J’crois qu’il va falloir arrêter
l’hypocrisie et réaliser qu’on n’a pas le droit de se moquer de l’obsession
automnale des américains avec le pumpkin spice parce que clairement, même si les latte à la citrouille c’est ridicule, on ne vaut pas mieux : l’hiver
est encore loin et pourtant mon fil d’actualité Facebook est déjà couvert de
déclaration d’amour au fromage fondu sur pomme de terre. Vous n’êtes qu’une bande de basic raclette bitches.
Summary: You Sam and Harrison went to the dentist with Tom since he was a bit nervous to go by himself, after his surgery was done you guys went into the room..
Warnings: swearing, cute Tom.
Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader
A/n: I know many people write about this but I really had a lot of fun writing this in my spare time so please give it a read.
“But please Y/n.” Tom begged you, holding on to your hands pulling you out of the door of his house in Montreal.
“Tom I have other things to do,” you reasoned, trying to pull your hand back from his grip but he was too strong.
“Please just one time, you know how scary the dentist is?” He asked, pulling your hand close to his chest before resting them on his pectorals.
You looked around trying to find help, you saw Harrison but all he did was smiled at you. You didn’t want to tell Tom that you were scared of the dentist, since when you were little the dentist was where you had your worse memories.
“Fine but only this time.” You gave in.
“Thank you so much,” Tom kissed your hands. Sam and Harrison got into the car as you two followed. You guys sat in the car for a few minutes before you guys arrived at the dentist. The sight of the dentist have already made you nervous and it got worse when you entered the building.
“How long do we have to wait?” Sam asked, sitting down on one of the couches.
“Probably an hour since Tom is a whinny person.” Harrison said as you and Sam laughed to yourselves quietly.
The smell of the dentist seeped into your noise, bringing back unpleasant memories, mind flashing back to the horrifying equipments and the needles, god. The smell of the doctors silicon gloves pierced through your nostrils, causing you to crunched your nose up. Closing your eyes, you leaned back onto the couch, trying to calm your heart rate.
“You okay, Y/n?” Tom asked, placing his hands on your lower thigh, rubbing small circles. You nodded your head lightly, gulping down the memories.
A few minutes later the doctor came out and called Tom. You guys could see the corridor from where you guys were sitting, before Tom went into the room, he turned to you guys and pouted.
You playfully blew him a kiss causing him to laugh before he took a deep breath and went into the room where the doctor was waiting patiently.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” You asked Harrison staring onto the carpet beneath your feet.
“Most likely, any minute he’ll realize that it’s not as bad.” Harrison answered.
“I hope so.” You mumbled under your breath, closing your eyes once again leaning back into the couch. The smell of the dentist still gave you goosebumps, everything in the room reminding you of the terrifying memories.
About an hour later the doctor came out and told you guys that he was done with Tom’s surgery for his wisdom teeth. Harrison took out his phone and prepared to film Tom. You guys went into the room quietly trying not to wake Tom up.
But as soon as Harrison sat on the chairs in the room, Tom’s eyes fluttered open, his eye lids were heavy, as he looked through his eyelashes at Sam and Haz. He squinted his eyes to make sure that the boys were real.
He didn’t spot you yet since you were in the corner of the room to the right of his bed, hiding from him on purpose.
He sat up from the bed slowly, balancing himself on the way, before he grabbed his phone with his left hand and an ice pack in the other. “You bastard,” Tom said when he saw Harrison filming. Tom looked down at his slightly spread legs and said, “I think I just gave birth.”
“Where..where’s my girlfriend?” Tom asked later, squinting his eyes once again, looking at Sam and Harrison.
“I don’t know, Sam do you know where she is?” Harrison asked, turning to Sam winking at him.
“Um no, I don’t actually.” He shook his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to laugh.
“Oh,” Tom mumbled sadly.
He then lifted the ice to his left ear, resting it there for a second, “Hello?” He said bluntly, causing Harrison and Sam to laughed as you stood in the corner, covering your mouth. He waited for a few seconds but there was no respond.
