs quietly to himself as he lazily paces backwards across the pavement. “Goodnight, sweet plum.”

“Goodnight,” you simper, your bones growing more flimsy with the passing of each second.

Every time he calls you that, sweet plum, you feel as though you could melt into his arms and he'd hold you like a puddle in his hands.

He turns away and walks towards the entrance to his building, but not without looking back to glance at you one more time. You offer a pitiful wave as he grins from ear to ear, waving again with a quick wink. You stay as he slips through the door, down the hall, and then he’s gone.

Through a sudden bout of dizziness, you manage your way back to the driver’s seat. You turn the key in the ignition, fasten your seatbelt, and start to drive away, a singular thought looping through your mind on repeat.

He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

chapter five

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the last of us

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onigiriico · 7 months

Text

Mikoto audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify | YouTube ]

Mikoto-ing again 🫡 I know I say this like every other post, but I 100% recommend listening to the audio alongside the translation! On one hand the VAs just did an amazing job on this, and on the other hand I also feel like it'll. probably make the switches more obvious than I can convey in text lol

Little disclaimer about the way I translated the DID terminology here: I know the correct term in English is "alter", but in the JP audio they're consistently referred to as "personalities" (人格 / jinkaku) while the closest Japanese equivalent to "alter" seems to be 自我 / jiga, from what I could find. I generally try to stick as closely to the JP terminology with my translations as possible, so I mostly went with "personality". I really don't want to offend anyone here so I hope that's a somewhat okay choice ahshbsdj

Okay. Okay that got lengthy. As usual, if you find any mistranslations, have questions, etc etc feel free to send me an ask or hit me up on Twitter where I drop by, like, once a month 😅 And now without further ado:

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(Es enters)

E: Mikoto…

M: Ah… Hi, Warden-kun.

E: You… are Mikoto, right?

M: Uh… What are you talking about? It really feels like it’s been a while, doesn’it? How have you been? – Huh? What’s that…? Chains? Oh, no. Take them off!

E: I refuse. You’re too dangerous. Physical restrictions are necessary.

M: Umm… (laughs) What are you saying, restricting someone who can’t even hurt a fly?

E: You really aren’t aware, huh…

M: Well, I mean… I do get it. I… go out of control while I’m asleep, right?

E: …

M: The others told me about it. How I got into a fistfight with Koto-chan and whatnot.

E: Seems like it, yeah.

M: I wonder if it’s like… some kind of sleepwalking…? After all, I’ve been losing sleep more and more often recently… Man… It’s really troublesome, isn’t it?

E: Mikoto…

M: The others are all scared of me. I can tell by looking at the way they act. Because I read the room.

E: …

M: It’s pretty tough, isn’t it? (laughs) Ever since I came here, so much has been happening that I don’t understand…

E: … You really… do laugh when you’re suffering, huh?

M: Huh?

E: You don’t get angry. You don’t scream. You laugh, like it’s a minor inconvenience.

M: Ah… I guess so. I might have that kind of trait.

E: …

M: Usually, if you just laugh and pretend, things work out in the end, right? I’m pretty good at that. Making things work out to the best of my abilities.

E: Is that so…

M: (laughs) …But… it’s not coming to an end. All of this. With things I’ve never even heard before, the whole ti—

E: …

M: —the whole time… I have to make all these irritating experiences…!

E: You came out, huh.

M: Hey. Looks like you haven’t gotten a beating yet, Warden brat.

E: …!

M: Hah? What, are you scared?

E: Like you didn’t get beaten by Kotoko…!

M: Hah. That was just because she caught me off guard. We went at it again while you were asleep, and it’s not like I lost there.

E: Multiple personalities… Am I right with the assumption that the you I’m talking to right now is another personality of Mikoto’s?

M: Well, I guess that’s about right.

E: I see. What do you want me to call you?

M: Huh? You’re accepting this pretty readily, aren’t you. Wouldn’t the whole multiple personalities thing normally raise some eyebrows?

E: Yeah. I also didn’t think it was real, at first.

M: Figures. If it wasn’t me, I wouldn’t believe it either. I’d just think it’s a lie someone came up with to get away with murder.

E: But Milgram acknowledges that [it is real] in your case. I simply accept that as the truth, and develop my thoughts from there. So? What do you want me to call you? Your name.

M: No clue about that. Just call me whatever.

E: … For convenience, I’ll be calling you John.

M: Sounds like a dog’s name.

E: It’s derived from John Doe, the name given to unidentified bodies. Do you like it?

M: Can’t say I’m very fond of the way you’re flaunting your knowledge.

E: … Anyway. You’re acting pretty calm today, aren’t you? I thought of you more like a monster of some sort. I wasn’t expecting to have such a proper conversation with you.

M: Don’t get cocky! If not for these chains, I would’ve beaten your face in by now, brat.

E: Ohh, scary, scary.

M: Hmph.

E: John, you are not a prisoner of Milgram. The fact that Milgram’s usual restraints are ineffective against you is more proof for that than anything. Milgram has judged that Mikoto is the prisoner, and you, as his alter, are an exception.

M: Huhh, I see. So that’s why you believe that there’s multiple personalities.

E: That’s why I thought I would try and talk to you as a key witness today. I’m rather glad that you’re being cooperative.

M: But, you know… This isn’t a good thing, probably.

E: What do you mean?

M: I (boku) might be trying to disappear.

E: …

M: Evidently, the time I (ore) have been fronting has been getting longer, so this “me” has been able to stabilize. Isn’t that the reason we can talk properly?

E: …

M: If I had stayed a monster… maybe that would be better.

E: …

M: What?

E: You’ve turned out to be much more rational than I expected… I’m surprised.

M: I’m a university graduate, after all.

E: (sighs)

M: As for alters… Why do you think they’re born?

E: In precise terms, it’s called dissociative identity disorder – generally speaking, [it refers to] when a person experiences severe pain or stress, and a new personality is created to try and isolate [the original personality] from the resulting trauma.

M: Yeah. I… probably come out to ease the stress Boku experiences. The fact that I come out for longer just means that Boku is constantly under extreme stress.

E: Stress… Namely the environment of Milgram, right?

M: Right. Especially the fact that you judged against forgiving Boku is causing a lot of stress. That’s why he’s entrusting me with his heart.

E: I see.

M: Not like I can blame him. From his point of view, he’s being blamed for a crime he can’t even remember.

E: If that’s the truth, then… you’re the one who committed the murder?

M: Yeah, it’s me. I killed them off.

E: …

M: So Boku really didn’t do it.

E: Can I ask… why you killed them?

M: They annoyed me.

E: Who did you kill?

M: Just someone who was walking around nearby.

E: … How many did you kill?

M: Can’t remember. I was first born back then, you know. It’s kinda fuzzy.

E: How can you talk about that so calmly?

M: (sighs) According to the law, how would this go for Boku?

E: With a psychiatric evaluation, there’s a chance of a reduced sentence, but depending on the number of victims… the death penalty might be inevitable.

M: …! I– I’m the one who did it! Boku was just sleeping!

E: Is this really something that works that conveniently?

M: Just put yourself in Boku’s shoes for a moment! He was bottling up all his stress! He kept dealing with it all by himself the whole time, until it exploded! It’s not like he just decided that he wanted to hurt somebody!

E: …

M: He’s not the type of person who could do stuff like that! He always looks out for others, always reads the room, always tries to get along with people around him! He can’t do stuff like that… He was on the verge of exploding! That’s why I was born. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Boku didn’t do anything!

E: Even if that’s true… Even if it wasn’t what Mikoto wanted – someone’s life was still lost.

M: …!

E: Even if it was you, John, who was in [your body at the time] – there’s no way for you to prove that. At the very least not in a way that would be accepted in court. It could still be judged that you’re pretending—

M: You…!! What do you think?

E: I…?

M: I’m the one who did it! Boku didn’t do it! You know that because of Milgram! I don’t care about the law, I want to know what you think!

E: …

M: Please… forgive Boku. I’m the one who did it.

E: … I can’t… judge that right away. It’s not something that I can easily decide to forgive. In fact, Mikoto’s mental footage was so violent… it’s unforgivable. That’s how I judged.

M: That could also just be a fake or owed to the multiple personalities, right?! Boku really isn’t at fault! I’m the one who killed them!

E: …

M: Are you really satisfied [with the unforgiven judgment]? He turned into a murderer overnight!

E: What you did could still be considered a sin, though!

M: …! … I think… I might be the person Boku wishes he was. The person who stubbornly stands his ground, who doesn’t cry himself to sleep from stress, who gives people their payback. If I, the “ore” personality, hadn’t been born, I’m sure Boku would have reached his limit and fallen apart.

E: John… you…

M: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

E: I’ll be considering that after this.

M: After talking to you, I get that you couldn’t forgive what I did. And I’m fine with that.

E: …Yeah. That’s right.

M: The one Milgram is supposed to judge is Boku – Mikoto, right. He’s not me – so, not John.

E: Precisely.

M: Please, forgive Boku. If you don’t… I’m sure he won’t be able to deal with this any longer.

E: “A sin committed by another personality isn’t a sin”... you’re telling me that’s how I should judge?

M: Yeah. If you forgive Boku… I’ll disappear.

E: …

M: That’s right. I’ll have to disappear eventually, anyway… Disappear, and take all of it with me. I… was born to protect Boku, after all.

E: You were… born for it…

M: Yeah. If it’s for Boku, I’ll… do anything.

(machinery whirrs, bell rings)

E: John…

M: W…what? A dog’s name?

E: Mikoto…?

M: Warden-kun, you own a dog? What breed? No, wait, let me try guessing first– A toy poodle? Actually, maybe you surprisingly prefer the ugly-cute kind… like a French bulldog!

E: … No…

M: A pug, then?

E: It’s not the name of a dog!

M: Ehh… Then what…?

E: … It’s the name of your… friend.

M: (laughs) I don’t know anyone like that~

E: … I bet you don’t.

M: Huh…?

E: Prisoner no.9, Mikoto. Sing your sins.

#milgram #milgram music videos #mikoto kayano #milgram mikoto #milgram es #translation #fan translation #I'm crying can't every Milgram vd be this quick to translate /hj

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underoossss · 1 year

Text

Dress - S.H

paring: steve harrington x f!reader

MODERN STEVE AU

warnings: minors dni!!!! this is rated M and it’s for 18+ ONLY, if you don’t have your age specified in your blog and interact I’ll block u bc this isn’t for you. (rated this mature so check your settings in case you can't read it).

an: *posts this and disappears* it’s the first time I’m writing something like this. It’s set in the modern day, and inspired by dress by t swift. There’s no plot? I mean there is bc it’s a friends to lovers getting together fic. But it’s also not a complete smut piece? I’m just playing around with the genre here and I hope you like it.

Masterlist

——

The sound of high heels clicking on concrete follows you home, four pairs of high heels to be exact. Your group of friends consisting on Nancy, Robin and Mae had agreed on a girls night out to a fancy restaurant tonight, and after a fun night the four of you now walk back to your apartment to wind down for a bit. The wind has a bite to it, but none of you wear jackets. Instead you brave the wind until you see your apartment building in the distance. It was a fun time for everyone tonight, the food had been great, the conversation fun an entertaining and after weeks of not managing to make your schedules work, having a night for yourselves was needed. You’d even refused to make plans with Steve, your best friend, in favour of going out with them. In retrospect though, it was the best thing you could do as you needed some space from him. He’s been on holiday for a few months, with lots of free time which means the two of you spend a lot of time together. Hanging out with him more often than usual has made your feelings for him —the ones you’ve harboured for years— come to the surface and simmer under your skin every time he looks at you with those beautiful brown eyes of his. Yes, space is exactly what you need.

The four of you are all a bit more carefree after two cocktails each, not drunk or tipsy, but happier. The carpeted floor of the hallway swallows the clicking of your heels as all of you walk out of your building’s elevator on the fifth floor and wait outside your door. You fish your keys out of your clutch and unlock it, gesturing everyone to go in first before you lock the door behind you and follow them. Robin immediately goes to the kitchen to plug in her phone to your charger and connects her Spotify to your Bluetooth speaker. Soon enough a carefully curated playlist of all your favourite songs begins to play, making all of you start to sing along. Your voices remain relatively quiet though, not as loud as they would be if you were driving in your car; the last thing you need is a noise complaint from the building. Besides, it’s late and you’re sure most of your neighbours are asleep. All of you dance around and sing, feeling safer and more carefree doing so in your living room than at a dark night club where any pervert can ruin your night.

Your mind goes to Steve despite you trying to distance your thoughts from him, as you sing along to the music. If he was yours, your boyfriend, you could go out with him and experience a night club for the first time without any fear; knowing he’s there and that the only hands that’d be on your body would be his as the two of you danced. As if conjured by your thoughts the song that Robin played ends and a very familiar one starts.

“YOUR SONG!” Robin says loudly and your friends laugh while trying to shush her. “Come on you gotta sing it, the stage is yours.”

“Okay. Okay.” You laugh as she presents you with the TV remote as if it’s a microphone. You clear your through agreeing to sing the song to indulge her. It doesn’t hurt though, that it’s your favourite and the object of your affections immediately comes to mind.

All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting

My hands are shaking from holding back from all this.

You don’t sing too loudly and mostly stick to mouthing the lyrics as the melody picks up momentum. It is only when the chorus starts that you sing, emotion thick in your voice, and your friends join you.

Say my name and everything just stops

I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off.

A carefree laugh escapes you as your friends cheer, knowing fully well who you’re thinking about. They’ve known about your feelings for Steve since the moment they started, always urging you to take a chance which you’re always against.

“Did you?” Nancy asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You know exactly what she’s asking.

You laugh and blush as you nod. The little black dress you wear was bought on a whim one day. You’d been trying on clothes for another work event but decided to buy a dress for a night out too. You’d felt good in it and honestly, you’d looked hot. Standing in front of the mirror tonight, the image of you and Steve hand in hand going to dinner together was also so clear in your mind. His jacket over your shoulders as you walk out of the restaurant, and his hands on your body the minute he closed the door to your apartment. You know it would never, happen but every time you wear it you can’t help but go back to the same daydream and wish it could be true. It’s not that you’re only thirsty for him. No, this thing you feel for Steve didn’t start as something physical. You’d fallen in love head over heels, with no way of ever falling back out of love, and then he’d begun to invade your dreams and your thoughts. The softest ones and the more sinful ones too.

“You look hot, that dingus would take it off if he had the guts to!” Robin tells you, unplugging her phone and holding it in front of you.

Mae the voice of reason speaks up. “Post it to close friends Robin. We don’t want anyone else to see this!”

