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theetherealbloom · 13 days ago

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The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.

The reply came faster than you expected.

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning.

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.

He missed you.

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.

AFTER THE PREMIERE

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”

“What?”

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”

AT THE AIRPORT

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.

The response was almost immediate:

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #gladiator 2 #pedro pascal #wicked #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal masterlist #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut

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hairmetal666 · 8 months ago

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Eddie stands at the bar, sipping at the whisky in his glass, eyes flickering over the crush of bodies and dark mahogany. He's at a premier party at TIFF, doesn't remember what movie it's for, is supposed to "mingle" according to his agent. And sure, he's charismatic, got a big personality and a loud mouth, but he's not good at networking; resents having to perform when he's not playing a role. Resents it more that he's an Oscar nominated actor, that his work doesn't stand for itself.

And then there's the Steve Harrington of it all. Heartthrob. America's Sweetheart. The boy next door. He's across the room, deep in conversation, but his eyes--they keep finding Eddie, scanning him with unmistakable heat.

They starred in a movie called Dying on the Pass. Played life-long best friends who became elite chefs and opened a restaurant together. The movie follows the dissolution of their friendship as the stresses of pursuing a Michelin Star drive them apart. It was a critical and commercial hit, cue awards noms, and offers pouring in, and--

Steve Harrington is his bed.

They promised, when filming wrapped. They swore it was the last time. They promised--

They basically shared a hotel room during awards season, woke up tangled together every morning.

They spent a torrid weekend in Atlanta after Steve wrapped on a Netflix action movie.

Six months after, they had a quick, furious fuck in the bathroom at a club in London.

Dangerous, stupid, but no one caught them. And here Steve is in Toronto, surrounded by press, staring at Eddie like he wants to eat him.

Eddie tries to ignore it. But every time their eyes meet, warmth pools low in his abdomen, and he wants.

They meet up eventually, pose for a couple of pictures, Eddie trying to ignore the way his skin tingles everywhere that Steve touches. Steve slings an arm around his waist, lets it linger.

After, Eddie goes out for a smoke, the patio blissfully deserted. He's half way through his cigarette when Steve steps out the sliding door, wrapping his hands in Eddie's hair, pulling him into a kiss. The cigarette drops as he grips onto the other man, a whimper slipping from his lips.

He should stop this, they're outside, anyone could see, and Steve isn't out--isn't--he's straight to the entire world, the straightest man alive. And Eddie, he's open about his preferences, identifies as queer, though lately he's been more interested in men--in one man, specifically-- and Steve isn't out, isn't ready to be and--

"Come back to my room?" Steve asks. Their mouths are still pressed together.

"Uh-huh," Eddie answers.

Steve whispers his room number before disappearing back inside. They're in the same hotel, on the same floor, like the universe wants them to keep hooking up. But Steve is being reckless.

Eddie goes to Steve that night with every intention of telling him they need to stop, to slow down, that they're going to get caught and he knows Steve isn't ready, but he doesn't. He doesn't that night and he doesn't two months later when they bump into each other in Venice, or four months after that in New York, or--or --or

It's dangerous, impulsive, too many close calls for them to keep it up and then--and then he's at a house party in the hills, an industry thing, the host is a wannabe big shot producer trying to get in good with the Hollywood elite. Steve is out of town. In Europe filming or maybe Australia for some event or--

Striding through the party, eyes locked on Eddie, and they're in a hallway, in a hallway where anyone could see them, but Steve is kissing him. They're kissing and it's rough and possessive and it stings.

Steve pushes him through double-doors, to the room at their backs, and Eddie wants to protest, to remind him they don't know if it's empty. But Steve is tugging the tie out of Eddie's hair, digging this hands into the now loose curls, and Eddie whines, lets himself be lead.

He's pushed against a table, and in the weak light from the windows, he realizes they're in the dining room. Steve grinds against him, muttering, "missed you so much, baby. God, it's been too long. Need you so bad."

Eddie moans, shifting to press more against Steve. "Missed you too, sweetheart, fuck."

They're kissing and Eddie's high on it, on Steve, can't get enough.

There's a loud burst of laughter outside the door, and reality smashes back into focus.

"Stop," he whispers to Steve.

Steve does in an instant, stepping back. Even in the darkness, Eddie sees the confusion and hurt mingling in the squint of his eyes, his light frown.

"Steve we--this is dangerous. There are people everywhere. Anyone could come in. There's a TMZ guy here, and we--need to be careful."

"Fuck," Steve breathes. "Eddie I--fuck." He presses his hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. "I can't get enough of you, man. Whenever I see you I just--I don't think--I see you and I want you so bad it hurts. Once every few months isn't enough. Hookups aren't enough. And I know that's not what we agreed to, and--"

"Steve," Eddie gently cuts him off. "I'm crazy about you. It hasn't been hookups for me for--" ever, it had never been, but he shakes his head instead of saying that. "But we've been reckless, sweetheart, and I don't want to see you hurt."

"It's not fair to you, though, right? Hiding and sneaking around with me."

"You need time, Steve. You deserve to come out on your terms, when you're ready. And if that means we're not public for a while, then we're not."

"What if I'm never ready?" He whispers. It breaks Eddie's heart, but it's a fair question for a man who got famous as an angelic child star in a series of fantasy-adventure movies before playing a quarterback with a heart-of-gold on the CW for seven seasons. He's always kept up a squeaky clean image, never in trouble, name rarely in the tabloids.

"Then we'll deal with it together."

"Okay," Steve whispers. A smile spreads slow across his face. "I'd like that."

Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are seen around town together often. Getting lunch, at parties, shopping. In an interview Steve says that Eddie's his best friend, they do everything together. There's speculation online, of course, but it's pretty quiet. So, they go to premiers and award shows and events together.

A year goes by and it's easy, light, fun. They're in love.

Eddie's messing around on his guitar, not with any intent just for the joy of it. He's on the loveseat in the office of their apartment--their apartment. Steve is in the kitchen, he thinks, or puttering in the garden.

They haven't talked about Steve coming out; haven't needed to.

"Hey," Steve says from the doorway. Eddie jumps.

"Hey yourself."

"It's Bi Visibility day."

"Is it now?" He's not sure where this is going

"I want to come out."

He puts the guitar down. "You sure?"

Steve nods. He doesn't seem nervous, just calm and steady.

"How do you want to do it?"

He crosses the room, climbing onto Eddie's lap, making Eddie laugh. "Works for me." Eddie gives Steve's ass a playful squeeze.

