#also I realized I wasn’t following op

[cozage]

Congratulations on hitting 2k🎉🎉

I really love your writing and I’d love to see how you think the op boys would react to their s/o getting jealous you could maybe do ace law and luffy?

Characters: gn reader x Ace, Law, Luffy Cw: Put your rose-colored glasses on, folks. Because we got some red flags (cough cough Law)  Total word count: 1.6k

Jealous Reader

Ace

Ace is just being fun. He’s just too oblivious to realize the other people are flirting. He doesn’t notice the soft touches across his torso, or how they lean in closer to him every time they laugh. But you do. 

“You don’t look like you’re having fun,” he said halfway through the night. “We can go, if you want.”

“Wouldn’t want to take you away from your fan club,” you spat back, venom in your words. But he either didn’t notice or he pretended not to.

“Yeah, they’re funny aren’t they?” He laughed. “They all buy me drinks whenever I tell a new story. Hospitality here is amazing!”

“Right.” You got up to leave. “Have fun with that.”

“What?” his brows furled together in confusion. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the ship.” And with that, you slammed the door closed. 

A few seconds later, he’s racing after you into the crowded street.

This man has no idea what he did wrong, but he’s trying to make it right. 

He abandons everyone in that bar without even a goodbye, and as his fingers lace through yours, you can’t help but feel a little better about that. 

He kisses your cheek and follows you closely, not wanting you to get away from him. He knows you all need to talk, but he also knows this crowded street isn’t the place to do it. 

When you all get back to your room, you try to break away from him, but he pulls you into an embrace, strong warm arms wrapping around you. 

“You’re the only one I have eyes for, you know that right?” he said, rubbing your back lightly. 

“Didn’t feel like it tonight,” you mumbled harshly. 

“Well you are.” He tilted your face up so he could cover it with kisses. “I just use those people to get free drinks.”

“I know,” you whispered, leaving your head against his chest to hear his heartbeat. “Doesn’t make it any easier to watch though.”

“Okay.” Ace kissed the top of your head. “Won’t do it anymore.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Of course!” He kissed your lips now, gently reminding you that he was all yours. “Your feelings aren’t worth some free booze.”

Law

Of course this woman was some fancy doctor. Of course Law had read her book. All her books. And now he had been gone from your all’s table for almost thirty minutes to talk to her. 

She wasn’t just polite. She was friendly. Overly friendly. You had watched as she had scooted closer and closer to your boyfriend, minimizing the gap between their bodies. 

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You got up from your seat and ignored the snickering of Shachi and Penguin from the table. 

“Law, dear.” You gave a strained smile to him and the woman. “I hate to rush you, but we’re kind of on a schedule.”

Law stood, still staring at the woman. “Wow! The time really flew by. Thanks for letting me pick your brain.”

“Oh doctor,” the woman cooed, a seductive smile on her face. “The pleasure was all mine. Feel free to find me any time you want to have a…chat”

“Thanks for being patient,” Law said as the two of you walked away. “It’s not often I-”

“Let’s go,” you said to the others as you walked past the table, not pausing for a moment. “The captain made us late.”

You don’t use “Captain” often. And based on your tone, Law had to guess he was in trouble. 

The snickers from Shachi and Penguin weren’t helping either. They had surely watched you become more and more irritated as time went on, so they had a pretty good idea of what was going on,  

“Can you give me some pointers? Any warnings?” Law mumbled to his crewmates, desperate to get a read on your emotions. 

“You don’t know what you did?” Penguin asked as Shachi burst into laughter, causing all three of them to receive a glaring look from you

When you got back to the Polar Tang, you made a beeline for your bedroom. Law didn’t follow. He assumed you needed a bit to cool off. Plus he wanted to check out another book from the woman he had just met. 

After a few hours, Law rubbed his drooping eyes, and finally decided to see you again. He still had no idea why you were so upset. 

You were asleep in the bed, but you had built a pillow divider between his side in yours. He rolled his eyes and quickly pulled the pillows away, curling into you. 

You tried to push him away, proving you weren’t asleep, but he wouldn’t let you. 

“Can you tell me why you have such an attitude?”He was irritated, and you laughed at the irony. You were the one who was supposed to be irritated, not him. 

“Why don’t you go ask that famous doctor since you care about her more than-”

He scoffed, cutting you off. “You can’t be serious.”

You stared at him for a long moment, and then turned away from him, pouting at his words. 

“I’ve read her books, that’s all. Can you stop acting like a child with this petty jealousy?”

His words tipped you over the edge. “I’ll stop acting like a child when you treat me like an equal!” you yelled. You rose to your feet and quickly strode out the door, slamming it behind you. 

Oh, he really fucked up now. His tongue was always getting him in trouble.

He scoured the Polar Tang, searching for you. He finally found you on the couch and curled up next to you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That was really insensitive of me to say. If the situation were reversed, I would be upset too. I’ll do better in the future, okay?”

You gave him a slight nod, and he quickly shambled you both back to the bed to get some much-needed sleep. 

Luffy

“Oh, Hancock is coming, right?!” Luffy asked. “I like her!”

“And we all know how she feels about you,” you mumbled under your breath. Your comment sparked laughter from Nami, causing Luffy’s attention to drift over to you. 

“What’s funny?” He asked. “I want to be in on the joke!”

“Nothing,” you grumbled. You could see Boa Hancock’s ship in the ocean, and your stomach churned with dread. “Sanji, do you need any help in the kitchen?”

Working with Sanji had been a bad idea. Boa Hancock was beautiful. And while you could hear her fawning over your boyfriend on the deck, Sanji fawned over her in the kitchen 

It was only thirty minutes before you gave up and retreated to your room. You were in a bad mood, but this was a celebration, and you didn’t want to ruin it. 

Luffy entered the kitchen looking for two things: Meat and you. “Sanji! Y/N-hey, where are they?”

Sanji shrugged. “Said they weren’t feeling well. Not sure.”

Luffy headed to your all’s room. Now that he thought about it, you had been off. You hadn’t been chatty or smiled most of the day, and he was starting to get worried you were really sick. 

As you heard the turn of the doorknob, you quickly wiped away your stray tears. But your eyes were still red and puffy. 

“Oh man!” Luffy sat down next to you on the bed, staring at your face. “Your allergies are terrible! You should’ve told me, we could’ve moved to another season ecosystem!”

His idiocy made you let out a garbled laugh, trying to hide your true feelings about the party. 

“It’s fine,” you said, shaking your head. But your bottom lip trembled, giving you away.

“You’ve been crying.” He stated it as a fact, not a question. He knew you too well for you to hide your tears for long. He smushed your cheeks together and held your face so you couldn’t avoid his gaze any longer. “Did Sanji make you cry?”

“No.” You tried to pull away from his grip, but he clamped down on your cheeks so you couldn’t escape. He wouldn’t let you leave his gaze until he figured out what was wrong. 

While you were here alone with him, all your worries felt so silly. Luffy didn’t even realize Hancock was in love with him. If you brought it up now, you’d be causing a big scene. 

“It’s stupid,” you whispered, but he only frowned at you. He opened his mouth to say something. 

“Luffy!” Hancock called from behind the door, interrupting his thoughts. “Are you in there? Should I come in?”

You rolled your eyes at her voice. Of course she came to find him. He had been gone for too long, and he was the only reason she was here. 

You tried to hide your disdain for the empress, but Luffy caught it, and his eyes widened. “You don’t like her!” he whispered. 

“Luffy, can we not do this right now?” you hissed, and the door opened. 

“Oh!” Hancock blushed seeing you and Luffy so close, but she glared daggers at you. “I didn’t realize you were with someone, Luffy.”

Luffy’s eyes slid between you and her, trying to figure it out. He was so close to the revelation, but he just couldn’t get there. 

The three of you rejoined the party reluctantly, but Luffy kept you close to him for the rest of the night. 

He’s always been a physical touch person, and tonight you were grateful for it. He was always holding your hand or had his arm wrapped around you. He stayed close, and even though you got death stares from Hancock, at least you had Luffy by your side to make it more manageable. 

[somanyratsinthewalls]

2 Years Later (+18)

2 Years Later (+18) (Zoro x Reader)

Summary: You finally decide it's time to tell Zoro how you feel. Too bad he's a fucking idiot.

Pairing: Zoro x afab!reader

WC: 1500 OPE

Ageless Blogs and Minors DNI you WILL be blocked immediately

TW: angst, hate sex, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, romance, pining, pet names, once again so much plot with also porn, idk help!

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” 

Zoro muttered to himself as he firmly rapped his head on the back of the wall he was sitting against. He was out on the deck staring towards the bow of the Sunny, leaning up his back against the wall to the galley. How could he be such a fool? He hadn’t seen you in 2 years and he wasted the sweet moment of your reunion by accusing you of sleeping with someone you had met during your time away from everyone. Zoro let those insecurities of not be able to find you or protect you bubble up to the surface and he came off as an asshole instead of someone who deeply cares about you. Loves you, even… 

But now here he was, alone, physically thrown out of your room and not daring to return. He couldn’t believe he wasted his big chance to confess and made you hate him in the process…

— 12 hours before The Fight — 

Your stomach was in knots, couldn’t believe you were really about to see your crewmates again after 2 years. Everyone had been through so much, and so had you. You snapped out of your anxious thoughts and hitched up your backpack and made your way into the market on Sabaody. 

You heard him before you saw him, the sound of his deep voice clearly frustrated with whoever he was talking with. You heard it in the marketplace and instinctively whipped around to see a pair of broad shoulders and the sparkle of 3 earrings above his left one. You flew towards him and instinctively wrapped your arms around his strong back, not missing how much larger he had become. 

“What the hell? Why are-“ Zoro looked down, he knew those arms. Your arms, the ones he wished so often to place kisses on their soft skin… the ones he imagined gripping his biceps as he plowed into you… 

“Y/n?”  

Zoro din’t hug you back, but you didn’t expect him to. It wasn’t his style. You didn’t care, you liked him that way. But of course… you’d never tell him that…

— 2 hours before The Fight —

You were so excited to see everyone again, but also excited to celebrate with them. Your evening was filled with lots of delicious food and tons of booze. You gaze across the table at Zoro, catching his eye before he looked down at his glass. Now that he was no longer staring at you, he realized it was empty and rose from his stool to refill his cup. Maybe it was the alcohol or the endorphins in your brain from seeing your friends after so long, but you thought tonight would be the night you tell Zoro how you really feel. You rise from your own chair and follow him into the kitchen. You sauntered in and found your swordsman pouring himself another hefty glass of liquor. 

“Some things never change, huh.” The words came out far more sultry than you expected, perhaps it was the booze talking. 

“Hmm,” he smirked and lightly chuckled. “I could say the same to you, you haven’t exactly stayed sober all night.”

You laughed at his remark and sidled up to him putting your glass on the table next to his, gesturing to pour one for you as well.  He silently nodded and poured you a large shot in your cup. You looked into each others eyes, and without breaking contact clinked your glasses together. You both take your drinks and you wince. He doesn’t. 

“Come to my room tonight, Zoro. I have to talk to you about something.”

His eyes blew wide. What did you need to talk to him about? Had you met someone on your journeys? Were you going to break it to him that you were leaving the crew and running off with some pirate blow hard and nev-?

“Zoro?” You prompted him when he didn’t respond.

“Hmm? Uh. Yeah. I can do that.”

“Right. See you later then.” You smiled at him and returned to the festivities. Leaving him in the kitchen alone again. He poured himself another drink. He was going to need it.  

— The Fight — 

You paced in your room. You brushed your hair out, applied your favorite perfume, it was going to be perfect. Still imbued with a little liquid courage, you knew this was the moment you were finally going to tell Zoro how you feel. You had so much time over the past 2 years to think about your feelings for him.

He wasn’t the kind of man many women would fawn over. Of course he was handsome, but he had his quirks. Very little went though the brain rattling around under his green hair other than the thought of becoming the world’s greatest swordsman. But still, he always made a point to check in with you during hard battles, more than he did with anyone else. It was those little things he did that sparked your romantic feelings for him 

*knock knock* he didn’t wait for a response, since the knob turned immediately following the second knock. He gingerly peaked his head in the door, “Y/n?”

“Hi Zoro, you can come in.” 

He walked in and you sat down on your bed and patted the space next to you for him to sit. 

“I prefer to stand.” He responded nervously. What the hell had gotten into him? He had sat next to you on your bed so many times before while you sharpened your blades together. He was so comfortable then, so strange now… What had happened to the laid back swordsman you knew? Had it really been that long?

“ok…” you started. Figuring you were in for a penny, in for a pound on this confession thing, you might as well do it. It was eating you alive. “Zoro… I know you and I care about each other, but it’s just been so long…” You were stumbling over your words, unable to meet his gaze. “Um.. and I’ve had so much time away from you… and I just can’t help that I just…”

“Who was it? Who is he?” Zoro raised his voice at you. He had never done that before in all your time sailing with him. You’d only even seen him do it at enemies or at Sanji during their fruitless arguments. 

“Zoro what-? What are you talking about? Who is who?” You heart started pounding even harder and there was a pit in your stomach forming. He was upset with you? You hadn’t even said anything yet!

“The man that you’re leaving us for! Isn’t that what you’re here to tell me? Try and let me down easy when you tell me you’ve found some pirate asshole boyfriend and you’re shoving off with him at dawn?”

You were stunned. What the hell was he talking about? You had nothing of the sort. You spent 2 years training with a vicious crew of bandits. He thought you were on vacation and getting laid?

You scoffed. “You’re so fucking unbelievable.”

“I’M unbelievable? You’re the one abandoning m- us for some filthy low life bastard!”

“You’re delusional! Zoro you really think you were the only one who trained miserably hard for 2 years to try and make this crew better? You think I would sacrifice my loyalty to this crew for ANYONE? You think while you all broke your backs getting stronger, I was on a beach somewhere getting fucked? How DARE you accuse me of that. I thought I knew you, Roronoa Zoro, clearly I was wrong. I had no idea you were so fucking insecure. Get out of my room.”

Tears started welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill over. Zoro looked up at you. He really had fucked up this time. 

“Y/n wait-“

“Fuck you Zoro.” You huffed out while you pushed him hard out of your room and slammed the door. 

— Currently —

Zoro continuously beat his head into the wall he was leaning against, trying to ignore his feelings. “Fucking, stupid, idiot, moron…” he punctuated each with a slap against the wall. On the last one he felt something cradle his head…

“Seis fleur..” 

 Robin’s hands acted as a barrier between Zoro’s head and the wall. 

“ You know this won’t help anything, swordsman.” Robin’s silky voice told Zoro off. “You need to go back down there and tell her how you really feel.” Her body appeared behind the mast in front of him. Her eyes were serious. 

Zoro acted like he had no idea what she was talking about, but acting was never his strong suit. 

“Just go. I don’t have time to hold both of your hands through all of this. You need to figure it our yourselves.”

Zoro realized what Robin was implying. She had already said something to you, clearly. He nodded and turned to face the hallway that included your door. He stood at your doorway for a few moments and took his last deep breaths before he opened the door without asking. 

Upon barging in, he could see you sitting at the edge of your bed in a robe sobbing. You were crying over him. It broke his heart into one thousands minuscule pieces.. how could he let this happen?  You saw him enter your room and you stood up to shove him out again. 

Zoro immediately fell to his knees. He pressed his face into the wooden floor of your bedrooom. He laid his white handled sword on the ground in front of him The cherished blade that Kuina had left for him... his last hope to enjoy a happy life...

“Y/n… I am here to do nothing but apologize." Zoro spoke with his forehead touching the wooden floorboards of your bedroom. “You have shown me nothing but grace and mercy, far more than I deserve. You are the light at the end of my tunnel. You are the song of the sea against my hard-worn ship. I have thought of nothing but you over these two years. I simply love you so much that my largest fear is that you find someone else. I’m so sorry. I am immature and insecure, you were right. The thought of anyone taking you away from me again…” Zoro wracked a violent sob… unlike anything you’ve ever hear from him… “I just… I love you…”

He was knelt, sobbing uncontrollably at your feet. Your heart was the fullest it had ever been. He had never shown anything like this as long as you've known him. You looked at his pathetic form around your legs. 