“Yeah, Steve would kill you.” Nancy says to Robin, gesturing towards you. “This is too much.”

You laugh. As if Steve would care, you think. You’re pretty sure you’re friend zoned for life.

Indulging your friends you sing the chorus again, looking at Robin’s phone knowing her close friends are just the people in the room with you. Your hands go over the material of your dress and you smile while you sing, thinking about Steve. It makes your friends laugh and cheer for you.

Carve your name into my bedpost

'Cause I don't want you like a best friend

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

Take it off.

“Tell him!!” Robin yells as your friends cheer you on, it makes you laugh again.

You entertain the idea, telling Steve and coming clean about your feelings. What would he do? What would he say? Would he feel the same way? No, there’s no way. He hasn’t shown romantic interest in you. He’s gentle and loving in a way a best friend is; considerate and mindful of your feelings. He supports your interests just as you support his, he’s affectionate and kind, but that’s where it ends. It’s friendship, that’s all. Besides you love Steve too much, there’s no way you’re risking it by telling him about your feelings.

The song ends shortly after that and new one starts immediately after. It’s enough to get all of you to dance and forget the previous song, and the feelings it brought back to the surface. With your friends all a little buzzed, it’s easy to sing and dance without a care; taking turns to hold the TV remote as a microphone while you do. That is, until Robin speaks up a few minutes later.

“Fuck.” She curses loudly, her phone clutched in her hands. All of you stop your singing to look at her.

“What happened?” You ask, dread settling on your stomach. The look on her face tells you is nothing good.

“Don’t kill me, but I posted it to my story by accident!” Robin grimaces, “Not to my close friends.”

“DELETE IT! DELETE IT!” Mae yells at Robin while you panic. It’s not been long, no one must have seen it, it’s late anyways.

“Delete it now, please.” You tell her, hovering over her shoulder to see her do it. But not before recognizing Steve’s icon at the bottom of the screen. Steve saw it.

“No way.” You whisper. Fuck, why did he have to see it?

There’s no way he’ll know it’s about him right? Right? But you mind still reels with what just happened. Did you just ruin everything, between both of you. Did a mistake like that just cost you your friendship with Steve? How are you going to face him now. He’s never ever seen you like that and for good reason, because it would always be about him.

Mae’s hands hold your shoulders, urging you to stop your pacing. “Calm down, breathe!”

“There, it’s gone. I just deleted it.” Robin says, throwing her phone to the other side of the couch for good measure.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you take a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“He won’t know it was about him.” Nancy reassures you with a smile. “Worst case scenario, he’ll just think you have a crush on someone.”

“Do you really think so?” You worry, worrying your lip with your teeth. “What if he never talks to me again because of this?”

“There’s no way,” Mae reassures you. “Your friendship is too important to both of you for him to throw it away, and if he does then screw him.”

“Oh she wants to,” Robin says from the couch and suddenly all tension leaves you as all of you laugh. “Come on, you guys have to help me with my drama.” She urges between laughs.

An hour later the girls all leave together and you’re alone in your apartment. You check their shared location and confirm they’re on their right way home before you begin to put the trash from the living room away. The apartment is quiet, only your footsteps and the sound of sealing snack bags back up can be heard. You’re actively trying to forget about the fact that Steve saw you singing Dress –your real favourite song not the one you’ve told him is your favourite– in such an uninhibited way. You can’t even be mad a Robin for what she did, she’s one of your best friends. Besides, it was only a mistake and you’re sure nothing will happen because of it. Everything will be okay. Right?

The doorbell ringing brings you out of your thoughts and you frown. It’s nearly 1am and you know it’s not your friends who’ve turned back around; they’re too far away to have returned so fast. After walking to the door, you look through the peephole and spot no one other than Steve standing outside.

“Stevie?” You open the door, confused beyond words, heart thrumming loudly on your chest.

“Hey babe. You look pretty.” His eyes are soft, like they always are when he looks at you. He’s like a dream in front of you in light washed jeans, a plain white t-shirt and nikes. His hair looks soft, forming perfect brown waves that shine in the dim light of your apartment. Your hands itch to touch it and see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“It’s 1am what are you doing here?” You step back and let him in, ignoring the compliment so you don’t blurt out something you shouldn’t. Like ‘you’re absolutely gorgeous’. “Is something wrong?”

“No not at all.” He shakes his head, “I just missed you.”

“You missed me?” You raise your eyebrows. “You saw me this morning.

“I know I just…” Steve begins but he stops talking. His eyes look away from yours and he walks towards the kitchen instead, hands going to his hair.

“What?” You prod, confused by his whole demeanour. He looks nervous and you can’t imagine why, you hope it’s nothing bad. “Stevie, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I saw Robin’s story.” He says looking down at the ground.

Perfect. Now you need the ground to swallow you whole. What is he doing here? Telling you you can’t be friends anymore?

“Oh.” Is all you can manage to say, you lean back against the kitchen counter and will your hands to stop shaking with nerves.

Steve’s eyes leave the floor and move to yours, knocking the air from your lungs with their intensity. He nods and takes a step closer to you. “I saw you singing and dancing.”

You nod and look away. “Yeah, I love that song and Robin accidentally posted that to her story instead of close friends.”

Steve moves and stands in front of you; his eyes scan your face as emotion dances in them while he looks into your own. “Who was it about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You tell him, trying your best to act clueless.

“Robin said ‘Tell him’ Who?” Steve asks.

“So you came to my apartment to make fun of me?” You ask, eyebrows meeting in the middle. “Do you want to know so you can make fun of me, Steve?”

“Babe, come on, you know I would never make fun of you.” He tells you seriously.

“Then why do you even want to know?” You huff.

Steve takes one of your hands, an electric shock hitting both of you at once when he does —they’re so much bigger than yours and warm, you wish he’d never let it go. “Because I wanted it to be me.” He whispers, his face shifting closer to yours so you can hear him. “You can tell me, if it’s me.”

You shake your head, heart beating out of your chest. Tears begin to sting your eyes but you will them to go away. You’re thrilled by his confession, wanting nothing more for it to be true, but is it right? Should you tell him? “What if I lose you?”

Steve’s hand lets go of your and goes to your cheek instead, then his forehead presses against yours when he speaks. “You won’t. I want it to be me because I don’t want you like a best friend either. I want everything with you.”

You sigh when he brushes his nose against yours; your heart leaves it’s place in the middle of your chest and joins your stomach for a second before returning to its place. “What’s everything?”

Steve smiles and places a kiss on your cheek. “Your best friend, your boyfriend; I want to hold your hand, but I also really want to touch you everywhere. I want to be yours.” His lips drag against your skin as he speaks, voice hushed like a confession. “I’ve been in love with you for years and you’ve never noticed.”

You lean back and look into his eyes, there’s longing and love and lust, all blending into a darker brown than his usual soft gaze. Could it be true that he’s felt the same way all this time? Were the things you accredited to friendship actually his feelings for you revealing themselves. “Tell me, now.” You whisper looking at him with all the longing you feel.

You see him swallow hard, the hand on your cheek rubbing softly at the skin. A single lock of hair falls on his forehead as he looks down at you. “I love you, and I can see now you’ve felt the same way too.”

You nod, feeling dizzy from his words. There’s a happiness coursing through you that brings a smile to your face so big it hurts your cheeks. “Yes, I love you. Yes, the song was about you.”

Your words are whispered between the two of you as the distance begins to close. The joy and the excitement of having the man of your dreams in front of you confessing his love for you makes your body thrum with energy. Energy that grows and grows into a tension between the two of you that makes Steve close his eyes for a moment.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, his hand moving up your thigh to feel the material of your dress; it lights your skin on fire.

Your breath catches on your throat and you swallow hard to get your voice back. “Yes.” You tell him as your hands go to his hair, it’s softer than you imagined. “You already know I want you to.”

Steve’s lips are on yours a second later and you can’t help the sigh that escapes you when he does. His lips caress yours softly but firmly enough for you to know this is really happening. Steve’s hand on your cheek angles your face just right as he kisses you, giving him the perfect angle to tease your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. He opens you up to him, intoxicating you with the taste of him, the heat radiating from his body, everything. His lips leave yours to kiss along your jaw. His breath causes shivers to go down your spine, and his lips leave open mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Did you really buy this dress for me?” He whispers by your ear, his hands going to your hips and helping you on the counter. “Hmm?”

You nod and give him a breathy Yes when the tip of his tongue teases your earlobe. “But I never thought you’d see it.” You confess.

“I’m glad I did.” He pulls back and looks into your eyes, they’re loving, sincere, and dark with want. He shakes his head, “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

You pull him closer again, capturing his lips in a firmer kiss, a needier one. Years of pent-up frustration rising to the surface, your body wanting more, and more, and more. Your hands move under his tshirt and explore his back as Steve kisses you deeply, pulling back when you need to catch your breath; the tip of his nose moves up the side of yours before his lips are on yours again, teeth scraping at the soft skin. His hands move from your waist to the front of your dress, his thumbs go over your nipples which makes you arch into him.

“Come on,” Steve rasps when you try to pull yourself closer to him, "Bed.”

He guides your legs around his waist and proceeds to carry you to the bedroom, laughing with you when he trips by the doorway. He turns on your lamp on his way, bathing the room in warm light, then after checking that the blinds are closed, he lowers you gently on the bed. He soon follows, settling over you, one arm holding his weight away from you and his free hand skimming up your inner thigh.

“Stevie.” You whisper, melting at the sight of his adoring eyes; he looks at you like he’s in disbelief of having you underneath him, loving him like crazy. You smile, “Kiss me.”

Steve leans down again, pink lips capturing yours once more before his hand moves under the hem of your dress.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you again and grazing his teeth against the bottom one. He cups you over your underwear as he speaks. “How I’ve driven myself crazy thinking about the two of us together. Making you this wet.”

You drag your nails over his scalp and scratch lightly before you fist his hair in your hands. “That makes two of us.”

You barely get the words out, before his fingers find your underwear and push it to the side pulling a moan from your lips. His fingers work between your legs and Steve curses when he notices how aroused you are. He continues dragging out sighs and whimpers out of you as bliss washes over your body. You never thought being touched by him would feel so good, especially when his fingers slide inside and your hips rise to meet his strokes.

“That’s it, baby; you’re making the prettiest sounds.” His voice is gravely next to your ear. “Tell me how it feels, babygirl.”

You keen under his touch and praise, feeling hot all over as your body tingles with need. Your hands find Steve’s face, dragging him away from your neck to kiss his lips again. You moan his name and bite his bottom lip when he touches you just right. Throwing all sense out the window you whisper his name again, begging him to touch you.

He smiles, you can feel it against your lips. “I’m touching you, baby.”

You shake your head and urge him to look into your eyes again. “No, I need you to touch me everywhere. Please.”

You can’t even be embarrassed with how needy you’re for him. You’ve never felt embarrassed with Steve before, always free to be yourself, so you’re not starting now. He’s your best friend, he knows you and can read you like a book. He knows you so well that he nods, understanding what you mean, what you want, his body bare over yours.

“You don’t have to beg. Whatever you want from me is yours.”

Pulling away from you and taking his fingers away from underneath you dress, Steve leans back on his knees and takes his t-shirt off. Next are his jeans which leaves him only in a pair of grey boxer briefs that leave very little to the imagination. They sit low on his hips, and you can clearly see the outline of him underneath the cotton. The waistband rests just below his hipbones, revealing a patch of hair that trails down and hides underneath the waistband. You’ve seen him shirtless before; when he wears you favourite pair of swimming trunks to the beach you have to talk yourself out of staring at him for so long, staring there no less. But now you can look at him, all of him, with no shame and you have to bite your lip to control yourself in front of the man kneeling between your legs. His strong body is on display for you; strong and arms and his broad shoulders you want him to cover yours with. Dark chest hair and tummy covered in freckles, making your mouth water. You want all of him. You push up to your left hand and drag your right thumb over a particular freckle, you can’t wait for the moment you can taste it. Your lustful gaze makes Steve’s breath catch in his throat, even more so when you look up at him.

“More.” You say simply, pulling at the elastic of his briefs as a hint.

Steve smiles and shakes his head with a curse. “You’re the one wearing more clothes now, you know.”

“Take them off then.” You challenge with the raise of an eyebrow, trying to be demanding and in control of the situation but failing.

Steve doesn’t let you take control; it disappears when he begins to pull your dress upwards as carefully as opening a present. A sound escapes him when he notices you’re not wearing a bra, but you can’t see his face when he does because the dress goes over your head in that moment before it falls to the floor with the rest of his clothes.

“Fuck. Do you know how hot you are?” Steve curses. Your body burns again from his lustful gaze that roams it, and the sheer need to feel him close to you. He looks up at the ceiling and takes a deep breath through his nose, then shakes his head and looks at you again. “I knew I loved your body, but this? You’re beautiful beyond my dreams.”

You look away from his adoring gaze, trying to keep your face from burning at his words. Which is impossible, and pointless considering they way you’ve touched and kissed him just now. Your body moves as you switch your position on the bed, kneeling in front of him to mirror him. His bare chest almost touching yours; all of you and all of him naked safe for your underwear. You look into his eyes as your hands roam up his chest, right hand staying on his cheek as you lean closer to his lips.

“You’re a work of art, Steve.” You whisper and lean in to kiss him slowly as your other hand runs down his chest to touch him through the cotton of his briefs. You don’t have to say please, he’d said so you touch him instead to let him know what you want.

You swallow Steve’s groan with your lips when he kisses you again. He drags them along your jaw and nips at your skin as he lays you back on the bed, soothing each little bite with his tongue. He pushes your thighs apart and settles between your legs, grunting when he looks for friction between the two of you and you push upwards to meet him. He grinds his heavy cock against your aching cunt and both your mouths fall slack against each other as you moan —same breathe mingling until it’s one. He's right there where you want him, have wanted him, for so long. It takes a moment for you to recover enough from the sensation and focus back on Steve, but when you do your lips find each other again. Despite the clear need between the two of you though, the kiss remains slow; gentle but full of the fire growing within both of you. There’s no rush now, as love gains the upper hand on lust –each brush of lips conveys 3 words, and each grind of your hips makes you gasp. Steve’s hands are all over your body; your arms, the side of your waist, your legs, your stomach, your breasts, your face. There’s no place untouched, and it satisfies the burning sensation under your skin. Another moan escapes you and it’s swallowed up Steve’s hungry mouth, which now knows the way you like to be kissed and leaves you breathless. He whispers his praise against them, making you arch into him with every filthy word.

You pull away from his lips and grab his face to look at him in the eyes; brown turned black by his blown pupils. “I’m still struggling to believe this is real.”

