pairing: pezzy x gn!reader
wc: 2.3k
warnings: none!
song pairing: it feels so good by sonique
a/n: a little famous scenario of "7 minutes in heaven" !! if you squint its suggestive lmao
The housewarming party at Droid’s had taken a sharp left turn over the past hours. What was meant to be a chill, ‘’let’s enjoy a casual beer or two’’, had turned into a full-blown house party. The music is playing loudly over the speakers, three people are crowded around someone’s phone, fighting over who gets the aux and what is put in queue.
‘’Dude, fuck that,’’ a voice cuts through the noise, ‘’that song is so ass, let me on, I’ll play some music that’s actually good.’’
‘’Fuck off, you’ve deleted like 3 of my songs from queue.’’
There’s people raiding the kitchen for any sign of snacks and next to it all, a person is mixing the most horrendous drink that could probably be categorized as an internal body system cleaner. You’ve seeked refuge on a couch, watching all the chaos unfold, a random bottle of something from Droid’s fridge in hand.
Across you, Pezzy, to you known as Max, sits on the opposite couch, in full conversation with some of Droid’s friends and you can’t help the blush that’s creeping up your face. You watch him, how he throws his head back in laughter at some story that’s being told, how his face scrunches in the adorable way of his. His laugh, drowned out slightly from the music yet, it still reaches you, warm and full in a way that makes your heart soar.
Okay, so. You might have a crush on him.
A giant one, actually. You’ve known each other for two years at this point and the story of how you met is rather embarrassing. A moment of stupidity, having tripped over some crack in the sidewalk and deciding to just lay there for a second, wanting the earth to swallow you.
Max hadn't parked far away, having seen it happen with a snort, finding it rather humorous – something he would keep bringing up to all his friends and you, pure entertainment for himself. Though, he did come to the rescue and helped you up on your feet again and you swear, you probably looked like the freshest summer tomato from the farmer’s market by how hot your face felt when you went to thank this apparent knight in shining armour.
A knight who had captured your heart in the very moment your eyes had locked onto each other, who had smiled so softly at your flustered mannerisms and stammering speech.
He hasn’t told you it, but he has found you endearing since you met and all his friends knew, cause if anything, Max hasn’t been able to not talk about to you. For them, it had been two years of suffering, hearing Max gush over you after every hangout.
‘’Pezzy, I swear, if you don’t get your shit together and ask them out, I’m going to do it,’’ a sentence that is often repeated amongst his friends, always met with a meek ‘’I know, I just don’t want to ruin it, you know?’’ from Max.
To be truthful, he has been scared that you didn’t like him the same way, worrying that if he ever got the guts to ask you out, you would decline and it would lead to the friendship breaking apart. So, he stays quiet and keeps you as close as he can, accepting his fate of staying friends.
The booming voice of Droid pulls your attention away from Max, looking up at a half wobbling man, face flush from alcohol and a dopey grin on his face.
‘’Okay, guys, listen, ay, turn down the music a bit!’’ he slurs, stressing out the s’s as a more serious look flashes across his face, ‘’what if we play that game, fuck, what’s it called… like 10 minutes in heaven, or something?’’ he asks out.
‘’It’s 7 minutes in heaven, dumbass,’’ Puffer yells back from the dinner table a bit away.
‘’Yes, that! That game, let’s play that,’’ he chuckles as he sits down on a chair, pulling it close to the coffee table. He rubs his hands together like there’s an ulterior motive behind his actions – and there is.
‘’What’s the game about?’’ someone asks and Droid holds up his hand, takes a swig from his bottle and goes on to explain the rules.
‘’Two people are picked at random, they get locked in, uhh, the pantry, let’s use that,’’ he says, eyes closed to help him focus and remember the rules, ‘’then they have 7 minutes to do whatever they want behind locked doors!’’ he finishes off with his signature laugh and you can practically hear the people groan around the table.
‘’Dude, are you really that lonely you need to get a little love through a game?’’ you mock Droid, pointing the bottle at him before taking a sip from it, closest people to you laughing and agreeing at your comment.
‘’Woah, woah! I would never!’’ he retorts, raising his hands in defense, ‘’but hey, I mean, I wouldn’t be against it, if you know what I’m saying.’’
Someone throws a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face and making him spill beer over himself and the room erupts into laughter. You don’t notice it, eyes fixed on Droid frantically wiping at his t-shirt but Max has his eyes on you, taking in the sight of you under the dim lights, seeing how your lips curl into a smile that brightens up the room.
‘’How are the people chosen?’’ someone asks and all come with their bids, loud disagreements on different options but ultimately, the option of drawing names out of a bowl is chosen.
Everyone scribbles their name on a piece of paper, Droid grabs a bowl and gets everyone to hand their note in. After all have handed their name in, Droid seats himself and starts rummaging through the papers.
