#if this post had a song you should listen to it with it would be closer by rm

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

right. So I'm kinda insane and found another song to talk about in some life series / evo context: Copycat. (Song will be linked at the end of the post!)

So, many people headcanon Jimmy and Grian being brothers- and it makes a lot of sense. They're both dirty brown haired, have dark brown eyes, are British, bird coded, have warring personalities, and actually are associated both with yellow, and then one other primary color- Grian taking red, and Jimmy taking blue. Even their main colorations show a kind of "parallel difference" between them, with recently, Grian being associated with red and purple, and Jimmy with blue and yellow.

Now. Recently Jimmy did some lore of him praying to the Watchers. And back in Evo, Grian was taken into the Watchers ranks- so there is some repeated or rhyming elements in their arcs. However, I raise you this- Jimmy is Grian's "replacement", or basically, a backup for if he defects from the Watchers. That's why he has such a deference to them- its hard coded into him. That's why he's acknowledged them so much recently, because Grian's slowly leaving, and they're beginning to get Jimmy to replace him.

For a long time, those two have had a sibling dyanmic- Grian, the older, stronger, and smarter brother, and Jimmy, the younger, weaker, stupider sibling. Grian basically torments Jimmy for his own amusement, and the Watchers let it happen- if Grian ever defected, they could simply feed Jimmy praise -you're better than Grian ever could have been, hes weak and you're incredibly strong, of course we will listen to you- and he would instantly be completely loyal to them.

The song has a few choice lyrics I'd like to point out:

"We get along just fine!" "I say everything you like to hear..." "It's funny how much I feel like I'm looking in a mirror!"

Say "Hello! What's up with you?" "I'm starting to talk like you do..."

"We've grown apart this time, I can't figure out the reason why." "It's funny how much I'd kinda like to see you cry."

"I've become what you like! I am what you wanted, right? Sacrificed all that I know, I have taught myself to let go!"

In any case, the main motif of the song is losing your identity- and that's exactly what's happening to Jimmy, memories of servers being scrubbed as the Watchers prepare him to take over Grian's position. The whole chorus is Jimmy giving in to the Watchers, and thinking about Grian in anger- he pushed him too far, yes, of course- the perfect way to get back at him, to team up with the eldritch gods Grian hates. Grian said he should be stronger- well now look at him! He's one of the strongest beings alive! He is now what his brother wanted him to be, perfectly made in his image.

Oh, and in case you need further convincing, look at how Grian's wings are usually portrayed. Scarlet macaw- red, blue, and yellow. Now look at Jimmy's wings- nearly always yellow, but in Wild Life, he's become a parrot. His wings are blue and yellow now. I bet he sometimes sees little red feathers and rips them out, desperate to distance himself from Grian- unfortunately, his brother.

Meanwhile, Grian doesn't know what's up with his little brother, and is desperately trying to get him back, to prevent him from making the same bad decisions he did- maybe even losing some of his Watcher powers as Jimmy's power begins to eclipse his own.

Link+ a lil more below the cut. This post is too long already. Whoops

Okay I can perfectly see in the "Copy that copy cat!" bit in the chorus, different sprites show up with every beat. The first four are of Grian (followed by a short animation of him saying the line) hitting poses, with maybe each sprite having a little refrence to a different season or series they have been in together. And then it swaps to Jimmy, facing towards him, hitting the same poses, with matching refrences. However by the end of the song, Jimmy takes charge, doing the poses first and surrounded by eyes- and Grian, trying (and failing) to match the poses and control the eyes, confused why he's lost his power.

Give my boy Jimmy the power. Grian has tormented him far too long.

[badomensgoodomens]

BAD DECISIONS

CHAPTER 3

Noah Sebastian x Reader

CW: really random smut. soz. not proofread! really random. definitely for the plot moment.

i hope you guys eat this up like you did with the teaser.

taglist at the bottom

It was nearing the end of the US tour, and honestly, my bones ached. We were all drained, even Jolly, who always kept a calm-ish composure, was antsy. It was our one day off, Matt dragged us to some shopping plaza. 

It was lowkey chill, just sitting in the food court talking about some post tour plans. I swear I saw a flash of red hair, it made me sit up a little straighter. But when I turned to look, there was nobody. God, I was so exhausted I was seeing shit now. Nick was chatting about how apparently a pretty girl moved in next door to the house he shared with his brother. About the time that kid got a girlfriend. 