They start kissing then, Steve snapping pics on his phone randomly as they make out.

Steve won't let Eddie peak as he crafts his Insta post, not until it's done and live for his 15 million followers.

The picture he picked, it's a soft kiss, mouths open but lips only just brushing, noses pressed together in a sweet little bump. But the thing about, the thing that makes Eddie's stomach swoop, is the way they're both smiling, the way it's obvious just how in love they are.

Steve's captioned it with the words "Witness Me" and the bi flag.

He pulls his boy into another kiss, says, "Hey,"

"Hmm?" Steve doesn't pull away.

"Wanna go be visibly bisexual with me in the bedroom?"

Steve hops off his lap, strides across the room, turning to flash Eddie a devious smile. "Thought you'd never ask."

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #actors steve harrington and eddie munson #costars #hooking up #fluff #costars to lovers #idiots in love #feelings confession #coming out #bisexual steve harrington #it's not bi visibility day but i liked eddie using it as a come on #famous steve harrington #famous eddie munson #i don't totally know what this is

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neighbourscat · 2 months ago

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𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 , nicholas alexander chavez

THE ‘SAFE-KEEPING’ PREMIERE. paris , the red carpet

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . actor!nicholas c. X superstar!new actress!black!fem!reader || second person ( you, yours, you’re ) + lowercase intended.

+ synopsis. from the moment you and nicholas chavez began working together, he’s been captivated by your presence. at first, it was just your talent and warmth that drew him in, but as the years passed . .. . it became something deeper, something more intimate.

+ cw. brief mentions of sex.

+ nali’s notes; this is very ‘kerry washington + tony goldwyn’ coded. downbad!chavez . .. . you & nicholas are never beating the couple allegations now. ); wordcount :: 3.5k+

+ to be played: skin tight, ravyn lenae & steve lacy.

THE ‘SAFE-KEEPING’ PREMIERE. paris , the red carpet

“how much are you going to miss her?”

“miss her?” the shuddering breath that leaves his nostrils narrowly frees the anxiety coursing through his veins like light itself. tonight was one of the biggest nights of his career and his dearest friend, his co-star, wasn’t in attendance yet. though he wasn’t entirely new to the entertainment industry, it wasn’t until recently that the pressures of hollywood started to weigh heavily. his co-star had been navigating this flashy world since late childhood and had became, without meaning to or fully realizing it, his comfort person. his anchor in the chaos of fame. and over time, being around this co-star became less about their roles in the film and more about simply needing to be near. “well . .. .” he began, shyness and nervousness lifting from his shoulders, “i won’t be missing her-“

the interviewer, with a microphone in her right hand and a miniature notebook in the left, tilted her head ever-so-slightly. a brow starting to raise and lips beginning to part, he got there first: “-because we’re still going to be in each other’s lives.” her expression softened immediately; brows falling, eyes widening, mouth turning up into a sweet smile, hand ( with miniature notebook ) held over her heart.

“is that right?” she asked then, her voice light — her heart still thumping from the cuteness of this man. he gave a firm nod, his anxiety and frustration quickly gave way to adoration and total worship. the interviewer noticed the change in his . .. . everything, at the mention and speaking of his co-star. she noticed the sparkle in his eyes, and maybe if it weren’t too loud, she would be able to hear the way his heart fluttered.

“i guess that, i-uh, would like to believe that she, y’know, wouldn’t want to leave me,” he said with a genuine smile. probably his first of the night. “but truly, uh, i’m not leaving her and i’m not letting her leave me.” the interviewer studied him intently, a knowing smirk creeping onto her face . .. . and as he spoke and spoke — his response shifting from enjoying the company of his co-star to how close they’ve gotten throughout the film project — she hoped the camera crew had been getting all of this.

it took a moment for him to stop himself — hands scrunching into fists at his sides. he lets them ball before opening back up. closing and opening again in nervous energy. he’s said too much. far too much. so much that he couldn’t even remember what he had just said and it’s only been three seconds or four. two maybe. his heart twisted in his chest, his mind only emphasizing two things: embarrassment and cringe.

“you love her?” the interviewer asked him.

and his heart — the one that was twisting in his chest — had skipped a beat. several. “love her?” he repeated, his voice laced with confusion and worry. “that is what you said. after saying it was, ‘an honour of a lifetime to play opposite her’, that you ‘love’ her,” she spoke into her microphone with confidence. she waved it toward him and waited. the camera crew behind her seemed to draw closer and the interviewer could see the tension in his body again, the regret in his eyes.

part of him wondered how she had remembered those bits, for he had been speaking for a while.

he mentally cursed himself for getting so lost in his thoughts. “no,” he breathed — he caught and corrected himself then: “i mean, yes. yeah. i did. i did say that-that i love her. which i do. a lot, but not like .. . y’know? not like that. because, no,” he tried to keep his tone casual and stable.

he paused, managing a small smile, “in a nice, y’know, platonic way. as a friend does-can, i guess. because someone can say that. that they love their friend,” he said quickly, almost too quickly. “ . .. . y’know what i mean . .. .?” his voice faded to a whisper. nothing but a hum.

a long pause.

he blinked up at a camera and then the other, and then his eyes found the interviewer’s again — her mouth moving but no words coming out. he wanted to have a seat. some cold water and a large container of popcorn. he did a poor job at playing that off and he knew that for a fact. just thinking about going home and going onto social media and watching that clip back made him cringe. fuck me.

the interviewer had stopped moving her lips, her microphone close to her chest. there was a shift in the air. a very real, undeniable shift in the air that had everyone turning their heads . .. . in your direction. every human within a fifty-foot radius seemed to be drawn to your presence like a magnet.

and that’s when the temperature had gone up a few uncomfortable notches. the custom-made designer suit he wore constricted; an encircling pressure. and it’s just so tight, that he reaches up and tugs at the collar of the dress-shirt he has underneath. he can’t breathe and he wants to get naked . .. . but he can’t. not right now anyway. because that would be highly inappropriate, and he’s better than that. he has the self-control.