‘’And the first name is,’’ he announces, pulling a piece of paper up, unraveling it, ‘’Grizzy!’’.
Cheers and claps all around as he half-defeated gets up from a chair.
‘’Lucky person in heaven with our boy is,’’ another piece of paper is pulled and a loud, honking laughter comes from Droid, clutching his chest.
‘’What’s so funny?’’ Grizzy asks and Droid passes him the paper and even Grizzy laughs.
‘’Puffer, let’s go,’’ he announces and the room once again is filled with laughter, whoops and cheers, as they roleplay shy lovers walking into the pantry. Door is closed, locked and someone starts a timer.
The minutes pass, frankly, some people might’ve even forgotten as conversations pick up. You’ve fallen into conversation with Droid about his current Pokemon card collecting.
‘’Just listen, alright,’’ half-open eyes, speech getting more slurred by the minute, ‘’you’ll be kissing my ass when I get that 700 dollar card.’’
You roll your eyes at him, giving him a playful push which nearly gets him ragdolling back on the chair. Max watches from his side, his jaw tightening from the interaction between the two of you.
He shouldn’t be jealous but it’s bubbling in chest and the alcohol in his system is not helping his case, mentally shooting darts after Droid, hoping he would get the message. It’s only when Droid lays a hand on your shoulder, the cork nearly pops out of him and he’s about to make a comment, before someone yells out ‘7 minutes have passed!’.
The two men had, obviously, ruffled their hair around to make their ‘heavenly, hot make-out session’, as they said themselves, look more believable.
Everyone’s yelling, pointing their fingers at being fakes and they didn’t play the game right, people trying to throw bottle caps at them in fake annoyance.
‘’Okay, okay, calm down!’’ Droid yells, flailing his arms about to make people notice him, as if his voice wasn’t enough, instantly drawing attention, ‘’new people!’’.
The people next to you start a drumroll and it catches on to everyone.
‘’And we have,’’ he speaks, drawing out the last syllable, ‘’Y/N!’’.
You down the last of your bottle, standing up and taking your bows, people clapping as you make your way to the pantry. Drumroll picks up again, a crowd of ‘oooh’, ending with a loud ‘ey!’ as the piece of paper is pulled.
It’s unusually quiet as Droid reads the name and, you can’t see it but he’s like a maniac.
‘’Oh dude, this is gold,’’ he says, shaking the paper around, ‘’it’s you, Pezzy.’’
Teasing ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ fill the air as Pezzy gets up. You both share a quick look and from where you’re standing, you can see how his ears have turned red and his cheeks are dusted pink. You try to hide the small, keeping your lips in a tight line but it falters as people start pelting encouraging words at you, whistles loud and clear.
‘’Shall we?’’ Max asks when he’s close enough, motioning towards the pantry and you nod, feeling the nerves in your body pricking at your skin.
When you step in, they close the door, lock it but what they don’t tell, is that they also turn the lights off.
‘’Hey! Turn the lights on, dude,’’ Max yells, banging at the door but it’s drowned out by the music. A muffled voice attempts to yell that the minutes have started, leaving you alone with each other in the dark.
‘’This is a bit awkward,’’ you mumble after a small silence between you and Max chuckles.
‘’You alright with this?’’ Max questions and you hum back in response. Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness in the room that you can nearly see the figure of him.
‘’I’m just glad that I’m stuck here with you,’’ you reply.
‘’You are?’’ Max quickly responds and there’s a warmth heating up your cheeks.
‘’Yeah, of course,’’ you stutter a bit, ‘’rather you than the drunk Droid out there.’’
You both laugh and it falls to comfortable silence. The minute feels like hours, dragging on, making you more nervous about what will happen when you both get out.
In Max’s head, he’s going over the sentences. Maybe, it’s his chance now. He’s tipsy, bordering on drunk and he might as well give it a shot. Now or never.
‘’I’m happy it’s you too,’’ he says softly. His heart is beating rapidly in chest and his hands are trembling, nerves working full time.
‘’You know,’’ he begins, ‘’I like you a lot.’’
‘’I like you a lot too, Max,’’ you respond and it both brings a shock and lightens the weight on his chest.
‘’No, like, I like you a lot,’’ he puts emphasis on the last words and that’s where it hits you on the head.
Oh my god. He’s confessing.
But when you go quiet, it sets off alarms in his head.
‘’Sorry, that was stupid of me, just forget what I said and act like this never happ-’’ he starts rambling and you can nearly see his arms waving around trying to defend his case, but he stops when you reach a hand out to grab his arm, rather difficult in the dark, but you manage.
‘’Max,’’ you speak, taking a step closer to him till you can feel his breath on your face.
Your hold on his wrist loosens as you intertwine your fingers with his, a grin forming on your face at the action.
‘’I like you a lot too,’’ you repeat back and a huff of relief escapes him.