Nicholas invited me to spend the break at his parents' ranch, which felt like home to me too—they were practically my second family. That was the bond Nicholas and I shared. Ruffilo had always been my best bud, Nick and Jolly coming in at a close second. I took Natasha there once, to meet my makeshift family. She didn’t show up. 

It was embarrassing on my behalf, I had boasted about her to Nicholas mom countless of times. She was excited for me, my career restricted my love life, yet there I was, hooking up with girls. 

I swear I saw her red hair again, the same red hair that we’d get into arguments about. Stupid arguments really, her hair kept staining my pillows, wondering how many other guys' pillows she stained. 

“Dude- are you even listening?” Matt leaned forward, waving his hand in my face. I rubbed my eyes with my palms. “I’m fucking wrecked.” I grumbled, taking a sip of the coke in front of me. Matt hummed, flicking through his work diary. “Got 6 months break, back on for 6 months, and off again.” I just nod, too exhausted to absorb any information. 

Back at the venue, I immediately seek refuge in between the grey sheets of my bunk, my mind a million words per minute. I fumbled with the cover of my notebook, scrambling down some notes. 

Why’s  this always gotta happen to me?

I should have known. 

I never fail to learn from mistakes, still throwing stones.

Blah blah blah….

I feel my focus fading away, i had high hopes

Running from the man I used to be, but I'm too slow. 

It was honestly the roughest of rough drafts, but I was itching to get back in the studio. Ideas were just piling up, emotions weaved within poem-like structures, they were all.. rough, and definitely needed fine tuning, but they were beginning to represent an album. 

Songwriting is not something that can be forced, it's an intricate, spread of emotion with an equally as unique and specific composition in the background. It was never good enough. Never, ever good enough. 

I had watched time and time again how the scrunched up failed drafts piled up, nothing ever feeling raw enough, or not too the fans liking. It didn’t help that Sumerian were so fucking picky on albums, or that ever since we released that song with poppy, we were obligated to tour with her. The rumours were digging my head in. 

Is this really what I want for my career? I ponder on that question too much. I should bring it up in therapy with Dr Tomson. Fuck. I was getting off track. Literally. Sumerian’s requirements for this album was a track that would hit the charts, and a minimum of 12 songs. Part of me regrets signing with them, but would I be this successful had I not? 

I was exhausted, physically and emotionally. Matt had pointed that out when I woke up the next morning. I just hummed, brain on autopilot. “You know, we need an artist for the new album’s cover, considering booking times that's something we need to plan months in advance.” Matt spoke, flicking through his diary. Nick stood in the kitchen in grey sweats, brewing coffee. “I could find somebody,” he said, handing me a cup. 

I nodded, sitting on the bar stool. “Is Jolly up yet?” I asked, flicking through the pages of my notebook, briefly going over some of my rough, rough drafts. Nick shook his head, “Him and Nicholas got back late that night, something wrong with the wires and shit.” 

NEUTRAL POV

She was scribbling in her journal as the sun went down, propped up on her windowsill, once  again. Writing a poem about the bitterness and scars of her childhood, it always stuck out to her how Nevada was so quick to dance around what actually happened, yet she had no problem shouting it to the world. Whether it be from art, or journaling, it was easier to keep a manuscript, a direct display on what shaped her to be who she is today. 

It felt like all her knowledge and skills of painting were slipping through her fingers, but it hurt too much to resume again. Emotionally, and financially. Maybe this was just something she’d have to come to terms with, she couldn’t dwell on her past quite like this anymore, she wasn’t old enough to do that quite yet. 

“Let’s go out.” She said, her words rushed, standing in the doorway of Nevada's room. Nevada’s eyes were wide, she had begun to worry about her, and now she’s just popped up saying she wants to go out? 

Choose your battles I guess

Nevada and Y/n got ready together, something they used to do as rebellious teens. Good vibes and pregame drinks, music blasting through the house. All dolled up in sparkly dresses, with dawn the hype man, the two set off into the city. The city was illuminated with a series of advertisements and bustling nightclubs, everyone with the same objective; to get absolutely shit-faced. 

And so those two did, Dawn snuck Nevada away  to do.. stuff.. In the car, while she was grinding up against a particularly tall blonde boy. His voice was fuckin hot, like musky and sexy and every single adjective you could use to describe a man. And god, he smelt good, and his touch just made her melt. 

She hadn’t expected to run into her cousin and her husband, and his bandmates. But when she laid her eyes on that fine ass man standing- no. looming over the group of british boys. He introduced himself as Vessel, quite an uh- unique- name, but who was she to judge? She was horny, and there was a tall metal vocalist right in her grip. 

