And I can't do nothing about his strange weather - Shades of Cool, Lana del Rey.
♡pairing: pedro pascal&femreader
♡ content: you have a new literature teacher.
tw: age gap, teacher/student interaction, disfuncional family relationship, strong disscusions, alcohol abuse and light swearing.
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a/n: finally at his houseeeeeee. enjoyy
He seemed lost in thought as he drove to his house. His house. He caught you looking a few times, but he didn't make any funny remarks about it. And you were too absorved to look away. When he drove you away from your house you untesed, relaxed -- well, you were still nervous but not from that reason anymore.
He, on the contrary, seemed more tense than ever. You could see his knuckles slightly white on the wheel and his lips pressed tightly against each other.
He finally stopped, on a street full of small houses like his.
It looked rustic and comfortable. There were not too many cars parked on the street —many of the houses had parking— and the street lights didn't flicker like you were used too. It wasn't luxourios nor extravagant, it was normal; but you weren't used to normal.
You saw him unbuckle and get out of the car, but you remained still. He opened your door, his tension and worry still evident on is face, but his eyes gentle. He offered you his hand and helped you out of the car.
"I know this isn't the usual," he stopped in front of the front door, "but I wouldn't do it unless I saw it necessary." He didn't wait for a reaction or a response and opened the door.
There was a small hallway to the main room; the main room was big with a leather couch and a black wooden table in front. There were pictures and books, some of them the ones that he sent to read on class, on a bookshef next to the tv and a table with two chair, even if only one seemed worn from time.
There weren't any piles of pizza boxes, and it didn't smell like the windows didn't exist. There was a used mug on the table and a pack of slim ciggarettes resting on the arm of the couch, but the place didn't smell like smoke.
"It's lovely." You whispered, almost to yourself, when you looked at him, only to find his eyes already on you. The weight of his eyes made your lunge skip a breath.
"It feels yours." You continued, trying to regain control over your body. He chuckled warm and rich, like he was trying to make you forget the silent car ride -or anything bad that ever happened to you. He let himself fall on the couch, you looked at him, hyperaware of every movement. You played with your necklace and shamlessly stared at him, he let you.
"Sit, kiddo." He patted the couch. You sat and he pulled away a little, trying to keep his distance. Your heart flinched at the gesture but you tried not to show it on your face. "What do you drink?" He stood up, towering over you, making you look up to him. You were about to say nothing, but you changed your mind last second. You wanted to enjoy this, regardeless of the weird situations that lead to this moment. "Are you going to have something?"
"I need a beer." He smiled, jokingly. You would swear you saw the minute a million of emotions passed throught his eyes. "Fuck, I mean..." You shook your head.
"You can drink if you want," you tried not to look at him, but the worried frown on his face made it really difficult, "I don't mind."
He shook his head in an abroup way. "No.” He slightly tilted his face, “I'll have some juice. Want some?" You nodded and he dissapeared down the hallway.
You were serious when you said you didn't mind, you'd seen Marcus drink before, not just drinking but getting absoluetly wasted. You had drank yourself before too. But you appreciated the gesture, a little too much if you were honest with yourself.
You heard Mr Pascal arriving again. He had three juices closed and one open, already halfway drunk. "I didn't know which one you liked so I grabbed," he left his on the table before sitting down again, closer this time, "apple juice, pineapple or orange juice." You grabbed the pineapple one. He smiled and grabbed histo show you the savour. "I see you know your juices." You laughed a little before cutting it off, but he was already looking at you like he won something.
The two of you were sitting there in a heavy silence, so many things unsaid between you. You watched as they played with the edge of the couch cushion, doing anything, really, to fill it away with anything but the rhythm of your heartbeats.
“You, um… really didn’t have to go all out.” You said softly to the ground. “I didn’t expect you to, you know, take me in like that.”
"I know, "he sighed, not looking at you either. "But I didn't want to put you on that house. This is temerary and I shouldn't be doing it but..." He looked at you, stopping himself midsentence. "I care about it. About you."
You felt as if you were melting in his couch, only solid again when his knee brushed yours accidently. You wondered if he was just care or if he felt like you do. You rembered what he told you weeks ago: it's my job, no? To keep students safe. But this felt more than that, more than keeping you safe.