‘’So, what you’re saying is,’’ he starts, trying to connect your actions with words, just in case you actually meant something else.
‘’What I mean, Max, is that I would like you to kiss me.’’
He’s taken back your sudden boldness and so are you but you choose to put the blame on the alcohol. It takes a bit to register what you said but soon a hand cups your cheek, bringing it closer to his face.
‘’Are you sure?’’ he questions again and you nod, giving the hand in yours a squeeze. His lips ghost across yours, delicate and velvety against yours, before he presses his lips on yours, the longing of wanting to do this giving in. There hadn’t been a day where your lips hadn’t looked kissable.
He tasted like a mixture of mint and whatever liquor he had been drinking prior: you could barely pull yourself off of him. It was intoxicating how his lips felt against yours. Your free hand moving up to his hair, playing with the strands, feeling playful enough to tug at it, earning a groan from him that sent a spark running through your body.
His hand on your cheek moving down to rest on your hip, desperate to feel more of you.
‘’Time is running out,’’ you murmur against his lips, ‘’we should stop.’’
It’s an attempt, one that fails as he backs you up against the shelves, something falling to the ground, making the both of you laugh. He deepens the kiss, finger pads keeping a firm hold on your hip.
‘’You know how long I’ve waited for this?’’ he asks, lips wandering up your jawline and down your neck.
‘’Since I first met you,’’ you whisper and he chuckles against your skin.
Before he can continue his plan, a loud banging rings through the room. The both of you scramble to a normal position, adjusting clothes and trying to look like you hadn’t been sucking each other’s faces.
When the pantry door opens, everyone is standing outside of it. A loud cheering and a chorus of ‘I told you!’ ‘Let’s go!’ ‘I knew this would happen!’ being exclaimed.
Max and you look at each other, both very flush in the face but there’s a smile plastered on your faces. He stretches his arm out to you, palm out and you grab it, intertwining your fingers for the second time that day and definitely not the last either.
pairing: elasticdroid x fem!reader
wc: 4k
warnings: angst, frustrated arguements, mentions of death scare (no actual injury or death happens), no resolve
song pairing: slow dancing in a burning room by john mayer
a/n: brick was kissed before i threw it at your head <3
You don't know how long you have been staring at the front door. You could probably point out every flaw of it, the dents, the scratches, anything. By now, it might as well be imprinted onto the inside of your eyelids. Eyes flicking from door to the handle, you feel as if its mocking you, your own brain conjuring up phantom movements paired with imaginary sounds of the clinking of keys. Hoping it will open soon and stop the plague upon your mind - but it never happens.
From the dinner table, you keep your eyes on the door. Your friends at the table have noticed your absence from the conversations flourishing an hour ago but they kept it going, not wanting to make it worse for you, and yet;
Someone from the friend group sighs loudly, hands up in defence and decides to take initiative to speak up: ''If you stare harder, you might burn a hole in the middle of it,'' a comment that earned a small snicker around the table before they spoke up again;
‘’I don’t think he’s coming.’’
All turn their attention to them, the person next to them elbows them in their side muttering a just audible ‘’don’t be rude’’. It's a statement that has been on everyone's mind for while now. It’s quiet around the table, eyes scanning the company, switching back forth to the person opposite them to then you.
Looking for any response but you can’t even bear to pry your eyes away from the front door and look them in the eye. Picking at the skin around your fingernails, playing with the table decor with the other hand - anything to keep you from meeting their gaze.
‘’He will be here any minute,’’ you manage to get out, a slight quiver in your voice that, with a weak attempt, try to hide with a quick smile that falters as fast as it was put on. Shoulders slumping as your eyes go warm and tears pricking at the corners.
‘’I know he will.’’
Somewhere, Jaime, to others known as Droid, is at Puffer’s house filming content for the podcast and extra material for Patreon, ultimately deciding to stay longer after Puffer requests they could order out and eat dinner together. He hasn’t been looking at his phone for hours, completely obvious to the messages and calls from you and your friends.
When they finally wrap it up it’s 10:51pm. As he grabs his jacket he sighs, knowing he’s getting way later than he had promised. He pulls out his phone that’s been in his back pocket on Do Not Disturb, so as to not ruin filming, he notices the many notifications.
Emails, Instagram, 20 calls, 15 messages. All messages following the same pattern:
‘’Dude, where the fuck are you?’’
‘’Hey asshole, are you really trying to win the title of worst boyfriend of the year? Cuz you might win it.’’
He’s about to text them back about what they mean by all that, seeing as he didn’t believe he had done anything wrong - maybe it was a prank? A stupid one at that, he points out to himself, since he always prides himself in the role of being someone’s partner. But as he goes to answer them back, he sees your name pop up under unread messages:
4:34pm - Mi Amor: Hope filming is going good but don’t have too much fun without me (like that is possible!!!) I’ve decorated the place to the best of my abilities, ready for the guests to arrive!! [2 images attached]
5:19pm - Mi Amor: Guests are coming soon.. are you running late? I can probably delay food till you get here. Let me know!