Everything about him was enticing, his defined, gorgeous abs, his absolute killers of canine teeth, and his voice. It made her unbelievably wet, she needed something. She’d gone without for so long, having thrown her vibrator out when she met noah. 

They snuck down the side alleyway, the booming stereo filtering through the constant revolving door around the corner. She was a fit of giggles as he hiked up her sparkly dress. Compliments rolling off his tongue, as he traced the curves of her ass. 

His fingers ran along the waistband of her panties, soft, dainty pink ones. “Yeah..? you want me to touch you?” She smiled up at him, her pearly whites making his jeans tighten. With a soft tug of the hips, she had her back to him as he fumbled with the button of his jeans. 

“Fuck… so wet.. already?” he groaned out, lining himself up. She let out a strangled moan as she sank down on his cock, overwhelmed at the size. Her fingers grasped around his wrists as he began to move, holding on for dear life. 

It was a quickie in a back alley way, but it didn’t stop the shame when she woke up in his bed the next morning. 

“I’m so fucking sorry oh my god my cousin is going to kill me-” she spouted off, pacing around this poor guys island bench. He sat at the barstool, eating bacon and eggs. 

“Stop stressing.” he huffed gruffly, a sleepy look on his face. 

“Dude- like.. Respectfully, youre a fucking stranger, i’m in your house, you’re in an anonymous band bro!!” She shouted, a little bit more than panicked. 

“It was a quickie, nothing more. We can be friends if you’re so worried about it.” he mumbled, eating his food. 

“Ugh…” she sat down on the barstool next to him, stealing his coffee cup. “So… what’s it like being a rockstar?” 

“Busy. Why do you ask?” he questioned, turning to face her. 

“Well… I dated- sorry, hooked up with a rockstar and never really asked him about it.” she shrugged, not caring if it was an overshare. 

“How come?’ he asked, a curious tone in his voice. 

“Didn’t necessarily stick around for me to ask. Was more of a ‘pump and dump’ guy.” she responded, toying with the keychains of her car keys.  

“Don’t ever say that again.” He cringed, resuming eating. “So why’d you hook up with him in the first place?” 

“He was hot.” 

“No shit Sherlock, other qualities.”

She sat for a moment, really questioning everything. Why. why, why? 

“He was carefree, wasn’t afraid to be himself, but was a bit afraid of commitment.” was the answer she scrounged up. He just hummed, “So who was it?”

She grimaced, awaiting this question. “I'd rather die than tell you because I think you guys at least have connections.”

“How’d you meet this douche anyways?” 

“I was studying art and design at a local uni, he was studying design briefly.” 

“You do graphic design?” Vessel asked, looking down at her quizzically. 

“Mostly art, but I want to turn it digital.” she responded, pulling out her phone to show him pictures. He studied each unique piece intricately, his face lighting up. A man who could appreciate real art. 

“How much would I have to pay you to design an album cover?” he asked, putting the phone down. She looked up at him with wide eyes.

 “What?” 

“I like your style, I'm offering you a chance to work with me.” he states bluntly, staring at her. “What the fu-” he cut her off, “we can get you head of the design team, i liked your work and i’m willing to pay however much.” 

“Don’t you have like.. bandmates to discuss this with?” 

“bandmate, others are tour personnel.” 

“Interesting- anyways, are you sure?” 

“Yes, Being on the design team also means you’re in charge of designing different things like merch, billboards and visuals. It sounds stressful, but the pay is good and you’ll have a chance to come on tour with us.” 

“Fuck man- take a girl out to dinner before telling her this” 

He chuckles, grabbing out a notepad. 

“I’ll write my details down, I can get you employed asap, if you want to do this.” 

“Do I have time?” she asked, rubbing her thighs anxiously. He nodded, Her phone rang and she fumbled to answer it, bringing the nearly dead phone to her ear. 

“Dude where the fuck are you-” 

It was her sister. 

“Hi, first off! I'm 23. I can be wherever I please, but can you please come pick me up?”

“Only you’d get a job opportunity out of hooking up with someone.” Nevada laughed, driving a ridiculously hungover Y/n home to their shared townhouse. “Hey- we are cool now! He’s a friend, and he said I could go on tour with him.” she retorts back.

“Are you trying to seek vengeance for noah?” Nevada asked, sipping shitty iced coffee. “Most definitely. That fucker thinks he can act like he didn’t tell me he loved me mid sex, he can suck it when im touring with his favourite band.” 

