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jacobsbigmelons · 7 months

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Roadside Favor

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

cw: Nsfw, top! jacob bottom! reader, jacob canonically drives a ford f-150 trust i’ve had conversations and it’s true, semi-public sex.

The sun blazed down on the interstate highway as your boyfriend drove with his typical backwards baseball cap, one hand on the wheel and the other holding onto your inner thigh. You raised a hand up to block out the sun from your squinting eyes as you watched the occasional car pass along with the buildings, never too dull when you’re in New York.

“How long until we get to this lodge or whatever” Jacob groaned as his eyes stared straight down the road making sure not to be too careless especially on a highway. “We still have another hour but in 30 minutes we should start seeing forests, there’s already less buildings than when we left so just hold out for a bit longer.” You softly said trying to reassure your boyfriend who was becoming increasingly more and more impatient as the time went by. It’s already been 30 minutes since you left your shared apartment with all your packed clothes and essentials to stay at these cabins for the summer, Jacob was really interested in participating especially since he would also get to meet up with a friend from high school. Kaitlyn.

“The sun is really killing my vibe right now, it’s way too hot for such a long drive…an hour long drive might I add.” Jacob pouted as you rested a hand in his hand that held your thigh. His hand rotated as he felt yours touch his in order to hold hands correctly. “Don’t whine, we’ll be there soon, then you can rest all you want.”

You couldn’t help but admire the way that he had this glare to him, a calm one but the way his eyes look off into the road, his vascular hand gripping the wheel as what little sun that gets past illuminates his stunning eyes. “I am not whining” Jacob retaliated, his brows visibly creased ever so slightly, even when he’s just a bit annoyed he can be a sight for sore eyes, truly.

Jacobs fingers wiggled out of your grasp as he playfully put his fingers in the rips of your pants which caught you off guard, “someone’s handsy aren’t they?” You questioned your boyfriend as a devilish smirk lit up his face “well. Since I have to wait a stupid hour before I get to have you all to myself, I think my hand in your pants isn’t too bad.” Jacob had a point, he was pent up and couldn’t indulge in any intimate act until you guys got to these cabins.

“I mean…you could…y’know. Pull over” You said with a shrug and a grin, Jacob looked back at you as you felt the car turn towards the shoulder of the road which slowly led to a full stop. You didn’t actually expect him to pull over but if Jacob was in your shoes, you know you would’ve pulled over immediately to have him in the moment. “You deadass wanna go at it? I mean i’m down for a bit of exhibitionism on the highway if you are.” You said as you felt a tightness around your groin as your hard on made sitting slightly uncomfortable.

“Don’t play with me right now, you said we could pull over and i’m pulled over. Be a waste if we didn’t use this time we have to ourselves.” You grabbed Jacobs phone which was on the console as the current song paused only for a more mood fitting one to play. The low yet strong bass all throughout the speakers of his truck set the mood as you unbuckled your seatbelt to get closer to your boyfriend.

“Climb into my lap” he said as you maneuvered the best you could onto his lap as he began to run his hands along the sides of your body, keeping you close while feeling you up. Your tongue glided across his neck as you left kisses everywhere and an occasional hickey down more toward his shoulders just so it wasn’t too exposed. “Oh…your tongue feels so good” Jacob said, his lips creasing as he began to grind his bulge into you, sometimes going faster when you kiss or lick a sensitive area of his neck. His hands on your sides eventually took your shirt off, the A/C washing over cold air which contrasted with the summer sun.

You pulled Jacobs tank top off as well though at this point, you were already aching to get out of your pants. You went for Jacobs belt as he started to unzip your bottoms as well, his bulge already rubbing against the side of your palm as you pull his pants down made the precum on your tip only come out more. His hands grabbed your now mildly exposed ass from the pants and made sure to hold on tight, your moaning only made him grip harder while you were grinding your dick on top of his. “Aw shit…oh fuck, wait…wait, get on my dick or else i’m gonna bust in these fucking boxers…” Jacob panted as you hoisted yourself up with your knees to let Jacob take his pants and underwear all the way off, leaving his dick now shown off.

You brought your pants and boxers down to your knees as you aligned yourself above Jacobs cock, the head was slapping against your ass as it was something Jacob always loves to do. “Fuck your ass is so hot” he said now teasing your hole considering you moved down a bit, he was even grinding against it, you wanted him in badly and you couldn’t help but slightly whine a bit when he was doing all this teasing. “Fuck babe just…mngh- put it in already.” You whined out as you looked into your boyfriends eyes, he was already hot as hell with his normal looks but when he’s stripped down, eye contact going strong, you could’ve busted right then and there.

Jacob eventually maneuvered the head directly in front of your hole and finally let himself begin to enter you, the noise you made had Jacob going in more and more, which meant more moans on your end. He was practically gone at this point, all he wanted to do was keep those pretty noises coming from that mouth of yours. “God you take my dick so fucking good babe.” Jacob let his hips move as you felt him moving inside of you, hitting every spot just right.

You went back to using your knees as support just a bit which Jacob took full advantage of as he grabbed your ass and started thrusting what seemed to be faster and faster. “Fucking…hell- Jake i’m…i’m close.” You struggled getting the words out with just how fast you were being drilled at the moment, but all the pleasure was welcome especially since Jacob was just so vocal with both words and just sounds. Each second he was filled with a loud moan and the occasional curse word.

“Aw f-fuck! as shit i’m- i’m really close babe.” Jacob whined out as he basically had his nails dug into the sides of your ass as he somehow went just a bit faster to bring him over the edge. Jacobs hips began to slow down as the sloppy and wet sounds from him finishing inside you slowly quieted down, you were basically right there with him as you finished yourself off with your trusty hand as you shot cum all over his chest and stomach, heavily panting in the process. “Holy shit…you really wanted that bang sesh didn’t you?” you breathily spoke, trying to let the endorphins fade away. “I haven’t nutted in like…3 days so i’m kinda pent up you know?” Jacob doubled down as you let him stay inside for just a bit longer.

Your head eventually rested on the front of his shoulder, your breathing much more steady as Jacob lightly ran his hands across your back along with your hands resting on Jacobs thighs underneath you.

“You’re so lucky you got tint on these windows” You giggled a bit as you looked out the window to see cars going back and forth, after all, without the tint, every car coming your direction would’ve been able to see through the windshield…though the thought of being watched while being fucked is something to think on.

“Why? Afraid someone would peek?” Jacob teased

“You’d probably let someone watch us fuck wouldn’t you?” you replied

“If I know them sure” Jacob shrugged

“You’re a freak” you playfully scoffed

“I’m your freak” he softly said giving you one more kiss before it eventually came time to clean each other up…somehow.

#jacob custos #the quarry #the quarry jacob #jacob custos x reader #jacob custos my fucking beloved #jacob custos x male reader #the quarry jacob custos #x male reader #x reader #the quarry x male reader

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biscuitbox23 · 3 months

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The other woman.

Summary: The other woman will spend her life alone…

Authors Note: am back with another fic. I always thought about Lori and Shane and whatever happens, it’s always the song ‘The other woman’ from Lana del Rey. Poor rick :( in this case I wanted it to be like Rick still dealing with the grief and loss of his wife while Y/n fills in the gap because we all know Rick would NEVER EVER cheat on Lori.

Warnings: Suggestive themes but no actual smut comes in (still be cautious with this), angst, unrequited love. If I missed anything don’t be shy to comment on it, please do.

word count: 1.8k

The other woman has time to manicure her nails The other woman is perfect where her rival fails And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair anywhere.

You can almost feel his gaze in your cell room. You lay on your belly on the bed as you flipped through old gossip magazines like the ones you'd see in the front of a convenience store. It had radiant colors and models, actresses, you name it. It didn't help take away the longing ogling at you as you stared back at him, putting your magazine down.

It didn't help that you had your pajamas still on. It was a small tank top with a lace neckline with matching shorts. It was silky, and it hugged onto your skin snuggly. It was coral-colored. It was Rick's favorite. It was no surprise. You liked to get his attention from time to time.

You tried to put on this unrecognizable facade of cluelessness. It made you look more compliant. You like to paint your nails as leisure while everyone does their business and the jobs they have to contribute to the prison. You loved to feel pretty. Even at times like this, where you kill or get killed.

You'd see Rick pace around the prison like a madman. Carl had to deal with losing his mother. You didn't blame him. Rick was married to her for a long time. Sometimes, the widower would scream at nothing. It would wake you up in the night. Now you warm his bed.

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room And there are never toys that's scattered everywhere.

You always kept yourself clean. It was important. You can never go a week without showering. Ever since the apocalypse, it has been difficult for you. So you tried your best to smell good and be presentable for yourself. You kept your cell tidy and pristine, too. You cared for Judith when Beth had to spend some time with her father, Hershel. Play her, dress her, change her, almost as if you were her mother. You only did it so you could contribute to the group. You did not want to get kicked out like last time.

You were being weak and useless. That was what your last group would say. It was not your fault. You realize they made you live bait. Then you found Rick just a few days later. Unfortunately, Rick was not feeling so well when you came.

You had always had an odd attraction to him. At first, you would hate him for being rude to you, then feel your heart pull towards him. You understood his grief, though. The death of his wife brought the worst in him. You wanted to fix it, somehow.

So you tried your best to make up for it. Tidying cells, checking up on people, eating less so the rest of the group can have more rations. You wanted to fit in, to feel a part of it. The people were genuine, especially Carol. You felt his presence in every corner of the prison. You did not mind it. You would feel your core start to feel something else.

But it was never you who he was imagining. Was it? Whenever both of you share the night.

In sleepless nights with him, you can feel his breath on your ear, whispering honeyed words and insincere thoughts while his hands anticipate the need to hold your flesh as his body towers over you. Sometimes, you wonder what was going on in his mind, whether it was you or his deceased lover whom he sees underneath him. The simple acknowledgment of your company or the unending bereavement that engulfed his very own consciousness. The ghost of the prison halls haunted by his late wife.

As he was by your side, it was almost as if he was not the same madman as he was in the first few days of your arrival. He was gentle and careful with you, like a craftsman handling a porcelain doll, unlike the man who yelled at you for arriving at their prison.

He would lie next to you. He still had his wedding band. You thought about removing it without him noticing. You knew it was wrong to think that way, but you could not help it. You wanted him for yourself, but you also did not want to hurt him. You did not want to be the cause of any more pain in his life. You pushed those thoughts aside and tried to focus on being a good member.

The wedding band on his finger was a cue of his wife, a memory forever etched in his mind. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy whenever you caught a glimpse of it, knowing that you could never replace what he had lost. Despite your desires, you made a conscious effort to act as support and to be there for his and Lori's baby, even Carl. You knew that his healing process would take time, but you were willing to be patient, even if it meant that you could never have him for yourself.

And when her old man comes to call He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen 'Cause to be by her side It's such a change from old routine

There are nights when you think he will finally confess his feelings towards you. The strong emotions that both of you shared mutually would finally be real all this time. The longing melancholy that you endured to feel him again. Things that only the other woman can feel.

You're lying down on the empty cot that held your tired body. The blanket lazily covered your body as you stared at the prison ceiling. You breathe rapidly, and your chest heaves as your eyes wander on Rick's body, glistening in the faint glow of the candle.

You'd be his if he asked you to.

He wouldn't be willing to do that for you. It's been only a few months since Lori's demise, his beloved partner. It's a woman you always envied despite her absence. The grief is still fresh, and he hasn't had enough time to heal yet.

As you lay there, watching Rick dress himself up and ready to leave, you couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more between you two. However, deep down, you knew it was only a fantasy that would never come true. Despite the pain of unrequited love, you couldn't help but admire the man in front of you with his charming grace and loving body, grateful for the moments you shared even if they were limited.

Amidst a world ravaged by the undead, it felt like chasing after your heart's desires was a lost cause. You could only yearn for what you could have had. If only the world wasn't a grim and hopeless place you might have been Rick's beloved wife by now. You could have felt his longing gaze upon you as your bodies entwined in a loving moment, free from the fear and chaos that had consumed the world around you.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh The other woman will always cry herself to sleep The other woman will never have his love to keep And as the years go by, the other woman will spend her life alone.

Alone and heartbroken, you don't find comfort in your cell room after he left. Your body aches with humiliation as you feel your eyes well up. They sting in pain as tears form and trickle down your rosy cheeks and your neck, which bruised under his lustrous kisses.

The way he groans Lori's name from time to time, the way he shuts his eyes almost throughout the night as he claims your body for himself. You hated it all and despised Rick for it. Oh, but how could you hate him? It was impossible for you, wrapped around his finger like a pathetic toy used for his desire.

But he doesn't realize it. You were afraid to point it out, terrified that he would stop seeing you every night.

It is as if you longed for this twisted idea of true love. Sleeping with a widower, knowing you can't have his love for yourself. Yet, it entices you. Every night you spend with him, every chance you get. You did not like that feeling at all. Whatever happened, his heart belonged to his deceased wife. Someone he will never touch, kiss, hold.

How could Rick leave you yearning for him again and again? Disappearing as the sun rises, pretend like nothing is going on between you and him. That left you sobbing pathetically on your cot like a crybaby. You will never get the luxury of holding hands, cuddling with him on the bed, and sharing kisses. You longed for everything truly romantic, wishing what you had with Rick was similar to what Glenn and Maggie had.

Days passed, and you and Rick slowly stopped seeing each other every night. He started to heal from his grief a bit. He acknowledges you as a member, but never more than that, despite the intimacy both of you shared during his times of mental anguish.

Alone.

During your childhood, you seldom had any friends. Even if you did manage to find someone to hang out with, your friendship was usually brief and fleeting. Your parents had their hands full with your younger siblings, and you often found yourself waiting alone for bedtime stories. Solitude became your constant companion until the apocalypse turned your world upside down.

It's an unfortunate reality that every person we love will eventually leave us in this world. You've had to face your fair share of losses, starting with the passing of your mother, father, and even your siblings. The apocalypse further compounded your feelings of isolation and grief as you were forced to journey alone, with nobody to rely on but yourself.

Along the way, you encountered a group of people who initially seemed like they could be allies, but it quickly became apparent that their intentions were far from honorable. With no other options, you continued your journey until you eventually stumbled upon a prison that had been into a small group home.