“Rise, Swordsman.” you firmly order.

Zoro took a few moments but eventually he raised his head and his body  to meet your gaze.

“Roronoa Zoro… my heart…” your gripped his jaw in your hand. “… has always belonged to you…”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You felt the same way? This whole time? He had spent 2 years being insecure for no reason?

You grabbed his face and kissed him with fervor. He grabbed your torso and flipped you over onto your back. Zoro exhaled deeply and kissed down the side of your neck to the sides of your breast. His hands experimentally squeezed and kissed at your nipples as you sighed and squeaked under his touch. 

“Zoro I-“ You tried to get more out but he cut you off.

“Y/n let me make you mine forever, please.” 

“Oh- okay…” your were apprehensive at first but his hands felt like a warm, comforting hug every time he slid them up and down the sides of your torso. 

"Y/n.. I promise to make you feel good..."

"Zoro yes.. I trust you..."

He heard your affirmation and dove into your body like a man starved. He sloppily kissed and sucked at your nipples before he tore your panties off in one piece with his massively strong hand. You writhed underneath his touch as he slowly stroked his thumbs on the sides of your clit. 

“Zoro please.. it’s been so long…” You begged for him. Your pussy was so wet and aching that even oblivious Zoro could tell you needed help.

He heard you begging for him and instinctively latched his lips onto your clit. He saw it throbbing, he needed to relieve it. You gasped loudly as he brings you to the precipice of pleasure. “Oh my god? Zoro I can’t! It’s incredible, please!” You could hardly believe that this man of few words was bringing you such intense sexual pleasure.. He was sucking and touching your sex at just the right pace that had you gasping and gasping under his hands and mouth. 

“Zoro I promise I’m right there just a bit more PLEASE…” He heard your promise to him. His brain short circuited. All Zoro could think of was promising to make you cum. He craved the feeling of making you cum, he needed to know he was the man making you scream out in pleasure. 

“Please sweetheart, cum on my face for me?” He was a man of few words, but these were the ones that finally sent you over the edge. You screamed and folded your body into yourself as you came against his lips. After a few moments, you tried to catch your breath. 

“Zoro my love…” You choked out as you backed up and flopped against his chest. 

“My sweet love, please let me prove to you how much you mean to me.”

You looked up at him hovering above you. He had one eye. You wondered why. It wasn’t right to ask right now. What happened to your tender swordsman over the past 2 years? He hadn’t mentioned his injuries. You hadn’t mentioned the massive scar over your left knee. Tonight wasn’t the night. Tonight was the night he proved to you he was the only man for you. 

“okay…”

Zoro slipped off the rest of his clothes and resumed his position on top of you. He lined his cock up with your soaking entrance when he made eye contact. 

“tell me this is okay…”

You gazed up at him. His always serious eyes... eye... god, fuck who took it from him? Mihawk? The government? He stared right into your soul but you still had so much worry for him..

“Zoro… please… I need you inside of me now…” Zoro heard your plea and slowly pushed his fat cock head inside of your drenched pussy. You moaned out loud, finally feeling your swordsman inside of you. It was a few brief, strained moments before his cock was fully seated inside of you. He tried his hardest to not make a sound but as soon as he bottomed out he released a long, drawn out sigh. 

Zoro pulled his fat cock out of you at a painful pace, pushing it back in again. You eyes were slammed shut underneath him. “Baby please… I need more…” You whined, wanting more.

For the second time tonight he was told he was being too gentle. It was more than enough for him. Zoro grabbed your hips and spread them farther than he ever needed. His insecurity addled brain needed you to confirm his feelings before he could ever achieve release. 

“You are mine. Tell me you are mine.”

“Roronoa Zoro…” You stopped bucking your hips in need, You grabbed his face with your right hand, ignoring the sparce and short hunter-green facial hair that grew on his chin. “I want every part of you. I want to belong to you. You’re my everything, love.”

Zoro lost it. He grabbed your hips and slammed them into his with reckless abandon. 

“Zoro yes, more! It’s so good, just like that!” He was so fueled by your praise that he slammed into you like a jackhammer.  He made no moans, just heavy grunts and sighs, just like you imagined he would.

“Oh my god honey yes, please just exactly like that! A little bit more!” You were shrieking on his cock at this point, drool forming at the corners of your mouth, just chasing your high. Finally your orgasm ran through your body and you wracked your tremors on Zoro’s cock. 

“FUCK-“ you squeezed Zoro so hard with your gorgeous pussy that he pulled out too late and painted your clit and hole with his white slop. 

He collapsed on top of you, never experiencing such a powerful orgasm in his life, nuzzling his nose into the valley of your full breasts. 

“Tomorrow… love.. love you…”

And just light that, Zoro was asleep…

You laughed…

“Some things never change…” 

[longing-for-rain]

https://www.tumblr.com/atla-confessions/759438562978562048/zutara-and-azutara-both-agree-katara-would-have?source=share

Do a post on this please I don't have the energy

I see this sentiment a lot lately, and yes, it is frustrating. But I’m going to talk about it because it perfectly illustrates the way (kataang) fans take power away from Katara’s narrative and reduce her complexity as a result.

For those too tired to look at the OP (understandable) it’s an anon saying that both Zutara and Kazula would be problematic and harmful to Katara because the Fire Nation would never accept her, and that she and her family would always be in danger yada yada blah blah.

And honestly? I agree with that. It would be dangerous for Katara. But if you think that would stop Katara, you fundamentally don’t understand her character.

Do you really think Katara is some poor little damsel who needs to be protected at all costs and sent away to live a quiet life in the countryside? No; that’s never been Katara. Katara wants to fight and she has never backed down from a challenge. It’s who she is.

Katara is the girl who left her home to travel across a war-torn world to chase even a chance that she could play a part in ending the war. She’s constantly putting herself in dangerous situations because she follows her heart, she does what’s right even if it’s a risk to her safety. The Katara we know from ATLA is not some demure, unassuming girl who would be happy to sit back and become known for her healing above all else while her friends fought in her place. Katara would have hated to see her future as it was written. She is loud. She is proud. She is a fighter.

Katara not only accepts a challenge; she’s eager for it. She’s strong, she knows it, and she isn’t afraid to use her power for good.

I know someone is going to jump in the comments and accuse me of “shaming” Katara for her “choices” (nevermind the fact that she’s a fictional character so every choice she makes isn’t her own; it’s a narrative chosen for her by the male writers) but I’m not even saying that being a healer is inherently weak or bad. I’m saying it’s not Katara.

It’s a shame that so many people are willing to overlook the butchering of her story just because they’re so protective over canon and are completely unwilling to engage with it critically.

This sentiment reflects the issues many fans have with canon kataang, because it’s a very common misogynistic trope in media. A female character can be strong, but it’s only temporary. We can see her fight and triumph, but at the end she’s expected to give that up for marriage and motherhood after the war. Her identity is reduced to her relation to a man. She isn’t expected to retain her strength; she is expected to accept a quiet recognition while the world sings the man’s praises.

That was the fate of Katara in canon. And it is a disservice to her character. Katara would have wanted to continue to fight, because the fight wasn’t over. Anon’s recognition that Fire Nation nobility would have an issue with her holding power shows they understand that too. So why do you think Katara would be fine with sitting back and letting that happen? Why do you think she’d let that scare her away? Not my Katara.

Especially when love enters the picture. Let’s say Katara did canonically love Zuko, or Azula, or anyone outside of her nation for that matter. Yes, it would be more difficult for her. But do you really think Katara would back down for that reason?

In fact, do you realize how insulting it is to imply that she should to anyone in an interracial relationship? Or a same sex relationship? Yes, societal pressure and bigotry make them more difficult. But it doesn’t make them wrong. And the idea that it’s selfish or wrong because it’s endangering the family is insulting.

Especially in the case of Kazula. The Fire Nation is canonically homophobic. There would be danger and backlash for any same sex relationship, especially involving a member of the royal family like Azula. So…what then. Are gay people supposed to stop existing? Is Azula supposed to just never date or marry because it would be too dangerous?

Yeah, no. 0/10, trash take, do better.

(This part is mostly a joke but I also want to point it out)

The anon also implies that Katara’s canon relationship (with the Avatar) wouldn’t also carry the same risks. Which it would, probably even more so. Katara could be used as leverage against Aang by people trying to get to him. I mean, it already happened in canon.

And quite frankly, Aang was pretty useless at protecting Katara in that situation. Look at his face. Literal baby goo-goo-ga-ga shit. She’s lucky Fong wasn’t willing to actually kill her and that she was safely underground when Aang had his Spirit Tantrum because she would have been dead meat. So if your argument is that poor helpless little Katara would be sooooo much safer with Aang, I’m really not convinced.

If you’re going to decide who to ship Katara with based on who can protect her from danger the best, well…

I’m just saying 🤷🏻‍♀️🍵

[pedgito]

𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𓆩♡𓆪 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫!𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: your career was built on luck and fortunate circumstances, but that was bound to run out at some point. enter eddie munson, rockstar extraordinaire, the reason for your life being thrust into chaos—but, fake it til you make it, right?

cw: 18+ (minors dni), fem!reader, small age gap (25/29), establish friendships with steve & reader (hints of musician!steve), enemies to…something, fake relationships, mentions of misogyny toward reader, awkward first meetings, mentions of substance abuse, social media posts inserted through the fic (texts), fingering and handjobs, drinking and messing around inebriated, use of rings for nefarious purposes, lots of teasing and cocky eddie. i might have missed something so lmk!

word count: 12k

The call happened on a random Sunday morning, following a long night of partying with not nearly enough alcohol, head still pounding from the music and flashing lights of the club. You buried your head further into your pillow, swiped the screen to answer, and muffled a gruff, “What?” into the air.

Thus thrusting you into the most ridiculous conversation you’ve ever witnessed, immediately pushing from your bed and snatching the phone between your fingers, staring at the black screen of your phone, the monotone voice of your agent boring through the receiver—this had to be a joke.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t—and it’s how you ended up standing in the office of your show’s executive team, arms crossed firmly over your chest as they laid out the plan. The fucking plan. The seemingly full proof, highly thought out plan that would not only boost the ratings for the premiere through the roof, but would also bring in an insane amount of attention to the other party.

Him. Eddie Munson, who stood on the other side of the small room, similarly positioned and not believing a single word of shit spilling out of their mouths. If there was anyone who you could care less about, or even despise the idea of having a fake relationship with—it was him. 

Known womanizer, constantly getting caught with groupies after shows, one scandal after another, it was like putting a wrecking ball to a career you had spent a decade building. You didn’t care how good the money sounded, the benefits to it, none of it.

“Absolutely fucking not,” You reply snidely, earning wide eyes from your team, and an even more surprised look from the higher-ups seated at the table, all buttoned up their suits and poised to seem professional, “—not a chance, no.”

“Listen—“ One of the men starts, pen flipping nervously in his hand. He had to be new, less experienced in this world, his voice shaking as he spoke, “just hear us out.”

“No, I heard you,” You chuckle lightly, pointing vaguely in the direction of Eddie, “you want me to sign your stupid little contract and tie myself to a man who, just recently, was caught hanging out with underage girls after a concert—“

“Hey, that’s not my fault—“ Eddie defends weakly, “I can’t control what my bandmates do.”

“You’re literally the lead guitarist and singer,” You say defensively, “—that shit directly affects you.”

How he didn’t realize that was beyond you, his face caught up in a sudden realization, he stayed silent. 

“The ratings will be record breaking,” It was one of the main producers, offering up a small morsel of positivity, “brand deals, appearances—this stuff has worked in the past.”

“How?” Eddie asks curiously, catching your pointed gaze, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. He shakes it off, turned toward the group of men seated at the table. “What do we have to do?”

“Public appearances, obviously.” They begin, “We’ll stage some candid pictures by tipping off paparazzi, maybe even some interviews, it’s all strictly professional—it just depends on how much you two want to sell it.”

“We’ve never been seen in public together before,” You say defensively, “how will that look?”

“I don’t think that’ll matter.” 

“His band is covering the opening song for the show—isn’t that suspicious?” You ask, trying to find any reason to hope this plan would fall apart.

“People eat that stuff up,” Your agent provides softly, trying not to step on any toes, “I don’t think they’ll care.”

“I don’t think it’s a horrible idea,” Eddie says with a slight falter in his voice, just as unsure as you were, but still hanging onto the small glint of optimism, “but it can’t be one-sided—we both have to be all in or it’s going to crash and burn pretty quick.”

“It’s a terrible idea,” You add, “How the hell do you fake a relationship?”

“You do it on television, don’t you?” He asks with a hint of sarcasm, far too inappropriate for the situation at hand. “Is it really that hard?”

“With you?” You ask redundantly, “Yes.”

“This is pointless.” He relents, hands thrown up in defeat until they fall back to his waist, standing like a petulant child, annoyed at his inability to one-up you.

“Look, I get it—you two hate each other.” The producer interrupts, glancing slowly between you both. “It’ll be maybe a few months—that’s it. Long enough to grab some good ratings and bring in some press and then you two can have your dramatic break up. You two don’t even need to interact outside of what’s contractually obligated.”

There’s a long silence, neither of you answering or looking in the direction of anyone. Eddie didn’t have anything to lose—but you had just about everything. It was the perks of being America’s hottest rockstar; do whatever you want and get away with—also just the perks of being a man. For you, one wrong misstep and you were out, permanently.

“Look, you’ve had two failed pilots over the past year, right?” The producer inquires, slyly shoving the small stack of papers and a pen your direction. “Another one and you’ll probably be blacklisted—this is guaranteed success. You can’t pass it up.”

And you hated that it was the truth, heart pounding angrily in your chest. Maybe if you had time—time to really think it through, it wouldn’t be so bad. But, there wasn’t time for that. Your show was premiering in two weeks, Eddie was preparing to leave for a tour across the country, the only thing you two lacked was time. 

“I can back out at any moment?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over at Eddie who remained mostly emotionless, ringed fingers gripping his waist still. “No problem?”

“You won’t want to,” The man tells you, “not after the media swarm picks it up. But—if you really want to, yes. You’re not obligated to stick to this relationship, but you have to make it seem believable.”

“As in?”

“A break-up, if needed. By signing this, you’re signing an NDA—this is private and if you intend to break it, there will be consequences.” 

It sounded like a threat, Eddie picked up on it too—surprisingly interrupting the conversation. 

“Like?”

“It’s basically signing away any rights you have to telling anyone about this outside of this room—if you break the rules of an NDA, suing is on the table, for either of you.”

You hated all the formal jargon, rolling your eyes at his drawn out, half threatening explanation. You snatch the pen, signing the paper lazily before tossing the pen toward Eddie. He’s startled for a moment, quickly recovering to grab the pen and do the same.

“I hope you realize how exploitative this is.” You remark, shoving the paper back at the men, grinning like the greedy sharks they were, already wet-dreaming over the amount of success and money they were bound to pull in.

“It’s just business, sweetheart.”

You grimace at the word, bile pooling in your throat at the tone and wandering eyes of a man who surely had a lot more power than you. 

For your career, it was a mantra you’d repeat in your head until the day you died.

The elevator ride down is long, silent, and awkward—a lack of either of your teams as you stood beside each other in the small confines of the four glass walls, descending down the several flights at a snail's pace. Eddie speaks first, much to your dismay that he even decides to speak at all.

“I really didn’t know.” Eddie says to you, eyes trained toward his scuffed up sneakers, “The girls—I didn’t know they were underage. I didn’t—I’m not like that.”

You chuckle quietly to yourself, “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I don’t care.”

“I just—I didn’t want you to think I was some creep.” He says defensively, voice soft despite his hardened features. “The guys—they let it get to their heads, they make stupid choices.”

“And you haven’t?” You counter.

“I have—but not like that,” Eddie replies, fingers fiddling idly with the ring of his left hand, “I went to rehab—I’m clean now, but I’m not like that. I promise”.

Eddie never meant for the drugs to overtake his life for that short, brief amount of time—but it did and he regretted it daily. It wasn’t him anymore, though. Eddie could say that proudly. He enjoyed his life, his career—he cherished every moment of being on stage and performing, meeting fans, it’s what drove him. 