6:54pm - Mi Amor: Honey, are you alright? Can you text me anything so I know you’re alive? You are scaring me..
Reading the texts feels like a punch to the gut. He feels sick to his stomach as he stares at the pictures: A ‘’Happy Birthday!’’ banner, confetti hanging from the ceiling, a table decorated - all the stuff you had dragged through the door in multiple bags, pulling out every item beaming with pride and grinning ear to ear about how excited you were to use the new decor for the occassion.
The second picture, you standing in front of the banner, striking a pose between number balloons. His face drops and a chill runs up his though his body feels like it's burning.
Fuck.
Shit.
One hand running through his hair, tugging at the ends, the other clutching his phone.
Your birthday. It’s your fucking birthday.
‘’Hey man, you good? You’ve been standing there for like a solid 10 minutes just freaking out, dude,’’ the voice of Grizzy from behind him makes him jump. His eyes leave his phone screen and Grizzy is quick to notice the glazed over eyes.
’’Whoa, hey, what’s wrong dud-’’
‘’I’m a fucking asshole,’’ he cuts him off quick, ‘’It’s my girl’s birthday.’’ His voice breaks, knowing the judgement he could be facing from his friends and most importantly, you.
Grizzy's mouth forms an ‘o’ and eyes widen, ‘’Fuck dude, it’s late!’’ he exclaims, earning the attention of the rest of the crew, poking their heads out in the hallway.
Jaime rubs his face, ruffling his hair with a heavy sigh putting his phone in his pocket again. ‘’You better go home now, she’s for sure pissed at you.’’ Jaime doesn’t respond but throws on his jacket, shoving his feet into his shoes and half-assed tying them, putting on his helmet and running out the door.
At home, the guests started leaving the house around 9pm. Despite the situation, you had tried to make the most of it, even though the energy wasn’t really there for you, or anyone even, to try and make it anything other than what it was.
You had attempted to join in on the conversations, had the chances of snickering to a few of the jokes cracked and even with a dampened appetite, ate the food you had spent precious hours and valiant effort to make.
When it got to saying your goodbyes to the guests, all of them saying their farewells followed by heartfelt yet empty apologies of how sorry they felt by your boyfriend’s actions on your day, you were unbelievably tired. From keeping your hopes up about Jaime coming home or your friend’s endless support, you didn’t know. You couldn’t hate them though.
They were only trying their best to help you but it only irked you, every time being reminded of the longing you had for Jaime to be here at that very minute. His arm slung around your shoulders as he fires off the last jokes he had left in him of the evening, the sound of his laughter vibrating in chest and bounces off the walls, the both of you waving goodbye.
But he isn’t there. It’s just you, alone at the door, hug after hug, reassuring arm squeezes, soft, small back rubs from your friends.
‘’When he gets here,’’ a friend starts while putting their shoes on, ‘’you tell him to do better than this shit show.’’
You nod meekly watching them get ready and as they finish up, give your cheek a friendly small peck and walk out the door. You watch as they back out of the drive-way and drive off, standing there for a good minute, just in case he decides to turn up at the last second.
Still nothing.
You close the door reluctantly, lock it and turn around to face the empty, silent house. Walking towards the living room, you see how the confetti is giving up its hold on the ceiling and falls to the floor. You give a half-hearted snort to how absurd it is, somehow seeing yourself reflected in the action.
There is food left in respective pots and pans, half filled glasses of different coloured liquids. You look at the two plates of food you had saved for Jaime, something you’ve always done for him, knowing how bad he can be with scheduling his own time.
So, you occupy yourself. You start cleaning up. Washing dishes, glassware, utensils, empty pots. Removing table decor. Pulling at the leftover confetti on the ceiling, deflating the balloons for good, tugging at the banner from the wall, feeling a frustration bubble in your chest. You gather it all and throw it all into a trash can, your chest heaving at this point.
In the trash can is all the time and effort you had spent on making today special. A collection of the money that has been wasted on not having used its full potential.
And it hurts. It hurts so much, you feel your knees buckle beneath you, sinking to the floor.
The tears are building up, tears shake in the dam of your eyes, blurring your vision. It all feels too much and the silence in the house feels so loud in your ears. You clutch at the fabric of your clothes as you can feel it all building in your throat. You want to hold it back but you can’t.
The sob tumbles out from your mouth and it doesn’t stop. Sobs are racking your body and you feel like your head is going to implode from the sheer volume of it. The tears are falling freely and they feel hot on your cheeks. You wipe at your face, hand on your chest trying to regulate your breathing but it’s all to no avail. Curled up, on the floor, you sit there and let it all out, grief of the events and the uncertainty of your boyfriend’s fate.