“she looks amazing, right?”

he was holding his breath, daring not to speak as his eyes scanned the flood of bodies, afraid the interviewer would repeat her question or ask something else — something else along the lines of you — and demand his attention from finding you. the deafening loud ringing in his ears finally fell silent when he spotted you . .. . looking like an angel who’s come down to earth to grace the people. the waves of beauty, the elegance, and the warmth you radiated for all the world to see . .. . he had to be beside you. the desire to have you, to touch you and feel you against him . .. . was strong. to put it simply.

your stage name had turned into an incantation, a name that blazed and glittered on the overhead billboard. you winced instantly as the passenger’s door yawned open, being greeted with dazzling flashes from the multitude of various press and entertainment outlets waving their cameras and microphones in your face, the blobs of fans begging you to step over and to sign their notepads and movie posters. pleading and crying for you.

you carefully stepped onto the red carpet and made for the fan bleachers — the low, first-row section. you felt bad for those you couldn’t reach, but still, you waved and smiled and blew many, many kisses.

you touched the hand of a crying teenaged girl — you seized her pink gel pen, drew open her notepad to a blank page and hastily printed over the light blue lines: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and you grabbed another notebook: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and a clear phone case: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then someone’s right palm: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then a ‘safe-keeping’ movie poster: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. and then a poster from your 2019 world tour: 𝙔/𝙉ᡣ𐭩. you printed your name at least twelve more times before being redirected by security to continue the red carpet, find the journalists and photographers.

you shifted your attention and went as told — the anticipatory looks of reporters and bloggers, ready to barrage you with questions of this ‘steamy, hypnotic, scandalous’ thriller movie, working so closely to nicholas alexander chavez, and your future plans in the film industry ( if you’d settle in or if ‘safe-keeping’ is a one-and-done ): you are prepared for it. your brown, full eyes meet theirs.

“before i even get to my list of questions, can i just say . .. you look absolutely stunning in white,” said the interviewer, clear and passionate. you thanked the young woman, tone soft and with a smile — nearby hearts instantly melting. “what’s the story behind this look? why don’t we start there, yeah?”

“um .. . so ..” you stared down at yourself for a moment and then back up to the interviewer, lips barely touching the fuzz of her microphone cover, “it’s actually kind’a cute how this came to be-“ the interviewer started to laugh, ready to hear your story. “-earlier this year, nico ‘nd i were on the phone and he was sending me cat reels-like goin’ crazy; three at a time, right? ‘nd uhm, he sent this one of a black ‘nd white cat latched onto each other,” you told her, fingers teasing along the skin-tight white fabric. “i couldn’t turn him down, so while he thinks we’re dressed as two instagram cats, i take it as yin and yang; the feminine and the masculine, y’know? our characters, ‘eris and drew’, ‘nd how they really balance each other out.”

the interviewer, with a low chuckle, said: “not only is that cute, but you turning this look over into your own idea and symbolism is so great. gives married couple a teeny bit-“ your lips formed into a tight-lipped grin and you stared down at yourself once again. you considered for a moment, yeah, and refocused in a snap. “-i love the tiny detailing in the front there, for sure. and the hair pieces as well, so gorgeous.” again, you thanked the woman — missing all she had said before that. “i’d actually like to speak of ‘eris and drew’ for a bit. i attended the ‘early showing preview release’ yesterday evening, and .. gosh, the world is not ready for this.”

you chuckled, “no?”

“hell-to-the-nah. you and chavez on the big screen just . .. .” the interviewer was struck speechless, remembering last night’s early viewing. “ .. . you two just work. so nicely and so beautifully.” your heart swelled with love and pride. “that on-screen chemistry, the intensity and angst between ‘eris and drew’ throughout that entire film, i mean, i pretty much melted into my seat every-time you two appeared in the same frame. it was .. . unreal. it was totally insane . .. . but, really, i want to ask you, how?” you shifted your weight a bit, mentally putting together an answer. “how did you both get that to work-hmm?”

and the microphone was back inching in front of your lips, “having a good off-screen friendship helped. that, um . .. that made this entire project so much easier.” she could hear the sincerity in your tone, and it only fueled her enthusiasm. “i love nicholas chavez,” came out easily, smoothly, and warmly. “i love him so much, i do. ‘nd uhm, it’s been so much fun. this experience was so refreshing and something that i . .. actually really needed. he’s just so generous. and so gentle, and kind, and committed. so, yeah, it all just . .. . fell into place.”

eagerly, and with amusement in her eyes, “i’ve spoken with a few other news outlets today, those from the early viewing, and all of them mentioned the ‘one’ sex scene. it was incredibly hot and worth it.” inwardly, you sighed lowly. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t expected it to come up. but here you are again; picking through your brain for an appropriate answer. an answer that won’t get the internet going tonight. “you know where i’m going wit’ this, huh?” the interviewer found herself laughing . .. . while you stood there, nothing but a grin on your face. “anyways, talk to me about that bed-chemistry. you must’ve had a process for that, right? to keep it from being and looking so awkward, i’d assume.”

the interviewer waited patiently. you let out a breath and answered, “i mean .. no, there was no specific process for that-“ the interviewer’s shoulders seemed to droop, highly disappointed — she hoped that you hadn’t noticed. “-no specific headspace to jump into. i’m comfortable with nico, he’s comfortable with me, ‘nd yeah, we simply just . .. did what we were told. performed the choreography, and uh, looked good while doin’ it.” you finished with a warm laugh.

“how do you think it was for him? filming such an intimate scene with a global superstar such as yourself?”

you seemed to turn it over in your mind for a moment and she anxiously awaited your response.

“ya’know what? why don’t we ask mr. chavez?” you suggested through mock-laughs — you were done with this interviewer and had to continue on with your night.

“why don’t we, hmm? i need to see you two together again. quickly. where is he? where is our ‘drew’? where is that brilliant man?!” you shrugged with a low hum and looked over your shoulder, opting to entertain the search. no sign of a 6’foot-something mountain of a man with brown waves and a pretty pearly smile. “hey, when i catch him, i’ll drag him over,” you said playfully, already starting to step away.