Despite your initial reservations, you soon found yourself safe and protected among the survivors who had made the prison their home. You were grateful to finally have a sense of belonging after so much loss and chaos.

You have been alone your whole life, but you've never felt so lonely as it is now.

———————————————————

A/n: I pictured this so much better than what I thought… I mean it’s not that good, I tried my best since I needed to clear out my WIPs, I’m sorry if this doesn’t meet up to ya’lls standards. I tried making it less sexual but let me know if I should dumb it down a little.

tags : @richardsamboramylove55 @musicownsme

#the walking dead #rick grimes x reader #twd #twd fanfic #andrew lincoln #rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes x you #twd rick #twd x reader #biscuitwrites

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joels-shitty-puns · 7 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 4

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Gif by:@sh214

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: ~2.3K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi there! To those of you who have read and are still with me, THANK YOU! I love you all. I'm sorry that my chapters are taking longer and longer. Work has been a bit more hectic lately and I also just had some serious writer's block with this chapter. That being said, it feels a little rough and I apologize if its awful lol. But either way, thanks for hanging in there with me and please let me know what you think! Your comments make me happy!

__________

You groaned, stepping out of bed and drifting towards the bathroom. Your face was sticky and your eyes stung from crying late into the night. It was silly, naive, and frankly stupid… but sometimes you can't control how hard emotions hit. Seeing that Pedro didn't actually watch your video was a let down - to put it mildly. Obviously he's a popular guy. A star. He has better things to do.

You should be grateful he even responded to your Instagram message before. Even though it hurts, surely he has more interesting things to do than message someone like you. Just because you wrote a song and he said he liked it doesn't mean he owes you anything more.

So after a fitful night's sleep, you were utterly exhausted; physically, mentally, and emotionally. Luckily, it was still your weekend and you could rest today.

More like spend the day wallowing in your self pity… you think, disdainfully at yourself.

Looking in the mirror, you notice your puffy eyes. There's some new acne, and a mop of frizzy hair on your head. After using the toilet, you step on your bathroom scale before your shower; a morning routine you started during years of dieting. Another 3 pounds. Up again?!

You look in the mirror, pinching your stomach with a sigh. I guess I shouldn't have had those cookies yesterday…

The food guilt creeps up as you think of the goodies you've eaten recently. Cookies yesterday, fast food the day before. You were bitter that you weren't one of those people that could just magically eat whatever they wanted without gaining an ounce.

But you aren't, and you should know better.

Frustrated with your appearance, you begin your usual internal debate about how to fix it.

Maybe I should go back on the diet…

But the diet caused you so many problems. Remember the stomach issues? The hunger? The lack of joy? Binge eating on cheat days until you were sick?

But! I lost so much weight!

Yeah, until you started gaining weight…

Maybe I didn't cut enough. People said I looked so good. I was *almost* skinny.

Maybe people would like me more if I was skinny… Maybe Pedro would like me if I were skinny. There's no way he would be with me looking like this.

These were the debates that plagued you for months… years… a lifetime.

You showered, tears beginning to flow again as you tried to push out the thoughts. He was probably just busy, but either way you knew you didn't have a chance.

Your friends were right. You were an obsessed fan. It was… concerning, as they said. They pitied you when you felt sad about your feelings. Just find someone you actually have a chance with, they pushed. Someone real.

But... he did message you. Maybe he didn't even know you had an interview yesterday? Maybe he watched it later. You were being utterly ridiculous. It didn't matter anyway.

But what you didn't know was that Pedro felt just as disappointed. He wanted to be the one on your list. The one you loved. He went to bed just as mopey as you did and woke up just the same.

_____

Having washed away your bad feelings as best as you could, you gave Skipper a kiss on his little forehead and made some coffee while scrolling Instagram. You were nervous to see what people had to say about your interview, but you had to face the music eventually.

As you could have predicted, people were running through the potential suspects (or prospects, that is) who have brown curly hair and brown eyes. Some supported you and loved your interview. Others criticized you for being too chicken to show yourself.

You weren't used to this level of attention, and you really weren't sure you enjoyed it. But you were grateful to have your two lives kept separate, your true persona still shaded in privacy.

What you did not predict, was a notification popping up from Pedro, interrupting your scrolling. Forgetting to breathe, you immediately clicked on it. If the message were food from the oven, you would've burnt your hand the way you grabbed it so fast.

Perhaps I should've been a little more chill about opening this so quickly... Oh well.

Pedro Pascal messaged you: "Hey! I watched your interview yesterday. You did fantastic. I know fame is new to you and you're nervous, but you're a natural."

Your heart swelled. He did watch it!! He must have just been busy during the live stream.

You replied: "Pedro! You watched it!?! Thank you so much. That really means a lot to me."

Pedro read your message immediately, but instead of sharing in your level of excitement, he was hit with a wave of confusion instead. She must just be trying to not hurt my feelings. She already knows I watched it.. unless she didn't even notice my name. Or she didn't care enough to look for it…?

He decided to play along with it anyway. "Absolutely, I did. I've had it marked on my calendar since the day it was announced a couple days ago and watched it as it was streamed live."

His response took you by surprise, and then made you angry. If he really watched it, he would know that they gave you a list of the people who watched it live. Why was he lying to you about it?

You started to plan out your response, maybe even send an accusatory comeback, but then you thought about it again.

Why would he lie about it? What would he gain by lying? He messaged you.

With this in mind, you instead chose to take a different approach. One better designed for fishing. One you had to be very careful about, so as not to reveal the fact that you looked for his name.

"Wait!? You watched it live? I didn't see you on the list. You're one of the few people I've spoken to who actually seem genuinely friendly and interested in having a conversation with me. I had sort of hoped you were listening."

There. That doesn't sound too revealing, right? Totally friendly…

Pedro opened your message and was met with both confusion, and something else he wasn't expecting. Hope. Did you look for his name??

Still, he wanted to address the confusion. "You didn't see me on the list? That's odd.. but I'm sure there were a lot of names to scan through. Maybe my name was just buried in that list."

You knew it wasn't buried. He was the only name you looked for. The only name you cared about seeing on that list, not that you'd admit that to him right now. But you also didn't want him to feel that insignificant either.

"There were a lot of names, I'll give you that. But I swear you weren't there. Were you logged into your account? Maybe your Internet crashed, or you missed part of it?"

Instantly he remembered the ten or so minutes that Oscar interrupted him.

Oscar!

"Oh shit! That's it. Oscar barged into my house while I was watching it and I slammed my laptop closed."

"Oscar… Isaac? Wait, why did you slam your laptop closed?"

"Yeah, that's the one. And… I don't know. He just surprised me, I guess. It wasn't a planned visit."

Slamming your laptop closed is an odd reaction to your friend visiting, but okay, you thought.

"So you closed your laptop, and missed a few minutes. And that must have been the moment they pulled the list of viewers."

Pedro replied. "It must have. But I was there, more than happy to listen to what you had to say"

If my name had been on the list, would her answer have been different? When asked whether the man she loved was on the list and she said no, would my name have changed anything? Pedro wanted to ask you these questions. But he couldn't. Not only was he scared, but he also didn't want it to come off as some douchey comment that made you uncomfortable. He wanted to get to know you better, even if just as a friend, and he wouldn't let a silly little crush ruin that.

You sent a response that could be deemed as friendly or neutral, still cautious. "Thank you Pedro. I'm really glad you watched it."

He replied without hesitancy. "Of course. But, I am sorry that your guy wasn't on that list."

He sounds genuine. Not like he's fishing for information like everyone else on the internet. In turn, you decide to be playful with your response. Risky, but still not too revealing. "It's okay. It turns out that list wasn't as accurate as I once thought it was" you typed with a smirk.

"So maybe he was watching after all," Pedro answered.

"Maybe he was."

Pedro soon changed the subject, "I did enjoy hearing about your favorite things, though. You may know this already, but I love movies. Some of the ones you mentioned are a couple of my favorites as well. But as for your favorite books, I haven't read them, but I've been meaning to find a new book to read."

The fact that he was a reader made your heart flutter; the thought of him sitting with a book, his glasses perched on his nose, brow furrowed as he stroked his thumb over his lip in deep concentration. You were overjoyed at the thought of him reading *your* favorite book and potentially having someone to talk to about it. Before you knew it, you had frantically sent multiple excited messages.

You: "Oh! If you read any of my favorite books we HAVE to talk about them!"

Second message: "AGH the first book I mentioned is my favorite, out of all of them. The ending blew my mind. And the characters were just so amazing! Well except for that one guy.. but I won't spoil that…"

Third message: "But my favorite character has the greatest lines!!! Sometimes I like to quote it but nobody else gets it. And the way the author describes the settings is so magical, it makes you want to be there."

Pedro caught himself smiling at his phone, wrapped up in your excitement, as you were finally able to talk to someone about your favorite book. It was adorable how happy you seemed.

He started to type a reply when you sent another message. "Shoot… I'm sorry. I got a little too carried away…"

"Who told you that?"

Huh?

"Who told me what?" You asked.

"Who made you feel like you had to stop talking when you became excited about your interests?"

His question took you aback, but your mind struggled to pinpoint the answer to it. There's been so many people that have told you that over the years. People you assumed were friends. An old crush who didn't like multiple text messages at once. Classmates who would complain or make fun. It was routine.

"Oh. It's not a big deal. It's just something I've heard over the years. But I also know how I get and I don't want to be too much. I'm sorry. I don't want to monopolize the conversation too much either. But hey, you didn't mention, what are your favorite books?" You tried to change the topic.

Pedro felt that protective feeling bubble up in his chest again.

"Over the years!? There have been multiple occasions?" Pedro shook his head, even though you couldn't see through the text. "I'm sorry anyone ever made you feel that way or said anything to imply that your interests weren't worthy of being heard. Fuck them. They should be thankful that you shared your interests."

They should be grateful to hear your beautiful voice get so excited. To get to see your excitement and smile, Pedro thought to himself angrily. He hoped he could someday witness you getting excited over your interests in person too.

"Thank you Pedro. But really, it's okay. I know I get a little… obsessive and crazy, especially with sending multiple texts, so I don't blame them. Haha. :)" you tried to soften the mood.

"I don't want you to ever feel that way with me. I liked hearing you talk about your interests."

You began to type, but Pedro beat you to the punch.

"In fact… if you'd like to talk more," he gave you his phone number. "Feel free to text me, or you can call me too. I like talking on the phone, but I know not everyone does."

Holy shit. Is this real life? Did Pedro Pascal just give me his phone number? And ask me to call him?

Truthfully, your introverted self really didn't like talking on the phone. But the idea of talking to Pedro, hearing his voice on the other end of your phone was too much to handle.

What you didn't realize, was that Pedro wanted it just as bad.

Your fingers danced over your phone keyboard, trying to find the right words for a reply. What do you say when the love of your life (that you didn't think you would ever have a chance with) gives you his phone number?

Pedro watched anxiously as the three dot-dot-dots of typing appeared and disappeared over and over. His heart was racing, and he began to worry he may have overstepped this time.

Why did you give her your number? She's going to think you like her!!!

But you do like her, you idiot, Pedro berated himself.

He ran his hand down his face, waiting for your response in agonizing suspense. But instead of hearing the pop of a notification, his phone began to ring instead, an unknown number displayed on the home screen.

Wait… is that her? Is she CALLING me?!

He answered frantically, practically dropping his phone in the process.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

_____

Thank you for reading!! Let me know your thoughts :) More will be coming soon. I know this is a painfully slow burn lol. Thanks for being patient.

Next chapter! Here

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serverusslaype · 7 months

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Shameless, pt. 9

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

hello my fellow snape lovers. i think you will love this chapter. hehehehe. thats all i am saying. and you might hate mcgonagall. </3

you can thank harry styles' song 'fine line' for the ending of this chapter. oop.

thank you for reading so far and for all your kind comments, likes and reblogs! I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

i apologise in advance for any typos or anything along those lines, i suck at proofreading.

VAMOS!!

Your throat tightened as you stared at your dishevelled appearance in the dirty, old mirror that sat crookedly in your greenhouse; overgrown vines of poison ivy enveloping it, slowly reclaiming it.

"Shit..." You muttered, angling your face to gaze at the marks that Snape had so graciously left on your jaw. "For Merlin's sake..." You spun away from the mirror with a distressed huff and headed towards your cabinet in a sweep, kneeling down against the mossy tiles, searching for a herb of some sort that had healing properties. Or something along those lines. You were desperate at this point. "Dittany, dittany..." You mumbled to yourself, digging through shelves and shelves of dusty glass jars and containers. At once, your eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning as the sight of a worn label caught your attention. You thumbed the dust off of the yellowed and faded label, reading it aloud, "D.. di-di-an...y?" You muttered, only noticing how worn the writing really was once you pulled it out into the light. How long has this been in here...?

That has to be dittany, you thought, curious eyes scanning the long and slender, deep mossy green stem that branched out with smaller rounded leaves. You blew against the jar with a sharp breath, a ball of dust and dirt puffing up in your face. You coughed and quickly retrieved your wand, swiftly flicking it to make the heap of dust dissipate. Well, you'd certainly lacked on cleaning your cabinets during the past year, but it's not like that kind of thing had any space in your mind. It was full of... other things.

Your fingers clutched the lid of the glass jar and lifted it upwards, a gentle, spicy yet mountainous smell filling your nostrils. As you placed the lid down with a loud clack, you reached your hand into the jar to retrieve a stem of dittany. You hoped to god this would work, otherwise you'd reluctantly resort to make-up, and that would be even worse. Not that you were awful at using it, but your skintone was almost impossible to match perfectly. You padded back to the rusty mirror in your greenhouse, the richer herbal smell of the dittany invading your lungs as you held it up to your face, preparing yourself to rub it vigorously against the darkening fingertip marks upon your jaw.

"Merlin, please, let this work." You mumbled with a deep breath, pinching the dittany and beginning to massage it into your marked face. You couldn't bear to watch for fear of it not working, so you shut your eyes, avoiding your own reflection. Desperately rubbing a herb against your face to get rid of some suspicious looking marks so the man you were seeing wouldn't accuse you of seeing someone else? Yes, that's you. Dedicated clown.