When Jaime finally gets back to the house it’s 11:24pm. He’s nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek, fumbling with the key to unlock the door. Shaky hands try to steady themselves as he unlocks it, cautiously pulling at the handle, his eyes pressed shut awaiting the outburst.
But when he walks in and closes the door behind him, it’s eerily quiet. He opens his eyes to a dimly lit house where you wouldn’t have guessed a birthday had been held. He carefully pulls off his jacket and shoes, placing his helmet on the shelf before he moves further into the house.
‘’Amor?’’ he calls out softly as he scans the house for your figure. He notices the saran wrapped plates of food on the kitchen table, a clear sign of you having been waiting out for him. His heart was already heavy but this surely added even more weight that it felt like he could sink into the floor right then and there.
He turns around towards the living room and notices a lump on the couch. You, sleeping on the couch. Somehow having managed to crawl from the floor onto a softer surface and passed out. He maneuvers around the room and around the couch to squat down next to you, taking in your peaceful state of soft snores, always finding it so endearing to watch you.
He slowly reaches a hand up to gently place on your cheek, thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath.
‘’Babe?’’ he whispers, noticing the slight change in breathing. He calls again, just a bit louder, which manages to wake you up. Eyes fluttering open but not fully, the dim light of the room enough to make you squint.
With furrowed eyebrows you try to make out the figure in front of you, eyes sore from the amount of crying you had done earlier. It’s first when you register the gentle caress on your cheek and the familiar smell of cologne it connects in your head and the knot in your chest returns.
‘’I don’t want to talk to you,’’ you croak out and Jaime notices it instantly, hitting himself over and over in his head because if there is anything he never wanted to happen, it’s you crying over something he had done.
‘’Babe, please,’’ he says as you move to sit up, groaning slightly from the ache in your body of a mixture of laying on the floor, sleeping position and how overworked your chest has been.
He carefully places his hands on your knees, nearly hovering over the fabric. ‘’Please, I am sorry.’’
He sounds so sincere and it aches but it is replaced by annoyance.
‘’Sorry?’’ you reply through gritted teeth, swatting at his hands that he nearly loses his balance. You stand up from the couch and he follows suit, your faces mere inches away from each other.
‘’You’re sorry?’’ you repeat, pushing at his chest, ‘’a sorry is not going to cut it, Jaime.’’ Your skin feels hot and there’s a prickly feeling in your hands. You shook your head as you turned away from him and moved a small distance away from him.
‘’Recording extended over time and Puffer asked if I wanted to stay for dinner and-’’ he tried explaining himself but was cut off by you.
‘’Stay for dinner? Oh! So, my birthday dinner wasn’t good enough or what?’’ your voice has raised a fair bit, edging on yelling but you don’t want to go there.
‘’You know that’s not what I meant,’’ he says, hands hanging by his side in defeat, ‘’I just thought I might as well since we were having fun and I was there-’’
‘’You promised you would be here today, Jaime!’’ you say, voice cracking a bit at the end of the sentence, ‘’It is, or at this point, it was my birthday!’’.
You wrap your arms around yourself, grounding yourself as much as you can, finding it hard when the issue of the uncomfort is standing in front of you.
‘’You promised this morning,’’ you say, taking a deep breath before continuing, ‘’I sent you messages hours before just to make sure, even our friends did, no one heard from you! You basically ignored me the whole day,’’ you pick up speed, everything tumbling out as your voice starts to tremble.
‘’And worse is, you could’ve been in a horrible crash or even dead for all I know!’’.
His heart skips a beat at the anguish he had put you through, knowing how you’ve made it clear to him, nearly swear on his life, that you want him to text whenever he’s going for a ride and when he’s safe at the location.
‘’And all you can say… is that you’re sorry?’’ you end with another well of tears teetering on spilling, near burning your eyes from soreness.
Jaime knows you’re angry and rightfully so, he gets it completely but it also pisses him off how you’re picking at him and you won’t let him utter a word into the conversation, so without much thinking, he decides to speak:
‘’I forgot, okay?’’
And right then and there, he knew he fucked up. He sees how your whole figure slump, the arms that once held your frame falling to your sides, how your face twists from annoyance to hurt. He sees the tears welling up in your eyes, how you start picking at the skin around your nails, he knows what it means.
And that’s when your lips start to quiver and the tears start falling as you raise your hand to cover your mouth. He hears a cry that shatters his heart, escaping your lips and takes a step forward towards you, but you take a step back with the other hand reaching out in front of you to tell him to keep his distance. You feel as if the whole room is spinning anew and your heartbeat is thumping loud in your ears.