And you don’t want to pry, so you leave it be. Your hands shuffle behind your back, posed on the silver handrail as the elevator shook gently, you tensed.

Eddie notices but doesn’t say anything, figuring you’d probably bark another insult his way. He could manage the semantics though—faking a relationship, how hard could it be?

“We should exchange numbers.” 

You look at him weirdly, eyebrows pulled up in confusion. 

“You realize I have your number already, don’t you?” You ask. 

Eddie pulls back slightly, head tilted up in thought. It didn’t make sense, he’s never even spoken more than a few words to you outside of work, mutual friends, it didn’t seem possible.

“You’re unbelievable.” You scoff lightly, pulling out your phone to send him a quick text, one simple emoji, middle finger poised in an effort to send a very clear message. “Steve introduced me to you two years ago.”

Still wasn’t ringing a bell—though most of that time was blurry.

“You tried to ask me on a date,” You explain with amusement, “I said no—so you proceeded to ask me if you were down to ‘just fuck’,” You mock with dramatic air quotes, “I never deleted your number, but that’s only because I give it out to the guys that try to hit on me now.”

It dawns on him then, the absurd amount of phone calls from strange people—sometimes the unassuming person you could give a fake name to, sometimes not, Eddie never pieces it together, not until now.

“Are you fucking kidding?” Eddie asks with a slight disbelief, “That’s why my phone is constantly blowing up? I thought it was just a bunch of spam bullshit. God, you’re evil.”

You shrug, a devious smile spreading across your face as the elevator pulls to a stop in the parking garage, you step out first.

“Watch your back, Eddie Munson.” You warn, “You try to destroy my career and I’ll take yours down twice as fast.”

It’s an empty threat, but Eddie knows you're capable. 

“There’s no way this is going to work.” You grumble, hands shoved deep into the pockets of your sweater, held snug under the arm of Eddie, who’s trademark leather jacket stretched over your back—it made your neck itch, shoulders wiggling slightly in discomfort. His sunglasses tipped over his nose, eyes scanning the surrounding streets, catching glimpse of a few poorly sneaking paparazzi, cameras posed at the ready. 

Eddie wasn’t approached often in public, mostly because he’d kept up a reputation that it wasn’t a good idea—he liked to keep his private life separated from whatever this life was, and it was clear; to his friends, his family, and anyone who knew who he was. People respected it to a degree, but by agreeing to this, it felt like he was throwing that all away. He didn’t even know why—the potential benefits sounded nice momentarily, but what was he really gaining from any of it—other than eternal misery from having to deal with your constant negativity toward the situation. 

“I’d think twice about that.” He motions sneakily toward your left and you see it too, instantly freezing at the sight, like you’d been caught—which you had, but not for the reasons you were feeling. “Chill out,” Eddie says quietly, “just walk.”

You fisted your hands in your pocket, chill air stinging your face. You weren’t nearly as famous as Eddie—but enough to be noticed, it was weird to not be approached, in fact, it was almost like people were avoiding you. Eddie really did have a presence about him—maybe it wasn’t a terrible idea to keep him around if he repelled everyone so easily. 

“Remember what they said,” Eddie comments into your hair, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, subtly posing for the photo as the camera clicked in the distance, “one kiss for the shot and we can go, but it has to be good.”

“This is ridiculous.” 

Eddie laughed at your pessimism, stopping at the crosswalk. You couldn’t bare the thought of making the first move, too riddled with nerves to pull it off believably, so Eddie takes the lead, nudging your face with the hand draped over your shoulder.

Your face tilts toward his, his fingers tilting your head up slightly, lips pressed against his in a chaste, formal kiss—nothing different from the kisses you’ve had on screen. It wasn’t all the bad, actually—and if things remained like this, maybe you could handle it. 

“Hold it.” Eddie mumbles against your lips, your eyes fallen shut as he stills—surely they’ve gotten the picture by now, but you hear the familiar click of a phone camera and you quickly realize why; Eddie really planned to sell it and it was working.

You pull back with a fake, sweet smile, eyes riddled with a restrained amount of disgust that only Eddie could see—his eyes returned the sentiment, pulling back with a toothy grin, tongue peeking out between his teeth slightly. The act continues halfway down the block—light touches, looks of endearment as the cameras push in now, less restrained, questions being thrown at you haphazardly. 

The hold Eddie takes on you is real, sturdy—it felt protective and safe, and truly he felt that way. He knew how vicious and bizarre paparazzi and people could get, keeping you close by and away from grabbing hands and eager flashes of the camera. It all ramped up quickly, a crowd gathering down the busy road of the shopping mall. Eddie ignored it all, leading you toward the designated black SUV at the end of street, gently shoving you inside to follow after, breathing a sigh of relief when you were both finally inside. 

He taps on the window—it’s his driver, because of course he had one. “We’re good. Take us back.” He says simply, hands squeezed together in his lap as he fidgets again, something you couldn’t help but notice. He did it often.

“God, that was horrible.” You complain under your breath, head resting back against the seat, eyes pulled up toward the roof of the car. “And super fucking overwhelming.”

“Never dealt with that before?” Eddie asks curiously, eyes glancing up toward you for a brief moment. “Look—I was trying to make it seem real enough, sorry.”

You roll your eyes, looking over at him with a blank gaze, his expression just as unreadable. “I have dealt with it—but not on that level. It's almost like inducing a panic attack almost, feeling like you can’t breathe.”

You pause for a moment, feeling a slight tinge of guilt.

“It was believable,” You admit, “I didn’t mind it, it’s like kissing a co-star, I guess.”

“It is acting after all,” Eddie shrugs, “you’re pretty good at it, I assume.”

“Have you never—“ You linger on the question, not wanting to sound too self-centered, but you feel obligated since you know so much about him, whether by force or by your own guilty self-indulgence. 

“I barely have time to relax.” Eddie admits. “I eat, sleep, do my work and it repeats. I haven’t taken a vacation since I started.”

“What?” You ask with an immense amount of shock, “Are you serious—“

There's a ding of a notification on your phone. A few seconds later, another. Then Eddie’s, his hand pulling it from his pocket roughly. Your eyes lock, fingers swiping at the screen simultaneously as you hold your breath, not entirely sure what to expect. 

“Well,” Eddie begins.

Met with a similarly toned, “Oh my god.”

Both of you glanced at the article, smack on the cover of one of the biggest celebrity publications in the online word, headline reading—

INFAMOUS ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON HAS FOUND NEW LOVE IN STARLET ACTRESS?

The article is plastered with picture after picture, but the one that really mattered, the kiss—it was right there, front and center. It was gaining traction quickly, the sudden influx of your social media being bombarded with notifications.

“You might want to turn them off,” Eddie suggests, scrolling haphazardly through his phone, like it was just another day, “otherwise your phone is gonna be unusable.”

You scroll through the list of trending tags, eyes practically bulging out of your head at the number one spot. Albeit, it was just Eddie’s name—but every post was a picture of both of you, snuggled up close, people wondering and listing off a mountain of questions.

To be fair, you weren’t nearly as well known as Eddie—so most of it was geared toward finding out exactly who you were. But, the other questions revolved around how long this had been going on, how it had managed to fly under the radar, and just how serious you two were—it was all comical, in retrospect, knowing what you knew. 

“How are you so normal about this?” You ask with a pitch to your voice, dealing with the increasing flurry of texts from friends and family suddenly interested in your personal life. “These people are fucking quick—holy shit.”

“It’s incredible how quickly things change, isn’t it?” Eddie asks knowingly, having been at the brunt of it multiple times. “Give it a few hours, it will die out a little—not by much, but it’ll be more manageable.”

“I didn’t really think everything out this far.” You admit, trying to think up responses to people you care about, people you never planned to lie to. Your fingers hover, but nothing comes out. In a moment of vulnerability, you look at him.

“What do I do?”

Eddie smirks softly, tossing his phone to the side. He motions with his forefingers, beckoning your phone toward his hand. You hesitate for a half second before handing it over, letting him work away at the keyboard, typing furiously. 

“There,” He says with finality when his fingers finally come to stop, placing the phone back into your waiting hands, “that should work.”

‘I’m fine. Don’t worry. I’ll talk more when I’m ready.’

You drop your phone, giving him a defeated look, face pulled down in a frown.

“My family is going to think I’m hiding a pregnancy if I send that,” You tell him honestly, “I need something less serious sounding.”

“You’ll figure it out,” He assures you, “Act it up, right?”

“But, this is my life.”

“Not when you’re with me,” Eddie counters, proving a point, “we’re just playing an exaggerated version of ourselves, if you think about—you know, maybe I could take on acting after this, depending on how believable I can make it.”

He’s joking, but you can’t be bothered to laugh.

“Shit—maybe even a guest spot on your show.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You smile meanly, writing out a quick dismissive text to the eagerly waiting recipients in your phone, “I’d never let that happen.”

“I can be very persuasive.” Eddie responds, much to your ultimate dismay, wishing he’d stay quiet. “I mean, you’re kinda mimicking my life in a way, although there’s no way you could handle that lifestyle—actors are always entitled.”

Your mouth falls open, an offense taken by his line of conversation. 

“It’s a good story line,” You reply defensively, “I can play it up better than you ever could, regardless of it being real.”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise slightly, as if proving his point by your response. 

You side-eye him with annoyance, arms crossed over your chest as you recline back, suffering through the long, bumpy ride back to the office, dying to be out of Eddie’s presence.

“I’m not entitled.” You say softly, “I don’t think you understand how hard it is for women—we can’t even try to defend ourselves.”

And he doesn’t know, he can’t even compare—he’s always gotten off relatively easy, a gentle slap on the wrist. He wouldn’t even be able to imagine half of the problems you’ve had to deal with. But, that’s just it—they weren’t his problems. Just as similar as his problems not being your own; you couldn’t be more polar opposite, at this point. 

“I have this weird feeling.” You tell him after a long silence, hesitantly.

“Like things are about to get crazy?” Eddie answers for you, feeling that impending tension and doom of yours and his reality. 

You nod slightly.

“Me too.”

Unfortunately, it was only the beginning of a dangerous, winding road that would upend your life, career, and everything you had left to hold onto.

The media does swarm significantly, overwhelmingly.

It’s two weeks post kiss picture and the growth on your accounts and attention in your life had turned into a frenzy, some sickness that you weren’t prepared to handle. But, it’s the big night of the premiere for your show—the cast, producers, huge names in acting, and more importantly, all of Corroded Coffin would be in attendance. As far as you knew, Eddie hadn’t told a soul, neither had you.

But, neither of you had talked much to each other in return, aside from the occasional ridiculous headline that gave you both a good laugh —unfortunately, with such a big appearance tonight, you took the initial leap and texted him first.

Eddie calls you then, his contact name showing up on your phone, awaiting a tense FaceTime. You swipe to answer, catching the dizzying fury of hands as they worked around him, plucking at his well-formed hair, curls more defined than usual. He fiddles with his sleeve, alerting you to the fact that he wasn’t even holding his phone. He had a well-oiled team working behind the scenes, making him look presentable. Meanwhile, you sat curled on your bed, still shuffling through a small selection of appropriate outfits; it felt ridiculous.

“How are you not ready yet?” Eddie asks with a lilt of annoyance, despite his notorious mark of being late, whether on purpose or accidentally. “We have to be there in an hour.”

“My hair’s done—my makeup,” You motion toward your face obviously, “I’m just stuck on trying to pick out something to match.”

“Where’s your team?” Eddie asks, “Like, your stylist and shit?”

“Eddie,” You deadpan, “I don’t have one. I do this stuff myself.”

“Why?” His face pulls up in confusion, unable to grasp the concept of it. “Nevermind—show me what you’ve got.”

You glance at the phone with a fair amount of shyness. You didn’t have anything, nothing that would work well enough. A black, slick suit over a sheer shirt, the smallest sliver of his chest peeking through—trademark rings shoved on his fingers; he never took them off.

“Is it too late to cancel?” You ask with a grown, Eddie eyes turning up in frustration, nearly rolling back in his head. He laughs, pointing off camera somewhere.

“Do you still have that rack with you?” He asks an unseen person, “Yeah—no, further down. Not that one—no—yeah, that’s it.”

You watched with apt attention, his mysterious mind at work. He yanks the phone away from whoever was holding it, pulling at the cigarette tucked behind his ear, shoving it between his lips. There’s a lot of shuffling and then an eye-blinding brightness as he steps outside, hair windblown as he squints to stare at his screen.

“I’ll send you my location,” He tells you, a familiar flick of a lighter as he leans down to light the end of his cigarette, a slow drag as his lips pucker around it, “don’t be late—we have to arrive together, so we’ll leave from here.”

“You’re really bossy,” You grumble, shoving yourself from the bed and toeing on your shoe—Eddie smirks, “stop that.”

“Just hurry.” He tells you lightheartedly, swiftly ending the call.

The ride to his place is short, but grueling—stuck in the middle of some of the worst traffic you’ve ever experienced, it didn’t help that he wasn’t far from the venue, the chaos was evident and only made you panic further.

When you finally make it into his long, winding driveway, it’s like a small moment of peace, sitting in the driver’s seat of your car, one deep breath after another. The silence is quickly interrupted by a text from Eddie, another impatient reminder.

You sigh audibly, making the quick trip to his front door and pressing on the doorbell with a poorly manicured finger—it was something you overlooked, but you didn’t think it would matter much—all anyone really cared about was Eddie Munson. 

You weren’t expecting to be face to face with him, waiting for one of his assistants to answer the door, but now he’s standing there, a smile plastered over his face. 

You pull your face up in subtle disgust, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m trying to get into character,” Eddie replies with a soft chuckle, motioning a grandiose wave to lead you inside, “—you should too.”

“I will after I see what you’re making me wear.” You comment absently, glancing around his home curiously. 

Home was…generous. It was a mansion, a massive step up from your downtown apartment—you couldn’t even imagine the amount of rooms, expensive furniture, pointless items. 

Eddie noticed, “I’d give you a tour.” He tells you honestly, trying carefully not to crease his suit, expensive loafers tapping against the intricate tile, “But, we don’t have a lot of time.”

You make a small noise, Eddie can’t decipher it. He’s handed the dress during your distraction—a sheer dress with a black bodice covering your more intimate parts, long sleeves cuffing at the wrists, nearly floor length as it led a slit up the side. You turn to look, eyeing it suspiciously. The heels are just as intimidating, a mess of lace that you were bound to get tangled up in. 

“Trust me.” He says, eyes glancing up at you pointedly. “They’ll help.”

He nods at the small team of people—stylists and assistants, primed and ready to go. 

“So, you’re dressing me then?” You ask with a soft laugh, “I didn’t know you were into fashion like that.”

“I’m not,” He shakes his head, “not really—but I’ve learned what works—now go, seriously.”

And for once, you don’t put up a fight, letting the strangers lead you off to an enclosed room.

They work quickly, managing to somehow fix your half-assed attempt at hair and makeup—you weren’t used to being grand or extra, just barely making a statement, it’s how you skated by so easily, never drawing attention to yourself when it wasn’t needed. But with Eddie, that wasn’t possible. 

There’s a soft knock on the door after the fury ends, things finally calming down, “Yeah?” Your voice is soft, nervous.

“The driver’s here,” Eddie says behind the door. “Is she ready?” 

You huff to yourself in amusement at his lack of addressing you, “She’s ready.” You reply snarkily, hearing the faint turn of the doorknob, his full figure coming into view.

Eddie looks smug, proud of himself. “Don’t say it—“ You begin, taking his outstretched hand hesitantly, letting him do a slow turn to take in the full outfit.

Eddie shakes his head in indifference, “I wasn’t,” He tells you, “These lips are sealed.”

You weren’t seeking any type of approval, but you couldn’t ignore that nagging feeling of hearing his opinion, wondering how loud his thoughts were—if they were as harsh as the things that fell from his mouth.

And the reality doesn’t hit you until you’re pulling up at the event, an overwhelming crowd already gathered along the guardrails—it wasn’t your first time experiencing it, but that attention felt magnified, every single movement being analyzed. Eddie seems calm, as expected, and you hate it.

