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l0standn0tf0und · 4 months

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we all know why we're here, right😏😏😏😏😏

“Where do you want them?” - this line literally killed me, I was just omfg🥴jjsjjsb🫠sgsy🥴🥴s, I mean anywhere, somewhere, everywhere

“I had no idea you liked me.” “I’m in love with you,” this response, omg, so straight ahead i love it, I can't actually explain my thoughts about this line, but this is the moment I'm gonna replay in my head

The one with Thomas' fingers

Description | You have a sudden realisation about Thomas... and the way his fingers move.

Content | Smut, fluff

Pairing | fem!Reader x Thomas Raggi

Word count | 4300

***

It hadn't supposed to happen. This… realisation. Not after years and years of being friends, not after years and years of seeing them everyday, then every week, then every month, as they rose to stardom. There was simply no reason for any of this to bubble up below the surface, rise and rise, and breach your line of consciousness now. But it did. It did, as you were sitting in an expensive seat at the arena, eyes transfixed on the screens that showed a detailed close up of Thomas’ fingers as he played his perfect solo.

You had seen it, watched him, hundreds of times before, probably quite literally that often if you added up all shows, impromptu sessions, rehearsals that you'd attended over the course of your friendship. Had gotten countless opportunities to study him, learn him by heart, but somehow, this overwhelmingly important detail had passed you by without notice and all of a sudden, you couldn’t tell how.

If someone were to ask you, afterwards, what song had been playing at the exact moment it all changed in your brain, you would have been at a complete loss. All that seemed to matter was keeping your eyes on the screen, wishing you could be close enough to see it for real, silently lamenting all the chances you’d had without making use of them, as Thomas’ fingers continued moving over and with the strings, and you wondered if you’d ever seen something that beautiful.

Any hope of behaving normally when the show was over went straight out of the window as you made your way backstage, immediately bumping into a sweaty but deliriously happy Thomas, who almost knocked you over in the process, only just managing to hold onto your wrist, his other hand quickly finding the small of your back, pulling you back.

“You okay?” he laughed, easily, carelessly, but your brain was going and going and going and whirling with the sensations of how his fingers wrapped around your wrist so easily, slender and careful and rough at the same time.

His face was too close to you, eyes trailing over yours. You could feel the heat emerging from his body, could smell it on him, the exertion of two hours on stage, his chest bare, acutely aware of how you were pressed against it. Never had you ever wanted Thomas, had never even considered it in earnest, jokes about hooking up with one or the other member of the band flying around easily, but none of it seemed as funny now.

“No,” you sighed back, then immediately realised what you said and how his breath was hitting your skin and untangled yourself from him. “I mean, yes. Of course.”

“Having a normal one, you two?” Damiano asked as he passed by, giving you a much-needed opportunity to remove yourself from the situation and you took it gratefully.

“Oh, always,” you replied, not with a lot of conviction and followed him towards their dressing rooms, hoping for Ethan and Vic to join you sooner or later. Anything that kept you from being alone with Thomas as your heart went on a rollercoaster so fast it almost made you sick.

Your wish wasn’t granted.

As Damiano disappeared into the room, Thomas snuck an arm around your waist, holding you steady and steering you away. You didn’t have it in you to protest or fight it, letting the man lead you into a different room, letting him close the door behind the two of you, letting your breathing even out as much as you could. It didn’t last for long when you turned around and once again caught sight of his bare chest, a singular drop of sweat finding its way along his nipple and towards his soft belly.

“Are you sure nothing happened?” he finally asked, drawing your eyes away from their tantalising view and up towards his face. “Normally you’re as ecstatic as we are when we get off stage but tonight you’re just… quiet.” He mustered your face, as if he could find any clues in it. You could feel a blush threatening to rise. You had never been this awkward in his presence, but now that you were, you couldn’t stop it, no matter how hard you tried. “I’m just worried. If you want to talk, I’m here, or I can get Vic for you or-”

“Everything’s fine,” you interrupted him in what you hoped was a reassuring tone. What would you normally do in this situation? It seemed like your brain wouldn’t provide you with the necessary information. Hug him, you subconscious whispered to you. Touch him the way you would any other day of your life.

