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melanieph321 · 3 months

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Pedri x Black Reader - Our Secret Part 4/10

The story of Marcella and Pedri. As students of the most prestigious high schools in the country, the two are very focused on developimg their indvidual talents. Marcella has music whilst Pedri has football. However, worlds collide when Pedri's secret is revealed, he has diabetes.

Enjoy!

"Perdi? Are you in here?"

No response.

It was a first, considering that he had been showing up around the sametime everyday of this week.

"Marcella?"

"Yes?"

She heard a low groan coming from the corner of the room. Pedri lay outstretched on the old sofa, yet to awaken.

"Um, are you okay?"

It was well past lunch hours. She would usually find him behind the drums, or playing an imaginary guitar solo on one of the broken violinis.

"Yeah." He said, making efforts to sit up. "Got any snacks?"

"Actually I do."

He raised a brow. "You do?"

Marcella dug through her backpack. "Yeah, um, my mom she made these African samosas, but we call them sambusas. Here, try one." She went over to the sofa, handing him a sambusa. Pedri took it and did not hesitate to taste it. Matter of fact, he finished it in seconds.

"That was good. Can I have another one?"

Marcella's shoulders fell. "No. That was it."

"Oh."

There was an awkward silence.

"So... how's the song coming on, it needs to be done by Friday, no?"

"Yes, and I actually took your adviced."

"Really?" He smiled.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, it was only a few changes." Marcella went over to the piano, Pedri followed, but got up at his own pace. "I took out the part where I rhyme time with crime and crazy with lazy."

"That's good." He nodded. "That's...." Coming around the piano he squinted his eyes at the sheet music.

"What?" She said, anxiously biting her nails. "You don't like it?" Even though she said she didn't care, Marcella kind of cared about Pedri's option of the song. His advice throughout the week had been surprisingly helpful. He sighed as he sat down next to her. "I like it Marcella, I really do. But why is the song still in English?"

"Not this again." She rolled her eyes and grabbed the sheet music.

"What?" He questioned.

"Look, Spanish isn't even my first language, it's French. I might as well sing in French, no?"

Pedri shrugged, "If it makes the song more sincere. You supposed to sing from your heart. I really think that's what señor Garcia meant for you to achieve with this assignment."

"Well, what do you know?" It was Marcella's usual response to when Pedri overthrew her with reason. She could see where today's session was going. It was not going to be useful to her if she'd spent half the time arguing with Pedri who had no involvement in the music program whatsoever.

"Are you leaving?" He frowned, seeing her get up and grabbed her things. "Already?"

"I need to finish the song by Friday and this isn't working for me."

"What? Us?" He stared at her blankly, perhaps wondering if he said something to offend her.

"I'm sorry Pedri, I'll see you around."

"Marcella, wait!"

She pushed the door open, ignoring his plea. But then he stopped pleading and started playing the piano.

Marcella paused in the doorframe, the melody familiar to her.

Cualquier cosa que haga está mal para ti..... (Anything I do is wrong for you.)

It was her song but....

Te quiero, tú me quieres, pero ¿por qué seguimos dudando.... (I love you, you love me, but why do we keep doubting?)

....he was singing.

Pedri's hands floted across the piano keys. And his voice....

Vuelve a mí y yo volveré a ti. Por favor, encuentra a mitad de camino. (Come back to me and I will come back to you. Please meet halfway.)

Marcella's feet betrayed her, reentering the room. Pedri was still playing and singing as she sat down next to him. There was no sheet music, he was playing by heart. And the lyrics, they were his own.

He nudged her shoulder "Sing."

"I don't..." She looked for the lyrics. He must have written them down somwhere. "Just sing Marcella! Improvise, from the heart."

Dudo de mí pero no de ti, porque el amor nunca duda. (I doubt myself but not you, because love never doubts.)

The words flowed out of her, along with the melody.

Te quiero, tú me quieres, pero ¿por qué seguimos dudando.... (I love you, you love me, but why do we keep doubting?)

Pedri joined in and now they were singing together, all of it coming from the heart. Marcella was buzzing all over once Pedri's hands stopped playing and the music died.

An unknown but exciting vibration flowed through her body.