Eddie speaks to your nerves, watching you scoot near the edge of the seat, squeezed in beside him in the backseat as you peered out the window.

“You don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to,” He reminds you softly, arms slung over the back of your seat, “they’re like vultures—but they’ll only take what you give them.”

You avert your eyes away, pushing back in the seat until you hit his arm, jumping slightly at the contact. He pulls away, trying to respect your boundaries. Despite your mutual friends and awkward run-ins, you two were practically strangers. He didn’t want to overstep where he shouldn’t, even if the situation was unorthodox and special, he still had enough self awareness. 

“I’ll stay with you, if you want.” He offered—he wasn’t sure if it was necessarily allowed, given his obligations to make appearances with his bandmates, but he didn’t care too much. “Just say the word.”

You nod slowly, “Okay—okay, yeah.”

You weren’t prepared for the magnitude, the door opening to a flurry of flashing camera lights and loud noises, it was a storm of rapid media attendees and celebrities. But, you mask it somehow, by some goddamn miracle, and push on. 

Eddie leads you down the carpet initially, arm hung loosely around your hip, rings grazing the inside of your wrist. It jerks you back to reality, forcing a joyful smile on your face—you play into it, fingers hugging over the outside of his own hand, dancing along the jewelry carefully. You could fake a smile easily, but words—you were at a loss.

It was the last thing you two cared about, a backstory. But, it was also the most important—and while Eddie may be an expert at bullshitting his way through life, you were terrible. 

Eddie fakes a small kiss against your temple, nose burying into your hair as he speaks loudly, still barely audible over the noise. 

“Still with me?” He asks.

You turn to him with a sickly sweet smile, nodding with a force. 

Eddie scoffs in amusement, hand dipping down to your back slowly. “Good—get ready.” He instructs, not giving you much of a chance to prepare before he’s dipping you slightly, leg pulled up around his waist, fingers held carefully along your thigh as he pulls you in, kisses you deep, and you feel like you can’t breathe.

Eddie lifts you up just as quick and you’re forced to hide your shock and abhorrent disapproval at his antics—it was fully his personality, wild and shocking—but it worked, the crowd cheering with even more intensity. 

“You’re dead.” You smile kindly, still reeling from your racing heart, “Never do that again.”

Eddie laughs tensely, arm finding its place around you again, leading you toward the line of interviewers with haste, ready for the assault of obligated professional and personal questions. 

You’re great at talking about your work—it surprises him and all he can do is watch in stunned silence, praising not only the show but his work; it didn’t take much research to gather up most of his discography and background, it was work after all—and you were damn good at it. 

But, it inevitably hits you.

“So, the world is curious; how did this become a thing?”

This being you and Eddie, together, as a couple—a thing.

“We’re trying to keep things private,” Eddie offers nicely, a stark contrast to his abrasive manner, “but we met a while back—and stuff took off from there. I don’t want to speak for my lady, but we’re happy—that’s all that matters.”

You take a silent breath of relief, quickly recovering to add, “Really happy.” You say, voice filled with a fake sense of adoration, grasping tightly at the jacket of his suit. 

The rest of the night is filled with the same monotonous questions, repeating yourself constantly, but it’s your job and you can deal with it—but to say that you weren’t relieved when you finally stepped foot into the theater adjoining the event; well, that would be a lie. 

It all seemed believable enough, and you weren’t feeling hostile toward Eddie in the moment, despite his outrageous act of kissing you for the public, bound to make headlines the next morning, if not already—it was all easier than you expected and if things kept up like this, it would all be over in no time. 

“I’m getting weird deja vu right now,” Eddie speaks absently, following closely behind you into the packed theater, “—this is—“

“The same place you met me in two years ago,” You tell him, turning haphazardly over your shoulder to look at him, loose ringlets curls following over his face as he leaned in to hear you, “—and then tried to turn me into a random hookup.”

“Oh, like you’ve never done it,” He bickers in response, defending his previous actions steadfast—frankly, it was a little embarrassing that he thought his game was that good, “why are you so bitter about it?”

“I’m not,” You laugh slightly, “you were hammered and couldn’t even look at me straight—I ended up going home with someone else that night.”

Eddie balks slightly at the admission, earning a dramatic eye roll from you in return. 

“Women can have casual sex too,” You remind him, head still thrown over you shoulder as you looked at him, “it’s not just me—“

Eddie was too distracted by you to witness the collision at first or even prevent it, bodies colliding harshly as he reached out to grab you, pulling you to him.

The unassuming victim in this situation isn’t even you—it’s the opposite person who crashed into you, a man—younger, meeker, clearly intimidated by Eddie’s presence as he backs away quickly, barking a squeaky apology. It isn’t until you turn to see Eddie’s face that you realize why, his face scrunched up in anger.

“Sorry,” You quickly apologize, pushing away from him to squeeze through the aisle and take your seat, he follows silently behind you, “I’m really uncoordinated, obviously.”

“It’s not you,” Eddie brushes you off slightly, “—kid’s been following us all night, he’s probably a journalist.”

Your eyebrows pull together in confusion, so Eddie elaborates.

“He’s either trying to get information on me,” Which seemed likely, “or you,” less likely, “or on our relationship.”

“I thought we were doing a good job,” You reply honestly, watching Eddie’s eyes linger out into the crowd, landing on something in particular, your eyes follow—Eddie was good at this stuff, it freaked you out too much. The younger kid was staring back for a moment, before averting his eyes in slight shame at having been caught, “I guess not.”

“People’s jobs are to pick at this shit,” Shit being—you and him, “you always have to be aware—always.”

You shuffle in your seat, attempting to scoot closer, lights turning down—you can barely see Eddie now, just a faint glow against the outline of his face. 

“That’s good—I’m going to put my arm around you,” Eddie instructs softly, “look—when we’re out in public, we have to be on. There’s always going to be someone watching.”

“You make it seem like you’ve done this before.” You comment with a faint hint of snark, leaning into his touch with guarded weight, “how do you know so much?”

“I’ve never not had a relationship ruined by the public,” He says admittedly, “you pick up on things.”

You don’t press on the admission or let your eyes linger, face held steadily angled at the screen as you spoke. 

“Well, at least one of us is a professional at faking it.”

There’s a deeper meaning to it all, something just below the surface, begging to be scratched at, Eddie shrugs it off. He gives a small head shake, a friendly laugh, and the rest of the night is spent in tense silence—he’s never been more eager to be cooped up in his home, away from the limelight and peering eyes. 

Fortunately for you, that night is the best bout of sleep you ever receive, in the post bliss of a high note in your life and career—it’s like things couldn’t get better, but surely they had to level out at some point.

They do, sadly. Your phone buzzes off the bedside table, clambering to the floor with a loud slap, it startled you awake as you fished blindly for it..

Another call from Eddie—he clearly hated texting, calling you at nearly eight in the morning. You rubbed at your tired eyes and swiped to answer, greeted with the deep, gruff voice of his. It shouldn’t stop you in your tracks the way that it does, but you can’t help it.

“Why are you calling me this early?” You complain, shoving your wild bed-head hair out of your face, squinting at the screen. “Are you throwing in the towel?”

“No,” He says with annoyance, “have you not checked online at all?”

“Eddie—I just woke up,” You tell him, staring at his face through the screen. He was still in bed too, shirtless from what you could see, hair mussed and messy from sleep, “what’s happening now?”

“I’ll send you the link,” He says, voice muffled as he shifts around, you receive a message a few seconds later, clicking in the hyperlink that brings you to a page, headline plastered in large black text—

ALL FOR SHOW? DATING FOR RATINGS AND VIEWS, ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON OF CORRODED COFFIN CAUGHT IN ANOTHER WILD SCANDAL.

“You’re fucking kidding—” You groan, scrolling down the page.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Eddie tells you, gaze boring through the screen as he watches you, you glanced up sparingly, “do you see it?”

It dawns on you then, “That fucking guy,” You shout excessively, sitting up in your bed, “what the fuck is wrong with people?”

“Do you understand why it has to be taken so seriously now?” Eddie asks, like a soft scolding. Your eyes narrow but he continues, “I don’t care if you hate me—but we agreed to this, we have to make it work.”

“So, what?” You ask flippantly, hand thrown down dramatically against your blanket, “Do I move in with you and start following you around like some pathetic housewife?”

Eddie makes a face of faux consideration, but he quickly wipes it away when he sees your face, scrunched up in frustration. 

“I’m going on tour soon,” Eddie explains, “so, we won’t even be around each other much anyways and you’ll have an excuse—but—maybe—we might go on a date or something.”

“Or something?” You ask with an emphasis on the word.

Despite your obvious distaste for him, you didn’t agree to anything other than what was necessary—public appearances, interviews, that was it. Dates—absolutely fucking not.

“Something to cease the doubt,” Eddie explains, moving to prop himself up on his elbow, the phone shifts and is propped up against something, his chest shifting as he leaned over to grab at something—his cigarettes, you realize when he comes back into frame, “a date—or a sex tape if you really want to cut all the shit out.”

Your silence is deafening and Eddie chuckles loudly, lighting the cigarette tucked between his lips.

“I’m fucking with you, sweetheart.” Eddie says warmly, eyes squinting as he blew out the smoke, you tensed as if it would reach you, the small endearment making your stomach twist in annoyance, “I’m just saying a date might help, out in public, just us—“

“We need to figure out a backstory,” You interrupt, “I can’t keep basing everything off of your lame excuse of ‘not wanting to talk about’,” Your finger raises in air quotes, mocking his deep voice.

Eddie makes a soft noise, a silent laugh as his body shakes.

“Why are you laughing?” You ask, bothered by his lack of concern.

“Nothing,” He says lowly, “I’ll talk to you later—I’ve got a meeting in an hour.”

“Whatever,” You reply halfheartedly, “just figure it out.”

You hang up with a cold, brisk goodbye, forcing yourself to begin your day following the rude awakening.

It’s spent mostly in long, grueling phone calls—meetings with agents, adjusting your schedule, all the necessary boring stuff that you hated about this lifestyle—interrupted briefly by the occasional texts from Eddie.

The first one is fine, you’re not really bothered by it.

But then they’re more frequent, less pointed toward a certain objective, and maybe Eddie was just attempting small talk, but you really didn’t have the time.

You huff a loud sigh, placing your phone face down on the table, browsing through computer to answer emails, typing away furiously when another buzz comes through, breaking your focus completely. 

“I’m going to kill him.” You mumble to yourself, flipping the phone over to glance at the message, typing out a snarky reply. 

Okay, maybe it was a bit much—but you couldn’t be bothered to care, annoyed with the situation you’d wrapped yourself up in, even if it was partly your fault.

Eddie never responds and it helps you feel satisfied that you’ve finally gotten in the last word—unfortunately, it’s short-lived.

You sent your address to him earlier that day, knowing there was no way to weasel your way out of the date—it was all necessary, it’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Your head is shoved in your closet, searching for a pair of shoes when the voice startles you from behind, causing you to bump your head painfully.

“Ow, fuck,” You wince, pulling away to peer behind you, face falling immediately, “Dude, what are you doing in here?”

“Your assistant let me in,” He answers simply, motioning with his thumb to the door, “—they said you’d be up here.”

“So you couldn’t wait downstairs?” 

Eddie shakes his head, reaching in his pocket for something.

“Here,” He says, pulling the dangling chain from his pocket and placing it in your hand, fingers wrapped firmly around your limp arm, “put it on.”

“Eddie, it’s just a necklace—no one’s going to care.”

His face tightens but his eyes soften, almost pleading.

“God—fine,” You relent, pulling at the clasp to wrap it around your neck, fumbling with the chain as you tried to connect it blindly—it was more difficult that you expected, “fuck—I can’t—“

Eddie holds his hands up expectantly, awaiting your request for help. You sigh softly, turning your back to him as he reaches for the chain, your hand wrapping in your hair to lift it out of the way. His fingers drag along your skin gently, clipping the chain together with ease. He adjusts the chain slightly until it sits comfortably around your neck. You glance down, watching as the puck settles in the dip of your breasts. The pick is engraved with a small E, unnoticeable to anyone but you and him. 

“Wait—is this one you actually use, like, when you perform?” You ask hesitantly, turning to face him.

His eyes glance down briefly—normally you’d feel uncomfortable with someone staring directly at your breasts, but it doesn’t bother you in the slightest and you hate that. 

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie answers, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I figured it was just some cheap one you bought for show.”

Eddie huffs slightly, “That hurts, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me that.” You mumble, turning away to reach for your shoes. “—and you can’t get mad at me if I lose this. I’m terrible at keeping track of things.”

“You won’t lose it.” He reminds you, putting a little too much hope in your abilities. “You ready?”

You slip on the converse, opting for something more casual and discreet—you could blend in quite easily, like a chameleon. But Eddie, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Have you ever thought about cutting it?” You ask curiously, flicking at a lock of hair that rested on his shoulder. “Maybe it would be easier to go unnoticed.”

“I’m known for my hair,” Eddie replies, leading the way down the stairs, “why would I do that?”

“That’s exactly why,” You shrug, “your life would be so much easier.”

“People would be heartbroken, you know.”

And as ridiculous as it sounds, they would be. 

“Yet somehow, the world will go on.”

The drive is longer than you anticipated, not that you had much to go on to begin with—Eddie was being unnaturally secretive and he opted to drive himself, which felt even more intimate—it took out the professional aspect completely, but maybe that was what Eddie wanted. 

Eddie noticed your watchful eyes, clearing his throat subtly.

“You can stop acting like I’m trying to kidnap you.”

You shake your head at the absurdity, replying kindly.

“I’m just curious where we’re going, that’s all.”

“Oh—well, it’s good, I promise,” He smiles slightly, “my uncle took me here as a kid, I know the owners pretty well.”

“This isn’t a real date,” You remind him, “we agree on that, right?”

“Obviously,” He offers a smug smirk, hand tightening around the steering wheel, “—I already know I’m not your type anyways.”

“My type?” You mock harshly, “I have a type?”

“Are you asking me to answer that for you?”

“I mean—I didn’t know I had a type, so I’d love to hear it.”

And just like that, that small moment of blissful peace is ruined. You two couldn’t even pretend that you liked each other. 

“Nevermind,” He laughs airily, “it doesn’t matter.”

You stare at him heatedly, legs crossed tightly over the other as you stiffened. 

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You bite at him.

“Likewise.”

Eddie turns it on like a switch, his act—as soon as he parks the car around the back he’s a different person entirely. You weren’t sure how the paparazzi found you, but it wasn’t completely unfathomable. They’d started camping outside of your apartment building, waiting for the opportunity to bombard you with questions and flashing cameras—you were smart to turn it on to, letting Eddie take the lead as he opened the door for you, grasping your hand to help you, wrapping his arm over your shoulder as he led you inside and away from the slowly growing audience of people.

“Eddie,” A voice booms down the hallway, a man dressed in a nicely kept chef’s uniform, “how have you been?”

Eddie smiles at the man, shaking his hand firmly. “Good, great,” Eddie answers indecisively, “I can’t complain.”

“And your uncle?” The man asks inquisitively, “I haven’t seen him in a few months.”

“He likes to hermit himself,” Eddie replies with a friendly chuckle, “I’ll bring him in next time.”

“Ah—no rush,” The owner answers, “—I see you’ve brought your lovely lady, it’s nice to meet you ma’am.”

The ma’am feels too professional but you smile anyways, shaking his outstretched hand. “You too.” You reply with the same intensity, glancing up at Eddie’s watchful eyes.

“I’ve got your table ready, follow me.” He instructs, your hand tightens around Eddie’s instinctively, allowing him to guide you down the hall and out into the dining area—it was mostly quiet, more high-end than you were used to and intimidating nonetheless.

You take your seats, order your drinks—and like Eddie suspected, you settle on a burger, hoping to maintain some sense of normality.

“I can’t understand half the stuff on the menu.” You tell him honestly, glancing up at him from where his face is buried in his phone. “You really used to come here as a kid?”