Steve smiles at you, the adoring way he’s always done. “It is real; we have all night for you to believe it.” His hands move to pull down your underwear in juxtaposition to his sweetness. He tosses them aside before he moves away from you, crawling down your body and settling his face between your thighs

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut

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astoryisaloveaffair · 1 year

Text

Fix You - Chapter 14: Enjoy the Silence

Gif by @hunterschafer

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader

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Read on A03

Spotify Playlist

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Chapter Summary: The final heat...

Word Count: 7k

Rating: R

Chapter Warnings: Cussing, violence. I will not be warning anything else due to spoiling the story. We are all grown. You can stop reading when you want to.

A/N: Has it really been a year? I wish I had a better excuse than "I haven't been doing great." But that's what it is. I've had huge changes in my life. New job, new career, new goals, and a greater sense of self-worth. I'm feeling a lot better. But my new schedule is busy! Hopefully you can forgive me for such a long cliffhanger.

Finally, a heads up. This has been the arc I have been working towards for almost two years, and I'm not going to waver. Just stick with me like you have been. It’ll be worth it.

I also did the absolute most and made a specific playlist just for this chapter here.

Forever thank you to everyone who commented, reblogged, shared, boosted, made content for, and supported me. It meant a lot and definitely kept this fic in the back of my mind. As always, most love to my girl @musings-of-a-rose who has tolerated me being a shitty friend for a whole ass year, and always talking things through with me in life and in this fic. Cheers.

Suggested Songs: Depeche Mode "Enjoy the Silence", Fitz and the Tantrums: "Out of My League", Lizzo "Truth Hurts", Michael Kiwanuka "Cold Little Heart", Cigarettes After Sex "Cry", Guster "Demons"

Frankie and you decided to break your apartment lease starting October 1st. Fall term started on the 30th of August, and you wanted time to settle into your schedule before planning a move. You spent almost all your time at his house anyway, only stopping back at your apartment for more clothes. Frankie had already given you a row of drawers to keep your things in.

You’d honestly never been happier, both on cloud 9 and it never faded, you were incredibly excited to begin this new start with Frankie and Gabi. It all seemed to have happened so fast. It had only been five months, you hadn’t even told your family about him yet, mostly to avoid comments on the age gap.

You were relieved the hiccup in your relationship settled, you didn’t like feeling unsure or that someone resented you. When you started feeling secure again, you clung to it. That sparkle of joy was hard to keep in check.

You picked your Fall schedule out together and spent the remaining weeks of summer basking in your relationship, playing with Gabi, going out with the guys, and constant fucking. But your most favorite thing was still lying on the couch with Frankie, teasing each other and watching bad TV.

“This is simultaneously the best and worst movie I have ever seen in my life. I don’t understand how they achieved this.”

Frankie shrugs, reaching to your lap for the giant bowl of popcorn, his eyes still glazed to the TV where Mad Max: Fury Road is playing. “I dunno. Who cares? It’s cars and chaos!”

“And Tom Hardy. And Charlize Theron.”

He pinches you on the waist, acting threatened by your thirst just to tease you. “You ever been to a demo derby? This kind of reminds me of it.”

You sit up from where your back is resting against his chest. “Um, no? Isn’t that kind of…for rednecks?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling. “I’m not sure if you noticed, but Benny and Will are rednecks. But no, it’s for anyone who likes cars crashing into each other. There’s actually one at the fair every year. We always go to it. You should come.”

“I’m not going to a demo derby.”

“Aw come on! It’ll be fun! First time for Gabi too, and there’s rides and games and funnel cake and fried oreos—” He pauses as you hold your hand up to silence him.

“I’ll go. You had me at ‘funnel cake.’”

The fair is packed. The final hurrah of the summer before kids return to school and university students dive back into their studies. The derby started at 8 PM sharp, you, Dali, and the boys got there plenty early to look around a bit, get some food, and find seats.

You forgo any typical entree and go right for the funnel cake, heaping fruit and extra powdered sugar on it until the plate is a big mound of sweet. The guys had talked you up on this for days, Benny wouldn’t shut up about it, and you found yourself excited to watch. Your legs bounce impatiently as you scarf down your cake, breaking off pieces here and there to feed to Gabi and your boys.

The seats were bleachers, hard metal planks that hurt your butt and back and caught vibration from every footfall, but Pope sat behind you so you could lean back against his legs to be more comfortable.

It’s a long wait. The bleachers eventually fill up, you certainly had the best seat in the house (thank you Will), and you could see the hoods up of participating cars behind the commentator podium. The air is musty, the odor of wet dirt from a quick August shower earlier that day.

When the first round of vehicles start revving their engines, Frankie pulls some earphones for Gabi and secures it to her head. Once he’s sure she’s comfortable, he quickly runs you through the basic rules. “So there’s several ‘heats’, and which heat you’re in is based on how many cylinders the car has. Last car moving is the winner, but you can’t just avoid the other cars the whole time. No continuing if your car starts sparking from the engine, no hitting the driver side door, and no hitting anyone who’s already out.”

“Wait, cars catch on fire in this?”

Before Frankie can answer, the announcer calls out the first heat and you almost choke at the state of the cars coming out. They were completely dilapidated, windows punched out and hood frames reinforced with extra steel. It looked like each entry had about 5 different parts all from different cars, horrendous paint jobs, and one of them even had a stuffed dinosaur duct taped to the hood. Some of them looked like they had already been hit by cars, parts hanging off and bumpers pressing in on itself. None of these cars would last at all. There’s no way...

The rink was surrounded by giant cement cinder blocks creating a large “rink” type area. The contestants lined the front bumpers of their vehicles up parallel to each other at the barricades separating the cars from the bleachers, alternately revving their engines during the countdown.

“Okay, so, usually we all pick the car we think is going to win.” Benny says. You lean forward to look over the assortment of jacked up cars for this heat, eventually settling on an old Toyota Corolla painted a matte black. Benny chooses the dino car, Will chooses a Dodge Stealth with it’s headlights hanging outside the socket, Dali and Pope argue over a Ford Taurus whose back end was already smashed into the back seats, and Frankie chooses a Chevy Impala, which you immediately regret not taking because it has such a long front and back end. Lots of room for smashing and being able to keep going.

Gabi jumps up and down on Frankie’s lap as he points out things to her over the sounds of engines and a countdown, and then the cars are off off, engines roaring and dirt kicking up as they all reverse at full speed, several of them crunching up in the middle while others circle around the perimeters.

It soon becomes clear to you that there is no rhyme or reason to which car makes it and which doesn’t. Pope’s Taurus didn’t even start and is eliminated after 2 minutes of no movement, and whoever is driving the boxy piece of shit Honda Accord that Dali had to select is a fucking maniac, winding and weaving at full speed backwards, hitting whoever gets in their way. Her choice is the winner of that heat.

Most of them are driving backwards, and Will tells you it’s because they are trying to protect the engine. You deflate in your seat a little in disappointment, but he assures you that as the heat winds down and there's fewer cars taking up the space, the drivers and announcer will get impatient and they will hit each other head to head.

You’re shocked at how much you enjoy it. At one point a car hits the passenger side door of another so hard that it is pushed up and onto the barricade wall from the inertia, hanging from an angle as the crowd jeers and shrieks in excitement. One car flips over completely, another’s engine bursts into flames and the crowd all starts crying out caution because the announcer can’t see it. You’ve never seen anything like it before and there was so much fire you were sure the whole thing would blow up, but the driver slid out the glassless driver’s side window like it was no big deal and walked it off.

There is something satisfying about two cars hitting each other at full speed, the bodies of them crunching, wheels hanging off axles, bumpers being dragged behind and run over by other drivers, cars with mangled pieces becoming stuck to each other so they can’t separate until another car hits them, tires completely gone and cars only moving on its hubs. It’s chaos in a safe format, a way to experience destruction and violence in a way that feels good and unharmful.

Gabi has never been so amazed in her entire life, her mouth hangs open and she wriggles against her dad to see everything, laughing every time a collision happens. The audience oohs and ahhs and boos and screams and cheers and teases, you and your friends join the clamor as you have your own mini competition with yourselves.

Giant fork tractors come into the arena area to lift the cars that can’t move anymore, some guys are able to get theirs back up and running, driving them to the sides to shape up for the final Battle Royale.

The final heat is fucking wild. All the cars that were already battered enough before they even began to come back out, returned to do another round for the final winner. With all the action you’d barely even noticed that contestants whose cars were still driveable had spent the remaining heats beyond the barricades hammering and reforming their vehicles enough to compete again.

And at the end, the winner of all faces the crowd, pulls off their helmet to reveal a thick curly mass of long hair. The winner is a woman. You and Dali cheer until your throats hurt.

It’s over too soon. There’s a mass exodus the instant the derby is over, the packed stadium standing and pouring down the stairs pressing so tight that you and your boys decide to hang back until it thins out. You lead the way, Frankie’s large and warm hand grazing your waist as you slowly move down the stairs and back out into the fair, turning to wait for the rest of your friends to make it out.

“What next?” Benny says when you are all reunited. “More food? Games? Rides?”

“I’m not eating more before getting on rides, let's do those now.” Says Frankie, grumbling as he hears you tease him with Benny. He whips his head around to glare at you. “Just you wait until you get older and start getting sick on rides, I cannot wait to make fun of you back.”

The wait for the ride tickets is long, but it leaves plenty of time for the group to decide how many are needed. Who is riding what, who isn’t, what pairings and who will watch Gabi on the rides she can’t do. You’re surprised when Will and Pope back out of the Zipper, leaving you and Benny as a pairing for that.

Riding it was a mistake. The ride is basically a giant airborne conveyer belt with completely enclosed containers for people hanging off it that were 360 degree capable. And it lasted FOREVER. You lose some of your funnel cake behind the ride out of sight, threatening violence on Benny if he outs you to the others.

But it didn’t stop you from riding The Freak Out immediately afterwards, a rotating pendulum swing that made you feel like you were going to be catapulted out of your seat. The ride seated 4 groups of 4 so that in between squeezing your eyes shut, you could catch watery glimpses of Benny red-faced and cackling hysterically, Will’s chants of “ohfuckohfuckohfuckOHfuckOHFUCKOHSHIT FUCCCCCCK!”, and Frankie looking…absolutely fine. It was almost disturbing really, he was calm and collected, the only hint that this might have been something other than a nice drive in his truck was his giant smile, the tears leaking from his squinted eyes, his chocolate curls whipping around in the breeze as his hands clutch his hat in his lap with a steel grip.

“How the fuck were you so calm?!” You gasp as you stumble off the rickety landing platform. You hadn’t moved yet you felt like you had run a mile, your heart was beating so fast from the adrenaline it almost felt like you might have a heart attack.

Frankie shrugs. “Feels like a copter in a bad air current.”

You simply stare blinking.

“No, he’s always like this. Like this one time, we were flying in a helo over the Andes mountains, and—”

A sharp stare from Frankie that he tries to hide from you makes Benny backpedal.

“Uhhh yea we were flying over some mountains and the air current was wild but we got over the mountains just fine and everything was fine and we were fine.”

Your heart seizes in your chest, that same feeling of not being told something creeping up. You hate it. You push it back down, swallowing heavily to center yourself. “So I assume you were fine.”

“Yea. Yea. Cat is a good pilot.”

You hum, the panic still not leaving your chest.

Frankie grabs your hand as you walk. “It happened a lot, I just got used to it.”

“It happened a lot?”

“Yea. I mean, sometimes we were flying through shit climates, sometimes even pursued. Doesn’t make for a smooth ride. I’m just used to it. They always scream bloody murder though.” Frankie smiles softly.

“Oh.”

You go silent, continuing to walk to the next destination: the scrambler. You had already established you would not ride and Dali wanted some funnel cake herself, so she heads off while you stay off to the side with Gabi to watch, lost in your own thoughts.

“Just don’t fucking talk about that, none of that. That never happened.” Frankie seethes to Benny as they are strapped into the ride.

“Sorry dude, I can’t read your thoughts. I figured she knew.”

“No. I don’t want her to know. No one else needs to know about it.”

Benny falls silent, looking to Will beside him. Pope lowers his head, choosing to say nothing.

“Catfish…you have to.” Says Will.

“No the fuck I don’t. I never want her to know. If she knows…she’ll actually see ‘real me’. ‘Fuck-up me.” And I don't want her to yet. I don’t want to lose her yet. I don’t want her to be afraid. Stop fucking looking at me like that.”

They stop. But only because the ride starts, and they can’t see anything other than blurs.

You hate this feeling, this fluttering in your stomach like something is wrong but your heart knows, it knows it’s fine. It has to be. Your mind is spinning, trying to combat the rising anxiety clenching in your chest, doing gymnastics to find reasons to not be alarmed.

He’s not lying about something. He’s not. …He promised….I’m just overthinking this…

You can’t. You refuse to even think about it. Confronting the terrible possibility that you might’ve done it again, you might have thrown yourself all in to someone only to—-no.

He’s not lying. He’s not. …He promised….he’s different. I’m just overthinking this…

You can feel butterflies bubbling in your stomach and you feel like you might throw up. Fucking men. You huff in frustration and try to distract yourself with your surroundings, watching people on rides, sharing funnel cake. Your eyes scan over two men staring at you silently by a skewered chicken cart and in your current mood it makes you furious. “What the fuck are you staring at?!” You growl at them. They say nothing and slowly walk away, disappearing into the crowd. Fucking. Men.

You try not to let your emotions show. You sit back while Gabi goes on some rides for her age, using the time to rehydrate and calm yourself down. Living through Gabi’s joy helps.. She’s having a blast, choosing a different person to pair with for each time ride. Pope in the Wacky House, the Helicopters with her dad, Benny on the mini Viking ship. Once you feel better you join in to play bumper cars (Will and Gabi win) and ride the high-rise swings with her seated in the cool metal chair next to you, Benny singing along to the ambient speakers playing “Out of My League” so loud eventually all the other teens on the ride join in.You enjoy the mini coaster more than you thought you would considering it’s for kids Gabi’s age, you and Dali are the only others who can fit in the seats, no matter how hard Benny tried. It was easy to quickly forget.

After the coaster, Gabi begins to slow down, so you hit the fried oreo stand, paying for several batches despite protestation and alternately feeding everyone as the group slowly walks through the agricultural parts of the fair. It’s calmer here, the air warm and quiet. The pathway is less crowded so Gabi is able to frolic around on the walkway in front of you safely.