"That was..."

Her sentence was interrupted as Pedri turned to look at her, his expression hard to read. He leaned forward, his warm lips sneaking up on her own.

"Pedri." She pulled back, a slight terror in her eyes.

He said nothing, eyes still darting hungrily at her lips.

"I don't..."

She tried to speak but his hands went to cup her face, railing her back in. Marcella closed her eyes, letting it happen, letting Pedri Gonzalez kiss her the way he wanted, slow and wet. It wasn't her first kiss, but this one was definitely the most exciting one. Pedri held her down, kissing her gently but rough at the same time. His tounge caressed hers gently and at times he would pull back as if to check that what he was doing to her was okay.

"I have to go." He eventually whispered, when his face was nuzzled up in the crease of her neck, his lips pressed against the pulse of her throat.

Marcella sighed but nodded. "Okay."

He pulled back to look at her, reaching forwards to stroke a thumb across her plump lips. "Nobody knows....that I can sing." He said. "None of my friends."

She smiled. "Now would be a good time to tell them, don't you think?"

He shook his head. "You can keep the song, it's yours. Just promise me that you won't tell anybody about this, about...."

"Us?" Up until just moments ago Marcella had never thought about her and Pedri being an us. She had thought of him as arrogant, inconsiderate and not to mention that he was friends with Gavi. No, Pedri had never been her type, although she could see why other girls may believe that he was theirs.

"Marcella? You okay?" He was cupping her cheek again, gently stroking her skin with his fingertips.

"Um, yeah, sure. I'm okay."

"Yes?"

She nodded. "Sure, I um, I won't tell anybody about the song or about..." She looked up as he stood.

"There is a football match on Friday, you should come." He spoke as if nothing had happened between them, as if the emotions that Marcella was feeling were of her imagination.

"I...can't."

"No? Why not?" Pedri grabbed his gym bag, throwing it over his shoulder.

"I have to go dress shopping with my mom. My friend is celebrating her seventeenth birthday on Saturday."

"Martina Blanco?"

She frowned. "How did you know?"

Pedri smiled. "Lucky guess." He moved on to the door, throwing her one last glance. "I'll see you Saturday Marcella."

"Um, I'll... He was gone before she could finish the sentence. "...see you?"

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer imagine #footballer x reader #football angst #pedri #pedri x black reader #pedrito #pedri/gavi #pedri x reader #fc barcelona #pedri gonzalez

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ohmykittenholy · 4 years

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lumberjanes week day “three”: favorite brotp & otp (at once!!)

Uh so I lost my entire perception of time, as you do, so here’s my Diane and Molly brotp and Mally otp fic three hours after the day has ended.

Context is Molly and Diane have been getting pretty close (headcanons in other post basically apply) until Molly shows her her Greek Mythology fanfic and Diane makes fun of it a bit bc she has her own family and identity issues going on and Molly ends up really really internalizing it as she should be going to sleep, and Mal is on the bottom bunk trying to comfort her.

Trigger warning for self harm mention but no actual act, major anxiety/RSD and self hate, also it’s very very dark bc they’re in the woods so i talk about that a bunch

Sometimes Diane is an amazing friend. Sometimes Molly feels like her presence just lights her up, inside and out, her teasing and Molly’s awkward teasing back is a comfort when every word you say to everyone else is so calculated, so filtered, so...

Molly is tired of herself sometimes.

Tired that she thought she was strong enough for a new friendship like this, tired that it hurts so much after just a couple strings of words, maybe five, and a glance she keeps replaying and replaying and replaying in her head, she doesn’t want to be that girl.

This girl.

Whatever.

She’s tired that she thought she was made of the same light at the pantheon’s hearth, tired of her hopefulness that comes with daily archery practices at dawn and the zing and comfort of inside jokes and dizzyingly faster banter, almost indecipherable to anyone else. But then:

Icarus.

Wings.

She’s tired of having a heart that hurts this much, that stretches everything bad people say into painfully bright technicolor.

“Mol,”Mal asks softly, “you still up?”

“Y-yeah,” Molly whispers back. It’s pitch black in the Roanoke cabin, stars just barely peeking through the window and Molly automatically squints to find constellations, and then winces at the impulse and digs herself back into her sheet.