Hesitantly, you wrenched open your eyes. From what you saw, the herb had done nothing but give you a red rash, in fact, it actually highlighted the purpling bruises. You wanted to launch a rock through a window. Why couldn't Snape just keep his hands off of you? Why did he always resort to touching you? Not that you were complaining- well, actually, this time you were. His reckless actions were going to get you in trouble, but you couldn't exactly blame him. You hadn't told anyone that you were seeing the infamous Benjamin Bluewater. So why wouldn't he... grab your jaw in a fit of rage? Speaking of this, you hadn't really discussed a label with Ben, though, sometimes, he made you think that he wasn't particularly interested in putting a label on your relationship. It didn't bother you, but you'd prefer to know what you were. Were you exclusive? Not exclusive? Was he dating or seeing other people?

What really piqued your interest was what Snape would think of you dating Bluewater. He despised that boy with a burning passion. He'd probably lose a lot of respect for you, surely? But Ben had changed, you'd seen it for yourself.

"Hagrid, tell me that you didn't willingly let the students approach Buckbeak without proper guidance..." You sighed deeply, perched on a felled tree stump as you watched the half-giant-half-man gather some herbs from his personal garden. As the day had progressed onwards, the marks that littered your skin had died down a little, so much so that Hagrid hadn't noticed. Perhaps the dittany did help?

"Am tellin' ya, Y/N, the boy didn't listen!" Hagrid exclaimed, quite clearly stressed. He picked and pulled at the luscious shrubs rather aggressively, placing the stems and leaves into a wicker basket he was holding in his opposite hand. "I told 'im ta' stop!" He continued, his voice strained and panicking. Hagrid stood straight for a moment, his head shaking in a quick back and forth motion. "T-They're gonna want to 'ave Buckbeak slain, I tell ya," he stuttered, "they won't let this go! I'll lose me job too, Y/N!" His voice went up an octave as he glanced at you, his eyes glossed with fear. Hagrid truly cared for his animals deeply, and it pained you to see him so distressed over an accident.

"Hagrid, it'll be alright, I-"

"Y/N," Hagrid interrupted you, a stern look adopted his worn features. You instantly shut your mouth. "This is the Malfoy's we're talkin' abou'. They don't care for nothin', n' they ain't care for anyone but themselves." He finished, turning to look at his hut for a moment, big and grey clouds were starting to push their way across the dim blue sky.

"So... there's no other way? Buckbeak will be killed...?" You asked hesitantly, a lump forming in your throat as the thought of the silver hippogriff slipped into your mind. Hagrid was right, Buckbeak didn't deserve this. But what could you do? You were powerless.

Hagrid only nodded at you gravely, averting his eyes back to the garden in front of him, sucking in his bottom lip as if to stop the tears that had formed in his eyes from falling. You quickly rushed from your tree stump to Hagrid, wrapping your arms around him as much as you could. In this very moment, all you could offer the man was comfort. And so you did.

"It'll be alright, Hagrid." You mumbled against his musky smelling, tatty brown jacket, pressing the side of your face into his large, protruding stomach. A sharp inhale of air sounded from above, and you knew he was sobbing now. "It's okay." You whispered with glossy eyes, leaning back to glance up at Hagrid as he stared sorrowfully at the ground; his big, brown eyes wet with regretful tears. Gods, this was breaking your heart.

"He don't deserve this, Y/N!" Hagrid cried, his gigantic hands rushing to clutch you against his shaking body as he sobbed. "He don't, he's a good boy, he is." He muttered through broken cries. You had to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from breaking down into sobs too. As much as you wanted to cry with Hagrid, you wanted to be strong for him - like he was when you came running, crying hysterically because of... Severus.

It felt weird to use his first name. You hadn't used it since... you couldn't even remember when. You only called him Snape now, and it hurt you to do so.

A couple days had passed by since your incident with Snape, and he had found himself lurking in your greenhouse, sneakily searching for ingredients for his upcoming future classes. The screech of an owl hooked Snape's nose up and away from your cabinets and to the door of your greenhouse. He ducked, cursing, as a Spectacled Owl swooped over his head, the sweep of it's wings making Snape's raven-black hair fly outwards. He watched as it dropped a rather beautiful bouquet of flowers on your desk with a muffled thud, proceeding to fly out of an open ceiling window and perch itself on a tree branch to the right of it. The owl hooted as it watched Snape curiously with big, beady eyes. The Potions Master observed it for several seconds, his eyes narrowing inquisitively. Once he deemed it safe to move, Snape shuffled towards the bouquet, his eyes instantly finding a note attached. He slowly shifted his fingers towards it, opening the folded piece of parchment. His brows furrowed as it read:

Dearest Y/N,

I hope these stunning flowers find you well, the moment I saw them, they instantly reminded me of you, and I had to have them.

Since the day we parted from each other, you have not left my mind. You have ensorcelled me. Enchanted and charmed me. The sweet sound of your perfect laugh lives in my mind, and Merlin, how I miss the way that your smile bewitched my heart each time I had the honour of laying my blessed eyes upon it.

I do hope Hogwarts is treating you well. If it isn't, you know where to find me.

B.B x

Snape's stomach instantly twisted into a painful, egregious knot as his eyes continuously scanned over the sentimental note. You were seeing someone? Since when? More importantly, who was 'B.B'? Was it serious? It seemed to be, from Snape's basic knowledge of flowers, he knew they were high-quality, expensive ones. The thick, shiny material they were cocooned in also added to his conclusion. Whoever you were seeing was willing to spend a good amount of gold on you. Then, perhaps, was it an admirer? Someone trying to court you? No, it couldn't be, the note said-

Almost as fast as those thoughts had entered Snape's mind, he wiped them away, shaking his head aggressively as he let go of the note between his fingers, backing away from the flowers like a fearful doe. No, he wasn't doing this today. Not ever, actually.

Snape's eyes reluctantly fell to where you usually left a quill and parchment - specifically for him to note down what he'd taken. But it wasn't there. His brows knitted together, perplexed, as he glanced around the room for your quill and parchment. His eyes fell back onto the bouquet of flowers that 'B.B' had sent you. Snape's jaw clenched as he grudgingly padded forwards again, his hand reaching out slowly to lift up the neatly-wrapped bouquet. His hunch was right. That damned bird of yours had dropped the large bouquet on top of his quill and parchment, almost like a silent 'fuck you'. Snape had to force himself not to hex the poor animal as he retrived the materials, placing them beside the flowers to quickly scribble down the ingredients he required.

Snape felt something like a knife poke at his heart as he let his eyes glance over at the handwritten note again, staring at it with cruel eyes. A wave of disgust rushed through his body as he re-read the sickly sweet words. As much as he despised and envied the person behind the note, he couldn't help but agree with how they described you.

Over the next week at Hogwarts, more and more notes, flowers and small gifts began to turn up in your greenhouse. You had felt a bit smothered by Ben, but you gave him the benefit of the doubt - perhaps gift-giving was his love language. As time went on, you noticed that Snape began to slack in leaving notes of what he'd borrowed for his lessons. This confused you slightly, Snape was not someone that neglected agreements or promises. So, you just put it down to being an accident rather than on purpose. You weren't sure if you did that for the peace of your own mind, or hoping it was true.

Snape found himself assigned to the nightly patrol shift this Friday evening. He was a little miffed about it since he had planned to kick back in his room and bury his nose in a book he'd picked up on a subtle trip to Hogsmeade. Ever since he'd read that note in your greenhouse, he'd turned a little more bitter towards people. Including you. The only way he had figured out to hide something as petty and trivial as the feeling of jealousy was by acting a little colder to people. Everyone knew him as the callous and heartless Professor Snape, so it's not as if the students or staff alike would be alarmed by his extra bitterness.

As the Potions Master was strolling absentmindedly in the outside grounds of Hogwarts, two shadowy figures had caught his eye. Instinctively, he drew his wand, his fingers tightening around it. He crouched down a tad, narrowing his eyes in a feeble attempt to try and work out who the possible intruders were. Surely it was just two students out after curfew, right? Though, that idea came crashing down when he heard the sweet sound of your muffled laugh. His body ran cold as another heavenly, song-like giggle reached his ears. What were you doing out so late at night? …And who were you with?

"I'm sorry I kept you so late," Ben said quietly, squeezing your hand as you glanced up at him, the two of you strolling through the outside grounds of Hogwarts. The two of you kept your voices down as it was past midnight now, and you weren't exactly desiring the idea of getting caught. "I didn't expect the pub to stay open past eleven o'clock!"

"It's alright, work was rather stressful this week anyway. I needed a good break." You giggled, quickly placing a hand over your mouth to muffle it. Ben couldn't help but grin amusedly at your widened eyes.

"And you told me I had to be quiet," Ben mused, his eyes flicking back to the ground in front of him. You rolled your eyes at him and nudged him with a playful elbow. "But what happened with work? Annoying first years?" He teased. Oh, he had no idea.

A class of seventh years had been stressing you out since Tuesday afternoon when Jasper Greenlichen, a very intelligent and passionate budding Herbologist, made some fatal mistakes on a mock exam. The second you handed his results back to him, you hadn't expected, nor prepared yourself for such an intense meltdown of emotions. Since that moment, he was nonstop asking questions and asking for your expert opinion on certain ways to structure answers. The boy was absolutely obsessed with improving, and it was becoming extremely tiring for you. You could only help him so much.

"I wish," You groaned, shaking your head for a moment. "Seventh years, actually, one of them had a total meltdown when he did quite badly on a mock exam I'd set up for them." You explained, sighing exhaustedly. "From then on, it was chaos for me. I'd actually started dreading teaching for once!"

"Oh blimey," Ben grimaced at your words. "Sounds terrible." He added with a laugh, pulling you into his arms with a tug. A quiet squeak slipped from your throat as you fell into his chest, his hands snaking down to your waist suggestively.

"Ben," You warned, trying to hide the smile that was tugging at your lips. The bright, pale moonlight glimmered down upon the two of you, illuminating you like two shards of broken glass in the sunlight.

"What?" He asked innocently, frowning as if he was being falsely accused of murder. "I've missed you." He muttered. Your stomach twisted at his words. Had you missed him as well? The only time Ben had poked at your brain was when you'd been with Snape...

"Me too." You replied, staring up at him. Did you just lie to him? Perhaps. Is it terrible if you felt nothing the moment those three words left his lips? Definitely. What a fucking mess.

With Ben facing against the moonlight, the shadows cast on his face made his nose appear slightly larger, and his eyes seemed to turn dark. Were you imagining this...?

Before you could continue to question yourself, Ben's smile faded and his brows furrowed as his hand rose up to your jaw, grasping it gently with his fingertips. Your blood ran cold as he angled your jaw towards the light, encouraging it to illuminate the fading bruises on your jaw. Fuck, there was no way this was happening right now.

"What's this?" He questioned softly, his tone flat. You swallowed, anxiety bubbling at your fingertips as they began to tingle. What the hell were you meant to say?

"Oh, it's nothing," You laughed lightly, leaning away from his concerned touch. Sure, some bouncing bulbs could have caused small, red marks on your face, right? "I was teaching some first-years a couple days ago, some bouncing bulbs got loose." You quickly lied, smiling up at Ben, praying he'd just let it go.

"Are you okay?" He asked once more, his eyes flicking up to yours, burning with worry. A wave of relief washed over you as he believed you. If you'd told him the truth, you weren't sure how he'd react. Perhaps he'd curse Snape's classroom to smell awfully for eternity, or maybe he'd do worse... but you didn't want to think about that right now.

"Yeah, I'm alright, it's happened before." You laughed again, quietly, staring at Ben for any sign of doubt on his face. He continued to study your injured jaw, not seemingly convinced.

"Alright," he nodded at you with a curt sigh, letting it go. "As long as you're not in pain." Ben smiled down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your marked jaw, trailing his lips to towards your parted ones. A gasp left your lips as Ben pulled you closer to him, his fingers digging into your waist hungrily. He kissed you a little harder, and you had to push him away slightly, releasing yourself from his lips.

"Ben, remember where we are." You said quietly, nodding to the grounds of Hogwarts that the two of you were currently stood in. "Someone could see us." You warned, a sheepish and awkward smile picking at the corners of your lips.

"So what?" Ben smirked as he leaned in to kiss you again, his reckless personality rearing it's head once more. You placed a firm hand against his chest, placing some space between you.

"I'm serious." You said again, your tone switching from playful to stern. Ben sighed, nodding, as he waved his white flag and surrendered to your demands. "Thank you." You smiled up at him, patting his chest gently, watching how as he turned his head, that familiar looking shadow cast over his features again, transforming him into your true desire. You tore your gaze away from his face as your heartbeat began to pick up in speed, memories of you and a certain brooding Potion Master flooding your mind. "I should really get going now." You quickly muttered, swallowing the lump of anxiety in your throat as you glanced to the right, avoiding his eyes.

Was this how your life was going to be now? Everytime you looked at someone you tried to move on with, his face would appear? Everywhere you looked, the thought of him would slide into your mind effortlessly - at this point, you were wondering if he had slipped you some sort of potion when you weren't looking.

"Oh right, yeah... I forgot it was so late," Ben laughed awkwardly, noticing your subtle change in demeanour. He wondered if he'd done something wrong. "I'll come and see you again soon, Y/N." He pushed past the niggling feeling in his mind and smiled at you, leaning forwards to press a kiss to your cheek. His hand brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and you returned his smile, the overwhelming feeling of guilt beginning to nibble away at your bones. This man was treating you like a princess and all you could think about was the man that had roughly grabbed you by your jaw the other day, leaving bruises on it.

"Send me an owl first, I'd like to be prepared this time." You hummed, referring to how Ben had caught you in your messy casualwear, tending to the plants in your greenhouse and covered in filth. It wasn't a pretty sight - well in your opinion, at least. "See you soon, Ben." You smiled at him as you turned to leave, a ghastly, freezing breeze of cold air suddenly tickling your skin.