You walk through every barn, stopping to pet every animal. She’s a natural with them. Completely fearless, not one flicker of apprehension as she approaches cows and horses that are easily 6 times her height, paying close attention to her dad in how to not spook them. Everyone finds the goats to be the favorite because of the sounds they make. Even more so when Frankie engages in a screaming contest back and forth with a bunch of them until someone shoos them out of the pavilion.

Soon, all the sugar Gabi consumed rears its ugly head in the rabbit barn, she throws a fit when Frankie won’t let her get a pet rabbit and you only just catch her upper arm in time to keep her from collapsing on the filthy barn floor. You’re surprised she held out so long. Even you were crashing and getting tired. Also, the rabbits were ridiculously cute.

“Listen Gabi, how about we ride the ferris wheel? Would you like that?” You kneel before her, swiping the tears off her cheeks as she catches her breath. “It goes really high! Higher than the swings!” She nods, sniffing in a snot bubble as she takes your hand. The two of you lead the way, and as you get closer and closer, you start to regret your decision.

It’s much taller than the Freak Out. By more than 100 feet. It doesn’t look very stable either.

“Wait...this…this looks kind of high, don’t you think?” You turn to the guys, trying to conceal the wavering in your voice. You were scared enough at 70 feet. This was more like 200.

“Height requirement says she’s fine. And it’s enclosed, goes really slow. Come on.” Frankie takes you by the hand and your heart leaps into your throat, your feet skidding across the lawn as you try to pull back.

A light shove pushes you forward and you turn to glare at Will as he smirks down at you. “If you don’t go I’m never going to let you hear the end of it. Not after you called us “old and broken down.”

Well shit.

“Fine.”

You’re shaking when it’s your turn, the group mad dashing to three cars next to each other so you could talk throughout. Benny pairs with Pope, Gabi is vibrating with excitement as she’s put into a carriage by Will and Dali, and Frankie is beaming as he motions you towards the left car. He pats your butt as you gingerly step in, waiting until you’re seated before joining you and taking your hand.

“Babe…are you okay?”

You swallow, grateful it’s dark enough he can’t see you trembling. “Yep. I’m good.”

He leans forward in his seat, the glowing phosphorescence of the lights of the ride and around the fair bathing him halfway in a multicolored glow. tThe colors and shadows fold into the angles of his face like rainbow chiaroscuro, an angular stained glass window. He takes your hand again, yours is swallowed in his palm and you close your eyes as he rubs his thumb across the top. The dark beat of Depeche Mode pounds against your chest and echoes in your ears and you briefly imagine this is what it must feel like to drop acid.

“Your hands are really sweaty…and you’re breathing really fast. Are you sure you’re okay? Hey…” He squeezes your palm and you open your eyes to meet his. “It’s okay if you’re scared. I won’t joke anymore about it, I’m sorry.”

You swallow. “It’s just really really high.”

Frankie watches the ride operator out of the corner of his eye passing their car as he makes sure everyone is safely locked in before tugging on your arm slightly. You slide forward minutely, he meets you more than halfway with his large limbs and rests his hands on your hips. You gasp as the ride jolts and begins rolling, lifting the cabs up in the air. His calloused fingertip pushes your head back up.

“How about I distract you.” He murmurs, shifting forward one inch more, tilting his neck as his soft pouty lips meet yours.

You close your eyes, trying to lose your self awareness into him and his mouth and the soft skin of his nose that bumps your cheek and tickles your nose with its little breaths.

The lift mechanism suddenly shudders, clunking over something and it feels like when you run over a squirrel in your car. You inhale sharply against Frankie’s lips as your cab jostles back and forth. Not much, but enough for you to slam yourself back against your seat and clutch the seat bottom as hard as you can. Your heart beats wildly and you imagine the ride breaking and dropping you on the ground to be crushed to death by this stupid fucking metal cab.

You feel pressure on your knees and look down, focusing hard to not see double from fear. Frankie cups both in his hands, thumbs lightly stroking the inside of your thighs. “It’s okay.” He reassures, squeezing your knees once more. “Probably an under-greased cog, it’s nothing. They test these things like 50 times a day.”

You simply stare, forcing yourself to nod.

“Close your eyes.”

You open your mouth to argue then close it and obey. You trust Frankie, and it can’t be any worse.

“Just focus on me. And…you hear the music? It’s called “Enjoy the Silence.” I was obsessed with this song when it came out. And can you hear Benny below us? I can hear Gabi laughing too. We’re all okay, you’re okay too.”

You bite your lips into your mouth, focusing on the song and Frankie’s husky voice. The meditative synth pop calms you, and the carefree voices of your friends below does help calm you, but you can’t slow down your heartbeat.

“I’m okay. Just too much adrenaline.”

The hands on your knees slide up your bare thighs and wrap around the bottoms of them. Frankie pulls you forward in your seat with a smirk. “I’m feeling a little amped up too.”

“Frankie.”

He doesn’t respond, his sole focus on your thighs as his hands slide up and up and up until he is just able to slip the tip of one of his fingers under one leg of your shorts. For some reason, it pisses you off.

“Frankie!” You hiss. “People could see us.”

“Nah…” He shushes you, his finger sliding lower.

You clamp your legs shut and push his hand back in his direction. “Frankie, I don’t want to right here.”

He sits up. “Oh.”

Suddenly you hear Benny’s voice from below. “Hello we are underneath you guys! I don’t want to hear any hooking up sounds!” He trolls, and you fully push Frankie back to his side, your cheeks burning in embarrassment.

It’s the first time you can remember that it’s ever been uncomfortably awkward between the two of you, and you’re not sure why. The silence seems so much more noticeable and weird against the clanking of the Ferris wheel gears and the chattering of random other people.

You’re not even looking at each other, you realize. When did that happen? Your neck cranes to the left as you gaze at the stars, and when you turn back towards Frankie, he is looking to the right and down at the fair.

“…Is everything okay?”

His eyes snap back to yours. “Yea? Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Cause I pushed you away, and…I dunno, you’re being weird..”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s not intentional. I’m not upset, c’mere.” He opens his arms wide to you, scooting on his bench so there’s enough room for you.

You hesitate. “Won’t it…won’t it throw off the balance?”

You feel ridiculous asking but he doesn’t laugh at you, just shakes his head slightly. “Nah, they wouldn’t be able to run this ride if people couldn’t sit on the same side.”

You balance awkwardly on the edge of your bench overanalyzing what exact moment during the track of the ride to launch onto his, but you overthink it and end up jostling the cab more than necessary. Frankie’s arms pull you into his side and you burrow your face in his neck as the cab continues to rock. The music fades from Depeche Mode to Lizzo to Lil’ Nas X (Will clearly enjoys that one) and then back to Lizzo, and you forget all about your uneasiness.

He was right. It did feel better being with him.

The ride does one more pass then rolls to a halt, letting off you with Frankie and Benny with Santiago. You hover at the exit for Will and Gabi, who have to wait for their cab to reach the platform before dismounting. Frankie takes your hand as you wait.

Gabby’s adrenaline rush runs out fast, and you spend the remainder of the fair eating more fried Oreos and playing games. Somehow you manage to beat them all at the water shooting game, which amps up the competitiveness to the point you’d rather just watch.

Which is how you end up at the “star” game.

“We’re so fucking good at this game, it pisses them off every time.” Laughs Benny, as he shoots the entire Star out perfectly with the gun that is specifically not given enough ammo to achieve this. You hop up on the far side of the counter to watch, noting the way each of you boys handles their weapon and the differences in each. Benny held his gun loosely, like he was relaxed and self assured. It almost seemed like you would be able to slap it out of his hands but you knew he still had an iron grip. Will was precise and, as you expected, “perfect form”. You could tell just from Pope’s posture change that he was the best shot on the team, you’d never seen him look so focused. Frankie held his with a tense white knuckle grip, the folding stock tucked against his shoulder joint. The tension carrying up his arms as his veins popped out in his forearms and biceps. He looked fucking good. And you wouldn’t consider yourself a “gun person.” In fact, you kind of hated them. But there just was something about a strong non-douchey man holding a rifle like that that activated you. Damn the patriarchy. Even Dali is a great shot, though not as good as the guys.

After a few rounds, the carnie finally stopped allowing your posse to keep playing, frustrated that somehow the rigging system didn’t work on your group. You lean back on your hands, your legs swinging against the wood counter, observing Benny arguing with the carnie with a smirk. Gabi is passed out in her stroller next to you as Frankie sidles up to you, feeding you a piece of Fried Reeses, then promptly kissing you so the taste floats between you.

He hums deeply, stepping closer to you til he’s between your legs. His hands rest low on the top of your thighs. “This ok?”

You smile. “Yes. More than okay. And I want more.”

Frankie beams and cups your face, his lips crashing into yours as he all but breathes you in. You tilt your head and poke his mouth with your tongue. He responds immediately and opens for you, meeting you halfway. You whine softly as his hands leave your cheeks and trail down your back, one hand sneaking a bit lower to discreetly cup your ass. You’ve just wound your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck when you hear a shrill voice cut through the din of the dwindling crowd.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your heart slams to a halt so fast it hurts. You recognize that voice. And so does Frankie. Your heads both snap to the left as a disheveled looking Lex stands there with a bunch of her friends.

Frankie simply stares. She repeats herself. “Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me. The BABYSITTER? Are you fucking your BABYSITTER??? Oh Frankie…come on…how pathetic can you be? She’s like a child!”

You look at Frankie, receding into himself like a silent, terrified puppy. You’ve never seen him like this before, it unnerves you.

“Excuse me.” You snap back. “I am 28.”

She scoffs. I fucking knew something was going on with you two. And you’re doing this in front of my child?”

“Well, actually, Gabi is sleeping. At least she was, until you came ranting and raving.” You make eye contact with Pope, who reads your perfectly and starts steering Gabi’s stroller away so she can’t hear. “We made sure to be careful for her but why do you even care if we are fucking? You left him! You didn’t want him anymore, so it shouldn’t fucking matter who he dates.”

“He’s a drug addict and a pathological liar. He will NEVER change.”

“Yea? And you are a drunk, controlling, OCD bitch who can’t mind her own fucking business. He’s happy with me. I trust him. Unlike you. Bye.” You couldn’t help yourself, you just fucking hated her.

But that set her off. “Did he tell you why he was suspended?”

“Yes, he—“

“Did he tell you he was high, flying a family and he almost injured everyone from a sloppy landing? Did he tell you how he would take Gabi to his drug dealers house with him? How he went on a STUPID fucking mission with these idiots to burglarize a fucking drug lord completely off paper? That I deliberately asked him not to because we had a new baby? That he crashed their helicopter, dropped all their money and shot innocent villagers to keep them from getting it? At children and old men adn women? That because of that, Molly’s husband was shot in the fucking head by one of those people? And then they couldn’t even bring the money back so it was all for no reason?”

She’s shouting now, spittle flying from her inebriated lips. One of her friends tries to grab her arm but she shakes them off. People in the crowd are starting to stop and watch. “Then, THEN, he treated me like shit, saying horrible things to me just when he was mad, throwing things, scaring me!”

You feel like you can’t breathe, it’s too much information all at once. “...What? I don’t…No. no, he said he was on a delta mission–”

“Oh sweetheart,” She sneers condescendingly. “He was on a greed mission. He was retired from delta. This was like a year ago. They all wanted to get rich and robbed a fucking drug kingpin and Frankie shot innocent people to make sure he got alllllll that money. And because of that, his friend was shot and killed and his family has NO idea why. He lied to you.”

You turn to look at him, and all his friends. Everyone is silent, trying not to look up from the ground. Dali looks as bewildered as you. “Frankie…?” Tears water in your eyes and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You thought he told you it was an enlisted mission, but on top of everything else you just learned your thoughts are rushing so fast you can’t seem to remember specifics.

Frankie can’t even look at you. And that’s how you know.

It’s true…

“Lex. Stop.” Will’s Southern drawl cuts through the silence, the commanding officer in him coming out. “It’s over. This shit between you two has to stop. Enough.” His eyes shift to Lex’s friends, who are nodding and repeating the same thing. Lex finally allows them to pull her away muttering under her breath, sending one last glare in your direction.

The walk to the truck is silent. The ride home is a foggy blur. But the minute you step into the house, you crack.

“Frankie please tell me all this is not true.” You can’t read him at all, his face is completely blank as he moves around you towards Gabi’s bedroom to tuck her in.

So you wait.

His hackles are already up when he comes back out.

“Frankie–”

“Yea.”

“Well?”

“Yea. It’s true. We tried to steal money from one of Pope’s cases and it backfired and Tom got shot.”

“Because of you.”

His expression changes then, from blank nothing to vicious defensive anger. “Yea. Because of me. I fucked up the flight back and we crash landed and these fuckin’ villagers were gonna take the money! And it was an accident!”

“You ‘accidentally’ shot innocent people?”

He swallows, his jaw clenching and unclenching. You can see he’s doing mental gymnastics in order to avoid accountability.

“Did your finger slip?”

No answer.

“Frankie. Did your finger slip on the trigger?”

You already know the answer before he says it. And somehow it’s like he morphs into a Disney villain as he says it. “No. My finger didn’t slip.”

It burns, the sharp pain in your heart that makes you feel like it’s having a seizure or forgot how to pump blood or is pumping too much blood. “How many people did you kill.”

He shrugs. “I dunno.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?! Frankie, you told me this was your job! You- you fucking lied to me! I-I I asked you if you were hiding anything else from me and you fucking lied to me!” You can’t help your voice raising, the tears spilling out of your eyes as you realize how fucking stupid you had been. Somewhere in the background you can hear Gabi has woken and is hysterically crying. Frankie, clearly having enough, turns back towards her room. But you continue, screaming at his back. “And that’s why Tom is dead? And his family doesn’t know why?!”

Frankie doesn’t answer and suddenly you are enraged. You run behind him and shove him forward. “I’m fucking talking to you! How can you just be so fucking blase about this??? And…all that other shit???—I feel like I don’t know you at all!”

He whirls around, that furious murderous face you ‘ve seen him give others is finally directed at you. “Because you don’t!” He screams back, his teeth nash and he shoves a finger one inch from your face. You flinch.

“Frankie, you’re scaring me.”

“I’m scaring you? Really? I thought this was your thing?”

You blink, confused, tears stalling on your face. “Don’t–” You plead softly.

“No, Lex is right. You’re a naive little girl who thinks she can save worthless idiots like me and live some fucking fantasy happily ever after. You won’t. You can’t. I’m unfixable.”

“How can you say that!! Frankie, I love you!

He scoffs. “I know you think you do. And I know you aren’t stupid, you told me you’ve done this before. But guess what sweetie, you aren’t better, you’re still doing it because you’re so fucking desperate for someone to love you. You don’t love me. You just want to feel like some fucking savior.”