“Absolutely cold,” Nevada laughed, the hood was down of Dawn's convertible, the wind blowing through her wavy highlights. The air smelt of sea salt, the beach not being far from their house. She felt a little more free now, ultimately deciding to take up Vessel's offer, on both the album cover and design position. Although she would be leaving Nevada to manage the cafe on her own, Nevada knew she needed this. A push in the right direction, to make some new friends, and perhaps run into some old ones. 

Noahs POV 

Holy fucking shit maybe i wasn’t hallucinating. 

In the sea of fans you couldn’t miss her unmistakable red hair and plump lips. It seems as though she’s gotten even more botox from the last time he saw her. Why was she even here? What could she benefit from even being here? I had to peel my eyes away from her, trying to maintain the energy of the crowd. 

She was by herself, in a tight skirt and a bikini top. I saw her towards the back, but as I progressed through the store I noticed she was nowhere to be found. It was relieving and terrifying all at the same time.

We finished our set, sweat-drenched and exhausted, but riding the high of the music. Weaving between crew members, I entered the dressing room, boys in tow. 

“Hi” 

I jumped, turning around to face whoever was standing by the door. 

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growled, stepping back as she stood forward. “Natasha, how did you get through?” Jolly stated, stepping closer to her. “I’m just here to see noah!” she smiled, veneers on full display, a coy smile across her red lips. “I don’t want to see you,” I sneered, arms crossed. 

“Come onnn noah! Lighten up!” A smile flashing over her face, she stepped forward, reaching for me. An all too familiar feeling pooling in my stomach. 

“Don’t.” Jolly said firmly, stepping between us. Anger rippled through me, not wanting to swing on a woman. My palms were sweaty, why does she want to talk? Nicholas appeared at the door. “Hey do you guys want to go- what the fuck?” 

Natasha stood between us, twirling strands of red hair. Nick fumbled with his phone to contact security, visibly looking stressed, I shot a look at Nicholas. “You know, I really miss you, Noah bear.” She smiles, her annoying voice hanging heavy in the air. “What the fu- Tash you fuckin cheated on him?” Nick piped up, putting his phone in his back pocket. I cringe at the nickname, rubbing a hand over my face. The tension was palpable, silence echoing through the corridor.

“Get out of here..” I grumble, thoroughly embarrassed. Her face feigns offence, “Noah, we were made for eachother!” Nicholas tensed in the doorway, each member uncomfortable with the old yet new presence.  “Get the fuck out of here Natasha.” He calls out, leaning against the doorframe, a pure look of disdain displayed on his face. 

“Boo! You guys all suck. Noah bear loves me, and he’ll come visit me at the Inn tonight!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands excitedly. Beaming with some profound pride. “I don’t fuckin like you-” “stop denying it my love!!” she shouted, in the same moment, security burst through the door, grabbing her elbow roughly. 

She wriggled and shouted at them, her body thrashing about, not keen on being forcefully escorted out. I just sighed loudly, embarrassed. My tired body collapses down onto the leather couch. The commotion catches the attention of a few crew members, specifically matt. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the silence. 

 “I still think she’s a porn star.”

TAGLIST: @emluvsuxo @lilcrazy011 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @briefpersonenemy @lma1986 @cheyyyyr @niicolelynn @looney-goose @sister-sebastian @dominuslunae @supersquirrel1996

The next chapters are so not going to make sense. pray for me.

[soosoosoup]

Funk branch au

Au and branch design by @bbc-trolls

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[synthshenanigans]

Finally has been a full year since I started listening

Fuckin hate that guy eugh

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

re-rating rise of red songs as i listen to them on spotify

see the first rating here

red by red, jack of diamonds, and guards: 7.75/10

i've warmed up to the chanty chorus so that made the rating go up. again, kylie sounds really good. don't know how to feel about the pre-chorus. still don't care for jack of diamonds and the guards' parts (other than the "oh oh oh oh" parts but those go on a little too long imo)

so this is love by cinderella and king charming: 9.75/10

literally almost perfection! paolo and brandy sound SO GOOD. it's so so pretty omg. the pacing again is the downfall, some parts sound slightly too fast but i almost don't care, it's that pretty

love ain't it by red, queen of hearts, chloe, cinderella, and auradon citizens: 6/10

same ranking. mainly the same notes as the first ranking post, i like the beginning and chorus but it's (as a whole song) a little messy. again didn't really care for the citizens and guards singing and wanted a lot less rap. rita sounded great though