You leaned closer, reaching to feel more of his body heat, and you placed your hand on his knee. He stopped you middway. He looked troubled, his lips parted like his heart wanted to be as close as you wanted him to be. He closed his eyes, closed his lip. Regainging some control, control that you lacked on that moment. Befor he pulled away completly and tell you this was a terrible idea you kissed him, pulled him closer by his sweater and press your lips against his It was shy, you've never kissed anyone before but this felt so right. You didn't move them too much yiu stayed still waiting for him to guide you. He was froze, his mInd going crazy and he didn't think about anything when he kissed you bottom lip.
An embarrasing whimper left your mind, and that seemed to bring him back to reality. He jumped to his feet as if he was burning. He passed his hands rover his face a few times, you watched him. Ashamed by the rejection but you didn't regretted. But why were you expecting. He wasn't just older, he was your teacher. You knew what that implied for him; and you knew he wouldn't risk it all for you.
"I..." You started, trying to explain yourself -even if you didn't really know how. He looked at you, his cheeks flustered and panting a little as if instead of a cute kiss he had ran. He sat again, and put a pillow between the two of you. That detail didn't go unoticed but you didn't say anything and tried to hide your dissapointment.
"Look, "he started, unsure, "I didn't bring you here for this. I'm sorry if I.." He stoppoed midway, letting a frustated sigh. "You're just a kid in a vulnerable position, and I'm not going to take advantatge of you like this." He finally looked at you. Even when he was trying to hide the nervous tap of his finger his eyes where gentle on you, sweet. There was another thing now, thought. Pity. You hated pity, you couldn't believe that you got yourself in this situation. You felt your eyes getting but you didn't want to cry, not in front of him. You looked away, staring right into the tv in front of you two, like you were trying to disintegrate it. "You're a very sweet girl, darl..." He caught himself, corrected himself and said your name instead. "But I cant, you shouldn't want to. You are so pretty I'm sure there's a queue of boys that would love to be with you."
You didn't say anything, you kept looking straight like you weren't even noticing him. For the fisrt time, you didn't want him close. The humiliation and the fact that this was predictable from the first time. You were right: he was just being nice.
"I wanna go home." Your voice trembled. He didn't say anthing but he got up and grabbed his keys. "I don't know..." He started.
"I'll stay at Marcus, don't worry. I'm not your problem." You looked at him, you were sure he could see you were at the verge of tears, but he had the decency to not point it out. Your bottom lip was still a little swollen and your cheeks flustered, both from the tears and the excitement from before.
"If that's what you want." He said finally, and gesture you to get up.
The last time you'll get in his car. That's what you thought when the familiar scent of his seats covered you again. You didn't ask Marcus if you could come over but you had his location on Find my Iphone so you leaded Mr Pascal, to him.
He wasn't at your house, but at what, you supposed, was Jordan's. Mr Pascal stopped his car. "Listen, I'm so..."
You didn't have time to hear it, you didn't want to. It hurted. "Bye, Mr Pascal." You unblucked your belt and opened his door, when his voice stopped you. "Pedro." He whispered.
"My name is Pedro Pascal." You opened the door enough for you to slide out of it, ignoring his words.
You walked to the entrence and rang, his car starting again didn't sound until Jordan opened the door with nothing but boxers on.
He was as surprised as you were when he opened the door.
"Marcus..." He called out his name and Marcus appeared behind him with as many clothes as him.
"What the fuck happened to you?" He sound concern in his own rough way. You burst in tears and he hurried to hug you.
"Let's go in, it's cold outside." Jordan closed the door behind you while he guided you to the sofa. "I'll make something warm for you." He disspeared in the kitchen, giving you and Marcus some privacy. All you could is cry, from being so stupid, for not having better options, for everything a nything. It's the first time you cried like this in front of anyone, except of Mr Pacal. Pedro Pascal.
The simple though of him only made you sob harder. Marcus held you close to him, not saying anything for fear to overwhelm you.
Time passed, you didn't now excatly how long but you heard Jordan walking in with a cup of tea. You sat up, away from Marcus arms and grabbed the hot tea. "Thank you." You said, feeling small. "Can I use the bathroom?"
"Of course, the bathroom is straight and to the left." He smiled, kind.