“No! No… I didn’t, I don’t…you told me you loved me!”

“I wanted to fuck you.” His eyes are black as far, it’s like you don’t even recognize his face anymore. Lex was right. Lex was right. How…did you make all of it up in your head?

“You…You’re a fucking psycho…I feel like you emotionally manipulated me into caring for you only for you to play games with me! I specifically told you I couldn’t go through this again and you fucking did it anyway!”

“Hey, you kissed me. And you were fun to fuck, I will admit that. Let me do fucking anything. But we both knew this would happen. You set yourself up. I did shoot those villagers. I caused Tom’s death. I just wanted the fucking money. And I wanted to kill a bunch of kids too, when they got in my way. Fuckin’ teenagers and I told Pope to fucking shoot them all. And you know what else? We went back and got all that fucking money we hid, and we are fucking swimming in it. And I didn’t share a goddamn dime with my ex. You’re right. I am a psycho, so it’s a good thing this is over. Pack your shit and leave me alone.”

“Fuck you Frankie.”

You don’t wait another moment. You don’t need to be asked twice this time. You shove him aside on your way down the hallway, doing everything you can not to let the second round of tears fall. He’d seen enough.

You slam the door of the master bedroom behind you, frantically bouncing around different points in the room to grab all your shit. When did all of this stuff even get here? Anxiety bubbles up your chest until you can’t take it anymore and say fuck it, he can just throw anything else out. I have to get out of here.

You rush back down the hallway like a speed demon, praying to whatever that he won’t be standing in the hallway still. He isn’t. He’s sitting on his couch facing away from you, his head in his hands. You hate yourself for wanting to go comfort him. He’s right…I’m

not better…

You pause on the front doorway, struggling to say what needs to be said. Don’t be weak. Don’t keep letting people do this to you over and over. “Don’t contact me.I never want to see you again.” You say to his back.

He doesn’t move a muscle, or even look at you. “You won’t.”

You were able to make it halfway across the lawn before the grief fully hit. By the time you got to your car you were gasping like you were no longer able to breathe. And the minute your car door shut you broke, a wailing sob bursting from your lips as you bury your face in your palms.

Again. It happened again. And it’s just as crushing as every other time, except now it feels like you never healed from the others and now they are all piling on top of the other with this one as the final blow.

Why. WHY? Was there something wrong with you? Why were you never enough? Why couldn’t you make them stay? What did you do to keep having to go through this? It almost killed you last time, your eyes squeeze shut as you remember the look on your parents face as they watched you writhe on your bed screaming and crying hysterically from your latest breakup.

And why did you let yourself fall into it again, like you had never learned a goddamn thing. It was like you were masochistic, you told yourself you would never need someone again so badly, you wouldn’t enmesh yourself so fully that when it fell apart you could barely function. Your heart was once again ripped out of your chest and thrown to the floor, the cracks from before making this shattering into pieces so small you know it can’t get repaired again.

With a trembling whimper, you pull your face out of your hands and wipe your eyes, your nose. You realize you’re still sitting in Frankie’s driveway and you immediately look to see if he's at the window, concerned for you. He isn’t. You hate yourself for it but it breaks you even more.

It’s over.

You drive home mindlessly, your Spotify on shuffle and you aren’t aware of anything else. Just get home. Just get home and then you can cry, try to move on. But you already know you won’t.

You finally tire yourself out of tears, and you try to talk yourself up, turning up the music and chanting “it’s okay” to yourself.

It’s Coldplay. You always liked Coldplay.

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try, you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you…

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face, and I–

You slam the on/off button so hard you actually cause the auxiliary cord to malfunction, so you rip it out of your phone and throw the damn thing on the passenger seat. You drive home in silence.

It’s dark in the lot when you arrive. You park in a spot along the side and towards the back because the lot is mostly full. The only light shining is the pole yards away, the bulb switches off and on opposite of the dark one right above you.

You feel numb. You can still feel sticky dried tears on your face, but your ability to utter a sound is gone. You close your eyes and try to compose yourself, simply sitting in your car in the dark. You’re avoiding going upstairs, you know. You’ve pretty much been living at Frankie’s. Walking through that door would make it feel too ‘official’. You cover your face with your hands and rub the tears tracks off your raw face, and are about to take a breath and gather your shit when a THWACKING sound bursts right in your left ear.

You startle with a yelp and look out your window, prepared to tell off whoever is messing with you, but freeze when you find yourself face to face with the barrel of a gun, the only thing separating you from it is the shitty window glass on your cheap car.

»»———————►

Post A/N: Don't yell at me lol

#fix you fic #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x fem!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal x fem!reader #triple frontier fanfic

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hauntedhokage · 9 months

Text

a little patience

PART 01: Stolen Shirt

WORD COUNT: 1.5K

SUMMARY: “That’s my shirt.” He doesn’t look mad, but definitely interested in the fact that you had access to his stuff, and you know that you needed to set the record straight on where you got it.

This was why you spent the night at your own apartment. Not really, but every little moment adds up, right?

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

The apartment was quiet.

Your boyfriend was sleeping peacefully, worn out from a big villain fight followed by rounds of sex, and you were just watching him sleep. You wanted to wake him up, making him give you some good company while you were at his apartment, but instead you just kiss his forehead before getting out of bed to go make some coffee. You had your own work to get done, anyway, and you had your laptop and charger so there was no reason why you couldn’t get your work done.

His roommate/boyfriend wasn’t home yet, which also contributed to the quiet of the apartment. He was an earlier riser than you were, which was saying something as your schedule had you waking up at around 3 am most mornings. Usually you could hear him grumbling in the morning after you stayed the night, mumbling to himself about work schedules and too many idiots getting themselves into trouble, but you couldn’t hear him so you could only assume that he wasn’t home.

You didn’t stay over often, only when your boyfriend was nursing some kind of injury from his work as a pro hero or it was a guarantee that his boyfriend would be out all night. Sometimes it felt like his boyfriend didn’t like having you around, so you liked to respect the space that they had together in their apartment and just stay at your apartment. If your boyfriend wanted to stay the night, it was in your space 95% of the time.

But you didn’t like to leave when your boyfriend was asleep, knowing that he worried about you disappearing in the night due to his known connection to you, so you were going to have to stick around until he woke up and could see that you were leaving of your own accord and not being kidnapped by a criminal. As if a criminal could get into their super secure apartment.

“Oh, hey,” you hear as you turn into the small kitchen, and you look over your shoulder to see the blonde haphazardly laying on the sofa. Looked to be still in all of his gear, so it had to have been a rougher than usual night on patrol for the number one hero. “Didn’t know you were here.”

“Eiji brought me over after his fight last night, wanted me close or something like that.” You go back to looking at the coffee pot, grateful that the men kept your coffee in plain sight. The way they organized their cabinets still didn’t make sense after almost a year of dating Eijirou, it was easier for them and you to keep the stuff that you liked either just on the countertop (like your coffee and tea of choice) or in the front of the cabinets so you would see them immediately.

“He said something about that. Sleep good?”

“Uh, yeah. Coffee?”

“Coffee is good, thanks.”

You nod, moving about the space to have two mugs ready when it brewed. Bakugou took his coffee black, half a teaspoon of sugar put into the mug before the coffee was poured so the sugar would dissolve faster. It was easy to remember and just as easy to prepare, so it wasn’t long before you’re handing the mug over to the blonde hero who was now sitting up on the couch.

“That’s my shirt.” He doesn’t look mad, but definitely interested in the fact that you had access to his stuff, and you know that you needed to set the record straight on where you got it. You didn’t want him thinking you were going through his stuff or anything like that, that would be so disrespectful. You literally just picked it up, and you hoped he would understand that.

“Sorry, it was on Eiji’s floor so I assumed it was his. I’ll, uh, I’ll wash it before I leave today.” You’re leaving before he could really say anything else, knowing that Bakugou was notorious among the people who knew him for his temper and not wanting to experience his volatility over a tshirt. You don’t see the confused look on his face at how quickly you left, nor do you hear the disappointed sigh that leaves the blonde after the bedroom door shuts behind you. Your concern was removing yourself from the situation before it became a situation.

The fabric is shed as soon as the door is closed, and you’re going back through your boyfriend’s dresser to find a shirt that you knew was his and not belonging to his boyfriend.

“I liked that one on you baby,” Eijirou mumbles, propping himself up on his elbows as he watches you. “Why’d you take it off like it burned you?”

“It’s Bakugou’s, not yours.”

“What’s his is mine, and what’s mine is yours.”

“Did he also agree to that?” It’s a question you ask often, which has Eijirou sighing as he drops back into the bed. This dynamic was unique, and you never wanted to overstep or make Bakugou feel like you were trying to push him out - and you noticed that he did the same for you despite not seeming to like you much. But still, you couldn’t just wear his stuff without his explicit permission, and Eijirou had to understand that as the connecting piece of the puzzle.

Sure, actually talking to Bakugou more and trying to develop some kind of friendship or commonality aside from who you both were dating would help, but he didn’t seem at all interested in getting to know you better so you opted to let him have space. A few of their old classmates had told you that Bakugou was a lot like an angry stray cat; you had to let him come to you and not come on too strong when he did, otherwise he’d back off immediately - which was weird initially but after being around him more it definitely made sense. He liked his space and set his boundaries, you weren’t trying to invade either.

“Actually, since you’re up, I’m gonna head out. I’ve got a lot of work to do and I’m sure Bakugou wants some alone time with you since you stayed with me a lot last week.”

“At least stay and finish your coffee, baby. I’ll take you home after.” He sees how conflicted you are, but smiles when you pick up your coffee mug despite still standing naked in his bedroom. “I’ll find you a shirt that is mine, since I know that’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

It’s after he comes home from dropping you off that Eijirou seeks out his boyfriend. The blonde is laying in his bed, book on field tactics in hand but those amber eyes are watching the redhead as he approaches slowly before flopping onto the mattress.

“I’ve been asked to unnecessarily apologize again for the shirt mishap this morning.”

“Wasn’t really a mishap, but okay,” Katsuki mumbles, going back to his book only to grunt when Eijirou takes it away.

“You’re not actually mad about it, are you?”

“Stupid thing to be mad about. She picked up a shirt from your floor, thinking it was yours. I didn’t think it was a big deal and if I knew she’d freak out I wouldn’t have said anything at all, since it’s a shirt.”

There’s a pause, the two men looking at each other before Eijirou gives the book back with a sigh.

“Why doesn’t she like me?”

“She doesn’t not like you. She just doesn’t know how to talk to you, since you don’t really talk to her.” The explanation has the blonde nodding, setting his book to the side to allow Eijirou to cuddle closer. “She knows there’s mutual respect, and doesn’t think that you don’t like her. But, she’s afraid of overstepping a boundary with you and doesn’t want you feeling like she’s trying to push you out, so she keeps her distance when I let her.”

“Do I need to say sorry for anything?”

“No, but I think you should try to get to know her better, it’ll help you both.” The suggestion makes Katsuki grunt again, a more thoughtful grunt than the annoyed one from earlier. There was a valid point there, Eijirou’s girlfriend would only feel more comfortable with him if he talked to her more than just greetings in passing and updates on injuries whenever they occurred. Things like shirts picked off the floor wouldn’t feel so big to her if she just…knew him better. A concept. “You guys have a lot in common, and I think you’d be good friends if not more.”

Katsuki elects to ignore the “more” aspect of the statement and only nods, knowing that if the dynamic was going to stay healthy then there needed to be healthy communication between all three parties. She deserved better than to walk on eggshells around him, and he really didn’t want to make this more difficult for them all than it already was, but he wasn’t good at people.

That’s what he got for dating a people-person.

#alp #eijirou kirishima x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #kiribaku/reader #i'll tag better later #i wasnt going to post this until next week but silver needs something to look at when she logs back on :)

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shefaniquotes · 4 months

Text

SHEFANI PLAYLIST (Spotify 🎧)

Songs that have been referenced by Blake or Gwen in connection to their relationship or are otherwise associated with them

1. Hotline Bling – Drake

💬 Blake: "Gwen sang it to me on 'The Tonight Show' one night, so ..."

🎼Call me on my cell phone Late night when you need my love I know when that hotline bling That can only mean one thing

2. Step By Step – Eddie Rabbitt

💭 Blake often sang this song in BSers Lounge – fans associated it with Shefani

🎼First step, ask her out and treat her like a lady Second step, tell her she's the one you're dreaming of Third step, take her in your arms and never let her go Don't you know that step by step, step by step, you'll win her love?

3. Leather and Lace – Stevie Nicks

💬 Blake: "We should [cover that song]." Shefani fans favorite since Gwen performed the song in December 2015

🎼But I carry this feeling When you walked into my house That you won't be walking out the door Still, I carry this feeling When you walked into my house That you won't be walking out the door

4. I've Been Lookin' – Nitty Gritty Dirt Band

💭 Back in summer 2018, Blake’s mom posted a video of them singing this song while driving in OK

🎼I've been looking for a love Someone to hold as I lay sleepin' I'm not talking 'bout someone Who's scared of promises Or keepin' 'em I'm just looking for a love To stand the test of time I've been lookin' for someone To be all mine

5. Baby I'm-a Want You – Bread

💬 Gwen: "What’s that song that I love…?" - Blake: "Baby I'm-a Want You by Bread?"

Blake on The Voice: "Gwen's not kidding. We listen to Bread all the time."

🎼Used to be my life was just emotions passing by Then you came along and made me laugh and made me cry You taught me why Baby, I'm-a want you Baby, I'm-a need you

6. There’s No Stoppin’ Your Heart – Marie Osmond

💬 Blake: "I love that song ‘There’s No Stopping Your Heart."

🎼I plan to be the one who sticks around Ooh your love could lift me up above the clouds I get so high when I'm with you, I may never come down When forever starts, There's no stopping, no stopping, no stopping your heart

7. I Want To Know What Love Is – Foreigner

💬Gwen: "You took a song that’s actually on my makeout playlist"

🎼I wanna know what love is I want you to show me I wanna feel what love is I know you can show me

8. So Small – Carrie Underwood

💬 Blake on The Voice back in 2016: "I completely got wrapped up in the lyrics of that song. You delivered the message to me tonight, and I totally related to the lyrics of that song."

🎼And what you've been out there searching for forever Is in your hands Oh, and when you figure out love is all that matters after all It sure makes everything else Seem so small

9. Haven’t Got Time for the Pain – Carly Simon

💬 Gwen: "I would dedicate this song to @Blakeshelton gx."

