pete and mgk imagines

the king of staten island - pete davidson

your pov:

"holy shit that was great" i sighed contently,
flopping on the bed.

"yeah, it was" pete said, "hey uh, did you... did you cum?"

"uh, yeah?!" l chuckled, "i always do, your amazing. did uh, did you?"

"well... no, but it's because of the anti-depressants and other shit i'm on. otherwise i would because your like... super great"

pete quickly stood up and put his boxers on, "everyone's hanging out at the old orphanage. let's go, i'll give you a ride"

i quickly put my clothes back in and ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. i hadn't wanted that moment to end.

pete gave me a questioning look and i just brushed it off by asking if my makeup was smudged. his eyes gazed over my face for a few moments.

"yeah, here" he made a small swiping motion with his thumb under the corner of his left eye and i copied him, then looking for affirmation it was gone.

"got it" pete said before leaving the room. i sighed again before quickly following him.

"hey tara, richie, igor, oscar" i greeted as i walked up and sat down next to tara.

none of the boys acknowledged my presence since they were in the middle of basketball that pete jumped right into.

"so what's up doll?" tara asked.

"i have this massive thing for pete and i'm not sure how he feels since he keeps sending mixed signals and i don't know what to do" i blurted.

"ask him to lunch or something. tell him you need to talk. go from there" tara suggested.

"yeah" i agreed, paying more attention to pete than her, "that's a good idea. i'll do that"

"girl you are down so bad" she chuckled.

"shut up fat kanye! now get your asses outta here before i call the cops!" the security guard yelled at richie, snapping us out of our conversation.

"we were mean" igor said.

"yeah, he's- he's nice. he's just doing his job" oscar agreed.

"we should get out of here before he comes back" pete replied, "we can head to the woods and i'll give y'all tattoos"

"nah bro..." richie immediately launched into his rant about how pete's work is inconsistent and how messing up obama ruined his life as they walked off.

"c'mon, i'll drive you home" tara offered.

later that day i finally decided to call pete.

"hey, pete?"

"hey (y/n), what's up?" even through the phone, his voice was soothing.

"um, actually can you meet for lunch today? i need to talk to you.

"'i need to talk to you!'" pete mimicked, "what do you mean? that shit sounds so serious"

"well i mean, i guess it sorta is, can you?"

"um, yeah i should be able to"

i heard arguing in the background, "hey pete is everything okay?"

"yeah. my moms probably just watching tv"

"oh, ok. so i'll see you at that shop a few blocks from my place"

"yeah that sounds-"

"PETER!"