“I feel like you’re going to have to call back,” Haz said. Tom nodded agreeing Harrison.
Tom was trying to get out of the bed but was struggling so Sam had to help him. He was going to help Tom down but decided against it and slowly helped Tom lay down again, putting his hand behind Tom’s back.
In the corner you were covering your mouth from the cutest of the two. Tom then laid there for a few minutes in silence, mumble random things to himself. He brought his phone up to his face, opening the camera, checking his face, “I look… dope.”
Harrison and Sam left to go grab something to eat, leaving you and Tom alone in the room, “These bastards left me and they don’t even know where my girlfriend is,” Tom said to himself, shaking his head on the white pillow. Then he suddenly yelled out of frustration, “GOD DAMN IT!”
“I swear to god if they kidnapped her or if they let anybody touch her I’ll kill them. Everybody in the world knows that Y/n mine.” He said with his eyes closed, “I don’t deserve her but I know how to treat her right.”
You sat on one of the chairs on the corner watching him the whole time, looking at him when he thought that nobody could see him. People would probably think that you were acting creepy, sitting there in the corner. He started swaying his head from side to side humming a song, moving his hands in the air like a drunk man. He cursed when he accidentally punched himself lightly on his right cheeks. “IdoiT.”
Suddenly, a lady walked into room, smiling at you and Tom. Tom leaned up, squinting his eyes at the lady as she collected the equipments. “Are you my girlfriend?” He asked with his low, sleepy voice.
The woman looked up from the desk and turned to look at Tom, she raised her brows at him before shaking her head.
“If you see a pretty girl with (y/h/c) and (y/e/c) who looks like this,” he showed the lady a picture of you and Tom causing the lady to smile wider, “tell her to come to me please.” Tom said before he leaned back down into his bed.
“Is that pretty girl over there your beautiful girlfriend?” The nurse pointed at you.
“Huh?” Tom muttered confused before he turned to the corner you were in. You stood up from the chair and walked over to Tom grinning at him. “She’s the one.” Tom laughed to himself, closing his eyes a bit from the drug that was racing through his blood vessels.
“THANK YOU!” Tom thanked the lady dramatically before he shifted his attention to you, smiling happily. You brought the chair closer to his bed and sat on it, holding his hands kissing them then placing them on your cheek.
Tom stared at you with admiration, his eyes lighting up as he grinned widely with his droopy eyes. His eyes shifted around your face, looking at your freckles and the flaws that were perfect to him.
“Do you need anything?” You asked then remembered that that was the first sentence you said to him two years ago when you noticed him staring at you in one of the small cafe in London on the day you met.
“I need your number,” he said remembering the first sentence he said to you.
“How about no?” You asked him the second thing you said to him.
“How about we talk for the rest of the day and see if you will change your mind?” Your heart swelled knowing that he remembered everything from that day. The memories of that day were particularly tattooed on your guys’ brain. It was kind of weird for you guys to relive that day in the dentist but you guys didn’t care.
“You remembered,” you smiled against his hands.
“Of course I DO.” Tom said puckering his lips on the word ‘do’ and continued to look at you, his eyes full of love. Later Harrison texted you saying that Tom was allowed to leave.
Carefully, you put your hand on his back and your other hand under his knee, slowly lifting his legs of the bed. You let him sit there for a seconds not wanting him to be more dizzy. You then put his right arm on your shoulders as Tom stood up. You walked out of the room as if you were helping a man with a broken leg. Tom shook his head a few times, trying to focus on the things in front of him as the floor swayed under him.
You guys got in the car with you and Tom sat in the back seat. Tom’s head was on your shoulders as he closed his eyes.
“Tom is such a child,” Sam joked.
“I heard that!” Tom yelled, causing you to flinched a bit. Tom brought his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and leaned closer to you, resting his whole body against yours. You looked down Tom who was now a small of sunshine(and have always been) as he was laughing and singing to himself.
“You can stand under my umbrella-ella-el-”
“Tom please shut up.” Sam said, glancing back at you guys.