🎼All those crazy nights when I cried myself to sleep Now melodrama never makes me weep anymore 'Cause I haven't got time for the pain I haven't got room for the pain I haven't the need for the pain Not since I've known you

10. Stricken – No Doubt

💬 "She asked me if I knew the song Stricken and told me she recently sent it to Blake."

🎼I love you completely I guess I'm kinda mad about you I love you, I love you I do Love overcomes all of my senses Lowers all of my defenses, yeah

11. Defenseless – Kirk Jay

💬 Blake: “This is my life right now.”

🎼Oh, I'm defenseless Like a drought to a flame I’m defenseless Girl, when you say my name But the thing is I have never felt safer than this

12. Lookin' For Love – Johnny Lee

💬 Blake before playing the song: "I’ll try. I gotta do it for Gwen."

🎼Well, I spent a lifetime lookin' for you Single bars and good time lovers were never true Playing a fools game, hopin' to win And tellin' those sweet lies and losin' again You came knockin' on my heart's door You're everything I've been looking for

13. Turn Your Lights Down – Bob Marley and the Wailers

💬 Blake: "Gwen and I have a playlist. I want their version." - John: "It's a good love song for when you guys..." - Blake: "You're talking about loove."

🎼This potion might, this ocean might, carry me In a wave of emotion to ask you to marry me And every word, every second, and every third Expresses the happiness more clearly than ever heard (uh) And when I play 'em, every chord is a poem Tellin' the Lord how grateful I am because I know him (what? word) The harmonies possess a sensation similar to your caress (uh)

14. In Your eyes – Peter Gabriel

💭 The first dance song

🎼In your eyes The light, the heat (Your eyes) I am complete (Your eyes) I see the doorway to a thousand churches (Your eyes)

15. Islands in the Stream – Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton

💬 Gwen: "That song would be my dream if me and Blake could do that song together one day."

🎼I can't live without you if the love was gone Everything is nothing if you got no one And you did walk in the night Slowly losing sight of the real thing But that won't happen to us and we got no doubt Too deep in love and we got no way out

#blakeongwen #gwenonblake #beginning #wedding #2015 #2018 #2021 #shefani

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dolliedyhard · 11 months

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Hello and Welcome! I’m Luna, better known as the creator of DollieDyhard ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ I’m a MEGA creepypasta fan like… SUPER-ULTRA-MEGA. As you can guess my blog will be all about Creepypasta! Hooray🎉☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ From fanart to OC’s to creepy stories to comics, I’ll make it ALL! In fact I have my own creepypasta oc! Her name is Dollie Doxwood, nickname DollieDyhard (hence my username) she’s the blonde girlie in the pic above and my pfp :3 This blog will be centered around her! Learn more about her here!

Stuff about meh!

14 - poc - I’m a girl :3 - bday is June 5th -

I’ve been in the creepypasta fandom since 2017! >_<

I used 2 b scared of Slenderman and Jeff the killer when I was a little gal, like DEATHLY AFRAID. I thought they were real ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Now Jeff is my favorite pasta, he’s delicious🍝!

Nina, Jane and Slenderman are also my favorite pastas too♡

Socials!

Do not interact list

Alt account: @xlunathekillerx

Instagram

DeviantArt

YouTube

♬♩♪♩ MY ♩♪♩♬

MUSIC TASTE

Every creepypasta fan comes with an obsession with punk-rock and alternative music, it’s a fact! Aaaaand that fact applies to me too _(┐「ε:)_

Favorite bands? Here’s a list! (In no particular order :v)

Pierce the Veil

Panic! At the Disco

My Chemical Romance

Get Scared

Set it Off

Ghost Town

Flyleaf

Three Days Grace

Avril Lavigne

S3RL

Aaaand here are my favorite songs and albums!

Selfish Machines (Album) - Pierce The Veil <— THE BEST ALBUM OF ALL TIME (they should have got a Grammy for this)

A Flair For The Dramatic (Album) - Pierce The Veil

Collide With The Sky (Album) - Pierce The Veil

One X (Album) - Three Days Grace

A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out (Album) - Panic! At the Disco

Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge (Album) - My Chemical Romance

I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love (Album) - My Chemical Romance

♬♩♪ ♬ ♩♪ ♬♩♪ ♬ ♩♪ ♬

Yeah Boy and Doll Face - Pierce The Veil

I Don’t Care If You’re Contagious - Pierce The Veil

Chemical Kids And Mechanical Brides - Pierce The Veil

The Boy Who Could Fly - Pierce The Veil (With Southern Constellations)

Million Dollar Houses (The Painter) - Pierce The Veil

The Sky Under the Sea - Pierce The Veil

A Match Into Water - Pierce The Veil

Voodoo - Get Scared

Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin

If I’m James Dean, You’re Audrey Hepburn - Sleeping With Sirens

Pain - Three Days Grace

Helena - My Chemical Romance

This Close - Flyleaf

Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne

Sk8r Boi - Avril Lavigne

Slipped Away - Avril Lavinge

Situations - Escape the Fate

I have playlists on YouTube and Spotify so you can listen if you want. I think they are pretty cool!

Here’s my Spotify playlist!:

OTHER FANDOMS🦄🪽

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ ,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

A list of my other interests! Including anime, tv shows, and much more! If they are numbered it means they’re my top picks!

You might see me make fanart or mention from these fandoms! So that’s why I listed them.

ANIME

1. Ouran High school Host Club, 2. Black Butler, 3. Death Note, 4. Sailor Moon, Chibi Vampire, Vampire Knight, Inu Yasha, Jujutsu Kaisen, Diabolic Lovers, Tokyo Mew Mew, That time I got reincarnated as a slime, Cardcaptor Sakura, Loveless, To Love Ru, Toliet-Bound Hanako-kun, Naruto, Hellsing Ultimate and Elfen Lied. (Many more but they aren’t important or I just forgot

TV SHOWS & MOVIES

1. The Boondocks, South Park, My Little Pony (concept tho. Show is too childish :/), Inside Job, Teenage mutant Ninja Turtles, Ninjago, Hannibal, Breaking Bad, Camp Camp, Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse, Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse, Deadpool, Sonic X and Invader Zim. (MANY MORE BUT I probably forgot… @_@)

Thank you SOO MUCH for reading! ((o(^∇^)o)) a lot of people don’t read intros >_> so I’m glad you did :) (Comment with a 💖 emoji if u made it dis far ^_^) I hope you stick along for the ride because it’ll definitely get wild! XD

If you want to see more art from me check out my gallery on DeviantArt!

Anyways, that’s pretty much everything I got 2 say :D

Stay Frosty❄️ BAIIIIIIIIII

#jeff the killer #slenderman #scene queen #scene blog #scenecore #scemo #scenekid #rawring 20s #scenemo #creepypasta fandom #ben drowned #eyeless jack #ticci toby #kawaii #sailor moon #anime #creepypasta #Spotify

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maxverstappensflatbrim · 7 months

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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [41]

chapter forty-one, act five: the ballad of me and my brain

masterlist

August 12th 2017

Phoebe stands awkwardly at the door to Tommie’s bedroom, and she raises a brow as she steps from side to side. “Hey.”

Phoebe nods and Tommie laughs as she pushes Button to shift closer into her side, then she taps the spot beside her in bed.

The American singer hesitates before finally settling there and pursing her lips.

“Everything alright?”

“Um yeah, I just-” Phoebe sighs and just finally decides to come clean, “Remember that song you wrote a few months back? The one you showed me?”

She raises a brow, she’s shown Phoebe a lot of songs. “Which one?”

“The one you said you were gonna keep for the band. The one you wrote for me?”

Tommie nods with a hum and turns to Phoebe to give her more attention.

Phoebe and Tommie have become very close since meeting two years ago. They’d become sisters, and Tommie knows that in the past few months if Phoebe wasn’t in her life she wouldn’t have survived.

From giving her a place to say to holding her hand as she left the clinic after her abortion. Phoebe has been there for everything, more than anyone in the band, more than any of her family.

Tommie’s never been good with her words, with speaking them, she struggles to put her emotions into words for people to understand. So she wrote Phoebe a song, which happened to be in her beloved lost notebook.

“Yeah, but I lost my book, so if you wanted to use it-”

“No, it’s that, um…”

Phoebe sighs, she hates beating around the bush, especially with Tommie who she knows would prefer her to be upfront and honest.

“Dirty Delights released their first single with Scooter Braun today and it’s that song.”

“What?”

Phoebe winces at the loud volume of her screech as she stands from the bed. Button’s head is tilting as she stares up at her.

“It was released this morning. And if it makes you feel better it’s shit.”

She scrambles for her abandoned laptop which is open as she was watching Barnyard (Button likes the little mouse on it and she loves Biggie Cheese).

She’s on spotify, searching Dirty Delights. The band image has her cringing, they look like a My Chemical Romance Tribute act, with caps not fully on their heads and their boxers sticking out of their baggy jeans.

She clicks on the song, its title different from the one she had chosen in her book. ‘You are Mine’.

“You are Mine?” She scoffs, “It makes it sound possessive, that’s not the point. The point is that I love my best mate and you’re my best mate.”

Phoebe’s hand rubs her back lightly as she hovers the mouse over the play button.

You are mine, I've been drowning in you You fracture light again Beautiful, please don't cry, don’t cry When you leave, I cry on the inside

I wake up, love you, so I love you, so I love you, love you, love you Then when you leave, I cry I wake up, love you, love you, love you, love you Then when you leave, I cry

We're supposed to leave by half-past eight You wait a while, for me to come home, again Tired again, I've been dying to meet you You fracture light again (ooh)

I love you, oh, I love you When you leave, I cry on the inside Oh, so I love you, so I love you, so love you, love you, love you, love you Cry Oh, I love you, love you, love you, love you, love you We're supposed to leave by half-past eight

“He changed the lyrics, it sounds fucking shite!”

Phoebe nods, “And the guitar solo is shocking, how’d Braun give way to that?”

Tommie groans and falls face first into the bed, Button’s nose nudging her cheek gently.

“Surely you can do something? Release it as your own.”

Tommie groans again, even louder, “I’ll have to call Jamie.”

Phoebe nods, “I’m sure he can get some good lawyers involved, have them take it down.”

“Not the point, I don’t want to talk to him, he’ll ask me if I’m ready to come back. Then try to convince me to talk to Matty then he’ll pass the phone to Adam ‘cause I’ve been avoiding him and- it’ll be a mess.”

“I’ll call him, pretend you don’t know yet and I’ve let him know first, it will give you at least a day or two to prepare yourself.”

She shifts on the bed to wrap her arms and legs around Phoebe like some kind of red headed koala. “Fanks yew.” Her words are muffled in Phoebe’s hoodie and the singer pats the back of her head.

“I’ll call him now, let him know.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ

August 16th 2017

“Seriously?”

Tommie does what can only be described as a screech as she throws her phone across the room. Luckily it lands on the arm chair opposite.

Button trots over and sits patiently with her cow teddy in her mouth, waiting for Tommie to roll over and give her attention.

But before she receives a pat on the head there’s a knock on the door and Button whines.

Tommie passes her hand over Button’s head as she gets up, quickly complaining about Phoebe forgetting her keys again.

“Pheebs-”

“Are you okay?”

Adam’s there, stepping in when she opens the door and turning to look at her with that brotherly concern on his face.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be on tour.”

“We finished the tour ages ago, we’re all back home now. The moment Jamie told me what happened I flew out to see you.”

“I’m fine, Ads, Jamie’s sorting it.”

“Why didn’t you call? Or-or text, I would’ve come.”

“I know you would’ve, Ads, that’s why I didn’t call.”

She sighs and sits back on the sofa rubbing her hands down her face, “Have you talked to him? Called him and asked him to give credits?”

“He’s blocked me.” She scoffs, “If I just kept my mouth shut, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“What? Keep your mouth shut about what?”

“I-” She pauses and looks up as he sits on the arm of the sofa beside her, hand rubbing between her shoulder blades. She shakes her head, “We argued and I just- said a bunch of dickish stuff.”

She leans into his side and he wraps his arm over her shoulder, “Why don’t you come home? If you don’t want to be alone you can stay with me and Carly until tour kicks off again.”

She shakes her head, “Phoebe’s album is two months away, Ads. I promised I’d be here with her.”

Adam shrugs, “I’m sure she’ll understand-”

“No, I’m not abandoning her at one of her most important moments. This is her first album, her debut, she’s my best mate-”

“I used to be your best mate.”

She pauses and looks at the soft look on his face, “Ross, G…” He opens his mouth but cuts himself off. They both know the final name he was going to say.

“I haven’t talked to any of you in weeks.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

He doesn’t have that motherly look on his face that she turns to when she’s scared. His eyes are staring right into her soul, and his lips are set in a straight line, no curve, no wrinkles.

He sighs and gives in within no time, he always gives in when it comes to Tommie. “I worry, To-”

“Yeah, well I’m fine alone. You should stop worrying.”

Adam’s brows raise as he looks at her, “What’s wrong with you?”

“You- you and your need to be- be breathing down my neck constantly.”

Adam keeps his face straight, trying not to show her outburst is getting to him, “You treat me like a kid, Ads. Always trying to protect me, but I’m not- I’m not a kid-”

“I know, Tom.”

“Then treat me like an adult, stop-”

“What’s this about?”

She pauses to shake her head at him, “What?”

“This little thing you’re trying to do. This speech. What’s it about?”

“I want to be respected.”

“You are.”

“No, I’m not, and I’m tired of it.”

She stands and moves away, “I’m taking care of everything, Ads,” She grabs her phone and checks for damage again, “You don’t need to worry.”

Adam’s brows furrow, “Just because you’re not a part of the band anymore doesn’t mean we don’t love you.”

She purses her lips and looks away, “I’m not stupid, Tommie. I know what you’re trying to do. It didn’t work when we were kids and it definitely won’t work now.”

She shrugs, “I don’t know what you mean, Adam.”

“Trying to push everyone away. Trying to have this detox of people in your life. Make sure you cut out the right ones, not the ones who care about you.”

He grabs his discarded wallet and phone from the kitchen counter as he starts his way out, but he pauses just before he gets to the door. “This isn’t me walking out, this is me giving you space. If you call, I’ll pick up. If you need me, I’ll be there.”

taglist

@thereisaplaceintheheart, @indierockgirrl, @sofaritsalrightt, @julezs-bl0g, @eaglestar31, @sophinthealpss, @noacfemcel, @if-my-heart-bleeds, @befrwime, @fallingforel, @sexorchocolateorpillowsorclouds, @3terna15unshin3, @1975sophie1975, @thesocraticjunkiewannabe, @littlesoldierelleora, @procrastinatinglikeapro, @beatr2x, @byyourside28

-let me know if you want to be added :)

#show me yours matty healy #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 x oc

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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 6 months

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P&C | Ch. 6: You Can Be My Baby For Tonight

➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist

“Okay, that’s going to be an hour,” I say, pressing the power button. Finally, I made eye contact with Jungkook, who was now busy smelling the fabric softener in my basket.