what's my name (red version) by uma and red: 7/10

the "stop us" is thankfully fixed as far as i can tell. the new instrumental is taking some getting used to but i like that the song isn't just the 2017 vocals on top of a new instrumental. red's talking parts in her verse are what's throwing me off and what brought down the ranking down a number. i am fine with the rap part though. the "that's my name, that's my name" adlib at the end sounds slightly off to me too

fight of our lives by red and chloe: 7.75/10

it definitely picks up after the first chorus. speaking of the first chorus, there's odd editing on the line "running out of hope" that takes me out of the song. i really like the instrumental though (the wannabe drummer in me is very happy about it). kylie, again, sounds very good but that's a given (i really like her chorus) and like i said in the first ranking, malia and kylie's voices sound very nice together and the layering and harmonies are nice (TO ME)

life is sweeter by rise of red cast: 6.75/10

again the chorus and the villains's (specifically hook, morgie, and uliana) part are the selling point to me. however why is maleficent's part like drowned out?? (actually a couple parts of this song are) ruby's voice sounds very nice on the chorus's melody. still haven't decided if i like that the song is everyone's introduction. the verses don't click with me, save for the first verse. the instrumental shift to the villains' introduction could be better. and the final chorus is very jarring with the villains interjecting, and not in a 'so bad it's good way'

perfect revenge by uliana, hook, morgie, hades, and maleficent: 6/10

i feel like this song is the definition of a grower and an earworm. i'll probably sing it over the next week even though it's my least favorite song. basically it's objectively catchy and i would understand why someone would like it. i personally don't love the melody of the post-chorus and i don't care for hades and maleficent's voices or parts (no offense). i do like dara's ad-libs at the end and the song makes my choreographer brain start ticking so i guess that's an upside.

shuffle of love by bridget: 8.5/10

one point off for the fact that i had to strain my brain and ears to figure out the lyrics of the first line of the chorus (it's "first, one two-step to start", had a feeling disney+ captions were wrong and they were). a half point off for the MORE unnecessary rapping (it wasn't bad just unneeded). other than that i really like this song. i especially like chorus, which i mentioned before, and i was robbed of this being fully in the movie

get your hands dirty by ella and chloe: 8/10

don't know why it went down, just vibes. everything i said is still true. i like the melody and absolutely love the songwriting and the rapping/talk singing is a bit more bearable. and again morgon sounds very nice.

life is sweeter (reprise) by red and queen of hearts: 7/10

pretty reprise, same ranking. nothing much to say that i haven't said already

life is sweeter (remix) by rise of red cast: 5/10

i like the little nuggets of vocals that can be heard but like i said before, not always a fan of remixes. ranking went lower because the scene talked over the remixed instrumental so i couldn't get an opinion on it.

bad reputation by red: 3/10

this is a lot at once and will probably be the only song i don't add to my soundtracks playlists. the instrumental is very loud and very distracting but kylie sounds nice

[emptymilk-bottle]

hello there milk!! i know you have already gotten one of these but still thought i'd put it in you mail box :)

✨when you get this, put 5 songs you actually listen to, then publish. Send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers🎶✨

hello hello!! tysm for the ask! i will gladly do this again bc i love sharing music 🫶

for todays 5 picks we shall have:

‘39 - queen

pretty isn’t pretty - olivia rodrigo

the bug collector - haley heynderickx

drop cherries - billie marten

little tooth - joel potter

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

I want to thank my Lord and savior Tom Cardy for posting a song that has the exact vibe I wanted for the relationship of ps8!Lance/ps8!Allura with an oc I have for this au

[tsukasalover]

(credits to ssruis)

This song is the only thing keeping me going I do not play about mr showtime 😞 nothing ruined me (made my life better) the way this song did

(Sendn. Me songs to do this with in my ask box… sniffle…)

[sexynetra]

What if instead of finishing all my WIPS that I’m hoping to have out by the end of the year I started writing another Drabble about the fallout of a collapsing relationship and infidelity. Hm. What if 🤔 💭 ✍️

[amiharana]

For the kiss prompt.. can't have revalink without ❦

(ask game from here)

you're so true about this anon what is revalink if not snow kisses persevering or however the quote goes (more under the keep reading)

Revali doesn't think he'll ever tire of looking at Link.

They're atop the Biron Snowshelf, having just permanently finished off the Guardian Stalker buried there, and after they had collected the parts of its destroyed corpse, it began to snow lightly. Not enough to warrant any concern from Revali, but enough for Link's eyes to widen at the event, looking around in quiet, yet delighted surprise. He holds out a hand palm up to the sky and when he catches a few snowflakes, he cups them in his hands and stares in wonder, eyes sparkling.