“i’ll hold you to that!” the interviewer declared.

and amongst the loud demands and shutter clicks ringing out from cameras that captured you, y/n y/l/n, nicholas alexander chavez is squeezing through celebrities, vips, industry professionals, and other influential guests — apologizing as soon as he gets too close or just almost bumps into them — desperately trying to get you. you were in his line of sight, just a few more groups of bodies to excuse himself past and he’d have you.

and once he had the room to lengthen his stride, he did exactly that and reached your side. and all had been okay again. he found comfort and was at ease. “hi . ..” your attention was momentarily distracted as you felt a light kiss placed onto your bare shoulder. you stared up and relaxed when you had looked straight into nicholas’ brown eyes. your mind off of the interviewers and the photographers and instead on the heat coming off of his body.

there was no ignoring the voice in the back of his mind now — the one screaming at him, telling him that there had been something in your eyes. something so deep and similar as to when he looked at you or stood so close to you. something that flickered just below the surface. it had been there, no doubt, but finally he could feel it and he was certain of it. that something.

nicholas broke eye contact; raising his head and catching the interviewer’s gaze — he apologized lowly for interrupting. “no, no, i’d love for you to get in on this as well. y/n took me through her approach taken to composing those two ‘safe-keeping’ scores. her process and how she added even-more texture to your phenomenal characters; giving them wings and magic and all that good stuff, which again . .. . was absolutely beautiful to hear in the trailers. but i had asked her if she would do that again; write original music for a film or a show even, and she said ‘yes’.” nicholas smiled at that. “but then, i asked if she would be interested in starring in another film-ya’ girl here isn’t too keen on the idea. what do you think? would you wanna star in another film with her?” the interviewer lifted his microphone toward nicholas.

and without missing a beat: “yes. a million times yes.” short ‘n sweet. you and the interviewer shared a laugh. “don’t fall for that. that was a ‘for the cameras’ response, ‘kay?” nicholas bristled a little at your words, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you — his chuckle fake and shaky, the cameras caught that too. “no, but-but seriously,” his voice: calm and easy, “i’d do it-this all over again if i could. the last four years.”

“mhmm,” you hummed, “what would you change?”

nicholas studied your face. “nothing. i wouldn’t change a thing.”

relief watched over nicholas as you smiled to yourself, trying to hide the way your cheeks rose — your hand patting the very center of his abdomen, gentle reassurance and acceptance further calming his nerves. “she’s everything to me,” he mumbled as he bent in to kiss just above cheekbone, his big hand gently resting on your lower back. you laughed with the interviewer again, mindlessly trying to shoo nicholas away. yet, his hand lingered on your backside for a beat longer as you chatted with the interviewer more, his fingers subconsciously tracing small circles on the sleek fabric of your dress.

after two more short questions from the interviewer, you stepped forward — nicholas remaining near, his palm still laid against the small of your back . .. . like he needed you ( which he did ), like if you were to leave his side for even a minute he’d collapse. the fit and contact was perfect and looked too good for the entertainment and gossip blogs.

“what would you tell your 12-year-old self?” the new interviewer asked you and nicholas — and you went first. and as you spoke, gesturing lightly with your hands, lost in your response to your younger self, nicholas moved even closer ( surprisingly, it was possible ) — just enough so that his hip could snap against yours. his hand slipped gently across your waist, his long fingers resting just above the curve of your hip, the touch subtle yet unmistakably intimate.

your breath hitched for the briefest moment, but you didn't stop talking, though there was a flicker of surprise in your eyes. you glanced up at him briefly, a soft smile playing on your lips, as if this touchiness was nothing more of a casual gesture; a friendly show of camaraderie for the cameras. but the way his hand had a mind of its own, massaging your hip in a subtle gesture of . .. . something.

the cameras caught every angle — the tender closeness, nicholas’ eyes so fixed on you with a look that wasn’t for the flashing bulbs but for you alone. his chest rose and fell a little deeper, and though he said nothing, the way his arm snaked around you felt possessive — like a silent claim, just barely testing the waters.

you finished your sentence, the interviewer not at all oblivious to nicholas’ never-once straying gaze. “and what about you nicholas?” nicholas stared down at the microphone, mind completely blank.

what was the question?

and in a soft voice, “what would you tell your 12-year-old self?” without thinking, his shoulders eased and he gave your hip four light pats, thanking you for saving him — as you always did. “well . .. .” nicholas began, giving the question some thought. “y’know, i’d tell him to eat more chicken-“

with a crooked smile on your face, “hmm?”

“eat more chicken,” he said again, his tone lighthearted — his hand riding up and down your side. “more chicken, more energy.” the interviewer’s eyes lit up, “fried, grilled, or baked?”

and you watched the exchange, listening to how the interviewer expressed his love for grilled chicken and then how nicholas spoke so passionately about baked chicken — nicholas had an entire backstory and extra details to support why baked chicken was ‘awesome’. for a few seconds, fried chicken had been the topic of discussion; how when he wasn’t feeling baked, he’d go for fried. and when he hadn’t been feeling baked or fried, he’d go for grilled. but ultimately, as he said, baked was his number one.

and when the interviewer waved you and nicholas along — “sorry,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only you to hear, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “he really got me going there.” you nodded in agreement, sending him a mock-sweet smile, “mhmm. i heard.”

nicholas’ hand tightened on your waist, “what?” deep and velvety. “why’d you say it like ‘that’?” you shook your head in response, biting back a laugh.

— and finally, as the interviews wrapped up, the final flashes from the photographers dimmed, the buzz of the red carpet slowly shifted toward the entrance of the theater. excitement rippled through the crowd as everyone began to make their way inside for the premiere. the energy, so loud and vibrant outside, now became a hum.

nicholas’ hand was touching the small of your back, guiding you through the thickening crowd — your security surrounding. nicholas’ presence was steady beside you ( as he had been your personal bodyguard ), and though you and him didn’t exchange many words, there was a quiet understanding.

the massive theater doors opened, revealing a stunning auditorium bathed in soft golden light, velvet chairs arranged in perfect rows, and the towering screen that would soon captivate everyone. nicholas reached down and took your hand in his — you glanced at how he turned your hand over, shifting and intertwining his fingers with yours. he squeezed gently, letting you know that you wouldn’t be seated away from him.

the seats filled quickly, the low murmur of voices blending into the occasional pop of champagne corks or soft rustle of programs. ushers guided the ‘special’ guests to their reserved spots near the center—prime viewing for the night’s main attraction.

as you sat, you glanced around, taking in the grandeur of the moment, your heart racing just a little. you always felt this way before releasing any creative work into the world — the calm before the storm of emotions that this film would undoubtedly stir in you.

nicholas lowered himself into the seat next to you, his arm brushing against yours as he settled in, the close quarters making it impossible not to feel the warmth radiating between. the lights dimmed gradually, signaling the start of the night, and the room began to fall silent, a collective breath being held.

and as the opening logos appeared on the screen, you leaned back in your chair, your pulse still quick, though now it was hard to tell if it was because of the film or because of nicholas sitting so close. you crossed your hands and held them in your lap. he leaned in slightly, his shoulder gently nudging yours in a quiet, almost unconscious gesture of love.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice low, the intimacy of the moment heightened by the darkening room. you turned your head, catching the soft gleam of his eyes, “yeah, i’m fine,” you said, unfolding your hands. you turned back to the large screen . .. . nicholas not yet staring away, admiring your side-profile.

the opening credits began to roll, casting flickering shadows over everyone’s faces. nicholas didn’t move away, his arm now resting easily on the armrest between, fingers casually brushing the back of your hand as the movie began to unfold. it was soft, unspoken, but the light touch persistent; more than just an accident or friendly gesture.

and here, you feel it completely and clearly. the something — that coursed through his entire being whenever he touched you or spoke to you — was now filling you up. the something you’ve been holding back to maintain a facade of professionalism despite the fact that your heart was consumed by him.