But it wasn’t any other day of your life and as much as your fingers itched to reach out to him, a different part of you was screaming at the implications of it all. But his eyes, his eyes, you had never wanted to worry Thomas a day in your life and seeing him now, knowing you were the one to cause these feelings in him, had you fighting against every fibre that convinced you to keep away.

Your hands found his neck, reaching up to softly place them against his skin, thumbs stroking along the rough stubble that was starting to form on his chin again, a familiar move that had never felt stranger before. You wanted to be normal so desperately but all of your moves caused reactions you hadn’t anticipated.

“We’re fine,” you told him, even though he hadn’t explicitly asked. You needed him to know, more than you needed him in that moment. His breath was hitting your face as he leaned in and you fought the part in you that screamed for you to recirpocrate the gesture and the one that wanted to pull away to safe yourself. Instead, you let yourself fall into the moment, just a little bit, let him kiss your temple, let yourself indulge in him with all your senses.

“I don’t think I could handle it if we weren’t,” he whispered in your ear. You couldn’t either, you thought. You really couldn’t.

It’s why you moved away form him, pried your fingers off his face, not letting yourself miss the feeling of his skin under yours, and put on your fakest smile. He didn’t need to know.

***

Two weeks. The band was gone for two weeks, travelling over Europe, doing more shows, promos, no time to come home, and you were left with your thoughts. Well, with your thoughts and too many videos to be found online that had you hyperfocusing on Thomas’ fingers as they played the loveliest of riffs.

You didn’t want to think about the amount of time you spent in your bed, cuddled up underneath blankets, your hands between your legs when you couldn’t take it anymore, time and time again. It was innocent, you told yourself, a simple fantasy, something temporary, you were single and bored, a slight loss of sanity every time you recalled the way Thomas’ fingers curled around your wrist, imagining how it would translate to your neck, your thighs, your breasts. It wouldn’t change anything. Surely.

There were text messages, the odd video call, from all of them. You followed their journey via social media, not quite part of it, but adjacent enough. And you counted the days until they were back, your best friends, the most missed parts of your life when they left, no matter how much you supported and loved them for doing what they were passionate about. Yet you couldn’t help your anticipation growing with every hour until you got to see them again.

***

The party was a mess. You had arrived two - three? - hours ago, falling into the arms of Vic and Damiano immediately, which was followed by chasing down Ethan, who pressed a kiss to your hair and told you he had missed you. Thomas was harder to come by, a quick shout of hello, hi, give me one minute as he was carried away by some of his friends in an apparent effort to get him to do a keg stand (American much?).

Now everyone was drunk or way past it and after dancing to yet another song you didn’t know with Vic, you finally pulled yourself away, accepting the drink that was pushed into your hand on the way, and made your ways outside. The pool in the garden was covered, just in case the cool breeze wasn’t enough to discourage people from jumping in. Your aim, however, was one of the sunchairs at the edge of it. An opportunity to get some air, away from everyone else, and lie down, trying to get the spinning of your head under control.

Sliding down on the lounger a little, you hoped it would hide you from anyone else venturing outside, hide you from the moonlight illuminating you, but it wasn’t to be. You barely had time to move the drink to safety, dripping some of it down your chin and your neck, before a body squeezed onto the space with you, moving you just enough that neither of you would slip off. The armrest was digging into your back, pressed against your spine as you turned to your side to study Thomas.

He was drunk, or on the verge of it, looking back at youwith blurry eyes, strands of his hair falling into his face, he didn’t bother to push them away. He was beautiful like this, wild and carefree and young and a walking, talking temptation. You could feel a drop of alcohol slip from your chin to your chest, having almost forgotten the near disaster with your drink. Thomas’ eyes were trained solely on your skin now.

He discarded his empty beer bottle, the sound almost scaring you as the glass hit the ground, but your focus was set on him, his fingers, the way they were reaching for you now as everything else faded into background noise. The urge to flinch was barely suppresible as his fingertips touched your chin and ran along the length of your neck, delicately tracing the way the alcohol droplets had taken, until they reached the edge of your shirt, stopping just moments before they would hit the fabric. They left a line of goosebumps in their wake as your body was set aflame, your breathing growing heavier.