"See you later, and... get back safe, please." Ben said wearily as he glanced about, having noticed the sudden drop in temperature as well. You nodded at him and pulled your shawl tighter around you, trying to ward off the cold that was now biting at your bare shoulders. You'd quickly slipped on a dark, rich emerald green dress that fell to the floor, and was slightly cinched at your waist in a shirred fashion, with baggy, ballooned sleeves that reached your wrists. You'd also opted to bring a thick, warm dusty rose-coloured shawl that was currently wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

Walking back to the grand entrance of the castle, your brows knitted together as your eyes stared at the ground that was suddenly frosting over, wilting flowers and withering plants. A feeling of uneasiness permeated your ice-cold skin as you let your eyes glaze over the frozen ground, the clouds above you suddenly turning deathly grey. Your heart began to pound as you immediately took off in a sprint, desperately trying to reach Hogwarts before whatever the hell was coming could get to you.

The air was dead, silent and motionless. Only the sound of your crunching footfalls and your chattering teeth pierced the blanket of silence. You were praying that you were only imagining this, there was no way you could fend off a dementor. As you ran, your hands began to clench and unclench, a layer of sweat forming within them as you continued to run as fast as you could, your chest heaving with complete fear as the cold began to invade your body. You felt as if you were going to die right then and there, dementor or not, your heart was going absolutely mental, pounding against your ribs like an insane prisoner, begging to be let out. Your legs began to slow as the freezing cold began to overpower your body, numbing your legs and sending you tumbling to the ground. You fell to your hands and knees, tears streaming down your face, still desperate to escape as you clambered forwards in vain.

The chilling temperature was becoming too much for your body to withstand, and so you fell to the side, a paralysing scream leaping from your lungs as your worst nightmare suddenly swept in front of you. It floated in front of you, as if taunting you. The haunting noise of a rattling, sucking-like sound surrounded you like a bubble. You stared up at the dementor, your mouth agape in horror, fearful tears brimming your eyes as you watched on helplessly. Your lungs burned with each strangled breath you stole, your limp body falling backwards against the ground, as the dementor glided closer to you, finally kissing you.

You felt as if you were drowning. Your lungs felt as if they were filled with water, stealing your breath away, leaving you to suffocate. All you could see was the dementor, it's menacing appearance rendering you immobile. You were paralysed. You couldn't move, you couldn't run away. This was it, this was how you died.

Then, suddenly, a bright white light pierced the darkness that had almost swallowed you whole. It was almost blinding as you glanced towards it, your vision blurring. You struggled on the ground, your eyes fighting to stay open as they caught a glimpse of what looked to be like... a... doe?

As you let your eyes roll back to the gloomy and black sky above you, it felt like you were in slow motion - everything was spinning and the lids of your eyes were feeling heavier and heavier; the freezing cold that once had you within it's grasp subsiding. The roar of rushing blood in your ears muffled the screaming voice from afar. You wanted to scream out, to beg them for help, but you couldn't. Your voice was no where to be heard.

As you laid motionless upon the frosted grass, your muscles relaxed, your body finally caving as the black abyss swallowed your vision.

Peace.

A quiet rustling of what sounded like metal against metal stirred you awake. You felt your fingers twitch as you gradually shuffled the tiniest bit against some soft sheets that you'd been carefully wrapped up in.

"She's awake." A soft, feminine voice called out from beside you; your eyes slowly, but painfully fluttering open.

"How are you feeling?" A familiar, warm voice poked at your ears. You blinked as your eyes followed the source of the sound, a blanket of relief encasing you as you saw Professor Lupin perched on a chair beside where you laid.

"Erm," You croaked, sitting up on your elbows in a leisurely manner. "What the hell happened?" You asked quietly, confused. Glancing about the room with squinted eyes, you noticed that you were in the hospital wing, sat in a bed, neatly wrapped up like a cocooned caterpillar in blankets.

"You were attacked by a dementor." Lupin put it simply, though he kept his tone soft, a hint of concern laced beneath. "Do you remember anything?" He further questioned you, curious. You looked back to him, letting yourself fall back into the bed. "Here," Lupin reached into his pocket, pulling out a chocolate bar. "It'll help." He said, offering it to you.

You took it gratefully, unwrapping the crackly plastic covering slowly, feeling your mouth suddenly salivate at the sight of the sugary treat. "Thank you, Remus." You smiled weakly at him whilst trying to wrack your brain for any remaining memories of the attack, taking a bite out of the chocolate. You sat there for a moment, staring down at your lap as you sifted through your memories, chewing at a slow pace. You remembered leaving Ben, then the cold... that was it... "No, I'm sorry." You mumbled, feeling a little useless.

"Don't apologise, we're all just very glad you're okay." Remus smiled at you, his moustache twitching. You nodded in agreement with him, keeping quiet. "You were lucky that Severus was there to save you that night." Your eyes instantly snapped to Lupin's, widening in surprise.

"Wait, what?" You choked out. It felt like someone had just punched your chest. Snape saved you? How did he...? Remus seemed a little concerned at your reaction as his brows knitted together in slight curiosity. "Sna... Severus was the one...?" You breathed out, shock stiffening your body, your throat tightening as your lips spoke his name.

"He was." Remus tilted his head at you, inquisitive blue eyes studying you. "He was on duty that night and heard your screams."

You couldn't believe what was coming out of Remus's mouth. Were you dreaming? Were you in some horrible, twisted nightmare? You had so many questions running through your mind that you couldn't keep up.

"Also, you keep saying 'that night', how long have I been... here?" You questioned Lupin, your voice weakening as you glanced around the hospital wing, noticing how empty it was. Only one other person was here and it was a student dressed in a Quidditch outfit with an icepack resting on his forehead. You deduced that he had probably fallen off of his broom during a match.

"Just over two days, Y/N." Remus replied slowly, continuing to observe you for any possible ailments. You blinked.

"What day is it?"

"Sunday," The professor replied before twisting his arm to check his watch. "Six fifty-two in the evening, to be exact."

"Right," You exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling, becoming lost in your thoughts. You thought you were alone outside. Why did- how did Snape know you were there? Did this mean something? Was this his way of- no, don't be silly, for Merlin's sake.

It's merely a coincidence, you chastised yourself. I should be glad he was there, I wouldn't be sat here right now if he wasn't, you thought, sighing frustratedly through your nostrils.

"I need to talk to him." You said quickly, beginning to sit up but Lupin quickly pushed you back down into the bed, his mouth flattening into a straight line.

"You need to rest." He replied sternly, his hand resting firmly against your shoulder as he forced you back down.

"I feel perfectly fine, Remus. I appreciate your concern but-"

"I'm sorry, but it's Madam Pomfrey's orders." He cut you off, an apologetic look softening his features. You sighed at him, a little irritated, but you understood where he was coming from. You did need to rest up, you didn't feel like you were in the best of headspaces. You still felt a little disorientated.

There was a moment of silence before you reluctantly gave in, giving Lupin a soft nod, avoiding his eyes. "Fine." You settled into the hospital bed, glancing out at the window to your right, watching quietly as beads of rain dripped down the glass pane.

"If you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask me." Lupin smiled warmly at you. You hummed quietly, returning his smile.

"Actually, Remus, erm," You cleared your throat, shuffling under the pale white sheets. "I was hoping to ask you if you could mentor me? To produce a patronus charm?" You asked, fidgeting with your fingers. Lupin's brow quirked at your proposal.

"Of course," Remus nodded as the surprised expression that had slipped onto his face clearly showed that he wasn't expecting you to ask him such a question. "We can start on Tuesday, seven o'clock. My classroom."

You felt your body relax at his answer. "Thank you so much." You said, your smile widening.

"It's my pleasure, Y/N, now please, get some rest." A gentle chuckle rumbled within Lupin's chest as he tilted his head at you like a parent would at their child. You scrunched your nose up at him jokingly and rolled over onto your side, tugging the blanket up and over your shoulders.

"Goodnight, Remus." You said quietly with a hint of amusement in your tone, closing your eyes. As the echo of his receding footsteps began to grow quieter and quieter as he left, you let your body finally rest, gradually dozing off.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" Snape's deep, languid voice echoed from behind his door, sending a nervous shiver down your spine. You'd slipped out of your hospital bed once you had woken up, determined to pay Snape a visit, despite the storm of butterflies swirling in your stomach. When you checked the clock before leaving, it had struck almost eleven-thirty at night.

You pursed your lips, slipping inside his office and leaning against the back of the door as it clicked shut. "How did you know it was me?" You asked a little awkwardly as your eyes flicked to Snape who still had his nose buried in a pile of assignments atop of his neatly-arranged desk. A flutter of envy flew through your chest as you silently admired how organised the man was. Your desk was a mess, you barely had enough time to keep it clean, let alone organised.

"Few people opt to bother me at such an... ungodly hour." Snape sighed, rather exhaustedly, not bothering to glance at up you. Usually you'd chastise him for ignoring you, but you felt like you owed him your life from the whole ordeal a couple days ago, so you chose to brush past the bitterness in his voice. Snape spoke again after several seconds of silence. "Speaking of, what is it that you need from me?"

"Erm," you choked, eyes falling anxiously to the floor, "I just wanted to... say thanks." You said, silently dreading Snape's reply as you looked back up to find him staring at you. Your body ignited at the sight, and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn. Nothing has changed then, you thought, a little embarrassed and somewhat disappointed in yourself.

"I believe we spoke about saying 'thanks'." Snape quirked a brow at you, his dark eyes scrutinising you as you leant against his office door. You huffed at him. He paused for a moment, studying your weak, pale-looking body. "Nevertheless, you're welcome. I suppose such a situation... warrants a thank you." He added, tone flat.

There was another blanket of awkward silence. "Who were you with?" He asked. Your blood ran cold. Here we go, you thought.

"Remember a year ago, when we were brewing the Mandrake Draught?" You spoke hesitantly, avoiding Snape's intense gaze. He hummed, as if to encourage you to continue. "Remember when we spoke about Benjamin Bluewater?" You added, voice going quiet at the end. You braved a glance at the Potions Master, who now looked very disappointed. Fuck.

"You were with... Bluewater?" Snape tried to hide the jealousy in his voice. "Why were you with such a scoundrel so late at night?" You flinched at his harsh tone.

"He's changed, Snape, he's not the same troublemaker as he was in school," you sighed, "he's working at the Ministry of Magic, for Merlin's sake."

"I highly doubt a boy such as him can 'change', Y/N." Snape hissed, averting his eyes back to the parchment in front of him. He felt his skin burning with anger as you spoke about Bluewater so casually. Your heart leapt at the sound of your name leaving his lips.

"And how do you know that, Severus?" You scoffed at him. Snape's hardened eyes snapped up to yours, your harsh tone obviously hitting a nerve in him.

"Boys like him do not change, Y/N, they merely manipulate you to think so." He sneered at you. "And a woman like you is an easy target." He added, igniting a once-extinguished rage within you.

"Excuse me?" Your brows furrowed together furiously. Snape stared at you, an icy glare plastered on his pale face. "A woman like me?"

"You are far too trusting, Y/N," Snape bit, baring his teeth as he rose from his desk, "you are a true Hufflepuff. You have no respect for yourself; you struggle with the prospect of being alone so you reduce yourself to be with a lowlife such as Bluewater." The booming of your heart began to deafen you as you listened to Snape's ruthless words, each syllable digging a knife deeper into your chest. "Are you so afraid of the idea of loneliness that you really think you belong with a miscreant such as him?" He spat at you as you spun on your heels, rushing towards his door, the reality of his words becoming too hard for you to handle. You were breathing so heavily that each breath you took was starting to burn your throat, like you had swallowed the thorny stem of a rose.

Your shaking hand hovered over the handle of his office-door, lingering as you debated between running away like you always did, or confronting your fears.

You turned around, facing Snape with glossy eyes and red cheeks, unafraid. "You have no idea what you're talking about." You hissed at him furiously, stalking towards the raven-haired man with such determination that it made him flinch out of surprise.

"Don't I?" Snape mused, returning to his usual stoic and cold demeanour. He stood tall, towering over your shorter figure, his lips curling up into a sneer as he bent down to look at you in your teary eyes. "I taught the boy for seven years, Y/N. You think I do not know him better than you do?"

"I..." You stuttered, snapping your jaw shut as you tipped your chin down, submitting to Snape's cruel tone.

"You deserve better than him." Snape said quietly, softening his tone as he noticed your form trembling with bottled rage and frustration. He pitied you in this moment, in fact, he wished he could save you from such heartache, but it wasn't his place. Not now, not ever.

"You don't know what I deserve, Severus." You bit back in a harsh whisper. Snape's jaw ticked and your chest tightened as his name fell from your lips for the first time in months. He swiftly moved from behind his desk in a sweep, his long, billowing cloak trailing behind him as he stood in front of you; an unusually calm expression softening the cold, unfeeling glare that once laid upon his features.

Snape parted his lips, staring down at you, mulling over his words for a brief moment. "No, I don't," He said quietly, tilting his head at you, studying your distraught eyes. "However, that does not mean I can't usher you in the right direction." He added, clasping his hands behind his back. "It... pains me to see you so... unhappy." You looked up at him, a stray tear embarrassing you as it rolled down your cheek. You quickly swiped it away, and looked away from him, staring at the record player that you had accidentally triggered all that time ago. You felt another bout of tears brim your eyes again as your mind replayed the tender memory of you and Snape sharing such an intimate moment together.

"How did you know where I was that night?" You questioned him quietly, ignoring his previous comment, desperate not to break down in tears in front of the man you had grown to adore.

"It wasn't hard to pinpoint your location when you were screaming bloody murder." Snape replied, a hint of faint amusement lingering in his tone. You huffed at his words, prompting him to quirk at brow at you questioningly.

"Yeah, well," You swallowed thickly, glancing back up at him through your wet lashes. If you asked him any more questions you were certain you'd start hysterically sobbing. "Thanks. Again." You choked out, nodding gently.

Severus hummed at you. He felt unusually warm as the two of you were silent, quietly savouring the rare, peaceful moment.

Your cheeks had pinkened again as you studied his face, your stomach going bananas as your eyes became glued to his. You felt yourself subconsciously leaning towards him, slowly, like the pull of two magnets. Snape's breath hitched in his throat as he watched your eyes drop to his lips, eyeing them hungrily. He hesitated slightly, his mind beginning to race with plentiful amounts of reason as to why he should stop what was about to happen, however, he found himself tossing them to the side, carelessly.

The way the soft, amber hue of the candles illuminated your wet cheeks made you look so fragile, he just wanted to cradle you indefinitely; an aching urge protect you from the outside world. You felt Severus nudge his prominent nose against yours in a gentle, tender gesture; your eyes fluttering at the intimacy. His hot breath was dancing across your face as the two of you grew closer, noses grazing.