Luckily for them, everyone else sleeps deeply. Or pretends to, and hears Molly and Mal rambling to each other almost every night, and that’s a terrifying possibility Molly tries to block out.

She’s tired, and the other thoughts tangle incoherently in her head and it’s so much easier to focus on Mal’s voice.

“You didn’t talk much at dinner,” Mal says, like it’s a question, but it’s not.

Sometimes it hurts that she notices.

“Yeah no, um, not really.”

There’s a long, long, anxious pause.

“Can I come up there?” Mal asks, and Molly immediately feels the warmth of a blush on her cheeks.

“It’s- it’s really dark, I- you could hurt yourself trying to climb.”

“I thought you said I was brave, huh?”

It’s a joke, Molly knows it’s a joke, that Mal doesn’t mean it but...

“Mol. I would like to come up. If you’re comfy with it.”

“And I would like a girlfriend with all her limbs intact,”Molly says, her words gone wobbly, tears starting to catch in her eyelashes.

“Well I. Would like to comfort my girlfriend, and hopefully hold her hand, and that ladder is pretty stable and... this is not the first time we’ve done this, babe.”

“Okay,” Molly relents, heart twisting and twisting with the other girl’s words. She needs to stop being so sensitive, she needs to let this go, she needs-

There’s a Mal sounding creak on the other side of her bunk.

“Wow, yeah it really is dark out here,”Mal says quietly. “It’s never complete darkness in the city. You don’t think about that until you’re forced to, I guess. Spooky.”

“Comforting.”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

“You said hopefully we would...”

She’s too embarrassed to finish the rest.

“Oh. Yeah, hey, reach out your hand.”

Molly sits up and puts her hand in the void in front of her, feeling Mal’s wave around near it and then catching it and intertwining.

She thinks she’ll almost start crying again with how good it feels, but she just makes a little choked sound.

“Mol?”

“Do you ever wish you could take out your heart?” she says suddenly, their words interlapping.

“Molly,” Mal says back, her voice sounding so intently concerned it makes Molly curl up further in the dark.

“Not. It’s not about self harm. It’s a... metaphor. Do you wish you could... dial yourself back sometimes?”

“Yeah, me, of course. But never you.”

Molly doesn’t know how to begin with that, and the silence starts spooling around them again until Mal starts.

“Just... it’s like this. You still like me, right? Even though I don’t love the forest the way you do, and I’m always going to be terrified of the water and also a lot, a lot of other things, and even though I ramble to you constantly about bands you don’t care about.”

“I liked Beach Bunny!”

“Junk yeah! But, like you still-”

“It’s not even an “But I still like you.”” Molly interrupts, “I just like you. Those things are part of who you are.”

“Exactly,” Mal said, and Molly makes the sound of someone who had just walked into an obvious trap to make her feel better, and squeezes Mal’s hand.

“I’d never want you to take out your heart, Mol. I like you. So much, the whole person you are, and your feelings are so real and so valid. Someone who doesn’t understand that isn’t worth your time of day.”

“But it’s more complicated than that,” Molly starts and then stops, her point fuzzy with sleepiness.

“Sure. But it also sometimes it just isn’t.”

Molly squeezes her hand again.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime, you know?”

“Whyareyousogreat...”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, I just. I really like you.”

“I really like you too,”Mal says, and Molly can picture the smile sprouting on her face, and it makes her feel a little lighter.

She knows basically where Mal’s cheek is.

She has an outline in her head.

She kisses it, it smells like forest and the lemon face wash she uses and just Mal, and she lets it wash over her.

Catalogues it, a library of memories she wants to pull out later for when she’s not here.

“Oh,” Mal says.

“Was that okay?” Molly whispers.

“Yeah. I mean, of course. I mean- sweet Sappho.”

Molly doesn’t know how to respond to that, except start talking about Greek poets, which leads Mal to say a collection of words that are painfully familiar and has to-

“You’re quoting my fanfic?! Mal!!”

“I finally found it!”

“It took you weeks.”