You got up and closed the bathroom door behind you. You didn't want to go to the bathroom, just be alone for a bit. You looked at the mirror, a disastrous reflection responded. You are were swollen and you checks were so red. You curls had more frizz that curls and yor lips were a mess of lipgloss you putted on before going with Pedro Pascal. You washed you face a couple times with cld water, trying to feel less puffy. You heard a knock on the door. It was Jordan.
"Hey, do you wanna sleep with Marcus on my bed? I'll take the couch." You would say no any other time,. be polite. But you were drained so you just nodded. "Alright, he0's already waiting for you." He touched your arm, reassuring before going away.
When you lay in bed it seemed like Marcus was already asleep. "I love you, even if you're a bitch sometimes." You pressed a kiss on his cheek, and felt his lips curl in a tired smile. "I love you too."
You felt asleep, faster than you've ever before.
You skipped clas on Monday, instead you hanng with Jordan and Marcus at Jordan's house. You didn't do much, you three played music and watched movies all day long. His parents were barely at home so he had total freedom to have whatever he wanted.
It felt normal to be there, and you needed that. None of them asked what happened. You were grateful they didn't even if they were curious. You've catched them whispering about it when yiu went to the bathroom or shifting their conversation awkardly when you came back form the kitchen.
The day passed quickly and you decided to go home with Marcus, his parents called him a few times and he had to be home. He accompanied you to your door and left, promising to do this more often. You were finally alone with your thoughs, the door felt big in front of you. The house was quiet so you assumed he wasn't home. You came in, the door was open. When you were in the air shifted around you, the silence became too louda and the clicks of the clock sounded like a warning for you to turn the other way.
You walked in, regardeless, to your room. The door was half open, that was wrong, you always left it closed in case your dad stumbled through the hallway. When you entered, your dad was sat in your bed. Everything was a mess, your books were on the floor, your make up threw around your desk and you wardrobe was empty, all your clothes were on a pile besides it.
He looked uo at you, it was the first time that you saw his eyes so clearly. They weren't white, no. They were red, the red around the pupils that indicated that some one has had too many alcohol. He looked at you like he didn't know you or worse, like he knew and you and didn't care.
"Where the fuck were you?" He said, slow. Looking at you in a way that made you take a step back without even noticing. "Are you fucking deaf! I asked you a question."
You were froze, he never talked to you like that -- never really talked to you all together.-- He stood up, trembling a little to get straight.
"Yesterday night, I came home," he kept walking towards you, "and you didn't open the door to me. I had to enter through the fucking window like I was some kind of burgler!"
You weren't about to say you were with a Mr Pascal. Not when he was so close to yiu and his breath stink like a millon of beers and tequilas. "I was with a friend." You said so low you doubted he could have heard you. But he did.
"You're MY daughter and you stay in these house if you don't ask for permission to go out." His words trembled, got mix in his mouth, saying some of them too high and others too low. He made his way to his room and fall in bed asleep, snorting like he had been hours asleep.
Your lower lip trembeld but you're legs staryed moving before you could realease they were heading out. The scene replayed a million times in your head. You felt powerless and so mad. Mad that you couldn't scream back, that he had the audacity to call you his daughter, mad that you were so heartbroken by his words.
You were doing it again: grabbing your phone and calling him, knowing you will regret it afterwards. He picked up, already worried. You maneged to tell him were you where before ending the call.
You felt stupid for doing it, for needing it. You had surrounded yourself with unpredictable people, even if they were few. Marcus, even if you loved him, you knew he wasn't someone you could always rely on, your dad was obviously out of reach and now you were about get someone new in; you've already did.
His car stopped in front of you. You bursted in tears when you saw him rush to you, he guided you to his car, buckled your belt and drove to an empty parking.
You didn't complain when he unbuckled you both or when he put you on his lap and soothed you like you were a new born. You cried so much, so much time that you weren't able to make up what he was saying until you began to calm down.
"Im here, baby. I'll always be here." He whispered against you hair, you knew it was a lie but you let yourself fall into that fantasy for a few more minutes.
a/n: this was so intense omg!!! i tried to make it a little longer and i think it turned out pretty well. btw, I created a ao3 account, I'll ppu a link when I passed everything there, thx for readingggg
Hope you enjoyeddddd, tell me if you wanna get tagged or send me request of specific scenes!!!
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