Though, before your lips could meet, Snape's office door swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall clutching a candle dressed in her nightgown.

"Severu- oh!" She gasped, watching as the two of you quickly dispersed from each other. "Am I interrupting something?" McGonagall eyed the two of you inquisitively, her lips pouting together. You cleared your throat and clasped your hands together in front of you, blinking quickly. Your cheeks were still scorching hot.

"No." Severus quickly answered, broadening his shoulders as he dared to glance at you. He straightened his posture and averted his attention to his older colleague, staring at her expectantly. "What's the matter, Minerva?" He asked, an underlying tone of irritation in his voice. Your heart fluttered as you looked to Severus, noticing his usually pale face had a tinge of pink to it.

"Black is in the castle." She said with a worried voice, prompting you to snap your head up at Minerva. What? Sirius Black is inside Hogwarts?

Part 10!

oooooo THEY ALMOST KISSED? mcgonagall the cockblock, whoops. i hope you enjoyed another long chapter, please let me know what you thought!! <3 have a great day/night, im about to get some much needed rest :) im so excited to write the next part tomorrow oh my lordddd

taglist:

@a-laufeyson

@emilynissangtr

@livillain00

@meowskii

@nooneeveryonenoone

@vesperbatty

@biggest-simp-eversposts

@881127fara

@freshmoneyalmondathlete

@sonoluvr22

@v3lv3tvampir3

@lashipperrubia

@camilla-black

@acakius

@hiddlestonspassionsackx

@tellatubbies

@mikariell95

@sunshinemink

@m0rtifiedg0th

@spookymicrowave

@sayonara30

@novas-dreamworld

@ms-snape

@captainrogers-19

@once-upon-an-imagine

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moonpedri · 1 year

Text

does he know.

summary: you love gavi and you're happy in your relationship with him. but for some reason you're the moth and pedri, his best friend, is the flame that pulls you in.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: angst, smut and a sprinkle of fluff

warnings: cheating (we do not support!), phone s*x, masturbating, mentions of genitals lmao, cursing

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this idea came to me months ago when i heard the song 'moth to a flame' by the weeknd while working lmao. and when you work in retail, you have a lot of time to think :D. i do not condone cheating in any way, i think it's vile and disgusting, but 🫣😵‍💫 i couldn't help myself with this one. enjoy!!<3

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"Hey, everything alright, sugar?"

You hiccup, "N-no. Can you come over?"

"Be there in 10." He hangs up immediately, giving you no time to even thank him. You take a look at your phone again. Your vision is blurry with tears in your eyes.

The call lasted a record time of 7 seconds. That's how long it took for you to convince him to come over. The occasion was usually a different one, but you needed his comfort more than anything right now.

You look at the contact picture, Pedri was smiling at the camera. No, he was smiling at you. The thought alone puts a smile on your face as well, but the events only hours ago catch up to you and you almost break out into tears again.

You and Pablo fought, and you normally never do. Dating Pablo Gavi was no easy task, but you loved the challenge. You loved how easy it was with him sometimes and how difficult it could get too. That's what made a relationship a relationship.

He treats you right and you feel incredibly loved by him. Maybe that's why it irked you the wrong way when one of his female friends got a little too close to him today, when your mutual friend group went mini-golfing. It only got worse when he reciprocated her actions.

"It's actually super easy, just hold the handle this way.", he explained to her, all the while you stood behind them, seeing red. She was shamelessly oggling at his biceps in front of you. In a fit of jealousy, you decided to just ignore him the entire rest of the day. Looking back at it, you may have spoiled the mood for everyone but you didn't care. You could have made a scene as well and ruined the fun straight upc but you decided to do it silently instead. Which again, was absolutely stupid, because just telling Pablo would have done the job.

He's a sweetheart, you know he never meant it that way. He never looses his temper with you either, he just calmly listens to you and talks to you; both of you finding a compromise to the problem - that's just how things between you two worked.

And that makes everything so much worse, because today he did lose his temper with you. He screamed at you, and you screamed back. Mean things where exchanged inside the car. You really don't want to know what a sight you two made.

It ended with him pulling over, after you yelled at him to stop the car. You slammed the door shut and stormed off, expecting him to follow you. He never did. Instead he raced off, leaving you in the dust.

In retrospect, you did it to yourself. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt though.

The way home took you a little more than 30 minutes and once you were inside, the tears began flooding down your face.

You hated feeling like this and you hated the fact that it was your own fault even more. You tried calling Gavi multiple times, but he didn't answer. And after an hour, you decided to stop, it was hopeless anyways. You would have to spend this awful night alone tonight, you thought.

And if God wasn't on your side that evening, the Devil definitely was. It was as if he was right by your sight, whispering sinful words into your ear. And foolishly, you listened to him.

You decided to call Pedri.

It sounds wrong, and maybe it is, but it certainly never felt that way with him. Risqué, you would describe the relationship you two have. At least that's what you always told Pedri; you liked the way the word sounded. A little french, no?

He's your boyfriend's best friend. They're teammates and Pablo told you multiple times that he even considers him a brother.

A brother you secretly slept with.

In your defense, you met him and slept with him before you and Pablo were even talking to each other. It was useless though, because you continued.

You didn't mean for it to happen, but like bananas turn to the sun and moths to a flame, you turned to Pedri.

If you're the moth, then Pedri is the flame that pulls you in and burns you. But he never lets it come so far, because he always pulls back before you can burst into flames.

This thing between you and Pedri started about a year ago, months before you even knew Pablo.

You met coincidentally one day at a match of his. Your little brother was a huge FC Barcelona fan and you gifted him front-row tickets for his 12th birthday.

They won that day and some of the players decided to sign autographs and take pictures with their loyal Culers.

Pedri was one of them.

Your brother squealed when the 19 year old football player was near you. He signed his jersey with a chuckle. "You're my idol, Pedri! Thank you so much.", your brother said politely, the excitement in his voice very evident.

"Thank you, big man. Your support helped a lot today.", Pedri said gratefully.

He looked at you then and you had admit that in person he looked even better. His big brown eyes worked like hypnosis on you and the sun did nothing to hide his beautiful tan either.

It seemed like he wanted to sign your shirt as well. You wanted to decline, you didn't need his sign but your brother beat you to it.

"My sister thinks you're handsome."

To this very day you don't know if you should thank him for introducing Pedri into your life or be angry at him for humiliating you like that in front of him.

Pedri's eyes widened. He turned to your brother mischievously, "Oh, is that so? Is she a fan as well or...does she just like my face?"

"Yes, but not as big as me of course. She and her friend talked about you on the phone sometimes. It's sooo annoying." Your brother complains nonchalantly, like Pedri was his best-bud and they just catch up with each other.

You grab your around your little brother's head and pull it close to your side, hushing him, "Anyways, good game.", you tell Pedri with a wide smile. You make a move to just leave, when Pedri holds up his pen.

"Let me sign your shirt."

You press your lips together but give in eventually, hoping that he'll just quickly move on to his other fans. He bids you goodbye with a wink and a ruffle to your brothers head.

It's only later at home that you realized that he left his phone number on your shirt. You still have it stowed away in the safety of your closet. And it will probably stay there forever.

You texted Pedri the next day. After all you couldn't come off as too easy, right?

Talking with him came easy. Conversations flowed like water and the topics just never stopped. It felt good to be with him, you felt like yourself. He listened to your every word and he made you feel special.

The two of you dated around for 5 months. You would lie if you said that these months weren't one of the most beautiful times of your life so far, but also the most hurtful ones.

Pedri travelled a lot with you, spoiled you rotten to no end and the sex(!!!). You genuinely liked his presence.

You wore your heart on your sleeve, you practically gave it to him. You two acted like a couple, like you were utterly and completely in love.

Maybe you were. Maybe it was just your imagination, because a guy showed so much interest in you for the first time.

But you two were never officially together.

Pedri never asked you to be his girlfriend. He always brought you everywhere, yet he never introduced you as his special someone.

You still wonder if Pedri never felt anything for you. Why he hesitated so much. It broke your heart, when you told him one day that you had enough. Of course he immediately understood what you meant. And the little hope you had of him finally making the last step, diffused when he said nothing more. He didn't fight for you, he let you go.

It hurt you, but for some reason it didn't break you like you initially thought it would. In fact, you and Pedri still stayed in contact. You befriended some of his friends in the time you two dated, it would've been awkward. And like you mentioned, being with Pedri was easy.

If you two could be lovers, then you definitely can be friends as well.

Things between you ended in September. In November you met Gavi.

It came a bit to a surprise to you, the wound didn't completely heal yet and Gavi was a year younger than you; you didn't go for younger guys. But Pablo was gentle, he put a band-aid over it and in January the two of you started dating.

That's also when things between you and Pedri started to become...different. In the time between the break-up and the start of your new relationship, he treated you like a good friend would. Pedri made you feel at ease and less hurt over the whole ordeal. He never hinted at anything more. The moment your relationship became public though, he started acting odd.

Suddenly he was everywhere. He stood and sat next to you whenever your little group of friends met. When you were at the beach, his eyes practically undressed you behind his shades. When you watched their training sessions, he lingered by your side too long.

No one noticed because you and Pedri always got along. You were friends. Only some knew that there may have been more, but no one knew for sure - especially not Gavi.

The real culprit however was you. Because all the while, you never said anything. You never rejected Pedri, you did nothing to push him away. It was just not in you to do that. Like it was coded in your DNA.

The cheating however started with a call one night. In a state of boredom you decided to browse through your gallery and organize it, when you stumbled across old pictures of you and Pedri.

In one you were cuddling, in the next one you were kissing. The pictures got gradually more indecent and you couldn't help but think back to when you took them. You laid on your back, naked cleavage only slightly visible. Sweat collected itself on your hairline. Next to you was Pedri, sucking on your neck, only the back of of his head visible.

You swiped right. Another intimate picture, but this time it was a mirror selfie. Not much was visible thanks to the curtains that dimmed the room, but you sat on top of him. Your nipples perked up. Pedri's hands grabbed onto your hips harshly, his head was tilted back.

You remember taking this picture very well. Pedri always said he didn't like taking them, he complained when you took this very one. In hindsight you believe he did. He posed so well on camera, you know he must have enjoyed it secretly.

You also remember how good he felt inside of you. He always managed to find the right spot to make you squeal and squirm around, stretching your cervix in all the right ways.

Heat began building up in your lower area and you couldn't help but lower your hands under your pants. The moment you cupped your vulva, goosebumps spread all over your body. It's been a long time since you touched yourself.

Being horny alters something in your brain. All at once, you can't think rationally. Essentially, you just think with your fucking dick. It just overcomes you - like a switch.

Rationally thinking you should have called your boyfriend. One look at the picture on your phone told you that that wasn't what you wanted.

A few taps later and the phone rings.

"__. It's one in the morning, is everything okay?", he answers the phone. The sleepiness in his voice was evident.

"Yeah, I just-.", a sigh escapes your mouth. Your ring finger touched around the entrance of your vagina and you can't even formulate a proper sentence. Nothing that you did right now was morally right, it was absolutely impromper. You didn't know how you were going to explain your late night call to Pedri either.

But he knew you so well. He recognized the tone in your voice immediately.

"__", his voice was hoarse. It did nothing to ease your pleasure, no, it only worsened it. "I think you got the wrong number."

"No, I don't.", you retorted.

He sounded troubled, "You should call Pablo. You shouldn't hav-"

"No, I wanted you.", you say as you add another finger to circle around your vagina. You're so wet already and so sensitive. A moment of silence passes and you press your thighs together. You didn't have the time to argue around.

Something needed to be done.

"I just found an old picture of us in my phone. You know, the ones in bed you didn't like. And I just remembered,", you closed your eyes, "I just, Pedro please do something."

You heard him shuffle on the other end.

"Fuck, what are you doing right now?"

And so he joins your little spiel.

You opened your legs and started rubbing your clitoris, "Touching myself."

"Where?"

Pedri's voice, now a lot more demanding, was still raspy from sleep and you began rubbing a bit faster. "My clit. Wish it was you", you croaked out. You started getting louder.

Pedri curses, "M'getting hard. Fuck."

You imagined what he must look like right now, lying in his bed, pants pulled down and stroking his dick desperately. You whimpered at the thought.

You loved his dick.

Honestly penises never really appealed to you objectively; they're ugly. They definitely felt better than they looked and if someone asked, you wouldn't say they were a man's nicest body part. You still liked them though.

Pedri, however, had one of the prettiest ones you have ever seen (not that you saw many). Everything from his girth to his tip to his color was so perfect. You loved sitting between his legs, crawling at his muscular thighs, while his dick was in your mouth.

A moan escaped your mouth, "Your cock always felt so good. So pretty."

You wondered if Pedri imagined you naked as well. If his thoughts were as filthy as yours were. Surely, they must have been. "Fuck, baby, I thought about your pussy so much."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm, always so good for me. No one compares."

You could here the slick sound of him pumping his dick through the phone, it was lewd. So dirty and so wrong, but you never felt better.

Rubbing your clit was not enough anymore, you needed your fingers inside of you. The sound filled your entire bedroom and you held the phone closer between your legs. "Pedro.", you moan his name. You wanted him know how he made you feel, how your body reacted just at the thought of him.

"You sound so wet, princess, just for me?"

"Yes, only you." You started kneading your boob too, imagining it to be his hand instead. "Ahh.", you cry as you hit that special spot. Pedri always managed to find it. May it be with his dick, his fingers or, your favorite, his tongue - hot and wet. He made you feel things you didn't think a human could feel.

The call didn't go on for long. You taunted and teased each other for only a little longer. Words became more slurred until the only thing left was the lewd sounds of you two moaning and whimpering into each other's ears.

You were close. Your fingers were still rapidly pushing back and forth, until everything came to a halt. You couldn’t breathe.

Your back archs backwards and your fingers were clutching at the sheets, as heat overcame your body and your orgasm washed over you. You're vaguely aware of Pedri grunting into the phone as well - too lost in your own pleasure.

And then it slowly fades away.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of everything, as your consciousness trickled back. Your chest heaves up and down heavily.