‘’N-no, baby, babe, hey,’’ he sputters, stumbling over his words, ‘’I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t mean to say that, fuck, sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-’’
‘’You forgot?’’ you choke out, ‘’do you even care about me?’’. He’s quiet, dumbstruck, thinking of how he can get himself out of this hole he has dug himself into. It feels like ages as you two stand there in the living room, only accompanied by the sound of Oso’s yawning and the low buzz of the lit lamps.
You are about to leave, saying that tonight is enough and you just want to sleep but his voice stops you.
‘’I do,’’ he manages to speak. ‘’I do care,’’ a lump forming in his throat as his eyes glaze over for the second time that day. Jaime places his hands on his chest, calming his own breathing and the thumping of his heart. He can not afford to lose you, not like this.
‘’Listen, okay, you’re so important to me,’’ he starts, ‘’there’s barely a minute where I don’t think of you-’’
‘’But you forgot me today,’’ you interrupt and he sighs, looking up at the ceiling before locking eyes with you again.
‘’Yes, I forgot today and I know that it makes me a giant asshole,’’ he continues.
‘’Oh really?’’ you sarcastically mention and he could say something back, but he chooses to leave it there and keeps going.
‘’I was too caught up in recording and I didn’t have my phone on me and I know these are bad excuses but you have to believe I would never mean to hurt you and especially not like this.’’
Your eyes are closed, head turned away from him, the tears drying on your cheeks. You know he’s telling the truth and you want to believe, but how it looks right now, it’s getting harder to trust it.
‘’You are barely here,’’ it comes out as a whisper, faltering at using any power left in your voice as you voice the concern that has been harbouring in your chest, ‘’I mean, you are here, but you aren’t here, with me.’’
You wipe the already dry tears away, running a a hand through your hair.
‘’If you aren’t recording something at Puffer’s house, then you’re in the office recording or spending hours on streaming,’’ you sniffle, ‘’and I know that it’s your job and you love your job,’’ you explain and it pains you to admit it.
‘’And I knew what I got into when I agreed to be yours and move in but,’’ you sigh, turning your head to face finally face him but not daring to make eye contact, not yet, so you suffice with looking at the wall behind him, ‘’sometimes, I just wish that I was as important to you as your job is.’’
He’s listening intently, nodding along to your words, knowing all that you’re saying is true – he’s just been too blind to see it lately. His hands lift from his chest and his arms open in an open invitation to a hug. It’s an attempt at most, since he’s not even sure it will work and he does notice how you hesitate. You haven’t forgiven him, yet, your body moves as if you are like two magnets.
The steps towards him feel so heavy. Stopping just right in front of him, you can feel the body heat radiate off of him and from here, you can see how red his eyes are from the tears that have fallen from his eyes. It’s like looking into your own eyes, who might as well be as puffy and red as yours.
‘’Don’t take this as an apology,’’ you say and he nods. He knows.
You lean in, wrapping your arms around his waist as he engulfs you in his, holding on to you as if you are his only life line. You hide your face in his chest, taking in the comforting smell of him as he rubs his hand up and down your spine.
‘’I really am sorry,’’ he mumbles into your hair, ‘’I am such an idiot.’’
His hold on you tightens slightly, placing a kiss on the top of your head as he completely lets go. His body goes against his own will as his chest starts to rise and fall at a faster speed, hiccups getting caught in his throat. You know he’s holding back.
‘’It’s okay,’’ you murmur against the fabric of his hoodie. Not an acceptance of his actions but a confirmation that he is allowed to open up.
His head falls from the top of your head, burrowing itself into your neck as he weeps, whining half-intelligible apologies mixed with continuous ‘’I love you’s’’. Hands grabbing whatever they can as if to make sure you wouldn’t leave him. When his breathing has mellowed out , you slowly move your hands to take a hold of his head, placing two careful hands on either side of his face and you take it all in.
The red eyes and nose, the tear stained cheeks, his hair completely disheveled. He’s biting down on his lip, haltering the tremble that’s coursing through his body as he awaits your next action.
He looks crushed, absolutely ruined and absolutely beautiful. Your heart softens a bit seeing the man in front of you. You slowly brush away the hair from his forehead, placing a gentle kiss to it and his eyes flutter shut for a moment, a stray tear falling. Despite it all, he is still the man you fell in love with.
‘’I’m sorry,’’ he whispers, lip quivering and it sounds so earnest it’s painful.
‘’I’ll try to be better,’’ he says, reaching his own hands up to cover yours, ‘’I mean it, I’ll do anything, really, like, I can set up a couch close to my set-up so you can be there next to me when streaming or, uh, I can dial it down, ya' know? Less streaming and all that.’’
You shake your head at his efforts, trying to give him the slightest of smiles you could muster.
‘’I can’t tell you what the solution is,’’ you say softly, studying his eyes for any reaction, ‘’not right now, at least, but we will figure something out.’’