#nali’s ᡣ𐭩 #black writers #black reader #nicholas chavez #fame #lovers #short story #nicholas chavez X black!reader #eventual smut

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kodaiki · 11 months ago

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highlights! ⇢ jess got that toxic delulu goin on rn ⇢ nanami had a thirty minute convo at the premiere party the year prior bc he saw she was standing alone and bonded over their love of cats

author's note! ⇢ sorry for the late update!! hehe i cant tell if i wanna punch gojo or kiss him

꒰ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ꒱ ↳ as a rising star in the tumultuous world of hollywood, you're handed a golden opportunity to boost your career – a fake relationship. what your manager forgot to mention? your leading man is none other than satoru gojo, hollywood's notorious fuckboy. easy? well, not exactly.

PART FOUR | NEXT

ʚĭɞ rbs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

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spacelazarwolf · 1 year ago

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109 years ago today, leo frank, an innocent american jewish man, was lynched.

in 1913, leo frank was arrested for the murder of mary phagan. despite evidence that he was at home at the time of the murder, the jury decided in just four hours that he was guilty and the judge sentenced him to death. all of frank's appeals were rejected. protests erupted outside the governor's mansion when the governor decided to commute frank's sentence from death to life imprisonment, and on august 17th, 1915, a group of 25 men kidnapped frank from the prison hospital where he was recovering from an attempt on his life, drove him 100 miles to mary phagan's hometown, and lynched him. there are several photos of the lynching.

though frank is the only known jewish victim of lynching in america, antisemitism was baked into the nation's history in numerous other ways. during the trial, the prosecuting attorney framed him as a sexual pervert who was both a homosexual and preyed on young girls. this is not the first time a jewish man has been framed as a sexual predatory because of his jewishness. it was simply the culmination of centuries of antisemitism that still persists to this day. (content warning for antisemitic caricatures and one graphic photo of the lynching of leo frank)

leo frank was proven innocent after his death, though many people still insist he was guilty, particularly white supremacists.

a musical called parade about the trial and tragic death of leo frank was written by jewish composer jason robert brown and jewish playwright alfred uhry. it premiered in 1988 and was revived in 2023 on broadway, starring jewish actors ben platt and micaela diamond, where neo nazis protested outside the theatre, claiming the show was "glorifying a pedophile."

as of writing this, tomorrow is the first day of elul, the last month in the jewish calendar culminating in the high holy days, the holiest days of the jewish year. every year, synagogues see an increase in negative attention and antisemitism from their wider communities. we start to receive more hostile phone calls and emails, threats of violence, and this year there was a swatting campaign targeting at least 26 jewish institutions. we are supposed to be using this time to reflect and make amends with the people we've hurt, and instead so much of our time and energy had to go toward ensuring we can even safely walk into our communal spaces.

i don't have the answer for how to fix this or what you as a gentile should do. antisemitism is thousands of years old, and it's not going to stop because some well meaning people on tumblr read all the articles linked in this post. all i know is that jews all over the world are terrified and so, so tired.

#jewish #jumblr #antisemitism

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internatlvelvet · 9 months ago

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Susan Bottomly at the **** Premiere. Dec 16 1967.

#susan bottomly #susan bottomly 1960s #1967 #winter 1967 #december 1967 #december #photographer: billy name #four stars premiere #party #sepia #earrings #susan bottomly sepia

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positivexcellence · 4 months ago

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Jared Padalecki Joins ‘Fire Country’ For Guest Arc That Could Lead To New Franchise Offshoot

EXCLUSIVE: Jared Padalecki is returning to series television. The former Supernatural star, coming off a four-season run as the lead of Walker, has been tapped for a three-episode arc on the upcoming third season of CBS‘ hit drama series Fire Country, headlined and executive produced by Max Thieriot.

He will play Camden, a SoCal firefighter and maverick with a surfer swagger who is a force to be reckoned with and immediately recognizes Bode’s (Thieriot) raw talent.

The deal with Fire Country producer CBS Studios is strictly for the recurring role, sources said. Given Padalecki’s status as a popular leading man with two hit series under his belt, I hear there is a possibility for the guest stint to lead to a new spinoff headlined by him that would join the upcoming Sheriff Country.

Sources stress that the idea is still in its nascent stages. And similarly to the NCIS franchise, which originated on CBS and has generated four domestic offshoots on the network but has also expanded into streaming with the latest spinoff, NCIS: Tony & Ziva (as well as the streaming/broadcast NCIS: Sydney), a new Fire Country spinoff could be for broadcast or streaming. Reps for CBS and CBS Studios declined comment.

Fire Country, which was the most watched new broadcast series in its freshman season, was quickly identified by the CBS leadership as a potential franchise anchor that could spawn multiple spinoffs.

“We are focused on mass-appeal franchises,” CBS President and CEO George Cheeks said in June 2023. “This season’s number one show was Fire Country, which completely lends itself to building out a whole new universe… It became very clear that not only was the show special, it really felt like this could be a great example of us building together a franchise from scratch.”

The first Fire Country spinoff, the Morena Baccarin-starring Sheriff Country, which started off as a planted spinoff episode on the mothership series this past season, was recently picked up to series for 2025-26.

Keeping Padalecki in the fold has been a priority for CBS Studios following the end of its CW drama Walker, on which he was star and executive producer, leading to creating the opportunity for him on Fire Country. Walker was canceled for financial reasons despite being the network’s most watched series.

Fire Country averages more than 10 million viewers per episode in multi-platform viewing. (Live+35-day on Paramount + and CBS TVE)

Season 1 became available on Netflix in the US August 1 and has already reached #3 in the streamer’s daily rankings. This is an additional domestic streaming window for Fire Country whose first two seasons are on Paramount+. It is designed to give the show additional exposure ahead of its Oct. 18 Season 3 premiere on CBS.