Quickly, he scooped up some of the liquid that had pooled there, wiping it off with his finger, before bringing it to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick it away. You hated how audibly you reacted to him, a little whimper, saying so much more than any words ever could. For a moment, you wondered if he was going to put it in his mouth, give you even more of a visual than you were already getting treated to, but then he dipped it into the liquid again and held it out to you.

Your brain wasn’t quite catching up with you, leaving you in a stupor as you stared back and forth between Thomas’ finger, dripping with liquid, and his face, an anticipating look painted all over it, his own mouth slightly open, watching you just as intently. He tapped against your lower lip and as if on command, you opened up for him, letting his finger press down on your tongue, the taste of your drink mingling with his own.

The switch was tangible as you curled your tongue around his finger, closing your lips to swallow more of it into your mouth. If you hadn’t been sure if the attraction was one-sided before, you suddenly had the clearest indicator that it wasn’t. Thomas didn’t attempt to hide his moan. Fueled by a new kind of confidence, you grabbed onto his hand, leading another finger towards you, letting it join the first one. His movements were uncoordinated, restless, his hips rutting against nothing but clear air between you.

Thomas leaned over, his fingers still firmly planted in your mouth as you lost yourself in the taste and the feeling, pressing his lips against your cheek, carefully, then onto your chin with more force, travelling down and down your neck. You arched against him, gasped around his fingers, exposing more of your neck to him as you turned your head, his tongue licking a long stripe against your skin.

You didn’t know what would have happened, out there, squeezed together on the sun lounger, intertwined in ways you had never been before, but whatever you imagined didn’t matter because none of it happened right then and there. With a loud crash, the background noise came back to you twice as loud as it had been before, it tore you apart in shock.

“Where the fuck is Thomas?” a voice called from inside, then the sound of the door to the backyard being opened. Thomas moved away from you in an instant, jumping up from where you were laying. He spared you one more look, somewhere between surprised and disappointed, before running inside.

You stayed right where you were, trying to catch your breath and silently committing the view of the way his trousers had tightened to your mind forever.

***

“Please tell me that Thomas isn’t cooking,” you exclaimed as you stopped in front of his house with Vic. All you knew was that you’d been invited for an evening of food with the boys as she had picked you up at your place and led you through the streets of Rome.

“Oh god, no,” she replied quickly. “Damiano wants to cook, but his kitchen is being remodeled and Thomas’ is as good as new, ‘cause he never uses it.”

“Alright, I’ll close the food delivery app then.”

The chaos was already in full swing by the time you both arrived in his apartment. Damiano was screaming at Thomas to get the hell away from the stuff as the other desperately attempted to sneak a taste, spoon in hand and halfway to the pot of sauce simmering. The splatter of red against the kitchen tiles told you it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Ethan, meanwhile, was speeding around the table in the middle of the room, desperately trying to catch up with Thomas and keep him from causing more havoc.

In an instant, however, Thomas spotted you, almost climbing over a chair that had been pulled back to get to you. Effectively using you as a human shield, he hid behind your back, arm wrapped around your middle to keep you in place as he ducked his head down, trying to make up for the height difference.

“Don’t!” he shouted. “She’s innocent! Don’t let her get caught up in the war!”

“You’re the one who’s putting her in the middle of the battlefield,” Damiano replied dryly.

“Well, love is a battlefield too, isn’t it?” Thomas pulled you back further his other arm reaching around your shoulders now, hand flat against your chest, just underneath your neck. Your skin was tingling at the contact, you found yourself pressing backwards against him against better judgement.

“That makes no sense,” Vic judged, “but you do you, I’ll set the table for whenever you’re done with… that.” She gestured towards the two of you. You almost spoke up, almost tried to explain your way out of it or laugh it up but Thomas simply said “Got it” and walked the two of you backwards until you were out of sight. His hands on you the whole time.

“Hey you,” Thomas whispered in your ear, too close for comfort and not close enough at the same time, pressing a kiss against the side of your face as he held you.

“Hey,” you breathed back, entirely distracted by the way his fingers trailed upwards. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more.”