His mouth forms a thin line as he nods, not quite satisfied with the response, wanting to fix this issue more than ever. Neither of you say much after that, taking in the silence around you and looking at each other, exchanging minor smiles as he rubs his thumb on your hands, still pressed against his face.
‘’Will you hate me if I say it again,’’ he questions, trying to make a crack at the tension and it works, enough to make you do a small laugh and he smiles from hearing it, having missed the sound.
‘’I am sorry,’’ he repeated, taking a hold of your hands and lacing his fingers with yours.
‘’I know,’’ you respond with a nod.
No one says anything but like a silent question hanging in the air you both know the answer to, you both start moving to the bedroom with your hands still linked to each other.
At the bed, you both get rid of the worn clothes and climb under the covers. You scoot closer to him, intertwining your legs with his. With cautious movements, he raises his arm to let you lay flush against each other. You get as close as possible, his arm wrapping around your frame and pulling you even closer.
Your arm maneuvers its way under covers and the weight of his arm, placing a hand under his shirt on the small of his back. He hums low at the contact, nuzzling his nose against your head and places a kiss along your hairline.
There you lay, chest to chest, limbs intertwined, listening to each other’s breath, feeling the heat radiating off of each other. Something that is so comforting that you could fall asleep in an instant, but before you get the chance, you hear him trying to clear his throat, followed by a hushed but audible: ‘’I love you.’’
You don’t respond immediately, taking the chance to move your head from his chest to look up at him. His eyes are closed but not asleep. You lean up, to the best of your capabilities from your current position, brushing your lips against his. Soft, careful, attentive. He’s wary but responds with the same motion.
‘’I love you too, baby,’’ you murmur against his lips before returning to your previous position, finally feeling a somewhat sense of relief. The exhaustion rolled over both of you quickly, falling asleep in each other's arms.
pairing: pezzy x gn!reader
wc: 1.5k
warnings: if you squint its angst ... fine balance with fluff
song pairing: home by michael buble
a/n: hello everyone!!! i am new to the frouse / clooless / goons writing community and thought i would throw my two cents into the bucket of writers. currently not taking requests since i am balancing studies next to this - maybe in the future (hopefully!) - i hope whoever reads enjoys it!!! feedback is always appreciated (:
The house always seemed to feel so much bigger when there wasn’t a second person to fill it.
Evenings felt longer when the only sound to accompany you was the TV playing some random show and the added purring from Sly on your lap. It felt like life was put in slow motion, yet, you were still moving forward in real time. You feel slightly embarrassed for how much you actually miss him, even though he had only left the day before.
Max had agreed to go to Vegas for a boys trip over the weekend. He had talked about wanting to go back for months, frequently making jokes about how he ‘’needs to gamble’’ and ‘’I can hear the machines calling my name’’. All light fun with laughs and rolling of eyes.
Muttering a low ‘’So is therapy’’ in response, earning an over the top shocked response from Max and a loud ‘’How dare you!’’.
When he was leaving, he nearly clinged on you for dear life.
‘’Remember to keep an eye on Sly,’’ he mentions, arms keeping a tight hold around your waist as he’s scanning the area behind you, ‘’don’t let him out.’’
‘’As if I have ever done that,’’ you respond, giving a soft shove to his shoulder and a quiet giggle.
‘’I’ll text you when I get there,’’ he says, his thumbs rubbing small circles on your lower back, ‘’and I’ll text you before I go to bed, when I go pee, when I am eating-’’ he says, rambling on before he shuts up when you place a kiss on his lips.
‘’Just send me a text when you can, just so I know that you’re alive, idiot,’’ you murmured against his lips. He hums in agreement before his lips leave yours, only to pepper gentle kisses on your cheek, nose, forehead, his eyelashes tickling your skin.
‘’Go, Max,’’ you giggle as he teasingly starts kissing down your neck, ‘’you have a plane to catch, yeah?’’.
‘’Just one more kiss,’’ he says, ‘’and then I go.’’ You shake your head and let him press the last kiss on your lips, gently squeezing you as if when he lets go, you would disappear. His hold on your waist slowly releases as he picks up his bags and slings them over his shoulder, shoulders slump as he gives an actor worthy dramatic sigh before turning around to leave.
It’s only 3 days, how bad can it be?
Actually unbearable for the both of you - and so for his friends. They’ve implemented a rule that Max is not allowed to mention you within the first hour of being in Vegas, others have started betting on how long he can hold it in.
‘’Hey, I know you love them, dude,’’ Puffer says at some point, hands rubbing at his face, ‘’but can you please, please, just talk about something else?’’.
The group laughs at the comment as Max can’t do anything but blush, scratching his neck and accepts the teasing he’s going to endure.
On the other side, you sit at home and scroll your Instagram feed, rather mindless as you don’t seem to be caught up in anything in front of you.