From creators and executive producers Tony Phelan, Joan Rater and Thieriot, inspired by Thieriot’s experiences growing up in Northern California, the series follows Bode Donovan (Thieriot), a young convict seeking redemption and a shortened prison sentence by joining a prison release firefighting program in Northern California, which sends him back to his hometown.

Billy Burke, Kevin Alejandro, Diane Farr, Stephanie Arcila, Jordan Calloway and Jules Latimer also star. Tia Napolitano, who also serves as showrunner, executive produces alongside Jerry Bruckheimer and KristieAnne Reed of Jerry Bruckheimer Television.

Since the end of Walker, Padalecki also has discussed a role on the upcoming fifth and final season of Prime Video’s The Boys, developed and executive produced by Supernatural creator Eric Kripke. He is repped by UTA, Industry Entertainment and Fuller Law.

deadline

#jared padalecki #fire country

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wlntrsldler · 8 months ago

Text

poisoned mercury | close as strangers (post chb)

a/n: okayyyy so i didn't give them an angst ending but i had to give into the angst monster at least once for this series so here's a bonus chapter for poisoned mercury. miscommunication galore. long distance is hard! two dumbasses in love!

song: close as strangers by 5sos

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"i'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" luke whispered, trying not to wake his bandmates up. the tour bus was large enough to house them while they were on the road, but it didn't really give the privacy he hoped for. chris was just across the narrow walkway from him and luke could hear his soft snores through the thin curtain that separated them.

luke felt his heart hammering in his chest when you didn't reply to him. he could still hear your breaths through the phone and you were just talking to him a second ago, so he knew you were still awake. you both had equally busy lives which meant that your phone calls were getting shorter and shorter each day. luke knew it was because you were booked with school and tournaments for field hockey and he was always exhausted after each meeting now that the band was working on their second album. luke knew all of this, but it didn't stop him from missing you. he was lucky to get a ten-minute call with you nowadays.

"baby?" he tried again, chewing on his bottom lip. he turned to face the ceiling of his bunk, the light from his phone casting a shadow on his face as he waited for you to say something. anything. "can i call you tomorrow?"

you sighed, "i don't know, luke. i have a busy day. it's a travel game tomorrow so i don't know if i'll be up late."

"oh," he cleared his throat, trying to hide his disappointment. he felt a little stupid that there were tears pooling in his eyes. so you can't talk tomorrow, it shouldn't be a big deal, right? except that luke felt like you were pulling away from him. little by little. and he didn't know how to stop it. it wasn't like he could drop everything to show up at your doorstep and fix things with you. if it was up to him, he would do it in a heartbeat, but you'd probably get mad at him for it, for abandoning his responsibilities as the lead singer of the most popular band in the world. not to mention the boys would be livid and mr. d and his mom would be equally furious.

"sorry, maybe next week?"

"yeah, sure," he replied, thankful that you weren't on facetime tonight. he didn't want you to see his face. "alright, i'll let you get some rest. go kill it tomorrow. g'night, five star."

"goodnight," you said, ending the call as soon as the last syllable left your lips.

luke groaned quietly, tossing his phone on the foot of his bed. he knew long distance was going to be difficult. it's been months since he last saw you, months since he was at camp half blood, sleeping in your bed and waking up to the feeling of your lips peppering kisses on his face. maybe he shouldn't have gotten so attached so fast, but it wasn't like he had a choice in the matter.

he got out from his bunk, tucking his feet into his slippers and made his way to the living room area of the bus. he sat on the couch, peering out the window to watch the empty roads ahead. they were on their way to nashville to meet with a producer that mr. d recommended. the second album was almost done, but it was missing something and none of them wanted to put out a record that didn't meet their expectations.

mr. d was already in tennessee waiting for them. he'd flown in from houston a few days ago with luke's mom and the rest of the poisoned mercury team while the boys were in atlanta for a movie premiere. they decided that a road trip was needed to de-stress after the glitz and buzz of the red carpet. it was nice to have some alone time with the boys. in their tour bus, luke felt like they were back in connecticut, just four friends fucking around, writing music, and eating junk food until their stomachs hurt.

he turned on the tv, switching to some random channel that he wasn't paying attention to. he just needed some noise to drown out his thoughts, but that didn't seem to work. all he could think of was you, his five star, and how much he missed you. luke wondered if you were having second thoughts about this whole thing. maybe he'd been too optimistic about things; maybe you weren't on the same page as he was; maybe you realized that it was too difficult to be with him.

a shiver ran down his spine as he spiraled into his thoughts. admitting to himself that something was wrong between the two of you left a bitter taste in his mouth because he didn't want to believe it. he saw you as his endgame, like nobody else in the world could compare to you, and to think that you may not feel the same about him... well, it was a difficult pill to swallow.

he wondered if he came on too strong, showed his cards too early, and seemed too clingy and lovestruck before it was deemed appropriate. you'd only been together, officially at least, for four months, most of which were long distance, but luke knew he was a goner for you way before that.

he silently cursed as the chill of the december air hit his skin. he should've worn a hoodie. he grabbed the small throw blanket draped over the armchair and placed it around his shoulders. he wished he got to see you over thanksgiving break because maybe you two wouldn't be in this rocky situation right now, but your coach ordered you and clarisse to stay on campus over break to sharpen your skills since you missed summer training. luke and chris were less than pleased with the idea, but they knew it was out of their control.

luke fell asleep on the couch that night after succumbing to the tiredness in his body. the sun was beginning to rise by the time his eyelids fluttered shut. he hoped that he'd wake up to a text from you, but when he woke up to the sound of the bus screeching to a halt in nashville, he realized it was the hope that kills.

“are you guys going to the fall concert?” silena asked, poking her head out of the bathroom. she was part of the planning committee for the unc fall semester concert and she’d been stressing over the logistics of it for weeks.

“lena, if we even tried to miss it, you’d kill us,” clarisse chuckled, putting on a coat of mascara. “you’ve been talking about this since we got back.”

the three of you were getting ready in your dorm. you and clarisse were roommates this year, thank gods for athlete privileges, and silena lived in the building next door in a single since she was an ra. how she had the time to be an ra, be a member of the music festival planning committee, and be a full-time student was truly beyond your comprehension.

“lena, calm down. it’ll be good,” you squeezed her shoulders as you passed by behind her, grabbing your lipgloss from the counter. “and even if it sucks, half the people in the crowd are either drunk or high or both and will probably not remember it.”