“Hhmm, peaches, that’s why you smell so nice,” he grins softly, meeting my eyes. I hide my flustered state with a giggle and pack up. Hoping that something comes up so he can leave, I ask if he has any plans for tonight. He shakes his head.

“Nope, which reminds me, there's going to be a welcome party at one of the frat houses, you should come,” he says, his doe eyes sparkling under the basement lights. I genuinely try to give it a chance, but the mere thought of another party is making me nauseous.

“Oh no thank you, I really should just stay back and focus on school,” I reply with a soft smile, hoping he would get the hint.

“Come on Mira, it's only the second week. Plus, Jiah and Jimin will be there as well.” Jungkook says, not breaking our eye contact.

“Well, I'll think about it, but thank you again for the invitation. Anyways, why are you so determined to make me go?” I laugh, flipping my hair to the side feeling my ego rise as we speak.

“Have you become obsessed with me already?” I tease.

“Relax Kenough, I want to redeem myself from the last party. That was sleep-deprived Jungkook,” he scoffs, leaning back on the laundry machine.

“Ok ok well, can't wait to see your redemption arc,” I tease, sticking out my tongue as I make my way to the exit door. Jungkook follows behind.

When Jungkook said he didn't have any plans for tonight he really meant it. For the next hour, we just walked around campus and talked about our life before university. He was in a band with Tae and Jimin when they were in high school called, Bulletproof Boys. I had to laugh.

“And you dared to make fun of my shirt?” I cackle, trying to maintain my composure at the goofy name.

“YAH! That was the best option, be glad we didn't go with Tae's idea, The JJV” he quickly scoffs back, stuttering from frustration. I can't help but begin to hiccup from all the laughing.

“JJV? That sounds like a disease … or a cult. Did you guys even want to attract girls or …?” I giggle, looking him dead in the eyes. He pushes me gently before sitting on the bench in front of the dorm building.

“So, have you decided yet?” Jungkook quickly changes the subject as I take a seat beside him. Amid the giggles, I look up at him with confusion.

“Oh, you meant the party? I mean sure, I guess, I'm feeling better now. Anyways, who would want to miss out on the opportunity of seeing a not sleep-deprived Jungkook?” I smile at him, sticking out my tongue.

“Be careful Miraya, you might manifest something,” he leans in, giving me a grin. I pretend to puke and walk to the entrance. Again, Jungkook follows like a puppy, teeth peeking through his soft smile.

7:00 p.m.

Jiah: Hey lovely, are you almost ready? I’ll pick you up in about 15 mins.

I look down at my phone, hair still in rollers as I touch up my makeup. My body tenses up, nerves are at an all-time high. I’m still not 100% sure about going but evidently, it’s too late now. What’s the big deal? It’s just going to be me and Jiah, Jimin, Tae, and Jungkook. Stop it, Mira. I dismiss the tension and quickly fix up my hairdo with a layer of hairspray.

We were at the destination within the next hour, both of us looking great as usual. Jiah wore her new mini silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Hair in a half-up, half-down style she was giving sexy princess vibes. I was contemplating between two options but decided to go with a black ruffle mini-dress with my knee-high boots, leaving my hair down in soft curls. Borderline looking like I planned on cosplaying someone from Pirates of the Caribbean, but hey, it looked good so who am I to change?

The welcome party was set at a huge frat house. Very surreal as I’ve never seen one in real life, let alone stepped foot into it. After leaving our Uber, I could see the mob of people flowing in through the entrance door lit by bright neon lights. Jiah gives me a reassuring smile as we blend into the madness.

“Hey, girls!” I hear Jimin’s voice waving from across the room. Jiah waves back as we try to make it through the crowd of people, some of whom are already tipsy while others are too busy busting down moves on the dance floor. The whole place smells of alcohol and a mix of every perfume you can think of.

“Hi baby,” Jiah melts into Jimin’s embrace as I say hi to the rest of the guys.

“Hey Flip-flops, don’t you look nice?” I hear Tae’s tease as he salutes a hello. My eyes can’t help but roll, as I giggle at him.

“Hey Tae, you don’t look too shabby yourself,” I grin with a soft smile. We spend some time catching up before I ask about Jungkook’s whereabouts.

“He should be by the food table, said he was going to get us drinks,” Tae replies as I nod and excuse myself before heading to the said place.

It was like looking for Waldo, everyone looked identical under the dim lights. Before heading back to the group with a plate full of various snacks, I’m halted by the feel of a hand on my shoulder.

“Hi Peaches” Jungkook whispers into my ear. My eyes widen as he smiles back, his doe eyes somehow still sparkling.

“Oh, peaches?” I giggle raising my right eyebrow.

“What? Tae can call you flip-flops but you draw the line on peaches?” he grins, leaning back on the table, taking the plates off of my hands. I try to talk back but he is already walking back to the group, looking back at my appalled state.

So far the party was nice, we talked, or should I say gossiped, ate lots of food, and drank. I am not intrigued by the idea of alcohol, but it fits the theme tonight so I let loose. However, from the few instances that I did consume it, I can definitely say I’m a light drinker. The phenomenon proved itself once again, as I found myself swaying on the dance floor after two tequila cocktails. Jiah and Jimin decided to take a breather outside, while Tae was busy playing beer pong with his other buddies.

“Please don’t stop the music … music … music,” I muttered under my breath as Rihana blasted on the speaker. With my hands in the air and eyes closed my body gave into the ambience. Before I could mutter the next lyric I was interrupted by Jungkook’s presence.

“There you are, baby,” he says, his body filling the space between us. His hands pretend to rest on my waistline, cautious to not make actual contact.

“Baby?” I question, looking up at his concentrated face. My eyes are hazed, lids heavy as I try to make out what is happening.

“It was either that or some random stranger disturbing you,” he whispers into my ear, as I feel his lip ring on my skin. I was too drunk to even notice the guy in question, but something about Jungkook’s protective side made me step closer.

“I like baby more than peaches,” I tip-toe, trying to reach his ear, placing my hands on his broad shoulders. Within a split second, my sober consciousness revokes my action, backing away as my gaze lowers to the floor. I try to shake my head before letting out a soft sorry.

Jungkook steps closer and lifts my chin with his index finger and thumb, his eyes meet mine as he lets out a little chuckle.

“You can be my baby for tonight,” he reassures, knowing dam well that he would be dead on a stick if I was sober. However, right now, neither of us protest the tension as our bodies groove with the music. My hands are once again on his shoulders, as he gently pulls me closer by the waist. Eyes locked on each other, the room becomes silent. For a moment, it was just the two of us.

“You look beautiful by the way,” he whispers into my ear as I lean my head on his chest, feeling the fatigue build up. I try to reply with a soft thank you before feeling my heavy lids close. Jungkook’s hold on my body becomes firmer, as I melt into his embrace, the smell of his cologne blending in with my perfume.

Before he could check on my state, Jungkook was interrupted by a bright flash coming from Tae’s phone camera. His boxy smile grows wider when he analyzes the situation on the dance floor. Pocking out his tongue he teases Jungkook with the photo, before taking a sip of water in hopes of sobering up.

“How did this happen?” Tae chuckles, trying to see if I was still awake. His hands inches away from moving some stands of hair out of my face before being interrupted by Jungkook tsk. Tae shakes his head, raises his hands and backs away with a wide smile, rolling his eyes.

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#bts #bangtan #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x yn #bts x yn #jungkook fanfic #fanfic #jungkook smut #romance #young love #college love #slow burn #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x female reader #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagine

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autistic-fandom-trash · 7 months

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jongerry incorrect quotes

*Jon and Gerry skipping stones on a lake* Jon: It’s such a beautiful evening. Gerry, whispering: Take that you fucking lake. --- Jon: Where are you going? Gerry: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there. --- Gerry: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Jon: Oh, I’m always running. The question is from what. --- Gerry: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives. Jon: I wake up at 4:30 AM. Gerry:...I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives. --- Jon: Gerry and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's- Gerry: Sentences. Jon: Don't interrupt me. --- Gerry: You love me, right, Jon? Jon: Normally, I’d say yes without hesitation, but I feel like this is going somewhere and I don’t like it. --- Jon: Heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this. Gerry: What did you do, Jon? Jon: A MISTAKE. --- Jon: *Kicks the door down looking panicked* Gerry: What did you do? Jon: Nobody died. Gerry: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?! --- Jon: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE? Gerry: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially. Jon, desperately, as Gerry bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE! Gerry: Oh! B positive. Jon: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE! --- Gerry: Here's some advice. Jon: I didn't ask for any. Gerry: Too bad. I'm stuck here with my thoughts and you're the only one who talks to me. --- Gerry: You fuckers don’t know about my knife stick. It’s a knife taped to a stick and it’s the ultimate weapon. Jon, not looking up from their book: Spear. Gerry: BLOCKED. --- Jon, about Elias: I prevented a murder today. Gerry: Really? How’d you do that? Jon: Self control. --- Gerry, tending to Jon's wounds: How would you rate your pain? Jon: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend. --- Gerry: Jon, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Jon: Well of course I have. Have you ever tried going mad without power? It's boring. --- Gerry: How petty can you get? Jon: I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about. --- Gerry: Whaddya call a fish with no eyes? Jon, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons. Gerry:...fsh. --- Gerry, in a beach shirt: So sue me, it's October and I'd like to be on Island Time for a day! Jon: I have Spotify open right now on my computer, do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? Cuz I've got your history right here on the sidebar: Take it Back by Jimmy Buffet, Nautical Wheelers by Jimmy Buffet, Jolly Mon Sing by Jimmy Buffet, Steamer by Jimmy Buffet, trEAT HER LIKE A LADY BY JIMMY BUFFET, MAÑANA BY JIMMY BUFFET, WHEN SALOME PLAYS THE DRUMS BY JAMES BUFFET, HAVANA DAYDREAMIN BY JIMMY BUFFET- What the FUCK happened to you?! Gerry, laughing: I HAD A CASE OF THE MONDAYS! Jon: ARE YOU HAUNTED?! ARE YOU FUCKING POSSESSED?! YOU USED TO BE MY FRIEND! Gerry, cry-laughing: ᴵ ᴴᴬᴰ ᴬ ᶜᴬˢᴱ ᴼᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴹᴼᴺᴰᴬʸˢ --- Jon: This is a mistake. Gerry, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day! Jon: But not today. Gerry, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess. --- Gerry: If there's going to be a big dramatic scene, wait until I get back. Jon: Of course. I can't flip this table by myself. --- Jon: You often use humor to deflect trauma. Gerry: Thank you. Jon: I didn't say that was a good thing. Gerry: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny. --- Jon: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I'll wait. Gerry: You and me. Jon, tearing up: Okay. --- Gerry: So what’s for dinner? Jon, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

#my posts #tma #jongerry

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cherrybeartoast · 6 months

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As Loved By The Aces - "Younger" - Jeongin x Reader

୨୧ a Cherry Song Series ୨୧ As Loved By The Aces Series Navigation

A series of individual-member centred stories based on songs by my favourite indie band, The Aces, portraying different love stories, emotions and people.

Pairing: Jeongin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff, childhood nostalgia, a bit angsty

Warnings: Suggestive (sort of implied smut? Like its not implied-implied but its also not not implied...that makes no sense and I'm very sorry)

Series playlist: Spotify

★ Track 8: J.I - Younger

I was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, I learnt to put on a face just to have friends, perpetually wanting something more than myself, more than I was

How could you fall in love with somebody you’ve known your entire life? Rather, you thought, how could you not fall in love with somebody you’ve known your entire life?

A collection of your most memorable summers with Yang Jeongin

Yang Jeongin was the boy at kindergarten who played with the kids in the year below. He liked looking after people, especially people who couldn’t manage to do certain things on their own. He’d teach them everything he knew and play their games with them, hold their hands as they walked around the playground and smile and wave to them when they were in their separate classrooms.

Yang Jeongin became the boy who was friends with the older kids in school, namely the group of boys in third grade, consisting of Jisung, Seungmin, Felix and Hyunjin. He preferred sitting with them at lunch to sitting with people in his own grade, and frequently sat by himself in his year level. He didn’t mind not having any best friends in his own second grade class; people still talked to him, and he had friends, but none he could talk to deeply in class, or offer snacks to.

When you moved into town during the summer, you were unsure of how you’d make friends. Your parents encouraged you to go outside and meet the other kids in the neighbourhood, but you much preferred to sit inside and colour in while the kids kicked soccer balls along the quiet streets.

One day, there was a knock at the door. Your parents were out, and had told you to go next door if you needed anything. You reluctantly opened the door, to find a boy with dimpled cheeks and fox-like eyes staring at you. You’d seen him before, playing soccer, wrestling, running around with a group of older looking boys. However, you hadn’t seen him or the group of boys recently.

“I saw them bringing a trampoline into your backyard when you moved. Can I play on it with you?”

You nodded without realising, feeling a strange amount of warmth towards him.

He smiled widely, his eyes forming into crescents. “I’ve always wanted a trampoline. Are they fun?”

“I guess so. It’s probably more fun when you have someone else to play with,” you replied, opening the back door for him.

“Don’t you have siblings or friends to play with?” he asked.

“No. I don’t have any siblings, and I don’t want any since they seem annoying, but I want a pet dog. And I don’t really have any friends here. My best friend lives where I used to live,” you explained as you climbed up the ladder to the trampoline.

He nodded thoughtfully. “Siblings are annoying. I have a dog, and he’s very cute but a bit slobbery. And friends can also be annoying. Han Jisung stole my ball once and he still won’t give it back.”

“Who’s Han Jisung?”

“The boy with puffy cheeks. He looks like a squirrel, but he doesn’t like it when we call him that.”

He experimentally let himself fall onto the trampoline, squealing when he was propelled back up. “This is so much fun!”

You smiled. “I don’t like jumping on it by myself, but it's more fun with another person.”

“We should be trampoline buddies,” he announced, sticking a finger up. “I can knock at your door and say a special word, maybe I’ll say bounce, and then we can go on the trampoline together.”

“We should also be dog buddies,” you added. “I can knock at your door and say puppy, and then I can come in and we can play with your dog.”

“Yes!” he beamed, grabbing hold of your hand suddenly. “And we should do this forever, even if I don’t have a dog and you don’t have a trampoline when we’re older.”