You gasped, audibly, as they slowly started caressing your neck, softly at first, then moving to wrap around it. Keeping you safe and secure, the only lifeline as you felt yourself falling apart. A little squeeze.

“You love my fingers everywhere, don’t you?”

You didn’t have it in you to disagree. The whimper gave you away as he grasped onto you a little tighter, leaving you breathless in more than one way.

“Maybe we should find out what they feel like in other places, too.”

The arm that was slung around your waist suddenly moved, grazing the fabric of your dress, almost, almost going between your legs, moving over your thigh, and then suddenly, all you felt was a freezing cold in the places he had touched you as he let go completely. He took a step back, but you didn’t manage to turn around, didn’t manage to move, check his face.

Instead, all that left your mouth in the most pathetically broken voice was, “I think dinner’s ready.”

***

The realisation, the lingering thoughts, the pining, the flirting. You didn’t expect the resolution to come in the middle of the night, but it did, in the form of a knock and whisper of It’s me through the door. He looked tired, sleepy even, and you were pretty sure he was wearing pyjama pants. Had he come here straight from home? Had he been in bed already? When he realised that whatever was on his mind was important enough to deal with right there and then?

You let him in without words, unsure of where to go or what to do, both of you left standing in the small hallway, looking at each other in the dark, trying to figure it all out through nothing but the way the other’s eyes glimmered.

“Can I?” Thomas asked. You didn’t know what he meant, didn’t know what he was referring to, what he wanted, but you nodded, always, anything. It didn’t matter. What had started with a friendship and had been interrupted by a sudden urge was evolving into something more, something more tangible, something everlasting with lightning speed. You allowed him to take the reigns.

He pushed you against the wall, gently enough not to hurt you, but his fingers were pressing into your hips in a way that had you feeling it in your bones. You melted under his touch and then, then his lips were on yours, finally, and it was perfect in a way that made you want to cry. You clawed at his back as you pulled him closer. You had been wanting this for so long, possibly so much longer than you had been actively aware of, that this felt like a release.

You couldn’t tell how you made it into the bedroom at all, your thoughts deeply clouded with nothing but Thomas, Thomas, Thomas but then you were on your back, sinking into the mattress, and your top was being pulled off and you couldn’t get your fingers to stop shaking enough to get him out of his own clothes as well. He didn’t seem to mind as he tenderly removed every piece of fabric covering your body, fingers and lips exploring what he exposed.

As he leaned back, throwing his shirt somewhere into the depths of your room, he stopped in his tracks, studying your body, the way your chest heaved with every shaky breath, how your hands were already reaching for him again, craving the closeness. He looked utterly breathtaking, pale, soft skin, every hair on his chest leading you down, down, down, your hands in his hair, nothing but an insatiable need in his eyes.

Carefully, his fingers traced invisible lines on you, your cheek, over your mouth, not allowing you to open up enough to get a taste of him, your chin, your neck, a hint of the grasp he’d had on your earlier, down to your breasts, feather-light touches on your nipples, down your stomach.

“Where do you want them?”

Your eyes darted between his fingers and his face and you knew that he knew. Had figured out your obsession, your constant thoughts, your innate need.

Your reply came in the form of your legs falling further apart, thighs spreading, inviting him between them. Thomas gave you the faintest smirk, already preoccupied with fulfilling your wish as utter concentration filled his face. You weren’t sure if it were down to him being insecure, unsure whether he could satisfy you appropriately - because as soon as he touched you, right there, you were reduced to a moaning mess, unable to keep any noises to yourself, all silent fantasies finally answered as he traced along your wetness and finally, finally pushed a finger into you.

Your hands fell from his body momentarily, letting yourself fall into the sensation that surpassed every single night you’d laid in bed and imagined this very moment, had tried to recreate it with your own fingers, unsuccessfully, as you now found. Nothing could come close to the real thing.

Leaning back down towards you, the angle of his wrist changed ever so slightly, making his finger slide inside of you even more perfectly. You desperately clawed at his back, silently begging for more, only to feel all air leave your lungs as he let another finger join at the same time as he put his lips against your neck. He immediately stilled, seemingly alarmed by your lack of vocalisation, but all you could do was whisper pleas into his ear and pull him back into you.

Your hands wandered lower, clumsily, and distracted with every single one of his movements, until they found his trousers, trying to push them down but failing miserably. Thomas let go of you, carefully pulling his fingers out, leaving you to cry out at the loss, already missing his warmth, the stretch. He made quick work of the rest of his clothes, barely giving you a moment to take in the view, to realise you finally had him all to yourself, naked and perfect, before he was back on the bed with you.

You moved to push him down, reaching for his hard cock, but he pressed you back into the mattress, gentle fingers ready to leave bruises.

“I just want to be in you,” he breathed. All you could do was kiss him, again and again, and tell him to do it. With a quick grab, you managed to get a condom out of the nightstand, handing it to him with shaky hands that had nothing to do with nervousness. He took it from you, letting you watch as he put it on.

Thomas’ whimpers composed symphonies in your ear, his dick gottenyour thighs, his hand holding onto it, pushing inside of you. If his fingers had had you close to seeing heaven, you were sure you were transcending into paradise now. Wrapping your arms and your legs around him, you pulled him closer, closer, almost making it too difficult for him to actually move, but your brain was focused on nothing but Thomas and the way his skin felt against you, the way his breath was hitting the shell of your ear in harsh bursts, the way he felt inside of you.

You were unravelling embarrassingly quickly as he picked up his speed, fucking you fast and hard, but you had no time feeling unconscious about anything, not with Thomas making you feel like this, moaning into your ear, getting closer himself. You just about managed to squeeze a hand between the two of you, touching yourself through the impossibly close contact, and within moments, you were barrelling towards your release.

When you came undone, it was like a flood you hadn’t known to be held back inside of you finally breaking out, the sensation travelling through your body, letting you feel it deep in every single bone of your body from your toes to your skull, vibrating with the intensity of it, unsure where you ended and Thomas began as he, too, came, harshly grabbing onto your flesh.

You felt yourself stuck in a trance, barely registering when Thomas pulled out, laid down next to you on the bed, held you close. Your breathing seemed to take forever to calm down, as did the beating of your heart, but when both finally did and the world shifted into focus again, it seemed clearer and sharper than ever before.

He gently ran his hand down your face and turned it towards himself, you were more than happy to oblige, putting your lips on his. You couldn’t get enough of him. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

“When did you know?” he asked, quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you wanted me back.”

“Wait-” You sat up a little, propping yourself on your elbows to get a better look at him, but he simply pulled you back into him and pressed another kiss to your mouth. “Wait, want you back?” You studied his face but you found no lie in it. “I had no idea you liked me.”

“I’m in love with you,” he smiled

You couldn’t quite say it back, not yet. As intense and deep as your feelings ran, for you, this was new and delicate and on the edge of scary. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to catch on.” His lips so soft against yours. You suddenly couldn’t recall how you had ever not been falling in love with him, had ever thought anyone else could have been that one person for him but you. Now you couldn’t ever imagine not knowing. “I’ll make up for it, forever, if you let me.”

His hand on the back of your head was holding onto you securely and where the sensation of his fingers had only brought lust and need before you could now feel it intertwine itself with something that was so much more.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

***

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#i missed thomas fics so much #i missed this fandom even more

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l0standn0tf0und · 4 months

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All this madness

Description: If you could see yourself through Thomas’ eyes on a bad day, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Pairing: Thomas x Reader Wordcount: 1.6k Warning(s): Mental Health A/N: Didn’t really want to post this, but here we go. Just a few words until I post my Valentines fics which will be happier, I promise.

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

._____.

It has been a while since you’ve been feeling like this. Or since you’ve even felt off, not since that day Thomas banged on your door, stayed, kissed you and never really left again.

Now the feeling is overbearing. The feeling of being too much, but not enough. Not worth anyone’s time or thought. Of not looking the right way, not being pretty enough. And nothing happening around you helps.