“true,” she snorted, curling the final piece of her hair. she unplugged her hair curler and gave herself one last look in the mirror, “i’ll see you guys there? i gotta go make sure shit didn’t hit the fan.”

you and clarisse nodded as silena said her goodbyes. you dabbed on some lipgloss, glancing down at your phone every few seconds. clarisse side-eyed you, unable to hide her smile, “you waitin’ for a text?”

“shut up,” you rolled your eyes at her teasing tone. she didn't really know that your relationship was a little muddy at the moment. you weren’t the best at talking about your feelings and it felt wrong to talk about your relationship drama when clarisse and chris seemed to be going strong. “they’re supposed to land in los angeles ten minutes ago.”

“their flight probably got delayed, y/n,” she replied, “happens all the time.”

“no, i know, but just wanna make sure they’re safe, y’know?”

clarisse crossed her arms over her chest, “they’re safe or he’s safe?”

you ignored her question, opting to busy yourself with the weather app on your phone to avoid any follow-up questions, “how are you not checking your phone for a text from chris right now?”

she shrugged, “he always knocks out on long flights so i don’t expect a text until he gets to their hotel.”

“how are you and chris, by the way? i know we live together and shit, but i feel like we haven’t gotten to talk about it in detail since we’re always so tired from school and practice.”

“we’re good,” clarisse hummed, “just miss him loads, though. i haven’t seen him since we left camp– what? four, almost five, months ago?”

you were in the same boat, kind of. you and luke hadn’t seen each other in months and you were getting antsy. they’d been on the road for the past few months, meeting with producers and fulfilling their contractual obligations. they hadn’t been in a set location long enough for you to be able to fly out to see luke, even just for a weekend.

at first, there were movie dates where you’d order each other food and eat and watch the movie on facetime together. there were weekly phone calls and daily texts, but nothing compares to the real thing. being with luke in person was something that you were craving. camp half blood spoiled you with having him all for yourself and now that you were back in school and he’s out in the world, it was beginning to weigh on you.

you missed him. a lot.

you missed kissing him and feeling his lips break out into a smile when you’d mumble something stupid. you missed feeling his arms around you, hugging you from behind while you got ready for the day. you even missed waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of him scribbling random lyrics on pieces of scrap paper he found in your room when he slept over.

long distance is hard and sure, luke wouldn’t be the type to cheat or do anything to jeopardize your relationship, but it still didn’t stop a knot from forming in your stomach every time a picture of him or the band popped up on your social media with a gorgeous singer, actor, or model that they ran into on the red carpet. what if he realizes one day that he wants someone who lives the same life as him? wild and adventurous, not tied down by school or sports?

a part of you felt silly for being so insecure about things. it was too early in the relationship to have this conversation, isn’t it? you knew that your avoidance of the topic was starting to affect your relationship with luke, as much as you wished it didn’t, but what if the minute you voice your concerns, he’ll realize that being with you was more than he bargained for? after all, you weren’t the same five star with all the time in her hands, care-free, and relaxed that he met at camp. there was a chance that luke would call it quits on this if you said anything and it felt like too big of a risk to take.

your phone buzzed on the counter, indicating a text.

from: luke <3

‘landed and jetlagged. gonna sleep for a few. enjoy the concert babe!’

you hearted the message and slipped your phone into your back pocket after sending him a quick goodnight text. the three dots popped up for a second, then in a blink, they disappeared. read at 8:43 pm.

“you ready?”

you snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of clarisse’s voice. you nodded and grabbed your small purse before heading out the door. you ran into a group of your teammates who were heading to the amphitheater across campus for the concert. the walk seemed to fly by as they cracked jokes and shared stories about random things. you stayed silent for the most part, only laughing along when it seemed like the right time, but your mind was somewhere else. your mind was in los angeles.

by the time you got to the venue, you and clarisse separated from the group to enter the vip tent, courtesy of silena. a small crowd was beginning to form in front of the stage, taking up the grassy field. charlie was already at the tent, sipping on an ipa when he saw the two of you. his face broke out into a wide smile, giving you and clarisse a quick hug before leading you to the seats he saved.

“season’s looking promising for you guys, charlie,” you commented, accepting the high noon he offered. “the team’s looking good out there.”

“thanks,” he beamed, “don’t think we’re on the level of national champs just yet like you guys, but we’re trying!”

“you guys are doing great,” clarisse chimed in, “the energy in the stadium is electric this year. makes me love college.”

“are you telling me the papers and tests aren’t what makes you love college, la rue?” charlie teased.

she snorted, “oh yeah, because i just love staying up until 1 am writing a paper on greek mythology for classics 101.”

the three of you fell into a comfortable conversation about the class you were all taking. it was a prerequisite class that most athletes choose to take because the professor was flexible with deadlines when it came to athletes. it was helpful especially when a team has to play beyond their season for tournaments or championships. about ten minutes before the opening act got on stage, silena rushed into the tent.

“guys, please you need to come with me. i need your help,” she said frantically. she was nervously tugging on her ‘staff’ badge around her neck, already halfway out of the tent as she waited for the three of you to follow her. “please, it’s an emergency.”

“woah, lena, what’s going on?” you asked, getting up to comfort her. you followed her through the crowd, grabbing clarisse’s hand to keep her close.

silena shook her head, continuing her march through the sea of people, “just come with me, i’ll explain when we get backstage.”

you and clarisse looked at each other, feeling bad for silena. she put in her blood, sweat, and tears into this concert and you knew that she would beat herself up over it if something went wrong. silena always put her all into the projects she’s passionate about, but sometimes things outside of her control happen and unfortunately, she blames herself for it.

in the whirlwind of ‘excuse me’s’ and ‘sorry’s’, the four of you managed to make your way backstage. it was chaotic. people were running around everywhere making sure everything was set for the opening act. the girl who was opening the concert was waiting by the wings, her guitar strapped across her chest as she took some deep breaths. the crowd wasn’t full yet, but you knew that if you were in that position, you’d still be sweating buckets. going out there on stage to perform for strangers was nerve-racking. you didn’t know how luke did it. you admired that about him.