“I had to use contraband phones! No one wants to share those! Unless you have an emergency and somehow according to Feryal “finding the most nerdy way to flirt with your girlfriend” is not that.”

“That sounds very hard,” Molly said, playing up the sympathy.

“I know, it’s a miracle I survived. My presence, truly a gift from the gods.”

“All of that,” Molly affirms, a smile creeping up on her face.

There’s a quick silence and a worry takes her under again. What if she thinks about my writing like how Diane did???

“Did you... did you like it?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course I did! You’re the best writer, I’m always telling you! You’ve got to teach me that play on words you did with “ichor” and how you figured that out, I need something like that for the song for the talent show. And the way you described everything! You should write song lyrics! Or poetry.”

“Mal.”

“What?”

“You’re not messing with me?”

There was a silence and then Molly felt just a small breath of a kiss on her cheek, and tried to contain her little gasp.

“Never,” Mal replied, and it was dark, darker than any city kid could fathom, but it was theirs and they could feel each other’s wide smiles like twin spirits in the pitch black night.

#lumberjanes week #lumberjanes #lumberjanes fan fic #mally #molly #mal yoo #my fic

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theladypirate · 3 years

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Adelaide: 1, 5, 22, 27, 36; Mal: 5, 11, 20

Adelaide-

1: Does your character have siblings or family members in their age group? Which one are they closest with?

She has 4 siblings, all roughly the same age, all adopted, although she is the oldest. In order, they are Maurice, Hilaire, Corina, and Veronique. She loves them all a lot but shes always had a particular fondness for Hilaire.

5: On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Caltrops, dried fruit, paper scraps, a bent copper coin worn thin and smooth from worrying, bits of plants she snagged off trees/bushes/etc

22: What does your character like in other people?

She likes people who are genuine- this does not necessarily mean honest. You can be a compulsive liar but if you're genuinely yourself about it she won't mind. She also likes competence, and kindness. And a nice ass doesn't hurt.

27: How does your character normally deal with confrontation?

Stabbing. More recently shes been trying a novel approach where she talks first. But mostly its the stabbing.

36: How does your character behave around people they dislike?

Shes very direct about the fact that she doesn't like them. And then she leaves bc why would she stay if she's not comfortable?

Mal-

5: On an average day, what can be found in your character’s pockets?

Gold, candied orange peel, letters to and from her friends, a locket with Sleater's face in it with a meticulously if somewhat inexpertly carved holy symbol of the wanderer on the front, a small smooth stone from the fountain Cara used to hang out by at the house, hastily scrawled lyrics on a torn sheet of paper

11: In what situation was your character the most afraid they’ve ever been?

Being attacked by swarms of magic canceling clockwork constructs rates pretty fuckin high up there. The night before the big end fight when she was fairly certain they were going to their deaths, but she needed to be with her friends.

20: In what ways does your character compare themselves to others? Do they do this for the sake of self-validation, or self-criticism?

Mal is incomparable and would be offended if anyone tried.

#mal #adelaide #thanks for the asks!

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edream93 · 6 years

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I don't know if you are still accepting prompts but here it goes: write a prompt inspired on what's my name but like Uma and Harry are singers and their record label have the idea of releasing a song Uma feat. Harry Hook and they just meet on the video clip day. Also Uma is Harry's celebrity crush...

Hi anon! Thank you for being so patient! When I first got this prompt, I actually laughed because I had been thinking of something similar literally days before. I’m glad that I was able to put some of those thoughts into an actual prompt. I do want to apologize though, if you’re a Mal fan, there’s a bit of Mal bashing in this one (I don’t necessarily hate Mal. I actually think she’s has the potential of being a really great character, but the last movie just dropped the ball on that. It was just the only way I could think of to make the story work).

Anyway, I hope you still enjoy and obviously, you should totally listen to “What’s My Name” at some point before, after, or while you’re reading.

After the media horror show that followed after Mal very publicly broke up with him (who the hell breaks up with someone right in the middle of an interview, he thought), singing artist Harry Hook wanted nothing to do with collaborating with another wannabe diva.