“You can’t tell me what to do. I’M SPIDER-MAN!” He shouted once again with his eyes still closed, he then pretended that he was shooting spider webs at Sam with a small sound affect of ‘pss pss’ every time he pressed the ‘button’.
When you guys arrived at Tom’s house, he went into the living room and sat in one of the chairs. “I WANT MY JUICE BOX! GIVE ME MY JUICE BOX LISTEN TO YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDER-MAN!”
“You little fuck-tard we have no juice box just drink water.” Harrison yelled from the other room.
“THEN GIVE ME A QUACKSON! OR UNE POMME DE TERRE!” You sat next to Tom as he pouted his lips. You looked at him as he moved his tongue around his mouth before poking it out for you to see, the gauze was on the edge of his tongue before he opened his mouth wider letting it rolled down his tongue and onto the table.
“Thomas!” You said and used your finger nails to pick it up and threw it in the trash. You heard him said 'whoops’ when you were done.
“Je suis Une Pomme De Terre,” Tom said and continued to pout.
“No you’re not, I think Le Fromage would be a better word to describe you,” you joked. (Excuse my French I stopped learning the language many years ago not sure if it’s correct.)
You and Tom then went to the couch, Tom rested his head on your chest and left the rest of his body on the small space on the couch, laying on his stomach, you played with his hair trying to calm him down. After a few minutes he did fell a sleep.
Your felt something wet on your chest and looked down to see to Tom drooled on you but you didn’t mind, you were pretty sure that you drooled on him many times before. You slowly reached for one of the tissue from the coffee table and cleaned the drool off his face and your shirt.
Before you go to sleep, you rested one of your hands on Tom’s head and the other on his back and shoulder before you leaned down and rested your head on the arm rest.
- pris-e par : busy (formal : occupé-e), ex : je suis très prise par mon travail
- dalleux / dalleuse : horny pain in the ass
- pompette : tipsy / bourré-e, arraché-e : drunk
- se peler, se les cailler, se geler les meules, v : to be cold (formal : avoir froid)
- avoir les chocottes - les jetons - les pépettes - les foies - les pétoches / se chier dessus, v / flipper, v : to be scared (formal : avoir peur)
- bouffer / becqueter : to eat (formal : manger)
- crever, v : to die (harsh)
- défoncer / tabasser, v : to beat up someone
- se marrer, v : rire
- choper : to grab (formal : prendre), ex : chope un manteau et on y va!
- aller au pieu (m) ”going to the stake” / plumard (m) : to go to bed
- se faire avoir “getting oneself gotten” : to be tricked/fooled, ex : “Joey, why did you climb into the piece of furniture? Tu t’es encore fait avoir!”
- chialer, v : to cry (formal : pleurer)
- bosser / taffer, v : to work (formal : travailler)
- passer un coup de X “putting a blow of” : harsh to explain, basically doing something quickly, ex : passer un coup d’éponge (f) = getting a sponge and wiping/cleaning the table, passer un coup de fil (m) = calling someone on the phone, passer un coup d’aspirateur (m) = vacuuming the place…
- se carapater, v : to run away (formal : s’enfuir)
- casquer, v : to pay a lot of money for something
- péter “fart” quelque chose, v : to break something / péter un plomb “fart a fuze”, v : to get pissed
- meumeumer, v : to hum a song (formal : fredonner) (taken from Shrek)
- piger / capter, v : to understand (formal : comprendre)
- puer / schlinguer / empester / sentir la mort / fouetter / empester, v : to stink (formal : sentir mauvais)
- chouiner, v : to whine (formal : se plaindre)
- piquer / chourrer, v : to steal (formal : voler)
- raconter, v : to mean (formal : vouloir dire), ex : qu’est-ce que tu racontes?!
- fabriquer, v “to build” : to do - context : someone’s taking a million years to get ready/get somewhere… (formal : faire), ex : mais qu’est-ce qu’il fabrique?