You stared at the ceiling, guilt starting to consume you all of a sudden. You felt horrible, to say the least.

Pedri must have felt the same way, you believed. Heavy breathing was the only thing you heard on his end, when you spoke up, "Don't get me wrong. This was...amazing.", you started, searching for words. "But Pablo can't know. This shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry, I don't know what overcame me."

It took Pedri a moment to answer your word-vomit. "It's fine,__. There are always two involved, right? Let's just forget about it." The guilt in his voice was evident too, Gavi was his best friend after all.

You thought that settled it. A one-time mistake.

One time turned to two times and two times turned to multiple more calls at night, sometimes while Pablo slept next to you.

You kept the pictures of you two, and your boyfriend's bed was not the only bed you have spent your night at anymore. And he wasn't the only one spending his nights in yours either.

Just like right now.

The ringing of the doorbell rips you out of your thoughts. Pedri actually manages to be at your door in 8 minutes.

He engulfes you in a hug the moment he sees your tear-struck face. "Talk to me, what happened?", he mumbles against your hair.

You sit on your bed when you tell him of your fight with Pablo. Your stupidity that ruined everything. Pedri sits and listens intently to your worries. Occasionally he caresses your hand or hair.

"I didn't think he would get so angry with me.", you sob.

Pedri smiles at you with warm eyes. In a moment of weakness you think about what would have happened if you stayed with Pedri. Would Pedri have acted the same way?

"W-Would you have done the same?"

The question lingers in the air for a moment. You can't blame yourself for asking. Not right now, when you feel so powerless. And you can't blame Pedri for his silence either. After all, the lines are blurred already, he has to be careful with his words.

"I don't know. Probably not.", he says.

Pedri knows you good enough by now. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to. You were like an open book to him.

You insinuated at more, at something possible in the future. One word and you'll be his. But he shuts you down. "He's good for you.", he says then. "I see the way he makes you feel, he truly loves you,__. You deserve that. Don't worry."

He tells to you stay with Gavi; he looks you dead in the eye, while saying it. It annoys you a bit that after all this time, he still behaves the same. But he is aware of that. Because when you need him, he's always just one call away. That's all he is and may ever be.

And Pedri knows, that you are loyal to him. Your heart lies with him; in his arms.

He looks at your vulnerable state, at your glossy eyes watching him. Oh yes, your heart truly lies with him.

Like a moth to a flame, he pulls you in. And like a flame, he's fickle but destructive. And once the moth gets too close to him, it burst into flames.

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#pedri x reader #pedri fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri smut #football x reader #football imagine #football fanfic #pedri one shot #pedri fluff

431 notes · View notes

yournowheregirl · 1 year

Text

welp, this one has gotten out of hand (over 3k... yikes) but here we are! part 3 of the secret-dolly-parton-fan eddie munson saga (only 2 more parts after this!)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 3: coat of many colors

Only a few weeks later, Eddie starts to slip up.

Any other day he’d wake up to the sweet, sweet sounds of his favorite Dio album, but one morning he grabs an old Johnny Cash album that Wayne sometimes listens to and puts that one on instead.

It’s nice, and even though it’s apparently recorded at an actual prison, it still feels like home (Eddie tries not to think about that too much).

On a late night when Wayne’s still at work, he fishes his old acoustic guitar from underneath his bed and starts strumming away random chords that sound like the country songs his momma played when he was little. Sometimes he still remembers the lyrics, softly mumbling them even though there’s no one around to hear them.

It’s nice, it doesn’t sound as sweet as when his momma played it for him, but it still feels like home (Eddie actually thinks about it a lot this time).

And it’s not like he’s abandoned his usual music or anything. He still has his Judas Priest tapes in the van because his driving would probably even more reckless if he drove without any music (and isn’t that saying something). And he still loves his sweetheart more than anything, she just has to deal with sharing him for a bit.

Not a lot of many people notice it, at first. Mostly because he still keeps that part of himself hidden, safely tucked away in the comfort of his own bedroom.

But Wayne notices, because of course does.

“Whatcha wearin’ there, son?” Wayne asks, never looking up from where his eyes are glued to the morning newspaper.

Eddie’s halfway out the door already, car keys jingling against his rings when his uncle speaks up, turns around in the doorway. “Uh…”

He looks down at his clothes - what is he wearing anyway? Ripped jeans - all fine, nothing new. White t-shirt - okay, not his usual color but not that strange. Forest green plaid button down and beat-up leather boots that both actually belonged to Wayne at one point - yeah, that must be it.

“Yeah, I mean I know they’re yours… You want them back or somethin’?”

Wayne chuckles and closes the newspaper, leaning back in his chair. “No, no. Not at all. Just surprised you’re wearing it. Ain’t you meetin’ the kids?”

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie frowns. “Should I… not be wearing this?”

“Wear whatever you want.” Wayne shrugs. “It’s just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah, nice. Nice to see you bein’ comfortable wearing that sorta thing again.” Wayne says. “Lord knows you wouldn’t be caught dead in it years ago.”

Eddie thinks back to when he first came to Hawkins, with an almost empty suitcase and ratty old teddy-bear in his hand. He didn’t have any clothes that were fit for the cold Novembers in Hawkins, more used to the mild Tennessee winters, so Wayne did the best he could and dressed him up in the warmest thing he had on hand at the time. A warm, blue flannel that Eddie’s small frame almost drowned in.

Not that he cared about it at that point. He only cared about how warm and soft it felt.

Which was fine up until the point that the other kids at school started caring about their clothes and how they looked and they started laughing at Eddie’s clothes. Making fun of how poor he was that he couldn’t even afford a decent sized shirt. Teasing him in the locker room about the holes in his socks.

He decided then and there to swear off all the clothes Wayne picked out for him and changed his style up completely. His classmates were gonna bully him anyway, but he’d be damned if they insulted Wayne in the process.

“Well, yeah. Guess I’m goin’ back to my roots.” Eddie shrugs.

“Noticed that as well.” Wayne is smirking now, way too pleased about the whole situation and gestures to his mouth. “Your accent, Ed. Any minute now and you’ll be talkin’ like Miss Parton herself.”

Eddie’s face heats up - if only Wayne knew what he’s been up to in his spare time “Shut up, old man. You’re gonna make me late.”

He drives a little faster than normal to the Wheeler’s house, because Wayne really did keep him a few minutes too long, but he still ends up relatively on time for Mike’s birthday party. Everyone’s already in the decorated basement (balloons and garlands and all) and Mrs. Wheeler is snapping pictures left and right, much to Mike’s obvious dismay.

Mike’s face does light up when Eddie comes stumbling down the basement, present in hand.

“Happy Birthday, mini Wheeler.” Eddie says, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, not fair! We were friends way before you befriended my sister.” Mike sighs.

“Eddie’s just got good taste.” Nancy smirks before turning back to her conversation with Max and El.

“She said it, not me.” Eddie laughs. “Now open your present.”

He’d bought Mike this older copy of a D&D manual. It’s a first edition that Eddie randomly found one day in a thrift store and considering the grin on Mike’s face, Eddie knows he made the right decision.

Behind them on the table there’s a bunch of already-opened presents but one sticks out to Eddie - a beautifully depiction of the Party members, including El and Max, painted onto a notebook.

“Nice notebook.”

“Isn’t it the coolest? Will made it for me.” Mike gushes. “He always knows what kind of present to get me. He’s such a good friend.”

Eddie bites back a laugh. Poor Mike, so tragically oblivious to what’s staring right in front of him, bowl-cut and heart-eyes and all. But since he can’t actually laugh Mike in the face, he just smirks and pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Oh Michael… Bless your tiny lil’ heart.”

Mike just beams at him, once again blissfully unaware of the little back-handed compliment that just escaped Eddie’s Tennessee mouth and runs off again to join the party. Not noticing a thing.

But apparently someone does.

“What was that?” Steve asks from where he’s standing behind Eddie.

“What was what?” Eddie replies automatically. He doesn’t turn around just yet, slightly terrified to find out Steve’s reaction. Not there’s any malice to be heard in his voice, but Eddie’s learned to be careful even when everything seems to be safe.

“That… the whole bless your heart thing.”

“That’s a just saying.” Eddie shrugs.

“But the accent… where did that come from?” Steve stammers.

That comment finally makes Eddie turn around only to find Steve staring at him, jaw slacked and cheeks tickled pink. And well, isn’t that interesting.

Eddie grins as he takes a step closer to Steve, head cocked to the side. “Didn’t you know? I ain’t from around here.” He’s really laying the accent on thick this time, just to see how Steve will react.

It pays off beautifully because Steve just stares at him again, his face turning an even deeper shade of pink that contrast with the tight yellow t-shirt he’s wearing. Eddie’s stomach bubbles with giddiness at the sudden power he’s holding over Steve, making him all flustered like this.

God, he really shouldn’t be flirting with his very-much-straight crush but it just feels so good.

“Where- where are you from then?” Steve clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Tennessee, baby. Born ’n raised.”

Steve opens his mouth and closes it again, does it a couple of times actually, like he’s a goddamn guppy. It’s, frankly, adorable and Eddie’s never wanted to kiss him more. He lowers his gaze, his hands moving through the air like he’s unsure what to do with that.

“I’m just… I’m just gonna talk to Robin for a sec. Be right back, okay?”

Eddie watches as Steve disappears in between the kids, sees how he frantically talks to Robin before dragging her upstairs, clearly in need some alone time.

Huh. Weird.

-xxx-

Eddie comes clean about his roots to the rest of his friends a couple days later and to his surprise, no one really seems to bat an eye. Sure, there are few laughs here and there but it’s never bad. A couple of questions (mostly from El) about where he grew up and that’s that.

Or so he thinks.

Because he also told Steve, Robin and Nancy about the fact that there’s a country bar just a couple miles from Hawkins and that he’s being going there almost every week just to feel a little at home again. And now, they obviously want to come with.

Eddie’s feeling slightly nervous about it - this is still on a whole other level than just wearing one of Wayne’s flannels and bringing out his drawl every once in a while. This is about who he is, how he was raised, and he’s not really sure how things’ll go down if his friends react weirdly about it.

Pat is surprised to say the least when Eddie strolls into the Off-Road next Wednesday with Robin, Nancy and Steve in tow. Robin swore up and down that they should dress the part even though Eddie told her it wasn’t necessary, but there they are anyway, plaid shirts and all.

It’s slightly embarrassing to be honest, but Robin seems to enjoy making him suffer (well, that was until Nancy took off her plaid shirt and tied it around her waist to show off her tight black dress underneath and Robin almost had an aneurysm. Ha, how’s that for payback?). And besides, Steve’s looking unfairly hot in that light blue flannel so who’s Eddie to complain?

“Well, well, well. Looks like you got some friends after all, Ed.” Pat grins. “Welcome y’all.”

After Eddie introduces everyone, Robin starts talking Pat’s ear off, overjoyed with the fact that she’s finally meeting another queer woman, asking her all kinds of questions about growing up queer and how she met Tish. Eddie smiles, feeling happy for his friend.

On the other side of the bar, Steve and Nancy are hunched over the jukebox, arguing about the next song to play.

“Is that him?” Tish asks as she puts down his beer - Eddie figures he might as well take advantage of the fact that Nancy’s driving tonight. She nods to where Steve is clearly losing the argument with Nancy. The way he’s bending over the jukebox in those tight Levi’s is making his ass look insane and Eddie lets out a strangled sound.

“Yeah, that’s him alright.”

Tish lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Eddie. You’re screwed.”

“Why, geez. Thanks for that boost of confidence, Tish.”

Tish just winks at him and disappears back into the kitchen. Eddie just sits and sulks for a bit, head rocking along to the song that Nancy picked out until Robin suddenly slides into view, eyes filled with mischief that Eddie doesn’t care for one bit.

“So… A little birdie told me you’ve been singing Dolly Parton songs here on the regular.” Robin says in a sing-song voice.

Damn Pat and her blabber mouth.

Eddie narrows his eyes at her. “And what about it, Buckley?”

“Nothing! Just wondering if you might wanna play a song for us tonight?” Robin asks. She clasps her hands together and pouts when Eddie rolls his eyes at her. “Please? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?”

“Well… I can’t really say. Not yet anyway.” Robin smiles awkwardly. “But I promise you’ll be happy about it once it works out. Please?”

Eddie sighs - he’s never really been able to resist someone begging and he’s not gonna start now. He finishes his beer in one swig and makes his way over to the stage, taking the now-familiar acoustic guitar from the wall.

His friends sit down at a table close to the stage, staring at him with eager excitement as Eddie tries to think of a song to play. He feels strangely nervous. They had seen him play before, been to a few of Corroded Coffin gigs and he even sang the Beatles’ Blackbird for Nancy’s birthday but this still feels scarier, more intimate.

And the thing is, he can’t really go with one of the songs he played her before because one wrong look in Steve’s direction and he’d be fucked for life. Or even worse, a love song - that’d make for a real awkward evening. So, he finally settles on a song that’s neither of those, but still a song that’s very close to his heart.

“Back through the years, I go wonderin’ once again. Back to the seasons of my youth…” Eddie sings softly, though his drawl rolls out of him with full force.

He can’t help it, it’s the only way he knows how to sing this song because it’s the way his momma sang it to him every night before going to bed. Tucking him in tightly underneath the duvet, covering his face with kisses until he couldn’t stop giggling. Her voice soft and warm as she sang him to sleep.

“There were rags of many colors, every piece was small. And I didn’t have a coat and it was way down in the fall. Mama sewed the rags together, sewin’ every piece with love. She made my coat of many colors, that I was so proud of.”

He thinks of Wayne. Thinks of the clothes Wayne gave him while growing up. How he wore them to school with pride, excited to have clothes to call his own. To have a home and someone taking care of him, not because Wayne had to but because he wanted to.

“So with patches on my britches and in holes in both my shoes, in my coat of many colors, I hurried off to school. Just to find the others laughing and are making of fun of me, in my coat of many colors my mama made for me.”

Thinks of his classmates laughing at his accent, at the way he dressed, at his amazement of seeing snow for the very first time. Remembers going home to Wayne with tears in his eyes, stuffing his plaid shirts into the deepest corner of his closet and trading it for plain black tees instead. Remembers staying up late when Wayne was at work to practice his speech pattern by watching old tv-shows and repeating the lines.