A day has passed since Max left and it would be a lie if you said it hadn’t been hard falling asleep without him next to you. Most of Day 2 of ‘’Waiting for my Husband (Max) to return from war (Vegas)’’ was spent texting back and forth funny bits they had seen through the day, pictures of pure devastation and jubilations of wins and losses.
Cat Dad(dy): ‘’Just lost 200 dollars’’
Babe<3: ‘’Guess we’ll be eating bread and beans for the rest of the month’’
Cat Dad(dy): ‘’Trust the process, babe’’.
It lifted your mood whenever the notification ding would sound. For those small seconds it would feel like he was in the room down the hall, streaming, sending you texts about if you wanted to make some dinner (together, of course, as he always makes sure to note) or if you should order out. But he’s not. He’s somewhere too far away, probably hyping up Droid to go all-in on a bet, only for him to most likely lose it all.
Cleaning up after making dinner, having given Sly her food as well, giving her some head scratches before she digs in, you hear your phone ring. You don’t even bother looking at who is calling, since you already know who it is.
‘’Hey Max,’’ you say, a smile on your face already forming, ‘’you need any lunch money?’’ you joke, earning a laugh from his side of the phone.
‘’No, no, I’ve actually won the money back I lost!’’ he says, answering the question from earlier, ‘’but I actually called to say that,’’ he continues before a heavy sigh leaves his lips, ‘’to say that I miss you.’’
‘’I miss you too, Max,’’ you respond, ‘’like, a stupid amount.’’
‘’I didn’t think I would miss you this much either,’’ he says, quickly continuing, ‘’but I do! I do miss you, a lot, like a parking lot.’’ A silly inside joke you’ve created early in the relationship.
The call goes on, sharing more stories of what has happened, at various points you can hear the boys yell in the background, sometimes they would be on the phone and you got to hear each point of view of the story.
Listening and responding as well as possible, even though a knot is forming in your stomach from wishing he was home instead and telling all these stories, curled up in his arms, hearing his heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours. You haven’t noticed it yet, but the line has gone quiet. Max notices you haven’t responded in a while.
‘’What are you thinking about, babe?’’ he questions, making you return to the present. You fiddle with the bottom of your shirt, trying to suppress the stomach feeling.
‘’I wish you were home, Max.’’
It’s quiet again before you hear him sigh.
‘’I wish I was there too,’’ he responds as you can hear him move around, probably to get away from the attention of the boys.
You look around the living room, how the sun is starting to set, casting soft shadows in the living room. If you imagine hard enough, you can nearly see Max walk around the room, fresh out of bed in only his pajama pants with Sly running after him. It brings a small smile to your face, reminiscing those many mornings you’ve had together. Though, it’s cut short as small sniffles break the silence.
‘’Are you okay?’’ you ask quietly and he laughs half-heartedly.
‘’It’s so stupid, isn’t it?’’ he says with a sharp inhale, ‘’It’s only been a day without you and it’s like I’m having withdrawals.’’
‘’I’m your Vegas slot machine now,’’ you try and joke, and it lands since he’s laughing on the other end.
‘’Yeah,’’ he says, ‘’yeah, you’re my slot machine and you are calling my name right now.’’
‘’What are the voices saying?’’ you ask.
‘’That I come home,’’ he responds, a break before he continues.
‘’But I can’t right now,’’ he says and you can nearly hear him carting his hand through his hair, ‘’the boys would be so pissed if I did.’’
‘’Do what you think is right,’’ you reply, ‘’but don’t come home for me. If you want to come home early, it should be because you want to, Max.’’
He’s quiet, probably chewing on his lip, thinking the possibilities through. It has gotten dark outside since you’ve started the call, hours having passed by so easy.
‘’I’ll think about it, okay?’’ he says, ‘’I can’t promise-’’
‘’And that’s alright. Text me when you know anything, ok?’’ you quickly interrupt him.
He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t have to and he knows that. ‘’You know that I love you, right?’’ he comments, hearing his smile through the phone.
‘’I love you too, Max,’’ you respond before you both agree to end the call.
And so you wait. Moving from the living room to the bedroom. Waiting hours laying in bed. You don’t want to fall asleep in case he calls or texts. But your eyelids are getting heavier and heavier, turning into a battle between you and your eyes to stay awake, since the rest of your body is ready to sleep. You look at your phone one last time. 3:48 in the morning. No messages, no calls.
Eventually, you fall asleep against your will.
When you wake up, it’s bright outside. Sitting up in bed, you check your phone and still nothing from him. You open your phone and are about to send him a message, when you hear a click. The pitter patter of Sly’s paws against the floor, the thump of something heavy landing on the floor, the floor starting to creak under the weight, footsteps nearing the bedroom and the door opens.
romaincrisis
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
jacobvanloon
andulkaphoto
theartofmadeline
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled