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petesvodka · 3 years

Text

impossible to forget

summary - you knew you should just forget zeke. completely expunge him from your brain. and, yet, it seems you can't help yourself from doing the exact opposite

warnings - implied/referenced cheating, angst

word count - 1.2k

authors note - this is just one of those concepts that crept into my brain and basically forced me to write it. ive almost deleted this story a solid three times, but fuck that i guess. if you have any thoughts on this story, send them my way :) thanks for reading!

ps. for a bit of context, this is set in an au where zeke either doesn't or has yet to drop out of college. anyway, enjoy!

“Call your girlfriend. I want to hear you. I want to hear you tell her you’re done.”

Zeke nodded, fishing his phone from his pocket with fumbling hands as he called her.

You were under him, feeling heat drip off of his body. Breaths tight and fast, excitement fluttering under your skin. It was all going so fast. So fucking fast.

One moment you were in the car behind the school dangerously flirting, and then the next was spent furiously speeding to his house, radio blaring John Maus through the speakers.

He had a girlfriend. You knew her. A friendly girl with dirty blonde hair and wide, always searching eyes. Pretty enough, soft and sweet.

But he... he was something else. Dark, warm eyes and full, red lips. Blonde hair cut short with just the smallest touch of dark brown peaking through by his scalp. And, even though it was a bit too short, he still always ran his hand through it anyway when thinking. Pulled his lip between his teeth when considering or concentrating.

You’d been watching him for a while, guiltily imagining his lips between your own teeth.

It, as things tend to do, had started out small.

Glances, jokes in groups, occasional study partners who rarely got much studying done. But it really kicked when you finally had a free period together. It was like the boundaries were taken away; the world was a free-for-all.

In stolen conversations and stomach-aching laughs, he pulled you in. Forced you to crave his arms, his eyes tracing across your skin. The jokes he made were usually stupid, and the excuses he found to spend time with you were worse, but you found yourself slowly falling into- but no, he had a GIRLFRIEND. You couldn't do that to another girl.

That was wrong. So wrong.

On the list of things that were not okay, that was first. Actively deceiving someone else, stealing someone they cared about- you couldn't do that to another girl.

But holy shit, the way he looked at you. Like you were his. Like his whole world was contained within you, the sound of your voice, the tilt of your head in the warm Spring sun. His hands started holding you, slipping to your side when he talked to you in the hall, grazing your cheek in the morning while you spoke.

Zeke loved ice cream from Dairy Queen, but he usually hated driving- especially if he was stoned. Or, he liked to watch you drive, watch you bite your cheek and furrow your brow and groan at the changing of the lights.

That day, that cold early Spring day, he convinced you to go to the parking lot. Held your keys above your head before pressing his body against yours until your back met the car.

There was no one around, but you were still terrified someone would see. That anyone would see.

You? You, and this boy, this boyfriend, this person who was with SOMEONE ELSE-

And his lips, they broke down the wall you had been pulling at for weeks. Months, even.

The whispers, the half-answered questions, the fear jumping in your stomach; all of it blossomed into a full-bloom, a deep and heavy kiss against the cold metal of the car.

You wanted to jerk your head back-what you were doing was WRONG- but there was nowhere to go but his arms. The ones you’d been dreaming about for months, hating yourself for imagining this. Exact. Moment.

You found yourself tracing your hands through his short hair, gasping for breath as his teeth explored your lip.

“Let’s go,” he murmured in your ear, deep voice sending thrills through your skin.

“Where?” you laughed nervously, hating how your voice sounded. Hating how you couldn’t take your eyes off of the windows behind him. Hating how you knew the entire world was watching.

“Home, of course.” he grinned, not taking his eyes off of you.

It was the longest drive you’ve ever taken, hitting every single yellow light while he cranked the radio as high as it would go. Crazy energy bubbled inside you as he laughed with a joint hanging from his lips, rolled down the window, and let the wind tug on your faces.