“It’s changed a lot,” Eddie explains, closing his phone and sliding it back into his pocket, “—I actually own half of the place, it’s part of some of the property I invest in, but yeah.”

“That’s a little—“ Your voice wavers, biting back a smug smile, “aren’t you obligated to think it’s good then, since you own it?”

Eddie laughs slightly, shaking his head as his eyes drift off to the side, glancing around the place leisurely. He’s so desperate to switch the topic that he can’t help it, “So, how did we meet?”

“Oh, right,” You smile, drumming your fingers against the table lightly, smiling at the waiter as they drop off your drinks, “you know—it wouldn’t feel that far off to just play up our first time meeting each other. I get that it was probably a super embarrassing moment for you—“

“It wasn’t—“

You ignore him, “—and maybe we could just say we met at one of your after parties, you asked me on a date, the rest is history.”

“One, it wasn’t embarrassing,” Eddie holds his finger up, “and two, I could’ve came up with that.”

You take a sip of the beer, foamed up in the pint glass. Eddie follows suit, eyes tense as he stares you down.

“It works though, right?”

Eddie shrugs indifferently. 

“You’re impossible.” You sigh, trying to remember that you were definitely being watched and that your facial expressions were important, you fixed yourself accordingly, throwing on a fake smile. 

“You act like you’ve never been in a relationship before.” Eddie counters, chugging half the beer in one go. It was going to be a long night, clearly. 

“I haven’t.” You answer honestly, Eddie nearly choked at the admission. “I mean, I’ve hooked up with a few people, don’t get me wrong—but dating in this line of work, it’s horrendous.”

You had a point, Eddie was all too familiar with it.

“You’re, what—twenty five?” Eddie asks, a confirming nod in return. “Not even high school, college—anything?”

“I never went to college,” You admit, “and I wasn’t interested in dating in high school—I’m not interested in dating at all, actually.”

“Then why did you agree?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” You stress, leaning forward over the table with a hushed voice. “If I had said no, there’s no telling what could’ve happened when you left the room. I would’ve lost my job, I’m assuming.”

“They can’t do that.” Eddie replies with a thick tone of naivety. 

“They can,” You nod, “and they will—let’s just hope the ratings were good enough that they won’t pull the show completely.”

Eddie pulls back slightly—he’s never considered your side, where you were coming from or feeling about the situation. His life was set, made, he had enough financial stability to last him a lifetime, but you—you were fresh-faced and new to all of it, an unwilling victim. 

“Look, we’re in this together.” Eddie assures you, hand reaching across to intertwine with yours—you two were nestled by an open window, so you could only assume it was for show. “We can be friendly about it, at least. I mean—I don’t have any reason to hate you.”

“Other than me turning you down.” You joke, conversation stalling as your food arrived—it was like heaven, truly. Eddie had been right on the money about all of it. You moan at the first bite, the second, to the point where Eddie has to physically stop you.

“Are you okay?” He asks with a chuckle, having finished his first beer and now onto the second—you were nearing the same.

“I haven’t had food like this in a while.” You tell him. “Sorry—“

Eddie shakes his head firmly, “Nono—I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”

There’s a calmness that washes over you both, sharing small talk over your meal, meaningless conversation that neither of you would remember when you went to sleep that night—Eddie orders a third beer, a fourth, and you couldn’t help but pile them on too. You weren’t sure how sore the subject was of his stint with rehab and everything that came with it, but you trusted him enough that he had it under control.

You hum slightly, poking at the shared dessert.

“What?” Eddie asks with a mouthful of cake, covering his mouth haphazardly. 

“Can I take a picture of you?” You ask oddly, Eddie doesn’t know where the inquiry comes from, but he agrees. You smile, pulling out your phone to focus on him—the camera flashes, bright light shining in his face as he squints, a half grin still plastered over his face. “Shit—sorry, I forgot I had the flash on.” You laugh lightly.

Eddie doesn’t question your motive, but it feels better to explain, even through your drunken, giggly haze.

“It’s for your contact picture—and for my socials.” You admit, “It’s not official until you post about it, right?”

And you hate yourself for the fluttering feeling that shoots through your body at his smirk, faint but noticeable. A lot of your anger and frustration was geared toward the tenseness that you felt around the situation—you didn’t hate Eddie, per day. You hated the position you’d been forced into and the way it had to be handled; Eddie was still overwhelmingly annoying at times, but the edge that alcohol took off made it easier. 

Not that you wanted to be drunk every time you were around him, that seemed illogical, but it helped you realize that it wasn’t all his fault or yours, it was just the reality of the situation.

“Are you busy next month?” Eddie asks.

“Uh—not really, I’m wrapping most of my obligations up this month and that’s as far as I have planned—why?”

“You should go on tour with me.” He suggests and you nearly choke on your drink, liquid spilling down your chin. You cough harshly, covering your mouth. “—or not?”

“No—I’m just—what? Why would you want me to go with you?”

“We’re stuck in this situation at least until the end of the year, right? Visiting me on tour seems disgustingly loving enough that people wouldn’t have any doubt about us.”

You make a face of amused disgust, laughing at the idea but also hating that he was actually right—it was the perfect idea.

“What?” Eddie asks with a chuckle, poking at the small bit of dessert left, he lifts up with his fork, motioning toward you. “Do you want it?”

You shrug, letting him bring the fork to your mouth, lips closing gently over the utensil. If it was for the cameras, you couldn’t tell, your eyes glued to his as let the subtle art of intimacy happen, his gaze flitting down to linger at your mouth.

You pull back with a grin, chewing thoughtfully. 

“It’s a really good idea,” You admit begrudgingly, “and I hate myself for actually wanting to do it.”

“Hey—my music isn’t that bad.” Eddie says defensively.

“I wouldn’t know—I’ve never listened to it.”

That seems highly unlikely, an act of absurdity, a crime against humanity. Eddie couldn’t believe it, but it was the truth. He looks offended as he sets his fork down, grabbing for the final sip of his drink. 

“Oh my god—“ You gasp, “you really are conceded—Eddie, are you serious?”

“Not even one song?”

“No,” You answer seriously, “I mean—I know what you play and that you sing but I’ve never actually listened to a song. I told you—it’s not my thing.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Eddie says petulantly, turning his nose up jokingly. “My own girlfriend, that hurts.”

You roll your eyes lazily, “Shut up.” You respond warmly.

It makes Eddie laugh—a genuine, deep laugh that you’ve never heard before; maybe the alcohol was getting to him too.

When you’re finally finished, Eddie leads you out the same way you entered, avoiding the mass of cameras awaiting you outside, managing to get you inside the car with minimal commotion, pulling off before things turn hectic. It’s the one thing Eddie has learned to master—that and he scared most people off. 

“They never stop.” You say into the quiet rumble of the car, engine revving as he sped down the street.

“It’ll get better,” Eddie says, “—or more manageable, at least.”

You hiccup, “They camp outside my apartment most days—in shifts and stuff, there’s—there’s always someone out there.”

“Do you have security or anything?”

It was another luxury you weren’t accustomed to. You shake your head slightly, peeking up at his burning gaze.

“Are you sure you should be driving?” You ask hesitantly, “We were drinking a little more than we should have.”

“I wouldn’t have tried if I wasn’t sure,” He assures you, holding his hand out to showcase his steady fingers, rings knocking together slightly, “—see, I’m good.”

You weren’t sure how that was supposed to help, but you shrugged it off, grabbing at his extended hand. 

“Do you ever take these off?” You ask with a short laugh, twisting the jewelry around his fingers, noting the tiny cuts along his fingertips. 

Eddie huffs an offended laugh, “Yes.” He snatches his hand away gently, returning it to the wheel. “I shower and dress myself too, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You nod thoughtfully, “Damn—you read my mind.” You reply smugly, silenced growing over as Eddie pulled into the parking garage to your building, coming to a gentle stop. You hesitate leaving, wondering if you should say anything—even a simple goodbye.

Eddie speaks first, sensing whatever emotion you were giving off—you couldn’t even put a finger on it. 

“I can walk you upstairs if you want,” He offers, “if you’re worried.”

“Please?” You ask softly.

Eddie doesn’t even hesitate.

Eddie leads you up with a hand on the small of your back, the dip above your ass, and it feels like fire through your clothing, his touch burning hot. You fumble with the key at your lock, feeling the buzz spread through your body, eyes squinting to concentrate. Eddie never leaves your side, scooting even closer when someone passes down the hallway—their looks linger, but they don’t say anything, not with the stern gaze Eddie shoots back.

“Stop scaring people,” You mumble, finally fitting the key into the lock and turning it. Eddie follows in behind you, clicking the door shut silently, “—thank you, Eddie.”

Eddie slips your wallet into your hand, something you’d shoved into his hand earlier while you searched for your keys, almost forgetting about it. You snatch it without a word, pressing it down against the counter. 

“Are you good then?” Eddie asks, nodding toward the door. “If you are I’ll just—“

“Do you want a drink?” You ask randomly, already sifting through your cabinet, reaching in for a wine glass.

It’s almost like Eddie was waiting for it, agreeing eagerly.

“Yeah—yeah, sure.”

You smile knowingly, reaching for another glass. You place them on the counter gently—Eddie roamed around aimlessly, taking in the space, glancing over occasionally as you sifted through your copious bottles of wine. 

“This is cute.” Eddie says, holding up a small picture frame. It was you and Steve as young kids, young enough that you two weren’t even communicating in full sentences yet—Eddie could spot Harrington anywhere; it was a gift.

“Our parents are friends,” You explain without prompting, carefully filling up the glasses, “I taught him how to walk, according to my parents.”

“That explains a lot.” Eddie laughs softly. 

“Here,” You nudge him gently, handing him the glass before taking a seat on the couch, shoes slipped off to the ground, “you can sit, if you want.”

Eddie moves slowly, still lingering about as he looks around, the cushion dips slightly when he finally takes a seat. You sip quietly, feeling more relaxed in the comfort of your own place. Your legs extend, pressed gently against the outside

of his thigh. Eddie doesn’t mind, glancing further around the homey environment you’d created. 

“I’m really sentimental.” You tell him, nursing the glass in your hands. “It’s why I have so much stuff from back home.”

“Home being…” Eddie pushes further, curious.

“Hawkins—Indiana. It’s where Steve and I grew up before we moved to California. He went his way and I went mine but we’re still close. I just miss it, sometimes. So it’s nice to have small reminders.”

Eddie nods slowly. He didn’t care much for pictures or gifts or things from his childhood—his guitars were his babies, his records, littered and hung throughout his house like a museum, his own small collection. 

“Oh shit,” You panic, placing the wine glass on the end table as you searched for your phone, grabbing it from your back pocket, “I almost forgot about the picture.”

Eddie chortles, leaning over to peek at your screen.

“Did you want to look?” You ask, tilting the phone toward him, “Before I post it?”

Eddie nods silently, setting his glass down too. You scramble toward him, lifting onto your knees to shift that way. His fingers wrap around the back of your hand, eyes scanning over your screen. It’s the same photo as earlier—he looks ridiculous, but you find it endearing. It’s nothing like the magazine covers or posed photo shoots you’ve seen of him; it’s a small glimpse of the real Eddie, unfiltered and raw.

“Is it okay?” You ask, not sure why you’re seeking his approval, but the question slips out regardless. 

“Yeah—“ He pauses, considering a thought before he can’t help but speak, “but, maybe we should—like, take one together? Is that weird?”

You weren’t sure why you didn’t think of it before him, but it’s a brilliant idea, actually—you’re blaming it on the slight intoxication and the heat of nervousness that ran through your body around him. You couldn’t control it. 

“Uh, sure.” You agree, shifting closer then, nearly falling into his lap as you do. Eddie catches you with ease, his hand resting against the outline of your hip bone as he adjusts you slightly, body angled as he lifts you over his legs. “Here—maybe I should—I’ll just turn this way.”

You’re fully settled onto his lap now, turned sideways as you lift the camera. It wasn’t hard to force a smile, no matter how fake, and that’s what you’re expecting Eddie to do, but instead he speaks. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks politely, almost comically. “For the picture?”

“Oh—uh, yeah?” You respond with a soft laugh. Eddie doesn’t hesitate, his fingers dragging under your chin to tip your head up, lips connecting with yours gently.

The camera clicks a few times, his lips held steady. You laugh slightly at the absurdity, pulling away gently to sift through the photos. Your head turns, swiping through your screen.

It’s astonishing how believable it looks from the outside eye, both of you caught mid-smile as you tilt the phone toward him to show it off. You glance up briefly, but Eddie isn’t even looking at the phone, eyes locked on you.

And you’re not naive, not in the slightest. You’re half guided by the alcohol, half guided by the unrestrained horniness you felt from having deprived yourself of connection for so fucking long. It’s just one time, you tell yourself. Just once. It doesn’t have to be anything—it was nothing. 

Your phone slips from your hand to the floor, Eddie’s own fingers wrapping around your face, encompassing the sides and digging gently into the nape of your neck as he pulls you to him, but it’s you who kisses him, a small tinge of hesitancy as he glides his lips against your own—you couldn’t take it, skipping past every last bit of hesitancy you had and gliding your tongue over his bottom lip. 

Eddie is just as intense like this as he is normally, giving into his urges just as easily. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever had a genuine, casual hookup—not that he expected this to turn into that, but it’s freeing, liberating. 

His tongue dips into your own mouth, swiping against yours, you moan outwardly, shifting until you're more comfortably, thighs stretched over his own, straddling his waist. Your mouth never leaves his, speed increasing with fervor as you kiss him soundly, pulling away for a quick breath, the sheen of spit as you disconnected, a small string connecting your mouths. 

“Take your pants off.” He breathed hotly, eyes half-lidded as he stared up at you. You stand clumsily, reaching for the button of your jeans as you wriggle the denim down your hips, Eddie assists the aid, yanking roughly until they pooled at your ankles, he leans down swiftly, helping you out of them fully.

His hands slip behind the fatty expanse of your thigh, squeezing gently to guide you back over his lap, sitting directly against the cold denim of his own pants.

Eddie’s mouth connects with yours quickly, moving with the kiss as you lean in forcefully, rubbing the front of your chest against his own, the tight squeeze of your thighs reassuring your movements as you delved into his mouth, tongue hot and flat as it mingled with his, all saliva and muffled groans as he consumed you, the tinge of cigarette hitting your taste buds, mixed with the faint subtleness of beer. 

“We gonna regret this in the morning?” Eddie asks with a break to his tone, voice checked as he pulls away slightly.

You chase his lips, settling for the line of his jugular, mouthing at the skin, the faint beat of his pulse against your tongue.

“Depends,” You reply breathlessly, “Can you make me come?”

It was a feat not many could accomplish—and if you were letting things drag on this far, you weren’t going to let it be for nothing. 

“Please,” Eddie scoffs, noise dying out on a groan as you nipped at the skin, head dipping to the other side, the gentle trace of his fingers following up your back, “what type of men have you been fucking?”

“If I’m horny—I’ll take what I can get,” You admit, “I’m not picky”.

“And right now?” Eddie asks hopefully, “Are you taking what you can get?”

“We’ll see.” You remark, lifting your hips slightly as his hands dipped under the black lace of your underwear, fingers spreading through the pooled wetness, slick coating them.

“Jesus,” Eddie sighs, “you’re so fucking wet.”

You nod dumbly, a faint smile pulling at your face. It’s like instant relief when he touches you, whatever earlier ache fading away in an instant at the heat of real fingers gliding through your cunt, something other than your own hand.

“Shouldn’t you take your rings off,” You think idly, feeling the cold metal against the inside of your thigh, “won’t they get messy?”

Eddie hums a noise of approval, pulling back to glance at your relaxed expression, jaw slack as his fingers rubbing through folds.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” He laughs deeply, turning his palm down so his rings pressed fully against your cunt, the outline of the skull ring catching against your clit. You gasp slightly, hand tightening around his neck where it rested. He nods knowingly, “Don’t worry—it’s really hot.”

Shamefulness aside, drunken haze filling your body, you give in, hips rocking gently against the flat of his hand, palm resting over his dick where it’s confined in his jeans, through your underwear. It’s the perfect angle, hips canting down as the ridge of the metal catches against the soft mound of your clit. He’s pulled you so close, you can’t even think about moving away now. 