“Are you trying to ask to be friends?” you giggled.

“Not just friends. I think we should be special friends. Best friends,” he explained.

“Well, best friends know each other's names. I’m Puppy Queen Y/N,” you introduced yourself, doing a little twirl.

“I’m Trampoline Best Boy Jeongin,” he decided, doing a big jump as if to prove a point and landing in an uncoordinated pile. You snorted with laughter and then squealed as he pulled you down by your leg beside him.

“Are you going to school here, too?” he asked, suddenly very seriously.

“I’m in second grade,” you replied.

He smiled, wider than you’d seen before.

“We should go somewhere,” Jeongin said suddenly as you rode your bikes home from Jisung’s house.

“It’s too hot,” you whined, tugging at the back of your shirt, which was stuck to your back with sweat. Even though the end of summer was nearing, the days were still long and the weather didn’t seem to be changing anytime soon.

“That’s my point. What if we went to the beach?”

You side eyed him. “The beach is an hour’s drive. We can’t get our parents to take us, they’ll be working till late.”

Jeongin wouldn’t give up easily; he never did. “You’re so boring and logical. You never want to do anything fun,” he whined playfully, knowing it would frustrate you.

“I’m not boring, Yang Jeongin, you’re just a dreamer,” you retaliated, tossing a braid over your shoulder. You suddenly thought of something, your eyes sparkling. “We should sneak into the school’s pool.”

“Isn’t it closed, since we’re on summer break?”

“Now who’s being boring? We can climb through the gates easily enough, and I’m sure there will be a window or something we can climb through. We’ll hide our bikes and backpacks in this bush here and sneak inside. It’ll be fun, and the water’s going to be so nice,” you sighed wistfully.

Jeongin pressed on the brakes and shifted his bicycle, shoving it behind the shrub you’d pointed out. “Let’s go then.”

“Really?” you unbuckled your helmet and pushed your bike beside his.

“Yeah,” he smiled, grabbing hold of your hand and leading you towards the school grounds.

You laid on your bed, bodies half-covered by rumpled sheets and pillows strewn across the mattress.

The window was open, and a warm breeze blew through the curtains. Your bedroom was hot, despite the fan being on full blast, and you felt as if you were going to melt into a puddle.

Jeongin laid beside you, your leg on top of his. His bare torso was warm against your shoulder and had a glowy sheen to it, and you suddenly felt very aware of your body in its pale blue underwear and loose white t-shirt. You definitely hadn’t been this aware of yourself five minutes ago. You didn’t know how or why you’d let yourself go, not like this, not this fast.

Jeongin rolled over to look at you. He opened his mouth to say something.

“Don’t say it,” you whispered, staring at him. “It’ll make it all more real.”

Jeongin took a deep breath and nodded.

You stayed where you were, bodies entangled, the heat of a summer afternoon and the glow of the midday sun filling the room.

Yang Jeongin glanced out the window, noticing you waiting by his car. He sprinted downstairs and grabbed his keys, running to his car and flinging open the door, letting you in before jumping in himself.

You were both nineteen now. Your parents were going to move houses again, to be closer to the university they wanted you to attend.

You were leaving tomorrow.

Well, you weren’t anymore.

A room booked in a motel four hours away, money saved up for the past year, and a duffle bag with only your favourite belongings was all you’d prepared. You didn’t know what would happen next. All you knew was that you trusted Jeongin with your life, which was exactly what you were doing.

You drove along an empty road, his hand in yours, listening to a playlist you’d made together on your phone.

“Pull over,” you said suddenly, breathing deeply as you looked out the front windscreen.

Jeongin turned his head to you. “What? We’ve only been driving for twenty minutes. What if they catc-”

“I said, pull the fucking car over, Yang Jeongin,” you repeated, louder, looking him straight in the eyes now.

He did as he was told and pulled the car. He turned to face you. “What is it?”

You unbuckled your seatbelt and hauled yourself across the console, settling yourself on his lap, forehead against his.

“I want you to say what I didn’t let you say two years ago. What I was too scared to hear you say,” you whispered.

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he took a deep breath, then cupped your face and crashed your lips against his. You let yourself let go, reciprocating and pulling yourself closer to him. He suddenly pulled away, eyes sparkling.

“I love you, Puppy Queen Y/N.”

“I love you so fucking much, Trampoline Best Boy.”

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lnfours · 1 year

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sideline (two) | t.h

summary -> tom holland: the name thats always floating around campus, and for good reason. he’s the captain of the hockey team, he’s good looking, and he’s always caught up in an off and on again relationship with the president of the sorority. that’s where you come in. you two had made a deal to make your exes jealous, but we all know how fake relationships end.

wc -> a short but also sweet 2k

warnings -> mentions of family loss, language, fluff, all the feels, toms the best fake bf idk...

🎵 spotify playlist | 📖 prev/next chapter | 📂 masterlist

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

it had been a week since you and tom had started ‘dating’. it was working out well and people started believing in it whenever they’d see the way you’d both put on a show in front of others. and when sarah and mia had questioned what was going on, they both happily squealed at your response.

now you sat on your bed, scrolling through different social medias to pass the time until you felt tired enough to go to bed. you stopped your scrolling process when a messages notification popped up at the top of your screen.

tom hey, you busy?

you clicked on it, the screen brightening as your fingers tapped against the keyboard.

y/n not really, just trying to make myself tired why? something wrong?

you watched as the ‘read’ popped up under your blue message. the bubble with three little dots popped up on his end.

tom can’t sleep lol and i’m kinda craving some ice cream wanna join?

you smiled, typing out a response.

y/n sure!

tom cool :) i’ll pick u up in 10?

y/n sounds good :)

you got up out of bed and threw on a hoodie overtop of your tank top, grabbing some socks and shoes before heading downstairs quietly. the two other girls were already asleep, getting their rest in before their 8ams in the morning.

you grabbed your wallet and house key out of your purse, watching as a car pulled into the driveway. you quietly opened the front door, stepping outside and locking it behind you before making your way to the passenger side of his car.

“hey,” you smiled, getting in. he smiled back at you.

“hey,” he looked over at your hoodie, “you like the bruins?”

you looked down at your hoodie, “oh, it was my dad’s. hockey was his favorite sport.”

he nodded, pulling out the driveway. he handed you his phone that was unlocked, “you can choose the music if you want to.”

you clicked on the spotify icon on his phone, going through his liked songs playlist. you let out a soft laugh, clicking on the one direction song towards the top of the playlist, “you like one direction?”

he smiled back over at you from the driver’s side, “hell yeah! some of their songs are catchy.”

you shook your head, still smiling as you looked out the window. you couldn't explain it, but something about being with tom made you feel comfortable. everything about him made you feel like you could tell him anything and everything, talk for hours about whatever crossed your minds.

he looked over at you, “you alright?”

you turned back to the brunette, a content smile on your face, “yeah, sorry. just thinking.”

“about?”

you shrugged, “just about life, i guess?”

he pulled into a space in the parking lot, “talk over some ice cream?”

you nodded, the two of you getting out of the car. you both walked up to the order window, placing your order. when you went to pay, he pushed your arm aside.

“no, i’ve got it.”

“nope, this was my idea. let me.”

you huffed, sending him a look as the cashier smiled at the both of you, “i remember when my husband and i were your age. it was always an argument whenever it’d be time to pay.”

you both let out a soft laugh, smiling at the woman. he fished a few dollar bills out of his wallet, sticking them in the ‘tips’ cup propped up in the window. she smiled at him again.

“here you go, hun,” she said, handing him his card back before looking over at you, “he’s a keeper, sweetie.”

you smiled, “can’t argue with that.”

he playfully rolled his eyes at you, the two of you thanking the older woman before stepping to the pickup window. once the two of you had your ice cream in your hand, he led you back to the car. this time, he opened the door for you.

“putting on a show for that woman, huh?”

he laughed, shaking his head, “shut up and get in the car.”

you laughed back at him, sitting down on the leather seat before he closed the car door. he made his way around to the other side, closing the door.

“so,” he said after a little while, your ice cream almost finished as the condensation on the cup soaked through the napkins in your hand, “tell me everything i need to know about you.”

you hummed, taking the plastic spoon out of your mouth, “like what?”

“your favorite color, favorite song, about your hometown, parents,” he shrugged, “what cringey phase you went through in middle school,” you chuckled as he smiled, “seriously, anything.”

you sighed, “well, i don’t have a favorite color or a favorite song, there’s just too many options for both of those things,” he nodded, “uhm, born and raised in boston, i don’t really plan on leaving, either.. and i definitely went through an emo phase in middle school.”

he smirked, “i can picture that,” he said, “what about your parents?”

you bit down on your lower lip, putting your ice cream cup in your lap, “well, it’s just me and my grandmother. my mom wasn’t in the picture, and my dad passed when i was 15. ever since then, it’s just been me and her.”

his expression softened, “im so sorry.”

you waved him off, sending him a tight lipped smile, “it’s okay.”

he shook his head, “i can’t imagine,” he put his ice cream trash in the cupholder of the car, “i mean, i was wondering about your word choice earlier when i asked about the sweatshirt, but i just didn’t expect-”

“tom,” you placed your hand on his arm to keep him from rambling apologies, “it’s okay. really.”

his eyes met yours and you smiled softly, “sorry.”

you playfully rolled your eyes, “stop apologizing!”

he put his hands up in fake surrender, “okay, okay!”

you both chuckled as a comfortable silence washed over the two of you. you decided to be the one to break it, “what about you?”

he hummed before answering, “well, my favorite color is blue, favorite song changes but currently it’s ‘take me where your heart is’ by q, because unlike someone i know, i can pick.”

you playfully swatted at his arm, “fuck off.”

he smiled, leaning back in his seat, “uhm, what else… oh, born and raised in london, i’ve got three younger brothers, two of them are twins. i’m hoping to go pro with hockey, and uhm… i was a theater kid in middle school.”

“okay, being a theater kid is kinda dope,” you argued, “props to them, they have more talent than i have.”

he nodded, “yeah, it was a fun time.”

“what about your parents?” you asked and you watched him shift in his seat, unsure on wether or not he should talk about it. you gave him a reassuring smile, egging him on to talk about them.

“they’re y’know, parents,” he said, “my mom’s more supportive about other stuff, and my dad pushes me to play hockey like he did in college, wants me to be better than he was.”

“your dad played hockey?”

“yeah, back in the 90s,” he shrugged, “never made it pro, though. so i guess he’s trying to live through me to get the life he wanted.”

“is that how you ended up in boston?”

he nodded, “yeah, best school with the best hockey team. didn’t have much of a choice.” he looked back over at you, “what about you, though? what’re your plans for after graduation?”

you shrugged, “haven’t really gotten there yet. i’m hoping to land a internship with a book publishing company here in the city by the end of spring semester, and then i guess we’ll see where that leads me.”

the music was still playing softly as the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. you looked over at him as he scrolled through his spotify playlist, his face softly illuminated by the dim lighting on his phone. he looked so pretty, so soft…

no, stop it. this is supposed to be a fake relationship. no strings attached, remember?

you pulled your gaze away and checked the time on your phone, 10:45pm. even though it was late at night, you weren’t tired at all.

“oh, i forgot to tell you,” his voice broke through the silence, “there’s a game this friday, you should come.”

you let out a soft groan, “do i have to?”

he chuckled, “part of the deal, remember?”

those damn rules.

“okay, fine. but im bringing mia and sarah.”

he shrugged, “fine with me.”

after a few more minutes of talking about classes tomorrow, you both had come to the conclusion that it was getting late and the two of you should head back. the drive was short back to your house, tom pulling into the driveway and putting the car in park.

“thanks for the ice cream,” you smiled, “i owe you.”

“you don’t owe me anything,” he smiled, “was on me, remember?”

you rolled your eyes, “fine, next time it’s on me, okay?”

he shook his head with a laugh, “whatever helps you sleep at night, love.”

you ignored the butterflies in your stomach that erupted at the nickname, smiling back at him as you got out of the car, “goodnight, thomas.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

the next morning was chaotic. the quad was filled with students trying to find their way to their classes, booths set up in the middle encouraging them to join certain clubs. you walked with your headphones in, looking down at your phone as you opened spotify.

you typed in the song tom had mentioned the night before, listening to it. you were curious about what his music taste was like, no other reason. none at all.

you jumped as someone tapped you on the shoulder, tugging an earbud out as you spun your head into the direction of the person behind you. you relaxed when you noticed the messy flop of brunette curls.

“jesus, you really have to stop stalking me.”

“well, good morning to you, too, sunshine,” the british accent filled your ears, “and to be fair, this is literally the main hub of everyone who goes to this school.”

he turned around in a circle with his arms out, gesturing to the amount of people walking through. you playfully rolled your eyes, “what do you want, holland?”

“what? i can’t walk my ‘girlfriend’ to her first class of the day?” he asked, using air quotes when he said ‘girlfriend’. he held his hand out for you to give him your bag, which you obliged, knowing he wouldn’t give up without a fight.

“where you heading?”

“english with wilson,” you said the next sentence with a sarcastic tone, “the best way to start my morning.”

“he’s such a snoozefest,” he rolled his eyes, “always talking about shit that doesn’t matter.”

you chuckled, nodding in agreement, “where are you heading?”

“oh, i’m free until my class at 2,” he said, opening the door to the building for you, “might just go sit in the lounge for a little bit.”

you nodded, walking towards the staircase, “sounds like an interesting morning.”

“oh, for sure.”

he walked you to the door, handing you back your bag, “i’ll be back here at noon.”

“you don’t have to walk me to and from, it’s okay.”

he shrugged, “i want to.”

your eyes drifted when you realized the group of boys were heading to the same room as you. your eyes locked on jack’s blue ones, a pit settling into your stomach. tom caught on that you weren’t paying attention, his eyes shifting to the blonde who walked past you.

jack’s eyes shifted from you and to tom. tom sent him a nod, smiling as jack ignored him, entering the lecture.

you sighed, “maybe i should go see advisement about switching.”

“no, this is good,” tom said, “i can come here every morning and make him jealous.”

“i guess you’re right.”

“always am,” he smiled, walking backwards as he sent you a smile, “see you at noon, darling.”

you walked into the lecture and found a seat, sitting down and thinking to yourself and shaking your head as you smiled softly.

tom holland was going to 100% be the death of you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

💌 beings my tagged list has gotten so long that tumblr literally won't let me add it, the tagged list is temporarily closed until i can figure it out. in the meantime, be sure to follow and turn on notifications for @toms-gf to be notified whenever i post imagines :)

xoxo, jordan

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