You knew it was a bad idea. You knew you shouldn’t have been doing it. You knew you knew you knew and you THOUGHT it was going to be okay-

When you finally pulled into his driveway, time seemed to slam to a stop. Giggling, you followed him up the stairs that lead to the porch, laughing at the barking dog watching you from across the street. Laughing at his hands as he fumbled for the keys, laughing at anything in the world except for what you were doing.

The phone rang, and the rest of the sounds hung thick in the air between you. Hot, heavy breaths curling from his lips, the sticking of his skin to yours. The way your blood pounded in your ears, how your heartbeat punched it's way to the surface.

No one picked up. He looked at you, then looked at the phone.

"Again," you whispered. You couldn’t cheat another girl. You couldn’t.

His eyes went dangerous, sharp and hard.

“Later.”

Before you could protest, his lips were on yours again, infuriatingly irresistible. Heavy and deep and full, he brought every piece of anger from inside of him and laid it out in front of you. On your skin. Inside your chest.

There was nothing in the world except for the harsh sighs in your ear, the tight hands wrapped around your skin. He was the only thing in your world, afternoon light laying stripes across the grey sheets and his blonde hair. His eyes found yours in the storm, briefly flicking to your face in the whirlwind of the bed.

Back on campus, psychology after his room was the hardest you have ever had to try to focus in your life. With his sweat drying on your skin, the scent of him in your hair, he was impossible to forget. Crammed into a small room, too stuffy to be comfortable, you tried to think about Norepinephrine and Schildkraut and NOT the bruises blossoming across your neck-

Your phone buzzed. You didn't want to look at it, not at the words that were typed from his fingers and sent to yours, not at the invitation to the world in his hands, the betrayal that dripped from his mouth.

You were an accident, a flaw. A break. A sin. A lie.

You had destroyed something that was once alive, but the thought of his lips on yours drove away all guilt.

You should have felt bad, and you let the emotions paint themselves on your face. But inside, all you could linger on was the promise of the storm waiting for you when you got back.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #big time adolescence #zeke presanti #zeke presanti x reader #zeke presanti x you #angst #college zeke #mars writes

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petesvodka · 3 years

Text

summary - zeke likes plants

word count - 500

warnings - i don't think there are any :)

author's note - ive been sorta going through it lately, so here's to being inspired by myself. i hope you enjoy <3

Once every few months, Zeke would get his hands dirty. He never bothered to used gardening gloves; he preferred the wet soil against his skin where it could leech out all the bad in his mind.

The only reason he'd started caring for the plants to begin with was because of how many his grandmother had left him after she'd passed. He had to decide whether he wanted to keep and care for them or if he wanted to go through the hassle (and possible guilt) of throwing them all away.

Plus, his budding interest in plants made it easy for him to cop some seeds to grow his own weed.

Eventually, he realized working plant maintenance into his routine was easier than anticipated given how organically it happened.

The best times were when the plants grew too large for their containers. He’d go to the kitchen and look for old jars that could fit them, sometimes taking armfuls to keep in his room. Then he’d go outside and gather dirt, making sure it was dark, healthy, and moist.

To move a plant, you have to break it. For it to grow into new soil, the mass of threadlike roots has to be broken. Zeke sometimes felt bad hurting the plant, but he knew it had to be done for new growth.

He’d always try to find the metaphor in it, but nothing’d ever felt right. Nothing that serious felt right when the sun was on his neck and the grass was cool beneath his legs and feet. When the dirt slid between his fingers, all he could think of was holding the plant as softly as he could, cradling it between long calloused fingers.

When the plants were safely in their new containers, he’d pat the dirt down and wipe them clean on the outside. Then came the careful trek back to his room, where he would gently place them by the window that they so loved.

And then he’d watch them for the rest of the afternoon as they grew and repaired themselves, hoping he’d get to re-pot them soon.

That is why there are plants on his windowsill.

Not because they make the air better or because they are pretty. It's to remind him of those rare days he gets to sit in the sun and think only of what is in his hands.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #zeke #zeke presanti #headcanons #mars writes #zeke presanti x reader #big time adolescence #concept writing

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