Looks up at his friends. Realizes how he’s showcasing all those parts he hid away for years and is for once, rewarded for it. They’re listening intently, proud smiles on their faces. Nancy and Robin are leaning against each other, their fingers finding their way to one another.

Glances over at Steve, whose hands are folded underneath his chin as he looks at Eddie with a gentle smile, his eyes soft and almost like honey underneath the warm ceiling lights of the bar. He barely blinks, eyes glued to Eddie and Eddie only. It’s a bit distracting, if Eddie’s being honest. He feels his cheeks heat up and he almost misses a chord at one point, realizing then and there why he didn’t pick a love song in the first place.

He needs to sing, not melt into a puddle of goo underneath Steve’s gaze, goddammit.

“Now I know we had no money, but I was rich as I could be. In my coat of many colors, my mama made for me. Made just for me…”

The song softly fades away and Eddie mumbles a quick thanks into the microphone as his friends and the rest of the the bar burst out into applause. He shuffles over to the table where he’s met with Robin and Nancy beaming at him and pulling him into a tight hug.

“That was so good.” Nancy gushes.

“Yeah, it was amazing! You should switch music genres, if I’m honest.” Robin nods. “Change Corroded Coffin’s name into Corroded Cowboy or something.”

Eddie chuckles. “Not sure if the guys are gonna like that. But thanks, girls. Means a lot.”

Steve stays strangely quiet in between Robin and Nancy’s stream of compliments, just fiddling with the coaster in between his fingers. It’s not until Nancy drags Robin to the dance floor when an upbeat song starts playing and Eddie slides into one of the empty seats they left behind, that Steve speaks up.

“You have a really nice voice, you know that?”

He says it so softly that Eddie can barely hear him over the bluegrass music on the speakers. Still, it’s enough for Eddie’s cheeks to flush pink.

“Thanks.” Eddie replies, ducking his head to prevent Steve from seeing his flushed face.

“Seriously, man.” Steve says. “Think about Robin said. I mean, I love hearing you sing and scream about the world’s injustices with Corroded Coffin as much as the next person but…”

Eddie’s heart starts beating out of his chest because holy fuck, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing, Steve loves hearing him sing.

“But these songs seem to come so natural to you, y’know?” Steve glances up to meet Eddie’s eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “You make it seem so…”

“Easy?” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles and there’s something in his eyes that Eddie can’t quite decipher. A secret that only Steve seems to know. “Yeah, exactly. Easy.”

Eddie feels the flush on his face deepen underneath Steve’s gaze and he needs a way out before he starts doing something incredibly stupid like drag him to the bathroom just to see what happens when he calls Steve darlin’.

“You want a refill?” Eddie says quickly, gesturing towards the empty beer bottle on the table. “My treat.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks, Eddie.”

The sound of his own name rolling off Steve’s tongue almost makes Eddie stumbles as he stands up makes his way towards the bar. Smooth, Munson, real fuckin’ smooth.

“Two beers please.” Eddie tells Pat, drumming his ring-adorned hands on the faded wood of the bar.

“Here ya go.” Pat says, handing him the drinks. Eddie’s about to turn back, when she stops him. “Ed, I don’t mean to mess with your head or anythin’… But are ya sure that boy’s straight?”

Eddie snorts. “What’d you mean? ‘Course he is.”

“Well, I won’t be so sure about that, kiddo.” Pat says with a knowing smile. “I’ve been seein’ the way he looks at you tonight and well… let’s just say it’s the same way I look at Tish every morning I wake up next to her.”

Eddie looks up to where Steve’s chatting with Jack, one of the older regulars who’s an actually banjo player in his spare time. He just watches them for a minute, a soft smile playing around his lips, the one he always gets when he’s looking at Steve.

Steve looks up and their eyes meet, a bright smile appearing on his face as he wiggles his hands in the air to wave at Eddie. He seems so happy and he’s never looked more beautiful.

Christ, Eddie’s so in love with him.

“That. That look right there. No one looks at their platonic friend like that. Not when there are other feelings involved.” Pat says firmly. “You might wanna start re-thinkin’ this whole situation, Ed.” She adds cryptically and returns to where she’s drying off another glass.

A tingly feeling spreads all over Eddie’s body, a shiver running up his spine. It should feel nice, it does feel nice, but at the same time Eddie knows it’s actually the worst feeling in the world.

Hope.

tag list:

@solosnail @gothbat99 @unclewaynemunson @legitcookie @henderdads @goblin-eddie @trikigirl271 @alienace @stevethehairington @blank1eboi @fruitandbubbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @stereoteleversion @wrenisflying @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @punkharringtxn @remislupinisthevoiceofgod @panicatthediaz @thegingervulcan @sharkruption @goodolefashionedloverboi @thelastwalkingsoul @undreamingscatworld @magpiemuseum @mightbeasleep @maya-custodios-dionach @theokatz @this-earlobe-is-naked

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #this one got away from me #i got cursed by munson family feels as i often do #also sorry to everyone i tried to tag but somehow failed to do so??#really dunno what happened there #alice's writing adventures

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luvfy0dor · 7 months

Text

Rhythm Is A Dancer !! ✩‧₊˚ Bsd x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧

Warnings/Disclaimers ; Alcohol (Chuuya), nothing toxic though

Description ; Various bsd characters dancing with their partner!

A/N; if this is well received I might do this prompt with other characters!! I have some ideas for other things though, school just makes it tough to actually put them into writing without getting easily distracted.

Dazai Osamu !! ✧⁠*⁠。

Dazai would like to dance with his partner every now and again. Sometimes he might pull you into his chest and start swaying with you to cheer you up, or he might do it to annoy you. I think anytime he cleans his Godforsaken apartment he would invite you over, one hand on your waist, the other holding your hand outwards. Dazai dances spontaneously. I don't think there is any specific dance the really likes, he just goes with the flow. Whatever dance seems most fitting for the moment is what he's gonna do.

He particularly enjoys dipping his partner like he did to Sigma. He would grin as he watches your face contort into one of playful annoyance, placing a soft kiss on your lips shortly after. He would pull you back up, placing one of his hands on your lower back.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"Dear, I've just cleaned my apartment, would you like to come over? We can have a movie night at my place instead...I can even help pay for food this time!" Dazais voice enthusiastically played through the speaker of your phone as you wiped down your kitchen counters. "Like...right now?" You asked, your head tilting as you spoke.

"Mhm! C'mon, it'll be fun! I'm sure you were on your feet all day, why not come see your lovely boyfriend and relax, yeah?" He said. You could almost hear his grin through the phone as you sighed. "Alright, all be over in like...fifteen minutes." You say, smiling before hanging up. You gather your things and make your way to his apartment. You arrive fairly quickly, using the spare key he left at your house to let yourself in.

"I'm here!" You announce setting your bag down. Dazai quickly pokes his head out of his bedroom, a large smile on his face. "Ah, finally! You took forever." He teases. It only takes a second for the ambiance of "Careless Whispers" playing to fill your ears, making you roll your eyes and blush. "C'mon, dance with me, dear."

Dazais hands find themselves either on your lower back or interlocked with one of yours as he starts to sway with you to the intro of the song. You find yourself giggling quietly as you both dance around the open space of his living room. He spins you a couple times and you spin him, ending the song with him dipping you. His face hovers just above yours, his hair softly resting against your skin as he leans in and kisses you.

Chuuya Nakahara !! ✧⁠*⁠。

I think Chuuya knows how to dance. It's not his favorite thing in the world, but he'd dance with his lover if it made them happy and he wasn't tired. He would mostly come out of his shell when it comes to dancing if he's drunk, that man can do the salsa dance, he can tango, he can waltz - you name it, he can do it. He's definitely a smoother dancer when drunk, there are times when he has two left feet sober. He definetly gets that confidence boost. He doesn't like the whip and nae nae though, he probably thinks it's stupid. He's cool with the chacha slide, though.

Chuuya enjoys to romanticism and intimacy of dancing with his partner. He loves the laughter that erupts from your lips, giving him butterflies every time he hears it. It only makes him fall further for you.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The bar was quite packed as you sat at one of the stools, sipping on some water. Your lover sits besides you, drunkenly conversing with some random guy as you listened in. They would occasionally say some silly things to each other, their loud laughs covering up the sound of your quieter ones. Apart from that, there was little entertainment in the bar, your phone being very close to dying. You observe the small things happening in the bar, the way other couples lovingly engage in conversation, or the way two people dance near the jukebox, one of them spinning the other as the song comes to an end.

You feel Chuuya's arm snake around your waist, instantly returning your attention to him. His head still turned towards the man as he continues talking. Their current conversation based around the prices of certain brands of wine - specifically Chuuyas favorite, Petrus.

"The fact that $3,900 USD is a low price for one bottle is insane! Doesn't stop me from buying it though." He laughs a little. The man laughs with him, nodding in agreement. Your attention returns to the people near the jukebox, now dancing to Por Una Cabeza. Your ears perk up when you recognize the song. "Chuuya likes this song..." You thought. "Maybe he'll wanna dance."

Upon the short silence between the two men, you took your chance to ask Chuuya. You gently tugged at his sleeve, grabbing his attention.

"Chuuya, wanna go dance?" You say, pointing over at the decently sized area. "They're playing Por Una Cabeza." You smiled at him, influencing the nod you receive. "Sure thing, doll. C'mon." He smiles with you, hopping off of the bar stool. You both make your way to the small but big-enough cleared area, starting to slowly dance with each other, incorporating parts of the tango dance as you go. Your body is hugged close to his, one of his hands on your lower back, the other extended and holding yours. The song ends after a couple of minutes, Chuuya leaning in close to your face, a bit out of breath.

"I really should let ya' drag me out to the dance floor more, that was fun." He chuckles softly, pecking your cheek. You smile, a soft blush on your face.

Fyodor Dostoevsky !! ✧⁠*⁠。

Fyodor loves ballroom dancing, he was taught as a child and it has always stuck with him. He finds it both intimate and elegant, the soft sound of classical music by Russian composers playing in the background as you both delicately move across the open space. He won't be up and dancing for long though with his anemia, so he would take a moment in between songs.

That doesn't stop him from pulling you into him and swaying to the instrumentals coming from his record player, though. He dances with you whenever provided the chance. His plans weren't going exactly as planned? Take a moment to clear his mind by dancing with his lover. His lover that stands beside him, offering as much support and love as possible. His lover that is there for him, no matter what.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You barely heard your boyfriend walk up behind you, jumping a bit when he rested his hands on your shoulders, peering over you to look at what you were doing. "Ah, my dear seems to be a bit jumpy today." A small laugh comes from his parted lips.

"A little,i I guess. You scared me. You're very quiet, like a mouse." You say, slipping your book mark between the pages of the novel you had started reading a few nights ago. Fyodors hand reaches for yours, interlocking your fingers together gently. You take his hand and stand up from your desk, leaning into his chest.

"My dear, it's been quite a while since we've danced together, no?" He softly asks, a small smile on his face as he leads you over to the record player, only letting go of your hand to carefully start the machine. He rests his head softly on your shoulder, inhaling the scent of your cologne or perfume. His hands resting either on the small of your back or in your own. "You always smell so lovely." You laugh a bit at his compliment.

"You must feel awfully affectionate this evening." You say. Your fingers softly scratch at Fyodors scalp, massaging his head as you two move together to the soft song. "Do you not like it?" You're quick to shake your head. "No, I love it. Forget I ever said anything." You softly giggle. Fyodor smiles and his eyes meet yours. You can hear the song coming to an end, and he pulls you in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate and loving kiss.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs dazai #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader

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oneshlut · 5 months

Note

Can you do The Amazing Digital Circus characters meeting the reader for the first time?

A/N: ofcofc!! thanks for the request, i ADORE writing for tadc! <33 (keeping these platonic since most characters i write for in tadc are platonic)

Another New Home (TADC & Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General meeting/friendship headcanons for ALL characters of TADC

Caine:

Seeing as he's the ringmaster, Caine introduces himself first!

Tries to be a bit less louder than he was with Pomni. She's actually been talking with him lately, trying to get him to be a bit more friendly! And human!

Can you blame him for being slightly rude? He's not even human, so he can't be blamed for not understanding certain emotions.

But you help him understand! He'll ask you from time to time about what certain human things mean.

When you first spawned into the circus, Caine helped pick out a name for you! By that I mean he chose it for you. You didn't get a say in anything.

Your relationship now? Well, he makes sure you don't get abstracted! That's enough for a good friend, right?

Pomni:

Immediately freaked out hearing a new name in the theme song. DESPERATELY hopes you're not too weird, like Kinger or.. Jax? Well, she hopes you're not rude like Jax

After meeting you, she's pleasantly surprised! You two can kinda relate to your situation. Jax likes to call you two the "newbies".

Pomni tries her best to explain to you what the digital circus even means for you, what abstraction is, and what not. She may not be able to answer all of your questions, though.

Thinks you're one of the "normal" ones to hang out with. Tries sticking with you during Caine's adventures. (She just needs someone else that gets her. Luckily, you fit that role perfectly.)

If she's comfortable enough with you, some days she may visit you in your room! Pomni doesn't do this often, though, so feel lucky.

Overall, the two of you are existential crisis buddies! If you become friends with her, be prepared for lots of deep thoughts and.. well, confusion.

Ragatha:

Ragatha is always eager to meet someone new in the circus! Despite how dire your situation may be, she tries her best to cheer you up.

Every morning she checks the doors before going down to the grounds, and that morning she found your door. Your design intrigued her, she just had to meet you!

She definitely explains abstraction better than Pomni tried to. When you get nervous about.. well, going insane, she heavily reassures you. Although Caine's adventures may seem like hell, they're actually pretty fun! Sometimes.

Ragatha shows you to your room, before she lets you get to know everyone else. She tries to stay optimistic for you, but you can kinda feel her underlying worries about the situation as she explains it.

She's definitely one of the easier people in the circus to get along with. If you get to know her a bit better, she may open up to you! Ragatha will try to tell you everything she knows about her past self, but she's left with very little wisps of what she used to be like.

Ragatha is on the more nicer and motherly side of the group, so when you can you try to spend time with her. If you put in the right effort, Ragatha will become really fond of you!