“lena, are you gonna tell us what’s going on?” clarisse questioned, picking up the pace of her steps to match silena.

silena stopped in front of a door, slowly turning to face you and clarisse. suddenly, her stressed facade faded as she twisted the doorknob, “why don’t you see for yourself?”

if you weren’t so confused about what was going on, you would’ve seen charlie lift his can up to his lips to hide his smile at how proud he was of his girlfriend for her acting skills. when the door opened, your heart stopped.

luke was here.

he stood in the middle of the room beside chris with a nervous smile on his face. he was wearing a black leather jacket on top of a white tank top and black pants. his poisoned mercury chain hung from his neck, shining under the overhead lights. his hands were stuffed in his front pockets, shy and timid, as he waited for your reaction.

clarisse screamed when it hit her that chris was actually here. she ran to him and nearly tackled him to the floor. chris wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and laughed as she giggled into his neck. the two of them shared a heartfelt reunion before rushing out of the room to get some privacy. the sound of the door shutting behind you made you blink.

luke cleared his throat, right hand scratching the back of his neck, “hey, five star.”

the nickname brought you back to your senses. you ran to him, engulfing him in a tight hug with an ‘umph.’ at first, luke was tense under your touch, unsure if you’d be happy with his surprise, but quickly, he melted into you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sighing in content as your familiar scent surrounded him. he felt sparks coursing through his veins as you hugged him tighter and all he could think about was how good it felt to have you in his arms again. his mind was still reeling at your reaction. he didn’t expect you to run to him like this, especially not when it felt like you’d been avoiding his calls over the last few weeks.

“what are you doing here?” you asked him, pulling away to hold his face in your hands. your eyes twinkled as you raked over his face, still in disbelief that he was actually in front of you. “you’re supposed to be in la.”

luke couldn’t stop the lopsided smile on his face, “well, i lied? we were in nashville recording with your dad and he mentioned that he didn’t schedule a session for us this weekend in case me and chris wanted to take a trip to north carolina, so here we are.”

you ran your thumbs over his cheekbones, whispering, “here you are.”

“god, i missed you so much,” he said, voice breaking. “you have no idea how hard it’s been.”

you gulped, your hold on his face faltering a bit. if luke wasn’t on edge, he wouldn’t have noticed the falter in your step, but he felt the slight hesitation in your actions. your warm touch slowly peeled away from his face and he instantly regretted saying those words. here he goes being clingy again. he removed his hands from your waist, clearing his throat. he sat on the couch, motioning for you to sit beside him. he tried to keep his hands to himself when you left a space between the two of you.

“i still can’t believe you’re really here,” you said, staring at him. you wanted to lean over and hold him in your arms again, but there was a weird tension in the air that made you feel queasy. “i feel like i’m dreaming right now.”

“i hope you’re not mad that i’m here,” luke looked down at his lap, flexing his hands. he had to keep his hands busy or else he’d surely reach for yours and he didn’t want to come on too strong. he had to keep his distance. he didn’t want to scare you off any more than he already did. “there was just an opening in the schedule and i-i wanted to see you.”

“i’m not mad at all.”

“good, good,” he replied. silence. he forced himself to look up from his lap, twisting his body to face you. he bit his bottom lip, trying to build up the courage to ask his next question. “are we okay?”

“we’re okay.”

“okay because i feel like things have been different between us lately,” he pursed his lips, looking at you with sad eyes. his tongue poked out the corner of his lips, eyes darting between you and the wall behind you. “i don’t know. i feel like we haven’t talked in ages, y’know? and i know you’re busy and you have a great life here that i’m not really a part of, but uh, i wanna be, y’know? i don’t know much about school or field hockey, but it’s important to you and you’re important to me so i wanna hear about it.”

he was met with more silence. luke continued, “maybe i’m asking for too much when i ask you to let me be a part of this life, but uh, i miss you? and i just feel like i’m losing you and that’s the last thing i want. so you gotta give me something, five star. tell me what i can do to be better.”

“if you need me to back off, i’ll do it, you know? you call the shots. you tell me what you need from me, and i’ll do it, okay? i just– i can’t lose this. i don’t wanna lose you,” luke mumbled. “maybe this is all in my head too. i don’t know anymore.”

you shuddered, lip quivering, “i feel like i’m holding you back.”

“what?”

“come on, luke,” you flicked away the tear that trickled down your cheek, “you’re out there in the world doing what you love. meeting new people. living your life and i don’t want to hold you back from that. we met each other when i didn’t have all these responsibilities and who i was at camp is not who i am here and i know you love those impromptu adventures and trips and spontaneity. a-and i can’t give that to you.”

“you deserve someone who can live this life with you and i’m stuck here for two more years, luke. i can’t do that,” it was getting hard to breathe. your throat felt like it was closing up, cutting off your airflow. you’d been putting off this conversation for weeks. it didn’t feel right to talk about this over the phone, and you thought that you had a few more weeks to figure out what to say to him when you saw him for winter break, but he was here now. “you deserve more than facetime calls and text messages, and that’s all i can offer.”

“is this–” he paused, licking his lips. “is this not what you want anymore?”

“what?”

“this, us? is this just not what you want anymore?”

an involuntary laugh escaped you as you wiped under your eye, “castellan, i don’t think i could stop wanting you even if i wanted to. and you know when we first met, i really wanted to.”

luke moved closer to you, just an inch or two, trying to gauge your reaction. you didn’t move away, which he took as a good sign, “i’m confused. why do you sound like you want to end this then?”

“i don’t want you to settle for this,” you sighed, “i know what you deserve and it isn’t this.”

“bullshit.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him in disbelief, “what?”

“i’m sorry, five star, but that’s bullshit,” a small smile was tugging on his lips. he reached over to place a hand over yours. his fingers traced your knuckles, running the pads of his fingers across the familiar ridges of your skin. “i don’t understand how after all this time you still don’t realize that all i want is you. it’s ridiculous, really.”

“it’s ridiculous?”

“it’s ridiculous,” he chuckled wetly. his other hand rubbed at his eyes, clearing his foggy vision. “our situation isn’t ideal, i know that, but i’d take long distance with you over anything else with anyone else. don’t you get it, five star? you’re it for me. if this isn’t what you want anymore, i’ll accept that. but if you’re only doing this because you don’t think i want this… five star, i want it all with you. long distance. phone calls. text messages. weekend trips when we can get them. distance has nothing on how i feel about you.”

leave it to luke castellan to make you blush. you shyly looked at him, eyes twinkling with something more than either of you bargained for when you first met in that secret spot you call yours, “how do you feel about me?”

“i’m not gonna say it right now because i don’t want to have the first time be while we’re in a fight,” luke laughed. the air was starting to clear. “but i have a feeling you know.”

“i know,” you squeezed his hand three times, “i do too.”

“will you put me out of my misery and kiss me please?”

“always so fucking dramatic,” you scoffed, playfully rolling your eyes, but you leaned over and pressed your lips to his.

#frances writes #poisoned mercury #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n

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