Beautiful, Revali thinks to himself, utterly besotted in an instant. You look beautiful when you're happiest, my love.

"Have you never seen snow fall before?" the Rito says aloud instead, rather softly. Link looks back at him grinning wide, his eyes bright with glee. Even in the merciless chill of the Hebra Mountains, Revali melts under Link's smile.

"Well, I mean I have," the blond says, rolling his eyes. "But it never gets old. It's incredible." He glances back at his hands and brightens when he finds more snowflakes have fallen in, and starts waddling towards Revali.

"Look how pretty," Link whispers, showing his cupped hands to Revali, who instinctively reaches a hand out to hold his mate's waist. Within Link's hands lies a group of small, but intricately patterned flakes. They were quite pretty, but—

"You're far prettier," Revali murmurs back, and Link snorts at him.

"You're such a sap," the blond says, but he's grinning. He's got snow in his hair now.

"I have no choice, you make it too easy which how much you endear me." Revali takes his other hand to tilt Link's chin up and presses their foreheads together. Gently, he nuzzles his mate's nose and lips with his beak, to which Link sighs in response and wraps his arms around Revali's midsection, returning the gesture.

"You dropped the snowflakes," Revali remarks softly.

Link hums. "I can always catch more. A moment like this with you is much more valuable." He brings his hands up to cup Revali's face and presses a soft kiss to the middle of his beak, the Rito's eyes shutting.

"If you desired so, I'd give you all the snowflakes this land could offer," Revali says under his breath. He's far too infatuated with the blond to be making such impossible offers, but he supposes that he would die trying to give his mate everything he'd ever want.

Link only giggles in response. "That won't be necessary," he says. "I already have you." When Revali pulls away to look down him, the blond's cheeks and nose are flushed pink, but his bright grin keeps the cold at bay, his eyes sparkling with mischief and fondness.

Yes, Revali won't ever tire of looking at Link, his most precious jewel. How could he ever?

[keeps-ache]

DARN, missed it again! 2nd anniversary of being a they/themer :D

[caruliaa]

mamma mia two here we go again has lied to me one again (changed the lyrics to make me think that abba song was originally a parent talking to their child)

[inkskinned]

in internet posts it is easy to cut them out of your life. they are hurting you! they aren't listening to you!

they held your hair back. they lent you lipstick. they held your hand at the train station and got you home safe. they rounded on your bully, got loud, said get fucked, spitting-mad in your defense.

they also cut the hair off again. told you that you should really think twice before wearing something like that. took you for granted. took your insecurities and threw them in your face again.

you know logically it should be easy. all the internet advice comments always read it will feel better. like an equation - if a person is rotten, you just remove them. you pull the tooth that's hurting.

but it was never a big flare-up moment. you don't live in a sitcom. they never tried to take your boyfriend or steal from your apartment. they showed up to birthdays and they wrote songs about you and bring you water without you asking. once you found out they carry an emergency inhaler for you, even though you haven't had an asthma attack in years - just in case.

where is the line? people fuck up. sometimes they fuck up badly. sometimes people have raw personalities, like a powerline, and being around them is dangerous. addicting. sometimes they can't help themselves, but you know they're trying. sometimes they are just rough-around-the-edges. sometimes they don't even realize how they sounded when they said that. sometimes it's just - you've both loved each other for so long now, the way this thing hurts goes back to the root.

and that's the fucked up part. you have pushed your fingers against the sweetheart of memory. things these days are electric, tense, harrowing. they didn't used to be. there were a lot of good days in there. sometimes you want to just close your eyes and say can this be over yet? do we still need to be fighting?

doing that would give up any chance you get of getting an apology, but you don't always know that you need an apology, you love them. once they flaked on your birthday party. once they told you to get over it, people are always dying. they also let you crash on their couch for a week after the breakup, handfeeding you when you were so sad you couldn't eat. they are also judgmental about everything, occasionally react to banal statements with an attitude that is weird and fiery. they also love you like a lighthouse sometimes, so strong they cut the storm like lightning.

but the problem is that you might be storm. you might be the thing that needs breaking. what if you are two forces who are desperately, horribly drawn to each other, shaped by the other person's passions, and both good for each other and bad in equal measure.

what if you're both just people, and you're no saint neither.

just cut them off! swallowing the saltwater, you catch yourself in the mirror. you've been shaking more than usual. there's an ache in you that is oblique, loud, impossible to soothe. is this what it looks like? when life is "easier"?

your mouth will always have a hole, is the thing, if you remove the tooth.