It’s a terrible day on top of it. Outside it’s raining, it’s cold and grey. Usually you would be okay with that, your head leaning against the window, watching the rain, with a warm cup of tea in your hands. On a particularly good day, Thomas would get you to go outside with him, maybe kiss you in the rain, and you would end up in giggles. But today isn’t usually. It’s gloomy, like the thoughts in your head. You felt like freezing to death when outside earlier, and maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all, you think. Your socks are wet, the water of the rain seeping through your sneakers. Thomas’ leather jacket not keeping you the warmest but at least it gave you comfort. The umbrella - forgotten on the kitchen table. The train never came - you sob.

“Hey,” Thomas lays his arms around your waist, “I’m here.”

You smile through the tears that somehow started falling. When you want to wipe them away Thomas stops you. You keep smiling, you don’t want him to worry, you don’t want to explain. You just want him to hold you a little longer - and Thomas loosens his grip on you. Another sob is escaping your throat, before he spins you a little and hugs you closer.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” His heartbeat is loud and goes faster than it normally does, you have your ear against his chest, then bury your face into his shirt before you’re erupting into more sobs. “Hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shiver. The wet socks still on your feet are getting uncomfortable. And not only your tears but also the rain on the leather jacket are soaking through his dress shirt. “It’s stupid … I am stupid.”

“You are not and it’s not stupid, I promise. Let’s get you out of these wet clothes.” He puts his pointer finger on your forehead as if it’s a drill. “And then we’re going to talk about what this mean thing in here is doing to you.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be? Somewhere more important?” You hide your face on his chest again. “With some more important people than me?”

Thomas scoffs: “I’m exactly where I want and have to be.”

When you look at him, his eyes betray him. He should be somewhere else, it probably is important as well, you can see the little bit of guilt for leaving the other’s hanging in his eyes. You know that Vic will call and will be vocal, you don’t want him to deal with it, just because you hate yourself. It’s not worth it. And as if you wouldn’t have known it, his phone starts ringing.

“Get your ass here, Thomas.” It’s Vic, she’s loud. “Now!”

“Sorry, I won’t be attending.”

“What the fuck? You’re getting your ass here.” You can hear her saying through the phone.

“Sorry, something important came up,” he tries again. “Tho-”

“No.” Now he’s getting loud, “Fuck yourself, Victoria. I am the one who’s always there for shit, for fucking everything, even when some bitch thinks I don’t talk or cuts everything I say or whatever. Every goddamn time, I’m there. My turn to play this bloody card, I am not coming. I can spell it out for you or sent you a letter if that hel-”

“I’m sorry, Vic.”

Thomas looks at you. You sniff, you don’t want them to fight. Not because of anything, but definitely not because of you. He’s still holding you.

“I … Are you okay?” Vic asks but you’re already sobbing into Thomas’ shirt again. “Fuck, sorry.”

“Bye, Vic. If you’re thinking about calling me again today, think about fucking yourself instead.” Then he hangs up before he talks to you again. “At least she would love to do that a great deal more than annoy me.”

“She loves to annoy you.” You almost giggle and Thomas smiles at you gently.

“Yes, but she loves the other thing even more.”

You aren’t quite sure how you got out of your socks after that, and in some cosy ones. How you got out of your jeans, or how you got out of Thomas’ jacket that you kept wrapped tightly around your body and into one of his warm hoodies, or how you ended up on the couch, Thomas' arms still wrapped around you. You don’t know, but you’re certain that he helped with all of it. There’s a steaming hot cup of tea waiting for you on the table.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s …,” you cuddle closer to him, “it’s stupid.”

“I guarantee you, it’s not.”

“Do you not want to be with anyone taller sometimes?”

“What the f-” He catches himself, when he sees your face. “Sorry. It’s not stupid, it just caught me off guard. And the answer is no, no I don’t want that.”

“Are you not tired of leaning down all the time?”

“No, it’s excellent, because it happens to be that I love crouching down a bit.” He presses his lips against your forehead.

“I want to scratch my eyes out.” Thomas furrows his brows, but he isn’t interrupting you. “I hate them. I hate seeing myself through them. And why do they have to be this boring.”

“I happen to love them.” And then he carefully presses his lips to one of your eyelids. “I can’t see anything boring in them.”