- craquer (pour quelqu’un/quelque chose) : having a crush on someone, having bought something even though you know you shouldn’t have
- se coltiner / se payer, v : to have to take care of something annoying, ex : je me coltine mon petit frère à garder toute la semaine
- se trimballer (avec), v : to have to carry something
- niquer, v : to destroy/damage, ex : je me suis niqué le doigt avec du papier
- accoucher, v “to give birth” : finally saying stg, ex : Mais quoi? Accouche!
-chier, v : to crap
- se faire chier, v : to be bored (formal : s’ennuyer)
- s’arracher “to pull out / / se casser “to break oneself” / se tirer “to pull oneself” / se barrer “to cross out oneself”, v : to leave (formal : s’en aller, partir), ex : bon allez viens, on s’arrache, la soirée est finie
- cafter / rapporter, v : to snitch (formal : raconter)
- cavaler, v : to run all day long (formal : courir toute la journée)(cf horse : cheval / rider : cavalier)
- foutre, v : to do (formal : faire), ex : qu’est-ce que tu fous?
- se paumer, v : to get lost (formal : se perdre)
I mentioned verlan about the word chelou : french loves to cut a word in two pieces and mix. So louche (in that case weird/shady, also laddle) will become chelou, bête (stupid) tebé, merci (thanks) cimer, métro (underground) trom…
"John! Yes! John yes! Harder!" Sherlock shouts encouraging his lover, "oui, oui, votre pome de terre est incroyable!" "My what?!" John exclaims confused. "Your cock is incredible," Sherlock tells him, "can we get on with it?" "I may not be fluent in any other languages but I know how to curse is fifteen and pomme de terre is not French for cock," John says glaring at his lover. "It's potato," Sherlock sighs, "I couldn't think of the word."
Soins Naturels Cheveux: Natural Haircare Lingo in French
(note: these are terms mainly used by Black, Hispanic, and Latinxs on the internet created with the recent Natural Hair Movement, as are the English equivalents. Natural hair here means the naturally curly to kinky hair common to people of African descent)
Comme on est dimanche je rends visite à ma grand-mère qui habite près de Meaux (j'aurais dû sentir la chose venir).
Comme c'est la merde générale on se retrouve à parler de politique (ce qui est bizarrement plus agréable que d'habitude car en ce moment à la table familiale, tout le monde est d'accord pour dire que c'est la merde générale. Un peu plus de poulet rôti ?)
Comme je passe beaucoup trop de temps sur Tumblr en général et ce blog en particulier, je mentionne Jeff Copé. (Un peu plus de sel ?) Point ne soupçonné-je le rollercoaster émotionnel qui s'annonce.
- Mais je le connais bien, Jean-François, me dit-elle (en riant).
- Ah ouais, c'est ton meilleur pote, vous prenez le café, dis-je (en riant).
- Mais oui ! On tractait souvent ensemble à l'époque, me dit-elle (en riant toujours).
- Mamie attends tu déconnes, dis-je (en ne riant plus du tout).
- Mais non. Pas du tout. Je le connais bien. Il est très gentil, me dit-elle (en reprenant des pommes de terre).
- TU CONNAIS PERSONNELLEMENT JEAN-FRANÇOIS COPÉ ? hurlé-je (en projetant le poulet rôti à travers la pièce).
- Mais oui !
- MAMIE, TU TE MOQUES DE MOI.
- Mais non !
- PARLE-MOI DE LUI. RACONTE-MOI TOUT CE QUE TU SAIS.
Mamie se demande si j'ai secrètement entretenu une liaison avec Jeff, ou si je fais partie des légendaires 0,3%. Comment lui expliquer que tout est de la faute de Tumblr?
Bref : ils tractaient ensemble et militaient ensemble. Jeff est apparemment un homme “très gentil”, qui “joue brillamment du piano” et qui aurait dû “rester dans la musique.”
Ce blog me doit un poulet rôti.
AJOUT DE L'ADMIN : je te fais tous les poulets rôtis que tu veux, ainsi qu'à ta grand-mère !