[theetherealbloom]

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.

[g0dlyunsub]

stitch me.

you were assigned to negotiate with an unsub keeping a group of females hostage, or so you thought. turns out he has a partner and he’s determined to destroy you, all in front of spencer.

pairing :: spencer x fem!reader

warnings :: lots of physical violence, blood, mentions of murder, knife threats, biting, general criminal minds themes.

word count :: 1.8k

author’s note :: so… this is my first post, like ever. sorry if it’s poorly written, but i’m all for slightly (?) protective reid and just wanted to write about him :3 accompanying song :: savior by novulent

you knew something was more than just off the moment you were violently thrown into the room. the hostages were huddled near the left corner of the room, their eyes locked onto you as their shoulders shook in panic.

but the hostages were all supposed to be women. brunettes. young women in their twenties. so why was there a young man among them? there was no mention of a young man reported missing in the case files or when garcia had compiled the final list of hostages, so who was he?

must’ve been a gap in the reports, you shook your head and tried to get up, but your left cheek met the cold concrete ground once again.

“don’t move, sweetheart.” his knife was positioned at the nape of your throat, and you felt your breaths become more jagged, more erratic.

“listen, i swear i’ll make it up to you i never-“ your breath gets caught in your throat when the blade presses ever so slightly into your skin.

“shut your pretty little mouth. i know who you are, an undercover cop. if you think you’re so smart coming in here without your wire and gun, you should be prepared for the consequences.” he spits the words with a nasty drawl.

you barely have any time to respond as he lifts you up by the back of your shirt and drags you to an adjacent room. he grabs a fistful of your hair and throws you to the ground forcefully.

“all the other girls in there, they’re nothing compared to you. i’ll take my time with you, sweetheart”. he approaches you while cracking his knuckles and waving his knife around menacingly.

“who’s the boy?” your voice comes out with a slight quiver, but you’re determined not to sound scared. the man lets out a bellowing laugh in response, examining his knife in one hand.

“that’s my buddy jack. you cops surely would have done your research, right?” his hand is now gloved around your throat, and you struggle to loosen his grip with your arms.

this killer had a partner sitting right between the hostages and you and your team had completely missed the signs.

but the adrenaline must have kicked in at the right timing, since you manage to knock your head back into his face and quickly swivel to deliver a kick into his shins and bring him to his knees before he has any time to react with his knife. then you strike him unconscious with a swift elbow to his temple.

you barely have any time to recover, however, when a blow hits the back of your head and your world comes spinning down. before your eyelids slowly close, you manage to steal a glance at the perpetrator — the male hostage had knocked you with a bat and was now trying to shake his unconscious partner awake.

when you open your eyes, you can’t move. your arms are tied behind your back, and your legs are tightly trapped behind the legs of the chair with knots of rope. you were in the main room now with all of the other hostages, and the former hostage was on the ground, still trying to shake his partner awake.

“look what you’ve done, you stupid brat. i swear if you’ve killed him i'm going to SLIT YOUR THR-“ the crescendo of his voice halts with the abrupt ring of the telephone hanging on the wall. he huffs and makes his way to the phone, never losing his eye contact with you. you try to wrestle against the ropes, but your efforts are useless and your energy is at an all time low.

it was your team on the other end. they must have figured out that it was a team of two and not just one.

“your stupid cop knocked samuel cold and split his skin open. send me a medic and maybe i won’t kill all of them here”. jack’s tone is agitated, threatening, and also lost. now that his commander wasn’t in charge, he didn’t know what to do with the hostages, let alone you.

you can barely decipher hotch’s words as they filter through the noise of the phone. “release the women, and i’ll send you all the medical attention you need. we’ll make sure samuel gets the stitches.” his voice is level and controlled. you’ve always trusted hotch and you’ve always trusted your team, but you couldn’t help but let a sliver of anxiousness cloud your thoughts.

and oh god, spencer. how would he cope when you were gone? how would he react at the sight of your cold body, drowned in the blood of the other hostages? tears fill your eyes and you make a poor attempt to swallow them back.

just as you think of your boyfriend, you hear his name through the phone.

“we're going to send in doctor spencer reid to have a look at samuel, alright jack? i want you to let the women go first. the sooner you do this, the sooner samuel gets his help”.

no. no, no, no. NO.

you squirm in your seat, trying to divert jack’s attention.