“God, I hate myself.” You sob but Thomas isn’t letting go of you - calmly stroking your back. “Why are you even keeping up with me? I’m sure you could get something better instead of sticking around, someone prettier and not as fucked as me, you know?”

You can hear the deep inhale and exhale before he talks again: “I don’t want anything else. You’re more than enough for me and more. There’s nothing I would change that for. I wish you could see that or believe me when I say it. And … I’m sorry, I seem to have done a pretty shit job when you’re thinking that I think this.”

“No, it’s me, I-”

He kisses you instead.

“I’m sorry, if I did anything to make you believe that,” he looks at you, “I know how it is.”

“But you’re actually pretty.” You kiss the corner of his lips. “So, so pretty.”

“Depends on who you ask,” he sighs, “But your pretty eyes luckily see me like this. Just as much my pretty eyes see you like this.”

“Who do I have to punch?”

He laughs: “I think that line is a bit too long to punch. And before the question comes up, I won’t punch you for thinking any of this. We can … we can do it a bit harder if that … helps. But no punching.”

There’s an adorable blush on his nose, and you blush as well.

“Okay.”

Silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, no one of you has to fill the silence between you to feel comfortable.

“Is there anything else?”

“Don’t you think my hobbies are stupid?”

“Okay, who’s hobbies aren’t actually stupid though?” He furrows his brows again. “And look at me, my stupid hobby became my job and otherwise my stupid hobbies are, and maybe not in this order, taking naps, eating, going out to dance silly and get kicked out of fancy venues because they can’t handle me. That’s what I call stupid hobbies. But you know the best of them, the best of my silly hobbies? Spending time with you.”

You have to sob again.

He kisses your cheek, and you know instantly that you will not like what is about to follow.

“I haven’t seen you eating in a few days probably.” Before you can protest, Thomas keeps speaking. “That one salad and one piece of brownie doesn’t count.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“That might be the case,” his voice is soft, “but you still have to eat. Which is why we will order pizza now.”

“Thom?”

“You only have to have one slice. I’m not gonna force it. But you need some food, okay? And you can have cake.”

“No, Tho. It’s nine o’clock in the morning. That’s not pizza time.”

“It’s the best time for a pizza.”

Later, when you’re still in his arms, nibbling on the one slice of pizza, watching a silly documentary on Youtube about the mystery of who wrote the Disney Channel theme music, the world is okay for a moment. Thomas isn’t judging when you nibble on your slice or tries to get you to eat more and you’re grateful for it.

“Don’t you want to be anywhere else right now?”

Thomas looks at you, for a long time. Longer than before, before he answers: “No. I’m exactly where I want to be. You know, that’s the sort of magic all this madness is for. Just having pizza at nine in the morning, with you.”

You wish, you could see what his hazel eyes saw when he just looked at you for the longest time. But the thing is, you can’t.

._____.

END.

Read something recently that led me to want to scratch my eyes out. Cool how your brain can go not even in this fictional scenario someone would want me, right? So we ended up here.

Add yourself to my taglist. / Masterlist

Taglist: @writingmaneskin, @oro-e-diamanti, @iamtashaquinn, @teenyweenynightghost, @findaqueenwithoutaking, @foreveryking-thatdied, @findoutwhoyougonnacall, @maneskinbrainrot, @little-moonbeam-666, @ethaneskin, @maneskin-dimensione, @l0standn0tf0und, @butkutee, @gr8rainbowpunk, @maneslut, @maneskintifoso, @weareoddlydrawn, @hiraetheral, @imjustanerdwholikestoread, @cuzimitaliano, @hopelessromantic727, @dating-villain, @maneskinsimp, @lauraosheaoh, @till-you-scream-and-cry, @wonderlandishell, @h1ppieth1ngs, @paralianeyes, @livvyysstuff, @que–sera–sera, @cheese-toastie-11, @roisinlove123, @romanoffswoman, @lovelyy-moonlight, @crwnnjules

#that's exactly what i need rn #can thomas just hold me for a bit please #am i asking for too much?#thank you for writing this #it's so comforting #I'm going to re-read it the next time i feel bad #(tomorrow hehe)

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