(He and Mal hadn’t even been dating, but when Mal had hinted that after their last project together - which had been an auto-tuned disaster - that they were something more than just colleagues and one time collaborators, his manager - also known as his harpy of a sister Harriet - had told him to neither confirm nor deny the rumors. After all, Mal’s manager/mother had been in this business long enough to squish his blossoming career with one snap of her red manicure fingers if he angered or insulted her daughter. With her beautiful features but caustic personality, Maleficent made The Darkest Fairy, sound more like a fact than a former stage name.)

“I’m not doing another song with some harpy who doesn’t even know the difference between B flat and A sharp,” Harry murmured darkly as he followed his oldest sister into the elevator that quickly took them to his record label’s, Second Star, recording studio.

“You’ll do what I tell you, little brother,” Harriet growled, over her shoulder, her black with red accented business attire doing nothing to lessen the air around her that practically declared that she was not one to be messed with. “And stop being a pretentious emo music nerd.”

Harry rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. Harriet may be annoying, but she had made a promise to help him reach his dreams when they were just wee tots and as she always did, she kept her promise. There weren’t many people in his life that Harry could trust but Harriet was one of them, despite how much she nagged.

As they entered the recording studio where Jonas was already setting things up, Harry took a moment to glance at the music that Harriet had handed him. He held in a groan when he saw the song’s name.

“What’s My Name? Seriously, Ettie? How self-entitled is this lass? This…Uma?” he questioned annoyed before he paused. “Wait. Uma? Where do I know this name from?”

“She’s Mal’s former ghost writer, man,” Jonas supplied from where he was checking sound levels. “The one that hacker, Son of Hades, revealed was actually behind all the award winning songs that Mal claimed to have written herself. After he broke into Spinning Needle Records database, he revealed all their fraud and creative theft they’ve been doing of small independent artists for years.”

Harry nodded. He vaguely remembered that. It had happened while he and Mal had still been “dating”. He did remember Mal stomping around in a rage after her stylist, Evie, sent her a message, muttering something about shrimp and “That bitch thinks she can go against me? I’m the fucking queen!” (The fact that this Uma seemed to inspire so much anger out of Mal definitely gave her a point in Harry’s book.)

“Maleficent let Uma go immediately despite how much obvious success she could have brought to their record,” Harriet continued, not looking up from her phone. “But her loss. Our gain. Uma left with a book full of songs she never showed that dragon bitch and Second Star swooped in on the opportunity and signed with her just a few weeks ago. The process is going a bit faster than usual for a new artist,” his sister said glancing up at him, “but Pan wants to capitalize on the media controversy, hoping that’ll help put Uma out there as a singer and give Mal some real competition.”

“And he loves messing with Maleficent,” Jonas added.

Harriet nodded, a wicked grin on her face. “Who doesn’t?”

Harry looked down at the music again, this time looking past the song’s title and to the actual lyrics.

“Not bad,” he muttered shifting the pages as he continued to glance at the obviously handwritten song sheets. “I’m guessing this is a big ‘fuck you’ letter to Mal?”

“You could put it that way,” Harriet shrugged before frowning. “Though not in public!”

Harry grinned, mischief woven into his smile as he headed towards the sound booth. “Maybe this collaboration won’t be so terrible after all.”

—

“This is terrible,” Harry moaned.

Unsympathetic giggles responded back as Dizzy Tremaine, his stylist, leaned around him to also take a look at the mirror in front of him.

“Didn’t you tell me that you wanted to be a pirate, once?” she continued to giggle.

“When I was a wee lad!” he exclaimed turning around to face the much younger woman. “Not now! This is just ridiculous!”

“It’s Pan just being cheeky,” Harriet said stepping into his dressing room, unannounced. “You know. Because of-

“Because of Da,” Harry said cutting her off. “I know, I know,” he sighed trying to not imagine what type of scathing criticism their father, the lead singer and guitarist and also co-founder of the of The Jolly Rogers along with Second Star current executive producer Peter Pan (and thorn in Harry’s side), would give him if the man was still alive.

He sighed, taking care to not wrinkle his pirate inspired costume. A production assistant had just stopped by a few minutes earlier to let them know that Uma’s makeup was taking a bit longer than expected and that he had a few extra minutes before he was needed on the set. He pulled out his phone and earbuds to tune Dizzy and Harriet out, quickly scrolling to a downloaded audio file. It wasn’t the best quality since the audio had been taken from a recorded video but Harry had found himself listening to it almost religiously every day since that day in the sound booth.