“wait-“ you try to shout, before jack cuts you off: “SHUT UP! this is all your fault!” he rolls his eyes before he turns around. jack’s knuckles had turned white, maintaining a deathly grip on the telephone.

“fine. but the cop stays with me.” he slams the phone before he rushes back to check on samuel.

the women are released one by one, each frantically making their way out, and you can hear cops outside ushering them and retreating.

it’s only a few minutes later when you hear the familiar sounds of the leather shoes make their way inside of the room. it’s spencer, and he has no wire, no gun, no vest. he’s carrying a medical first aid kit and making his way toward samuel, but not before taking a glance at you.

your world collapses, right there and then. he’s made the same mistake you had by entering without his gun and vest, and you had to give him a signal somehow. if luck was on your side, spencer would make it out alive. but you? your chances are slim.

“hurry up and stitch him up. don’t fuckin look at the other cop.” jack points his knife at spencer, and you let out a hitched yelp. please don’t hurt him. hurt me instead.

spencer gets down to work quickly, examining and tending to the wounds on samuel’s face, and he doesn’t look up in your direction once. jack’s watching him the entire time, tapping his left foot in impatience.

“there. he’s all good, samuel just needs some time to recov-“ spencer raises his arms and turns his back against you, and faces jack as he speaks.

“shut- sit on that chair”. jack motions at spencer to sit down on the chair across from you. you shake your head fervently, yelling constant streams of don’t to him. but he obliges.

“put your arms behind your back,” jack orders, and spencer obliges. you make a desperate attempt and kick at jack to try and distract him. but jack only slaps you in the face with his backhand before aiming the knife at spencer. your boyfriend flinches, and his friendly facade is now masked with a deathly glare.

“don’t move.” jack grabs duct tape and moves swiftly to bind spencer’s hands together behind the chair. you hang your head down. it’s over.

“listen, let spence- let him go. it’s just between you and me, your partner said you only need me”. you shakingly drew in a deep breath as you spoke.

jack chuckles before he makes a step toward you. the next thing you know, he’s grabbed you by the hair and he’s delivering punches left and right, hurling screams of expletives and slurs. he’s lost it. and you were going to die.

he positions the knife at your chest, and you know he'll do it. you know he will drive that blade straight to your skin. straight to your heart.

“STOP. STOP! PLEASE!” you hear spencer rocking his chair forwards, and jack finally stops. you can’t breathe with all the blood pooling in your mouth, and you let the excess drawl out of your lips to land on the floor.

“jack, listen to me, please.” spencer looks at you with pleading eyes, silently signaling you to not move. to not agitate jack further.

“no. samuel said he was gonna kill her and i have to finish what he started for him”. jack leans forward and pulls the collar of your shirt outwards, and bites down on your neck. you let out a painful scream, tears running down your face just as more blood leaves the corner of your lips. spencer thrashes in his chair, trying to shift jack’s attention.

“but i stitched him up. samuel will live. let her go. you can take it out on me.” spencer’s voice is desperate, but there’s a tone of controlled execution, because his voice isn’t quivering like before.

at that instant, doors fling open and less than a millisecond later, jack drops to the ground, his knife toppling down to the floor soon after. the team of cops, along with hotch and rossi, make their way toward you and spencer, untying the knots.

between the yells of “we need a medic” and comforting words of “you’re going to be okay” being uttered left and right, you hear spencer’s voice. it’s seemingly amplified for some reason, and you can’t help but smile. your boyfriend rushes towards you, sweeping your hair and cradling you back and forth in his arms.

“you’re so brave, you’re so brave y/n.” his voice comes out stifled and hoarse, and you feel him grip your hand even tighter.

“i’m so sorry i let you go in there alone. i’m so sorry i let him do that to you, torture you and almost-“ his head buried into the crook of your neck, and he lightly kisses you right above the dried cut where jack had attacked you.

you turn your head ever so slightly to get a better look at spencer. tears coat his eyelashes and his mouth shakes as he talks. a soft groan rolls out from the back of your throat, and you snuggle deeper into spencer’s hold.

“keep… talking. i want… to hear… you.” you manage to let out, and spencer’s eyes widen.

“of course. i can do that. i’ll keep talking to you, y/n. focus on my voice, can you do that?” he asks with a slight squeeze to your palm. you give a slow nod in return.

that’s all he needs, because when the medics transfer you into the ambulance, he’s sitting right beside you, not letting go of your hand, and whispering nothing but bittersweet apologies.

his voice is the only stitch you need.