“Feels good, yeah?” Eddie asks, voice strained as his hand wraps around the length of your waist, your mouth falling open in a soundless gasp as your face rests against the side of his, buried in the curls of his hair, smelling like some expensive cologne and a odd mixture of leather, probably from the jacket thrown of his shoulders.

“Uh huh,” You respond deftly, whining softly as his hand flexes into a fist, pressing firmly against you, “—shit.”

“God—you’re soakin’ my fingers, sweetheart.” Eddie comments softly—you let the endearment slide, too caught up in your own mind to care. “Is it always like this?”

And lord does he hope it is. 

You shake your head slightly, “It’s the alcohol,” You admit shyly, “—can’t help it.”

Eddie laughs gently, a small shake of his chest as you keen forward, hips searching for more, hoping for more. 

“Can I—can you—“ You fumble over your words, but it isn’t hard to decipher what you’re asking, your free hand traveling between your bodies, over the hard tent in his jeans, dick twitching beneath your touch.

“Yeah—fuck, of course.” Eddie sighs, lifting you up slightly to reach for his buttons, flipping it open in one fluid movement, letting you pull at his jeans until they’re tucked under his ass, his underwear following suit.

If there was one thing you expected for certain, it was that Eddie had a nice dick—it wasn’t hard to find online, rather willingly or unwillingly, he wasn’t shy about it. It wasn’t up for you to judge, but it’s even more intimidating in person—everyone else is dull in comparison, you can’t even peel your eyes away.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Eddie remarks, catching your expression—it feels teasing, but not in the way that makes you want to retaliate, “—here, give me your hand.”

And you do, letting his larger palm guide yours over the head of cock, down his shaft, fingers grazing the soft stubble of his balls as he sighs, head resting back against your couch. 

His still slowly working hand flips, giving you a small amount of relief against your cunt, the pad of his middle finger pressing against your opening, fluttering around the tip. He doesn’t need to ask, he can see it in the look you give him, the subtle nod.

His finger dips in slowly, testing—it’s been far too long and it’s embarrassing how little of a touch can make you feel so good.

“I know,” He soothes, seeing the crease of your eyebrows, face pulled tight in anguish, “I know.”

Your hand moves slowly, dragging along the length of his shaft. He inhales deeply, the soft touch of your fingers sends a strong jolt to his dick, your thumb grazing over the tip gently. The friction can’t feel that good, despite how wrecked he already looks. You pull your hand away, licking a wet stripe up your palm—it’s something so visceral, hitting Eddie at his core.

Your hand returns just as quickly, and he moans out at the touch, wet and slick as your hand glides easier, up and down in firm, tight tugs—you didn’t know what he liked, but by the look on his face, you were doing just fine. 

His slips his finger in fully now, forgoing the teasing pace, impatient and wanting to feel you clench around him—you do, gasping at the sudden intrusion of his thick finger, ring pressed hard against your entrance, he curls the digit and you gasp out softly.

“Jesus,” He moans, his dick throbbing beneath your touch. You can’t help but focus on anything but him, the calculated glide and twist of your hand as you work against his shaft, thumb dragging over the tip occasionally, mixing saliva with the small amount of precum pooling at his slit, “—can’t—can’t focus with you touching me dick like that.” He admits with a strained chuckle. 

His fingers release you, sticky wetness gliding against your clit like magic, that familiar buzz filling through your body, pit of your stomach like burning fire as you cry out at the slightest touch.

“Fuck—it really has been a while, hasn’t it?” Eddie asks, voice soft and concerned. You nod weakly, mouth hung open slightly as your eyes fall shut. Your hand never stops moving against him, picking up speed with every quick circle of his finger against your clit, throbbing with need. 

“Look at me,” He urges, hand finding the back of your head, cradling the weight of it, “open your eyes.”

You do, slowly, met with the same weak but intense gaze. You’ve never looked into someone’s eyes like this, not in such an intimate situation—there was never connection, just pleasure and release. This felt…palpable, real. You shoved the concerning thoughts aside and let yourself live in the moment, his pace quickening with determination, mouth falling open with each second that passed.

“That’s it,” He encourages, voice faltering as you squeeze at his shaft, “—want you to look at me while you come, okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough.

“Say it.” He pleads.

“Yes,” You force out, “I—I will.”

“Good,” He breathes, grunting loudly as your pace overwhelms his senses, destroying his train of thought, “good girl.” He forces himself to say, voice shot.

His finger circles your sensitive clit with urgency and it hits you all at once, the sensation exploding from your core to your entire body, jerking at the high of your own orgasm, allowing Eddie to coach you through it, hand flattening against your cunt as your hips searched for more relief, satiating that lasting ache as he pressed firmly, giving you a chance to calm down, catch your breath.

“I got it,” He assures, swatting at your hand gently, “it’s okay.”

“No,” You grumble, forcing his hand away too, feeling steady enough to return to your previous pace, still breathless from your own orgasm, “stop acting like that.”

He grunts softly, his hips shifting on their own accord. He was close, it was so blatantly obvious. “Like you have to do it all yourself,” You snark at him, “just shut up and let me do it.”

Eddie laughs at your determination and clipped tone, bottom lip pulled between your teeth in concentration—but his amusement is short-lived, your hand tightening around his shaft with a feverish grip—it was too much, even for Eddie.

“Fuck,” He breathes out harshly, coming over his lap and your thighs in long spurts—the thick, sticky fluid coating your skin. You can’t even be bothered to care, his face so sweet when he does come, all scrunched up with focus, jaw clenched as he forces himself to say silent, much to your dismay, “—holy shit.”

You both take a moment to settle, catch your breath, before you’re reaching behind you and onto the table for a tissue, handing it to Eddie silently. He cleans you both up with no complaint, taking care to make sure nothing is left, before balling up the tissue and tossing it into the small trash can in the corner of the room. 

You shift off of him, feeling the sticky, cold fabric of your underwear between your thighs—you grimace and Eddie laughs at the emotion you emit. 

“Don’t say anything.” You tell him hotly, “We can act like this didn’t happen.”

Eddie holds his hands up defensively, “Like what happened?” He asks densely, shifting dramatically to shove himself back into his underwear, pulling his jeans back up his hips.

“Keep it that way.” You warn, voice holding no malice. 

You didn’t want this to become a thing. It was all a weak moment of need, of wanting to feel good, and that’s all it had to be. 

Eddie nods slowly, still lingering on the couch as you stand. 

He wants to ask something, you can see it on his face.

“What?” 

“Uh—I know this didn’t happen but—can I sleep here, on your couch or something?” Eddie asks, “I probably shouldn’t drive this late, not after that last glass you gave me.”

You nod kindly, disappearing down the hallway for a moment before returning with a pillow and blanket, switching him for your discarded jeans as you made the trade silently. 

“I need you gone in the morning,” You tell him, “I mean it.”

“No problem,” Eddie agrees with you, “it’ll be like I was never even here—promise.”

You really, really hope that was the case—too ashamed to even look at yourself now, still standing half naked in front of him, telling yourself this would never happen. 

But it did—and you hated yourself for wanting it. 

[hyperfixiation-station]

I Didn't Mean That

TW: Blood, death, angst

Ghost hated you. It was just one of those things. Sky is blue, Earth is round, Ghost hates you. You weren't quite sure why, but you tried not to let it bother you.

Unfortunately, you were sent on a week-long op with him. You had been stuck with him for 3 whole days. 3 days full of insults and barely stifled anger. Day four brought a change of pace, but not a welcome one. You were stuck with him, holed up in a cave, using rocks for cover, firing on an enemy team who's camp you had stumbled into.

Ghost wasn’t sure why he was attracted to you. In truth, you were everything he should have despised, but for some odd reason, he found it alluring. Maybe it was your care-free attitude, the non-stop talking, the way you always had a joke up your sleeve and a smile for everyone. Maybe the saying ‘opposites attract’ really was true. Either way, he was not going to fall for you. Okay so maybe he couldn’t stop staring at you, and maybe his day was better whenever he heard your voice, and maybe your smile lit up the room and he wanted to keep it for himself, but it didn’t matter. All getting close to people had done in the past was cause pain, and he was not going to hurt you, or get hurt in return.

He had volunteered for this mission because he wouldn’t be going home on leave, as he had no one to go home to. However, if he had known that you had also volunteered he would not have come. As it was, he was now stuck with you, in a cave, with two M4’s and one box of ammo standing between the two of you and hundreds of enemy soldiers.

“Soap, how far out are you?” You cry into the radio, even though he had told you two minutes ago that he was 8 minutes out.

“Six minutes sweetheart, just hold on.” His voice crackles over the radio.

“You asking him every ten seconds isn’t going to get him here any faster.” Ghosts snaps at you. You roll your eyes and don’t dignify him with a response, training your gun on the incoming combatants and firing.

“Another one bites the dust.” You sing under your breath as another enemy drops.

“What the hell was that?” Ghost hisses at you.

“Another one bites the dust.” You say, grinning as you keep your eyes trained on the enemies. As best you can tell from his glare, he doesn’t find you funny. Like that's anything new.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sounds being gunfire and us reloading. Suddenly the ground shakes and you look up to see a helo tearing the enemies to shreds. You smile as the radio crackles to life.

“Y/N, Ghost, how copy?”

“You came just in time Soap!” You cry into the radio.

“Glad to hear it! We can’t pick you up here, the terrain is too rocky, we’ll meet you about 12 klicks north-east of here.”

“Copy.” Ghost says. He stands up, holding his gun in front of him as you do the same.

“We go in like there are still hostiles left.” He says, you nod but decide against saying ‘not my first rodeo.’ He takes point, and you follow behind, sweeping the land in front of you for anything that moves. You walk in silence for almost a mile, picking your way over dead bodies and ducking under branches. Something flashes in the corner of your eye and you see a laser heading directly for your partner.

"Ghost!” You yell, stepping into the line of fire and swinging around to face the enemy. You pull your trigger, but not in time. Your back slams into Ghost as something rips through your shoulder, and your body erupts in pain. It takes everything you have to keep from screaming as you hit the ground.

Your whole body goes numb as Ghost drags you behind a rock to avoid the enemy fire.

“Soap!” Ghost yells into his radio, his voice hoarse. “Medic!”

He sounds so far away. Distantly, you realize that being able to see him and your body is not a good thing, but all you are really focused on is the fact that Ghost sounds worried.

His hand grips your shoulder and you are slammed back into your body. Pain laces through you and you grit your teeth to keep from screaming. Your vision is hazy and every breath sends pain through your shoulder. You try to curl up around the pain, let out a small whine as that movement hurts as well.

Ghost’s eyes go wide and he tightens his grip to keep you still. He removes his jacket and wraps it tightly around the wound on your shoulder. Blood soaks through the material almost immediately, and uses his weight to keep the pressure. You sob as his attempts to stop the bleeding feel like fire in your bones. You feel him shudder as he watches the blood soak into the jacket. Pain laces through your body with every touch, but it is quickly becoming numb again. Not good you think to yourself.

Ghost yells into his radio again, and this time the medic replies. The sounds of helicopters approaching are louder now. You cry out in pain as hands slip under you, one under your neck and one under your legs, vision going black as he picks you up.

You blink, and now you're lying on the floor again, staring up at the roof of a helo. Ghost leans over you, brows furrowed in concern. Distantly, you can hear him repeating your name. Is he mad at me? I’m so tired.

“No. Goddammit y/n, stay awake.” Ghost yells. He watches your eyes flutter in response before going limp again. He looks to the medic, who is busy pressing bandages onto your shoulder, trying to stop the bleeding.

“Stay with me, goddammit.” He mutters. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The whole point of hating them was so they didn't get hurt, he thinks angrily, and now they may die thinking I hate them. Why am I so fucking bad with this stuff.

~Happy ending~

“We’re almost there!” Soap’s frantic voice sounds from over the radio. The helo touches down and Ghost is shoved aside as a million different doctors swarm over you, rushing you into the infirmary and away from his view. He tries to shove the worry he feels down, but all that happens is it is replaced by guilt.

~time skip~

“I can’t believe you were that close to dying.” Ghost says coldly. Your eyes flutter open again, and you blink at him. Your throat feels raw and dry, your vision hazy.

“N’ce ta see you c’re.” You slur out, wincing as the movement hurts.

“Don’t be a dick.” He says to you, but there's no fire behind it. He helps you sit up, and you think you seem him wince when you grit your teeth in pain. He helps drink water before laying you back down.

“I’m injured, i get to be a dick.” I murmur, tired suddenly.

Your eyes flutter closed, your face flushing from the pain. Ghost's face is full of remorse, and he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Sorry," he mumbles, sitting down beside you.

“Wh’t’r you s’rry f’r? You d’dn’t shhhoot me.” You slur out, too tired to function.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. For… I don’t know. The way I’ve treated you, I guess. I didn’t mean it.” Is the last thing you hear before being dragged back into oblivion.

Later, weeks of transfusions and physical therapy and surgeries and bandages later, you are set free from the confines of that horrible prison they call a ‘hospital.’ Ghost is there to greet you and you think that maybe, just maybe, getting shot was a good thing. Your mind flutters back to the second conversation you had with him, one where you were lucid enough to actually communicate.

“I didn’t mean it either.” You had said, “So let's start over. My name is y/n l/n. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure. My name is Simon Riley, but most people call me Ghost.”

Yeah, maybe getting shot wasn’t the worst thing ever.

~And now, because I’m a slut for angst~

“Nononono.” The medics frantic voice echoes over the sounds of the chopper, “I can’t get a pulse.” He thrusts the bandages he’d been holding into Ghost's hands and instructs him to hold them down on the wound as he begins CPR.

The guilt and despair Ghost feels is sickening as he looks at your pale, bloodstained face and unmoving chest. Your blood gushes over his hands, is soaked into his clothes, stains his skin.

“Come on, dammit.” His voice cracks as he presses harder on your shoulder, “I’ll say sorry. I’ll say it a thousand times if you come back.” His hands shake as he presses down. His eyes flick up to meet the medic's bloodstained face, and his heart drops as the medic slowly shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, I'm so, so sorry.” Ghost whispers, tears pricking his eyes as he stands in front of your mother, forever the bearer of bad news.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers as he presents your father your flag and dog tags.

‘I’m sorry.” He whispers to you as he drops dirt onto your coffin, guilt and regret eating him alive.

“I’m sorry.”

[sanjisblackasswife]

How OP Men Ask to Be Your Valentines (SFW/Fuff)

Some are short and some are long. Also they all read poems.

Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Usopp, Ace

Black Fem Reader in Mind

Luffy

Wellll….he didn’t even know that day existed.

He seen Sanji decorate the deck the day before with heart shaped tapestries and making love theme foods and he explained.

When sanji realized that Luffy didn’t know he then asked if he asked you to be his Valentines and he obviously said no after a following “what is that.”🧍🏽

Needless to say after some yelling Luffy went to go find you

It wasn’t the most traditional way, but Lord help him he tried.

He stole some cupcakes and cookies and even a balloon Sanji had put up in the kitchen and rushed over to you.

Unfortunately none of the sweets survived except half a cookie, but you still had a balloon though!

“Y/N! Tomorrow be my Valentines! Okay?”

Before you could say yes or no he shoves the cookie in your mouth and hands you the balloon. He’s so proud of his declaration you couldn’t be upset.

“Oh wait! Sanji said i need to tell you a poem!”

“Violets are red, Roses are blue, please be my Valentines or else…”

“….or else what.”

He just chuckles at you while squishing your cheeks.

You don’t know if he was actually threatening you or didn’t remember the poem.

Honestly you haven’t been more warmed in your tummy to see the slight blush in his face when you nod in agreement and kiss his chubby cheeks

9/10 would love to see again.

Zoro

Only knows about it because of how much you talk about the special love day.

Yet

Still manages to nearly forget to ask you.

All day you been hinting on him asking

“Sanji asked all the girls to be his valentines…”

“Pathetic.”

“…You don’t think it’s cute he asked them?…y’know…seems pretty cute.”

“He made a fool of himself.”