The audio was from a recording of Auradon Got Talent that was done years ago. As he closed his eyes and listened to the music, Harry imagined the stage in the video and the young and oh so small girl with teal hair that came onto the stage as if she was born on it. Her voice then had been powerful for such a small lass and now…he couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of her voice that he had heard when he was recording his part in her new song a week ago. Her talents had definitely been wasted forced into Mal’s shadow.

He felt an earbud being pulled from his ear and for a moment he thought it was Harriet who always had a bad habit of wanting to know what he was listening to, mother hen that she was despite her preferred edgy style.

“Huh. Haven’t heard this song in a long time,” a voice that was definitely not his sister’s startled him to open his eyes to look at the calculating expression of his current collaborator (and, if he was being perfectly honest, his current crush). He glanced around the room, seeing that Harriet and Dizzy were no longer there. (Damn, them.)

As he scrambled for something to say, Harry couldn’t help but appreciate how breathtaking and not to be messed with Uma looked in her own costume. Once he had taken her in, he nearly wanted to smack himself for staring but if the small little smirk on her face, as well as her own appreciative look she threw him, she didn’t mind and also liked what she saw.

“Uh…hi?” Harry squeaked under her gaze, wondering where the hell his usual smooth, suave bad boy persona went.

“Hey,” she returned. “I just wanted to introduce myself and thank you for agreeing to do this, especially with, ya know, me not being on the best of terms with your ex, currently.”

“We never dated. All just a rumor,” Harry found himself saying before he could stop himself. (Harriet was so going to kill him.) He had the strongest urge to tell her everything, to fall to his knees at her feet and assure her that there was nothing between him and Mal, ever.

Uma surprised him though.

“I know,” she said simply and it was like a weight he hadn’t been aware was on his shoulders was lifted. “That’s why I asked for you specifically. I’ve always wanted to work with you. Even before Mal. I’ve…I’ve kind of been a fan of yours for awhile. Even before you and Jay went separate ways musically,” she continued and it was like she had both drowned him and allowed him to fly. The experience was dizzying and wonderful all at the same time. And were his eyes deceiving him or was she…her cheeks had definitely looked like they had darkened, right? “Besides, Jay was adorable but he could never tell the difference between a B flat and A sharp,” she smirked, trying to hide her embarrassment by flipping her hair casually over her shoulder.

That was it. Harry’s brain seemed to implode at that moment as he sighed adoringly, “Will ye marry me?”

Uma’s eyes widened, caught off guard, and it took everything in Harry to not just walk out of the building where they were currently in and just hop into the trash where he belonged.

Before he could salvage things, he heard the most beautiful sound: her laughter.

“Sure, but let’s get through this music video first, first mate,” she winked cheekily using the song’s character description for him.

A beat didn’t even past when he responded back with “Don’t you mean, first date, Captain?” he grinned back.

The two both broke out into loud boisterous laughter, that seemed to follow them even when they made their way onto the set where their other collaborator DJ G3., or Gil, who they were both surprised to find out was a mutual friend to the other, was waiting in his own pirate inspired garb.

And the laughter from that day followed them all the way to “What’s My Name” rising to the top of the charts, beating even Mal’s most popular songs for weeks on end (it was so satisfying seeing Mal’s newest song barely even make it on the top 100 list only to be pushed off after a week) to years later when, once they both had multiple Grammy’s and other various international music awards under their belts, Harry got down on one knee, his mother’s ring held in his hand.

All Uma could do was grin. “I already said yes the first day we met,” she said before kissing him deeply, and not for the first time Uma made his heart sing.

(AN: Also, if you’re wondering, there’s no difference between an A sharp and a B flat. They’re the same note.)

#edream93 answers #edream93 fanfic #disney descendants #descendants fanfiction #huma #harry hook #uma #descendants au #uma x harry hook #mal #harriet hook #jonas #gil #dizzy tremaine #Peter Pan #what's my name #singer/celebrity au #edream93 fanfiction

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