Jax:

If you've read my other works, you'll know Jax isn't one for new people. And at the same time he is. He's really indecisive.

But meeting you wasn't too bad. You weren't overwhelmingly annoying, but you did have some elements to your character that he could tease or make fun of.

Your first impression of Jax was.. honestly kind of bad. He was a complete dick, what more do you expect? To say the least, his antics did not help your increasing confusion.

If you still hang out with him after your horrible introductions, he would be.. amused. Becoming friends with Jax was just setting yourself for failure. Walking into a bear trap.

He teased you, pranked you relentlessly, and made sure you failed horribly during Caine's adventures. Why? I dunno, it was funny.

Jax will tone down his asshole nature as time goes on, and the closer you are with him.

You'll know he's placed his full trust in you when he asks you to help him out with a prank.

Zooble:

According to Zooble, her name for you was 'weirdo' in her head until she met you. As is for everyone, I suppose.

Your first meeting was.. awkward? You had asked her how her limbs worked, detachable and all. It was intriguing to hear about, though.

One thing you shared in common with her was probably both of your lackluster attempts at Caine's adventures, before just deciding to give up.

When you were too tired to commit to an adventure, you'd hang out with Zooble. She was nice company, and much different from others who were much more chaotic. Spending time with Zooble gave your brain a rest, a chance to slow down. And.. it was nice.

Zooble may seem unwilling to befriend you, but I promise she's trying. Not many people actually try to befriend her, unless it's Jax. If you count Jax's pranks as a way of befriending.

In all honesty, when you first met her, you kinda thought she would be.. crazy. Like Kinger. Maybe it was her design, with all the colors in all its glory, but you found yourself pleasantly surprised!

As long as you aren't a natural annoying person, or push buttons like Jax, Zooble eill probably grow fond of you! She won't admit it, though.

Gangle:

Oohh, Gangle. She's a tough one. Right now she's focused on her comedy mask, and doesn't even notice you when you first spawn in.

When you come to say hi, she's still in sorrows. She wishes you could've seen her happier side when you first arrived..

You try to help Gangle fix her mask, but you.. kinda end up making it worse. You apologize profusely. Don't worry, she forgives you. She may have just cried a bit more.

The more you hang out with her, the more comfortable she will get with you. She's a tough one to break, so it may take a while for Gangle to become fully trusting in you.

Try not to make any sudden movements or bursts of affection, because she will cry. Gangle, being as emotional as she is, will probably break down if you're too nice to her. They're happy tears, I swear. She's just not as used to affection like she was before.

As you grow closer, you begin to notice the little things. Gangle begins to show hints of smiles, and if you're lucky, she'll giggle a bit at a joke.

If you're patient with Gangle, she'll get attached to you. Sorry, no take backsies. She's just happy to finally have someone to feel safe around.

Kinger:

Kinger is.. a wild card. Don't get me wrong, Kinger is one of my favorite characters, but you have to admit he's a bit startling at times. And confusing. So imagine meeting him after being transported to another reality, already confused enough with your current situation, and now having to deal with Kinger's personality.

Him being a bit, you know.. coo-coo, he kinda ignored you at first. Kinger thought he was just hallucinating again, as per usual. Then you spoke, and he immediately jumped.

Speaking to him leaves you a bit frazzled, but you don't mind. He asks a lot of confusing questions about you, like how many half-syllables are in your name. You don't even know your name yet..

But you spend time with him anyways, he can be fun at times! He's decently helpful on adventures, and is a joy to have outside of Caine's antics. (What I'm trying to say here is that you build fortresses together.)

Kinger categorizes all of his friends using chess pieces. He says your a knight. Not even he knows why, he just one day told you that you seemed like a knight.

Grow close enough, and this humanized chess piece will ramble on and on about plants and insects to you. When he's ranting, you can barely make out anything he says, as his words naturally seem to blend together. Honestly? He's probably neurodivergent.

One day he'll tell you about Queenie. But it's gonna take a while. Estimated 5 years. For now, you two are great friends! In a way, Kinger feels like this weird childhood friend you never had. And Kinger.. still sees you as a knight.

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gardenschedule · 1 month

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John not meaning what he says

You know, we all say a lot of things when we don’t know what we’re talking about. I’m probably doing it now, I don’t know what I say. You see, everybody takes you up on the words you said, and I’m just a guy that people ask all about things, and I blab off and some of it makes sense and some of it is bullshit and some of it’s lies and some of it is — God knows what I’m saying. I don’t know what I said about Maharishi, all I know is what we said about Apple, which was worse.

John Lennon: The Rolling Stone Interview, Part One

“It’s sort of complicated but sometimes you say things, but it’s not really what you meant to say. If I say something to you and you hear it different from what I’ve said it, and you answer back and we’re not really getting down to it. I’m really talking like that you know. Like somebody says ‘do you want ice cream?’ and I’ll say no, and actually I meant yes. You find yourself saying the opposite of what you mean. This happens to me quite a lot. I speak a lot, but what I say is not always what I mean.“

John Lennon, 1973.

‘I was told recently by Yoko that one of the things that hurt John over the years was me going off and doing The Family Way,’ Paul says. The filmmaking Boulting brothers had approached him via George Martin. ‘I thought this was a great opportunity. We were all free to do stuff outside the Beatles and we’d each done various little things.’ When he mentioned it to John, Paul said, ‘He would have had his suit of armour on and said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Paul McCartney, c/o Ray Coleman, McCartney: Yesterday and Today. (1995)

But by the time I arrived, an agitated John was deeply involved indeed. More specifically, he was having a row with Paul and George Martin. “We’ve already done the concept album,” he argued, presumably referring to Pepper. “Why do we need to do another one?” “Look, John, we’re just trying to think symphonically,” George replied. “We’re trying to create a complete work out of song fragments.” John was derisive at first, saying, “You’re taking yourselves too seriously,” but when Paul invited him to contribute some compositions of his own to the medley, he seemed to capitulate. “Well, I might have one or two that could fit,” he said sheepishly. I exchanged glances with Paul. I’m sure we were both thinking the same thing: He’s just been waiting to be asked.

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

SHEFF: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)

PLAYBOY: "When you talk about working together on a single lyric like "We Can Work It Out,' it suggests that you and Paul worked a lot more closely than you've admitted in the past. Haven't you said that you wrote most of your songs separately, despite putting both of your names on them?" LENNON: "Yeah, I was lying. (laughs) It was when I felt resentful, so I felt that we did everything apart. But, actually, a lot of the songs we did eyeball to eyeball."

John Lennon, 1980

“No, no, no,” he answered and he meant it. “I’m going to be an ex-Beatle for the rest of my life so I might as well enjoy it, and I’m just getting around to being able to stand back and see what happened. A couple of years ago I might have given everybody the impression I hate it all, but that was then. I was talking when I was straight out of therapy and I’d been mentally stripped bare and I just wanted to shoot my mouth off to clear it all away. Now it’s different. “When I slagged off the Beatle thing in the papers, it was like divorce pangs, and me being me it was blast this and fuck that, and it was just like the old days in the Melody Maker, you know, ‘Lennon Blasts Hollies’ on the back page. You know, I’ve always had a bit of a mouth and I’ve got to live up to it. Daily Mirror: ‘Lennon beats up local DJ at Paul’s 21st birthday party’. Then we had that fight Paul and me had through the Melody Maker, but it was a period I had to go through.

John Lennon, interview w/ Ray Coleman for Melody Maker: Lennon – a night in the life. (September 14th, 1974)

GEORGE: I remember the day when John did an interview with a certain magazine and said certain things, and then I remember the day when he disagreed with what he’d said, but the man who interviewed him denied him the right to change his mind and, even though it was two and a half years, later still went ahead and published something which John said he no longer agreed with himself on. Which means the dream was over, yet certain people wouldn’t allow him to have his dream... over. Nudge nudge wink wink, say no more. [inaudible] JOHN: In other words, imagine if somebody or if you accidentally bang your head and you shout, “Ow!” – that’s the end of it. [self-conscious; laughs] Right? GEORGE: And he said that too. JOHN: I mean, it doesn’t go on for the next five years, right? And we all did that.

December 21st, 1974 (New York)

INT: It seem that you did minimize a little bit, what the, what the effect was on the, value and lifestyle and all that. You said that there was almost nothing left of Beatles. JOHN: Well I get bitter too, you know. And uh, also it was always the insistence that the Beatles led something, you know. And if anything they were figureheads, you know. And, I put it more succinctly later on when I thought about it. When I said those statements A) I was bitter and upset; emotionally upset cause we just split up, you know. I call it a divorce right. But when I think about it, obviously…you know, I can change my mind.

John interviewed by Jean-François Vallée in April 1975.

Underground journalist Felix Dennis watched the session. ‘I remember Ringo getting more and more upset by this… I have a clear memory of him saying, “That’s enough, John.”’ Lennon and Ono competed to come up with the most insulting lines, Dennis said. ‘Some of it was absolutely puerile. Thank God a lot of it never actually got recorded because it was highly, highly personal, like a bunch of schoolboys standing in the lavatory making scatological jokes.’ ‘John would forgive himself, and expect Paul to forgive him,’ Derek Taylor recalled.

Peter Doggett, You Never Give Me Your Money: The Battle for the Soul of the Beatles. (2009)

I went through a period of trying to encourage Paul by writing and saying things that I thought would spur him on. But I think they were misunderstood. That's how "How Do You Sleep?" (on the "Imagine" album) was intended. Although I suppose it was a bit hard on him.

John Lennon Talks To Ray Connolly May 18th 1972 Radio Times

“At the moment he is cut off from the three of us. The last time I saw him was in December.” Asked whether he thought John Lennon’s recent unkind references to Paul on his “Imagine” album, had deepened the rift, George replied: “Maybe John felt like that about Paul at the time he was writing the song, but he doesn’t feel like that all the time. The song doesn’t represent what he really feels. It’s just John – people don’t really understand. “I think John��s record is great – though that track about Paul is a bit hard. But it’s only something felt at the time . . . ”

George Harrison, interviewed by Mike Hennessey for Record Mirror (October 16, 1971)

JOHN: (smiles) You know, I wasn’t really feeling that vicious at the time. But I was using my resentment toward Paul to create a song, let’s put it that way. He saw that it pointedly refers to him, and people kept hounding him about it. But, you know, there were a few digs on his album before mine. He’s so obscure other people didn’t notice them, but I heard them. I thought, Well, I’m not obscure, I just get right down to the nitty-gritty. So he’d done it his way and I did it mine. But as to the line you quoted, yeah, I think Paul died creatively, in a way.

John’s Playboy interview as published in the magazine’s January 1981 issue

He turned to me and told me that he had been equally vicious about Paul during the same period and that Paul had got it right when he had declared that the only person John was hurting with his vitriolic behavior was himself. It was not exactly an apology, more like an explanation.

Glyn Johns, Sound Man: A Life Recording Hits with the Rolling Stones, the Who, Led Zeppelin, the Eagles, Eric Clapton, the Faces… (2014)

“I have to ask you, what was all that stuff in the telegraph about?... And he’s gone oh yeah, look, speak to Paul about that, I wasn’t in a good place mentally at the time. Just speak to Paul about it…. I thought it was a real cop out because he had hurt me, he’d said something unfair, and rather than just apologise, what he basically said was I’ve apologised to Paul, and Paul’s accepted my apology for for my behaviour in that period, the immediate aftermath of the Beatles, and therefore speak to him and he will explain to you why you should forgive me”.

I am the EggPod guest Sam Delaney talking about a Get Back screening Q&A with Glynn Johns

“I’m trying to be mad at you, but you’re so nice, it isn’t easy,” Glyn replied. Then he explained that he had been upset by John’s comments about him in the “Lennon Remembers” interviews. John had said that Let It Be, which had been re-mixed by Glyn, had wound up sounding awful, and Glyn, a true professional, had been very offended by John’s comments. John did not remember saying it at all and he was very embarrassed. He explained, “I had just done primal therapy. I was just lettin’ off steam. That interview was just a lot of anger.” Glyn stared at John. John’s words had hurt him, and he had never expected that John would not remember what he had said, nor had he perceived that the comments would be dismissed as “just lettin’ off steam.” Like everyone else, he believed everything the public John said and took him very seriously. John repeatedly apologised to Glyn, and eventually the matter was dropped.

Loving John

“John’s most influential interviews, interviews which people took as gospel truth, were for John occasions to blow off steam and then to forget what he had said.”

May Pang, The Lost Weekend

At the time, we at Apple weren’t feeling good anyway, because Apple had failed; and here was one of our friends telling everyone who reads Rolling Stone that we were bastards. In the end we had to say, ‘Well, we’re not.’ John later retracted some of it, and we became friends again. And I forgave him. He would forget he’d said it, and expect to be forgiven, as he always was.

Derek Taylor, interview w/ Peter Doggett for Record Collector. (August, 1988)

John had gone through a tremendous upheaval in his private life, and he was a very odd person at times; he wasn’t at all himself. There was the famous interview he did for Rolling Stone, which has been reprinted many times, in which he says many unfair and untrue things, slagged everybody off, including me. I took him to task over it later on, asking him, “Why did you say all those things? It wasn’t very nice.” He said, “Oh, I was just stoned out of my head.” That was his only apology, really. Unfortunately, that has become history now; it’s accepted as the Bible.”

George Martin, interview w/ Howard Massey for Musician. (February, 1999)

“If you look at interviews and stuff with John, from around about that time he was in Imagine [documentary] he kind of admits that he’s having problems with himself. So, well, the first thing you do when you’re having problems with yourself is you bitch about someone else. And the closest person was me…He had a real go at me. I personally think it was ‘cause he was trying to clear the decks for Yoko. He’s got a new love, he’s trying to say to her, “Look, baby, I love you. I hate those guys.” And I think—you also have to remember John was going through a lot of problems. And you know, as they say, people, when they’re going through problems, come out with that kind of stuff. You know that, we all know that. When you’re in a bad mood, the first thing you do is badmouth somebody else. You don’t want to badmouth yourself…Some of the times, he was having other sorts of problems…So—like most of what John said, I take it with a pinch of salt. I love him still. I don’t care what he said, you know. Even if he badmouths me, I still know that he was a great guy, and that he loved me.”

Paul McCartney

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon

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