It irked you he didn’t even have a light bulb moment and just ask right then and there and ask. You would have appreciated it, but no.

Forgot.

It wasn’t until Robin and Sanji asked what did Zoro gift you to ask to be your Valentines and nearly smacked himself on the head for it.

“THAT’S WHY SHE WAS ASKING ME THOSE QUESTIONS?! WHY DIDN’T SHE TELL ME!?”

“CUZ IT’S YOUR JOB DUMBASS!”

Luckily Robin was going out to a floral shop and Zoro tagged along. She assisted him on what flowers to give you and even a card with a pretty gold necklace (he now is in debt from nami again)

You were in your room pouting up until you seen Zoro awkwardly walk towards you with something behind his back and plop the flowers and gifts on your side.

He then plops HIMSELF on your lap and buries himself in your tummy while wrapping his arms around you

“Read the card.”

And you do so

“Blood is red. My shirt is blue. Be my Valentines, but either way I’ll screw you.”

….

….

“I’mma beat yo ass, Zo.”

“WHAT! That is IS A WONDERFUL POE—OW!”

Usopp

Poor boy is a nervous wreck asking you (his crush) to be his Valentines.

All week he has been drawing you. You both took a picture together a few weeks prior and since then he has been struggling to draw you the perfect Valentines Day Card

Of course he draws you beautifully but that doesn’t stop him from being a little scardey cat about it

“Hey! Y/N! Uh…can i give you something!?”

You smile and nod. “Of course. You made a another contraption?”

He smiles timidly and shakes his head no before he got lost in thought.

You see a rose inside a pretty pink card and it says on the front “Please open!”

You do and its a small drawing of you, Usopp, and the Going Merry and it says:

“Just as I am brave and smart, you’re even more with your sweet, kind heart. It would be my honor to be your Valentines, and if that goes well will you eventually be mine(s)?”

It was written so funny so you chuckle a little, but you then gasp to see the art he done for you. It was so detailed and gorgeous in contrast to the tiny doodle he did inside the card

“Us….WAIT USOPP!”

Poor boy ran before you could answer

Luckily you caught him and let him know of course you can be his Valentines

And a little more too…because you felt the same way about him.

Sanji

Genuinely surprised why his birthday isn’t on Valentines Day but we move

Obviously Mr. Prince wouldn’t dare NOT to ask you for your hand in being his Valentines, especially since you’re his girlfriend.

He plans out the entire 2 weeks of spoiling you (more than usual).

He acts like youre ganna say no somehow when everybody knows youre not

Zoro absolutely cannot stand him all two week

Everything is heart shaped

The food

The snacks

The desserts

Everything all for you and everybody has to endure it

You swear his eyes are a Crimson pink now this entire month.

And by February 13th he takes you on the deck after dinner and hands you MORE gifts

“Ji! You can’t keep giving me—“

“Just read it.”

The night was perfect, he was wearing a beautiful blue and black suit lighting up his cigarette with one hand as his other was still filled with another gift. He even got you the dress you’re wearing. You felt spoiled rotten. And you were. And Sanji knew that but he didn’t care.

He’d give you the world if you asked it

You open the pretty card and rose petals fall out and it says:

“My love for you cannot be compared. My love for you cannot be tested. My love for you cannot be measured. Even until the end of time my love for you shall never perish. You bring me light, you bring me joy, you are what I think about when I need remembrance of what I am fighting for. You are the calm in my chaos. You are my escape. My love. My Mademoiselle. I love you. -Your Prince, Sanji”

By the time you look up he is putting his hand out to you with warm cheeks and a smile,

“Be-“

“Yes! Sorry…i just..YES I wanna be your Valentines!”

You were overjoyed kissing your now bloodied nose man on the cheek and he hands you one last gift.

It’s a fake flower.

“I’ll stop loving you when that flower dies.”

Fuck he was corny but so romantic with it.

[sorinethemastermind]

Shared Memories

In which Corvus helps Soren reconcile his memories of his father, and they make a horrifying discovery. #Sorvus

 Corvus hadn’t meant to fall asleep. He’d been convinced that, if he did, he would awaken to an empty spot on the ground beside him. At best, Soren would be out in the camp helping Opeli or one of the other guards. At worst, he’d have set out in an attempt to single handedly slay the dragon that had destroyed Katolis. Corvus thought that the latter was improbable, but knowing Soren, not out of the question. His boyfriend could be rather stupid at times.

 His boyfriend. 

 Corvus didn’t know that a single word could make you both smile and grimace at the same time. Apparently it could also make you incredibly, exceedingly, enormously, worried. 

 The spot next to him on the ground was, in fact, empty. But he would never know whether Soren was about to set out on a stupidly dangerous and self-assigned quest or was simply going to get a drink of water, for he had yet to exit the tent.

 “Oh, uh, Corvus. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Soren said, his smile wide and guilty. 

 “I’m sure you didn’t.” Corvus replied, sitting up as much as he could under the low canvas roof. “But luckily you did.”

 “Is my absence already so unbearable?” he asked, but Corvus wasn’t about to let him get out of trouble that easily.

 “No. You’re just very bad at sneaking. Especially in full armor.” At least, that was what he assumed had awoken him. Given that Soren’s every movement sounded like someone clanging pots and pans together. “Are you going to tell me where you’re going?”

 Soren looked back out of the tent, the flap still held open in one hand. There was a long pause, and Corvus was beginning to wonder if he really had planned to go after the dragon - what else would he have known Corvus would disapprove of so much? - when Soren turned back to him, expression unreadable, voice low and serious.

 “I need to show you something.”

 Corvus didn’t ask, he simply followed his friend into the dark night. It wasn’t often that he got to see past Soren’s wide smiles and charming - infuriating? - humor. So when he did, he listened.

 Soren led him away from the camp, sticking to the shadows until they were well out of sight. Neither of them said anything as they trekked through the quiet darkness; the only sound the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. Until Corvus saw it through the trees and let out a small, involuntary gasp.

 He and King Ezran had gone right to where they knew the encampment was, and this was the closest he had been to the wreckage. The roofs of most of the buildings had collapsed, charred beams sticking out at odd angles like the broken limbs of some mighty titan. Stones and bricks scattered the ground, thrown out into the middle of the road by the sheer impact of the dragon’s attacks. But far more devastating than any destroyed building were the remnants of the lives they had once held. 

 Corvus saw a stuffed toy, scorched and blackened, dropped onto the cobbles in the chaos. His tracker's instincts kicked in and he could practically see the child; running with one hand clutched in their parent’s grip, the other hanging on for dear life to their doll. A stumble on a loose stone, a split second’s shock, and the hand holding the toy released. No thought was given to it as they continued their mad dash away from the flames but, later, the child would sit in the small tent given to their family and wish they had something, anything to remember their home by. Their childhood. All of it stripped away so suddenly. 

 It took Soren’s hand on his shoulder for Corvus to realize he had stopped in the middle of the street, staring at the little doll lying there on the cobbles. Soren bent down and picked it up, brushing off some of the soot and ash that had collected on it.

 “It’s a little beat up,” he said. “but we can fix it. Give it back to the kid. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see a familiar face.”

 Neither of them said it, but Corvus was sure that both of them thought it. That perhaps there was no child to return this toy to. That maybe they were still here, buried in this rubble, forgotten along with their doll. Corvus blinked quickly, shoving the thought from his mind. 

 “You wanted to show me something?”

 “Yeah.” Soren tucked the toy away and began to walk, not towards the castle as Corvus had expected, but down the street and away from it. 

 He didn’t ask. Soren would tell him when he was ready.

 Instead he fell into step beside him, their strides quickly falling into rhythm as they made their way down the road and through the city. The damage wasn’t as bad down here, though few places remained unscathed. Corvus tried to keep his eyes on the road, but it wasn’t much better than staring at the scarred and abandoned buildings that lined it. So, instead, he found his gaze wandering to Soren.

 The steady set of his shoulders. The many days of stubble along his jaw that was beginning to resemble a beard. The slight saunter to the way he walked, even now. The way those steps came to an abrupt halt as they arrived at-

 Corvus gasped aloud, gaze traveling up the great skeleton that lay before them. The dragon. It had to be. But…

 “How?” he asked, voice barely more than an awed breath. 

 “Don’t know.” Soren said, voice suddenly raspy. “He was like this when I found him.” 

 Corvus took a few steps forward, gazing up at the great bones of the creature that had taken so much from them. It was no wonder they had evacuated the castle. How were you even supposed to take down a titan of this size? And yet, somehow, they had. Or, somebody had.

 “That isn’t what I wanted to show you, though.” Soren said, still standing a few steps behind him, not having moved. Corvus turned back to face him, confused.

 “Then what..” he trailed off, following Soren’s gaze. 

 A small mound of fresh earth. A pile of stones. A sword, struck into the ground. Soren’s sword.

 Corvus knew immediately what it was. Who it had to be. 

 “Soren-”

 “I- I know he probably shouldn’t be here.” Soren was already saying, cutting him off. “But I couldn’t leave him there. I- I couldn’t leave him. Not again.” 

 It only took a few steps to cross the distance between them, and then Corvus’ arms were around him. He didn’t say anything, just let Soren bury his head in his shoulder until his shoulders stopped shaking and his breathing had slowed. Then he guided the pair of them to a nearby stone bench and sat him down, his hand never leaving Soren’s. And he listened.

 Listened as Soren talked about… about things Corvus couldn’t even begin to imagine. About how hard it was to breathe. And about how much you took it for granted before you couldn’t anymore. About how his father would sit up with him long into the night. About how he was… how he was a good Dad. Back then. How Soren had wanted to be just like him. Looked up to him. Wanted to make him proud.

 “I owed it to him, didn’t I? He- he saved my life.” Soren said, voice thick with barely contained emotion. “I owe him my life.”

 “You don’t owe him anything.” Corvus said, squeezing his hand. Letting Soren lean heavily against his shoulder. “Your life is yours.”

 “But it isn’t, really.” Soren whispered into his shoulder. “He gave it to me.”

 There were a million things Corvus wanted to say and a million things he still didn’t understand. That he probably never would. He couldn't imagine living a life that you thought really belonged to someone else. But he did know one thing. 

 “That’s right. He gave it to you. It’s yours. He did everything he could so that you could have it. So that you could live it to the fullest. So… do that.”

 Soren looked up at him, that familiar determined look in his eyes. The one that Corvus loved so much. He straightened up and the two of them stared across the valley at the grave of… of a father. Of a king. Of a man.

 “I think the worst part is that… that on some level I still want him to be proud of me.” Soren said quietly.

 “He would be. He is.”

 As they watched, a butterfly, its wings so thin as to be nearly translucent, its bright colors like a beacon in the dark, fluttered over to land on the pommel of the sword. It stood utterly still for a moment, like a painting, before it opened its wings again and flitted into the dark. 

 Soren released a long, slow breath. “Don’t tell anyone he’s here. Please?”

 “I won’t.”

 Soren leaned against his shoulder again and wrapped an arm around his waist. Corvus tucked an arm around Soren’s shoulder, resting his cheek atop his head, and they sat like that until the night sky began to pinken and the clouds turned a beautiful blush color. 

 As the sun began it’s slow climb across the sky, it’s light caught on something just at the corner of Corvus’ vision and he turned to glance at it. 

 “Soren, what is that?” he asked, straightening up to try and get a better look.

 Soren looked up at him, expression bleary as he was pulled out of a half slumber. He followed his gaze, and Corvus saw his eyes go wide, his weariness forgotten in an instant as he shot to his feet.

 “What-” he tried to ask, but Soren was already running. Corvus followed him past the body of the fallen dragon and up the steps of the dais. Scattered on the ground was an empty bowl, a knife, a burnt out candle, and…

 “No.” Soren was on his knees, lifting up the round object. It was a dull gray orb, perfectly smooth, its surface faintly mottled. “No, no, no.”

 “Soren, what is that?”

 “She wouldn’t have. She couldn’t have-” Soren looked up at him, eyes wild. “It was with Callum, wasn’t it? I should have gone back to check. But I thought-”

 “Soren!” Corvus grabbed him by the shoulders. “What is it?”

 “He’s out. He’s out, Corvus. Aaravos is free.”

[cyberrose2001]

hi hope you're well, a kinda long text coming...

with all the requests FILLED (literally) with joy with optimus, I shall be the one to break it HAHAHA so... can you do like a scenario where the reader and optimus are happy living their lives with the sparklings (imagine triplets!!!) everything is perfect but then........

optimus wakes up from his dream and realizes it all, the perfect family is not real, the reader is not alive, not being able to live with it, he suffers everyday bc of those dreams, he traps himself in this "reality" of his dreams (like that episode fr tfp on Megatron's mind) and isolate himself

hope that's not to sad >:) and if you're comfortable writing this, if not sorry.

Thank you author ❤️❤️❤️

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

you're very welcome anon!! this took waaaay too many drafts HAHA but im quite happy with it now, this is such a sad concept and now i just wanna give op a hug :(

I should also mention that I left the details of the sparklings biology unspecified. Whether you prefer them to be cybertronian, human or half-and-half is up to you! <3

Warnings: Angst, SFW

Word count: 1436

“Optimus, honey?” The wonderful voice of his lover called out to him. Closing the front door behind him, Optimus breathes a sigh of relief. Her soft voice calling out his name plays on repeat in his processor. “Is that you? Could you come and help me for a second?”

He had no idea how he got so lucky, to start a family with who he considers the most beautiful specimen in the known universe. Together, they both created three sparklings, all triplets and it was further proof that either Primus or another deity of life had seen the good that Optimus had done and blessed him with both her and sparklings. The day he found out that she was pregnant with them was the first time in his life that he experienced pure joy, the second time was when she gave birth to his little ones and officially became a sire.

With a soft smile, Optimus follows her voice to the playroom of the quaint house he calls home. He is thankful that mass displacement technology exists, allowing him to comfortably live in the house with his family. He observes from the doorway as his sparklings play with stuffed toys and little building blocks, making an absolute mess of the room. He clears his throat and leans against the doorway with folded servos, “I hope you young ones are going to help your mother with cleaning up.”

Three small heads perk up at the voice of their sire, all of them dropping their toys and bouncing over to him. He kneels down and gives his two sons a strong hug, pecking them both on the heads with kisses.

“Daddy!” The last born of the three calls out to him. Optimus chuckles softly as he opens his arms for her, embracing her close to his chassis. Now Optimus is not the one to pick favourites with his sparklings and loves them all equally, but his only daughter was the first one to hug him whenever he came home. She was also the one who took the most interest in his stories of when he was the great leader of the Autobots, constantly begging for her sire to re-tell them as a bedtime story, with the more graphic details left out. It makes the inner archivist within Optimus swell with pride that at least one of his sparklings has taken a liking to the history of his home planet.

“Hello, my sweetspark.” Optimus nuzzles his faceplate to her nose, enjoying the little giggles that erupted from her. He picks her up and places her on his hip, a servo supporting her under her bottom, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah! Look what I do!” His toddler babbles as she points to a large tower made out of the small plastic blocks. It wasn’t very impressive by Cybertronian standards of what sparklings can do, but it doesn’t matter to Optimus, he will gush over anything that his kids build or draw in order to expand their creativity.

“Did you build that?” Optimus smiles at her, “How clever of you, honey.”

She nods eagerly, a big grin on her face, “Mommy helped!”

“Did she?” He looks towards his wife who was kneeled on the floor, stomach swollen with the life of another sparkling. She was sorting out the seemingly endless pile of toys that was thrown about on the floor. Optimus can’t help but admire his wifes devotion to their children, playing with them even when heavily pregnant. The incredible and important job of being a mother is something that Optimus has learned and respected during his time on Earth, especially after witnessing it firsthand.

“I did, now could you help me get up off the floor?” She chuckles, a hand rubbing her pregnant stomach.

Optimus carefully steps over the toys to walk over to her. He offers his servo and she graciously took it, pulling her up off the floor. She huffs a little bit and tries to catch her breath, bent knees trying to brace the weight of her unborn child.

“Thank you, love.” She sighs, lightly tracing the servo that still held onto her hand, “You would think I’d learn from my previous pregnancy to not get on the floor.”

Optimus laughs softly, readjusting his daughter on his hip, “It is probably not the wisest decision.”

She laughs, reminiscing the memory of her stuck on the floor while she was pregnant with the triplets, and he can feel himself falling in love with her all over again. She is absolutely glowing, and Optimus can’t help but bask in her natural beauty. Leaning forward, he presses a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling through it as he hears their sparklings protest as most children do when they see their parent’s smooch, “Yucky, Daddy!”

 He pulls away from the kiss and brushes a servo across the tight skin of her stomach, feeling the little kicks of their soon-to-be newborn. Optimus doesn’t want to jinx anything yet, but he prays to Primus that it is another little girl.

She smiles and places her own hand on top of his, sharing the moment together. But Optimus does not notice that her smile faltered for a second.

“Optimus, you know that this can’t last forever.” His wife whispers quietly so that the sparkling he held can’t hear.

Optimus perks his helm up to look at her, confusion plastered on his face, his gentle caresses on her stomach halting for a moment, “What cannot last forever?”

She reaches a soft hand out to caress his faceplates, a small tear threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. Despite being incredibly confused at his wife’s turn of behaviour, Optimus felt a need to comfort her and returns the gesture to wipe her own tears away.

“It’s not healthy for you… you need to wake up.”

Taking a step back, digits leave her face as he nearly trips on the carpet. The words that just left your lips made his spark sink to the floor. There was no way that Optimus was dreaming, he refused to believe, not when everything that has happened within the last few months felt so real and genuine. As quick as he felt his spark sink, the cosy home that surrounded his family began to crumble and disappear around him, falling into an endless cold void. The weight of his daughter on his hip was no longer there. The softness of his wife’s hand had disappeared. Optimus was left with nothing but the darkness of his empty mind. And at that point, Optimus felt his own optics lubricate and fall down into the void, the last echoes of his wife reaching his audial receptors.

“Optimus…”

“Optimus.”

“Optimus!”

Optics snap open, scanning the ceiling above him. In an instant, he sits up right on the berth below and vents heavily. He looks around carefully at his environment and realises that he is in his berthroom on the Autobot base, it feels lifeless.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” A gentle yet firm voice reassures and pushes him back onto the berth, “I heard a distress signal from your internal instruments, is everything alright?”

Optimus recognises Ratchet, but the old bots words are drowned out by his processor running on overdrive. His wife, his sparklings, and his unborn little one are no-where to be found. Frantic optics flicker around every inch of the emptiness of his berthroom, hoping and wishing that they would be waiting just outside the room or hiding somewhere, playing that fun earth game called hide-and-seek that he enjoyed playing with his sparklings.

Ratchet notices the distant look in his friend’s optics and places a servo on his shoulder to try and ground him to the present, “Optimus, you’re fine, it seems as if you have just experienced a nightmare.”

His grip on the berth was hard. That was no nightmare. That was his life, a life that has now been taken away from him as a cruel punishment. All Optimus had ever wanted was right there in his grasp. He didn’t care about his friends, and he didn’t care about the Autobot cause anymore.

He just wants his family back.

“It was not.” Optimus whispers out, vocaliser stuttering. He knew Ratchet wouldn’t understand the monumental loss that he had just suffered, but Optimus could not deal with his old friend at this point in time. Just as Ratchet was about to question him, Optimus lets out a pained sob.

“Please…” He held his helm in his servos as lubricant began leaking from his optics once again, “Just leave me be.”

[elliot-bridgerton]

Nicola Mary Tina Coughlan,

born on 9 January 1987 in Galway, Ireland, and raised up in Oranmore.

At the age of 4, she realized her dream to be an actor after watching an videotape film of "The Wizard of Oz". Likewise, she grew up watching her older sister perform in a school play. She attended Scoil Mhuire for primary school and Calasanctius College for secondary school. She graduated with a degree in English and Classical Civilization from the National University of Ireland, Galway. She then went on to train in England at the Oxford School of Drama and Birmingham School of Acting.

At the age of 9, in 1997, Nicola Coughlan had an uncredited role in action thriller film My Brother’s War. Coughlan was able to take the day off school and was paid £30 to feed swans, though she was scared of them. In 2004, she started her career with a role in Tom Collins’ short film, The Phantom Cnut, a revenge comedy. In the following years, she did various voice works in animated series. She was suffering from depression during this period and her family helped her through the entire process.

"There wasn’t one thing that turned it around for me — I got myself out of that stage very slowly."

Due to financial difficulties, Nicola moved home to Galway, Ireland, to work part time at an optician and get back on her feet. During that time, she responded to an open casting call on Twitter for Jess and Joe Forever at The Old Vic in London, and she just so happened to land the role of Jess. The show has a special place in her heart, as it was her first real break into the acting industry.

In 2018, Coughlan began playing Clare Devlin, one of the main characters, in Derry Girls. This sitcom is set in Derry, Northern Ireland, in the 1990s. The series was broadcast in January and February 2018 on Channel 4. But it was after its rerelease onto streaming platform Netflix in December of the same year that the show gained an international audience and an instant popularity.

In the same year, she also played Hannah Dalton in Hulu’s Harlots. The period drama television series is set in 18th-century London. This year also marked her West End debut in The Donmar Warehouse’s production of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Evening Standard named her as “one of the Rising Stars of 2018”. Unfortunately, not everyone was a fan and Nicola was forced to call out a critic for the British Theatre Guide, Philip Fisher, due to his rude comments about her weight. In a poignant op-ed for The Guardian, where she demanded for critics to

“Judge me for my work in Derry Girls and on the stage, not on my body.”

In the following year, she made headlines again for rebutting the Daily Mirror’s comment on her 2019 British Academy Television Awards look as not the most flattering. She tweeted “I mean incorrect @DailyMirror I look smokin’, sorry bout it”. In July 2020, she auctioned off this Alex Perry dress and €5,000 raised funds went towards LauraLynn Hospice, an Irish children’s hospice which provides specialist palliative and supportive care services.

In 2019, it was announced that Coughlan had been cast in the Netflix series Bridgerton, which premiered in late December 2020. Nicola only had to audition once, and was soon given the role. In this period-drama series based on the best-selling Julia Quinn book series of the same name, Coughlan played Penelope Featherington. The girl is a reluctant debutante and youngest daughter of a nouveau-riche family in Regency-era London. Soon after its released, it was announced that over 63 million people had watched the series.

Nicola has remained an avid advocate for LGBTQ+ and Women’s Rights. Back in 2015, she went from door to door campaigning to legalize same-sex marriage in Ireland. “This was pre anyone knowing who I was, so I didn’t have a big platform to do stuff, but I did what I could,” she told The Guardian in December 2020. She also campaigns for the rights of women and LGBTQ+ communities, including with This Is Me in Ireland (which is run by her friend Noah Halpin) and The Rainbow Project in Northern Ireland. As she explained to Bustle during a December 2020 interview,

"Playing a gay character in Derry Girls and same-sex marriage being illegal until this year, I wanted to lend my voice. It’s not a cozy issue that’s easy to talk about, but I’ve got friends who have suffered because of legislation like this."

In February 2019, Nicola and, her Derry Girl’s co-star, Siobhan McSweeney women led 26 with their suitcases across London’s Westminster Bridge to demand the decriminalization of abortion in Northern Ireland. They represented the estimated number of women a week who had to travel to England to access abortion. Despite many celebrities calling for a boycott to filming in Northern Ireland, Nicola refuses. Of the matter, she said: “Just to state I would never boycott working in NI, I absolutely love working there and feel like my time is better spent supporting the women there by speaking out in interviews, protesting, etc.”

[mactavsh]

Follow the Bird [John “Soap” MacTavish x Reader] Part Two

part one here // also on ao3

It wasn't unusual for a mission to go sideways, hell you'd grown to expect it at times. Going into an op alone was dangerous, but you knew the boys had your back. Soap would fight his way to you no matter the cost.  

Warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of blood/injuries

As soon as he heard Igor use your callsign Soap wanted to leap off the roof. “She’s been made.” He chambered a bullet as he looked at you through his scope.

“Steady, Soap. Ready to fire on her signal.” Ghost’s voice was calm despite the situation unfolding. Just then they watched the lights flicker revealing everyone in the room to be soldiers.

“Fuck she’s a sitting duck in there, Lt.” Soap spoke nervously. He watched as you began fighting, go time.

“Weapons free, Soap.” Ghost spoke as they both began picking soldiers off one by one. Metal covers eventually came down over the widows blocking you from their view. “Time to move.” Ghost’s voice was urgent.

Soap swore as he stood, “It was a fuckin’ trap. How the hell did this happen?” He ran to the fire escape, climbing down as quickly as he could.

“Not sure, ‘ave to have a chat with Price. Meet me at the side entrance we go in together.” Ghost instructed.

When Soap got to the side of the building Ghost was already there. They nodded to each other and breached preparing for a firefight. To their surprise, there was none. The reception hall was entirely empty. They quickly cleared the backrooms, kitchen, and every nook of the building until they ended up back in the reception hall.

“Damn it!” Soap yelled as he kicked an overturned chair next to him. An additional noise accompanied the scraping of the chair and he looked down noticing your knife. Ghost stood silently as Soap picked up your knife. “She’s gone.”

A small pool of blood caught Ghost’s eye as he moved around Soap and toward a table. As he approached he realized, to his dismay, the pool was larger than he thought. Soap noticed Ghost’s movement and followed suit, noticing the pool as well.

“D’ya think that’s hers?” Soap asked though he knew most likely what the answer was. There was no dead body near it.

Ghost didn’t reply, kneeling down to inspect something by the blood. He pulled out his knife and propped one of the floorboards up. Noting a small skull akin to his mask etched faintly into the wood. He reached his hand in the space under where the board was, pulling out the drive. “That’s our girl.” Ghost spoke as he showed the drive to Soap before placing it safely in his vest.

“Great we have the drive, they have her. No one wins.”

Ghost stood, facing Soap. “We’ll find her, Johnny. Tear the city apart if we ‘ave to.”

–

Price flew in with Gaz as soon as Ghost called him. Soap pinned Price to the wall when he entered the safe house, his anger and worry boiling over when he saw the Captain. Turns out, Price was just as angry as he was, he had no idea his informant was compromised by Makarov. Soap released him immediately.

Price adjusted his vest and placed a hand on Soap’s shoulder. “I won’t rest until she is safe.”

It took two days. None of them slept. They finally found one of the safehouses Makarov used below a decrepit building in St. Petersburg. There was one stairwell to the basement, the four men slowly descended weapons at the ready.

Gaz opened the door as they breached making quick work of each soldier in the room. Once the main room was clear they turned their attention to the only other door. Soap cracked the door slowly, no one came out to attack so he pushed it open. As he did enough light shone in that he could now see you. Covered in blood you were being held above the ground by your tied hands. A gunshot wound to your shoulder and thigh were accompanied by many cuts left untreated and bleeding freely.

Soap moved into the room quickly cutting the ropes and laying you down. “Y/n?” He tried to gently shake you awake to no avail. Anxiety bubbled in his chest as he looked you over. That was when he noticed a note tucked into the remnants of your dress. He took it out and handed it to Price. “Sir, look at this.”

Price grabbed the note reading it over. “Bastard,” he crumbled the paper, tossing it aside. “He’s fuckin’ with us.”

“This whole thing was just, what? Makarov gettin’ bored?” Gaz spoke in anger.

“Bastard will pay for that.” Ghost's tone was final as he moved toward Soap. “Johnny,” He placed a hand on the Sergeant's shoulder. “Let's get her out of here.”

Soap nodded. He picked you as gently as he could, mindful of your injuries. He held you close to his chest, at this moment you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

–

Once they determined you were stable enough they all flew back to base. As soon as they landed you were whisked away by a team of medics. Soap immediately tried to follow only for Ghost to stop him. “Let them do their work, she’s in good hands.” Ghost assured his friend.

The pair waited outside the room you were in for hours. Medics worked deftly to ensure all your wounds were tended to and free of infection. After debriefing Price and Gaz joined as well.

“Turns out Makarov didn't plan on the cockiness of Igor.” Price spoke as he sat down garnering the attention of everyone. “The drive’s legit. Igor wasn’t supposed to bring it with him, but he must've figured there was no way a woman would outsmart ‘im. The drive is full of information; safehouse locations and the like.” Price smiled, his guilt lifting only slightly. “We can start dismantling his operation, piece by piece.”

Just as the Captain finished, the doctor came out of your room. Soap stood up fast, anxiously waiting for the doctor to speak.

“She lost a lot of blood but is stable now. She’ll need some physical therapy for the shoulder but otherwise, she’ll be back to full health in no time.”

Soap breathed for what felt like the first time in a week. “Can I see her?”

“Absolutely, she is asleep for now but should wake in a few hours. There are some spare chairs inside.” The doctor spoke before leaving to attend to other patients.

Soap entered the room first, slowly approaching your bedside. You had always been smaller than all the men on the task force but in this hospital bed, he couldn't believe how fragile you looked. He knew better of course and if you were awake the comment would've earned him a sharp elbow in the ribs. The beeping of the heart monitor reassured him you were alive.

Ghost approached the other side of your bed staring for a moment before taking one of the chairs nearby. Gaz did the same, taking a seat in the back of the room. Price was the last to come in. He approached slowly, verifying for himself that you were in fact alive. Gently he placed a hand on your shoulder and whispered an apology only you could hear. After that Price took his leave saying something about paperwork.

Soap finally sat down pulling his chair as close to the bed as he could. The three men all settled down for the night. Gaz was out cold, hat tipped over his eyes. Ghost was reading a book and Soap really wasn’t sure what pocket he pulled it out of. He rested his arms down on your bed, looking at you one last time. He watched you breathe for a few moments before setting his head down. Sleep finally caught up to him after the ordeal of the past few days.

–

Gentle beeping slowly woke you. Opening your eyes the dull lights of the infirmary were welcome as they adjusted. Taking in the room around you, you first noticed Soap’s head on the bed next to you. Deep bags around his eyes told you he hadn’t slept for days. Slowly you brought your hand up to lay on top of his. He stirred slightly at the touch and you smiled to yourself.

Looking around again you noticed Gaz. His hat had fallen into his lap and his head was dipped forward, sound asleep. Finally, your eyes landed on Ghost. He was reading a book, the cover something you couldn't quite make out from where you were laying.

“What’re you reading?” You spoke quietly trying not to wake the other men in the room.

He looked up at you staring for a moment before standing and setting his book aside. He approached the side of your bed quietly. Finally, he spoke. “The Hobbit.”

You stifled a laugh. “Nerd.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to know why everyone seemed to like Tolkein’s works.”

“They are fantastic books.” You paused realizing the soreness in your legs. “Can you help me up?”

“Not sure the doc would approve.”

You sat up slowly, careful not to wake Soap. Bringing your legs over the edge of the bed you looked at Ghost. “You gonna tattle on me?”

“Nope.” Came his reply as he offered his arm to you. You stood cautiously and grabbed his offered arm, now noticing your other arm was in a sling. He picked up on this and used his free hand to grab your IV pole. “Where to?”

You shrugged. “Just need to stretch my legs.”

The two of you did a slow lap around the infirmary. It was late so not many people were around but you did earn some disapproving looks from medics as you passed them by. You stopped for a brief break as your leg wound demanded. You two walked in silence for the most part but during this break, Ghost spoke, “I’m glad you’re okay. Think Soap would've lost his mind if we hadn't found you”

“Thanks, Simon.” He didn’t typically let people call him by his name but he made the occasional exception for a select few.

Falling back into a comfortable silence you both rounded the corner back into the hallway where your room was. Just as you did you heard a commotion, then Gaz and Soap burst through the door. Frantic looks on their faces before their eyes settled on you and Ghost at the end of the hallway.

“Fuckin’ hell.” Gaz breathed out putting his hand on his chest. “Scared the shit outta us, Bird!”

Before you could reply, Soap was running at you. As soon as he was close enough he grabbed onto you. Hugging you like you would disappear any second. Ghost took this as his queue and walked to where Gaz was, dragging the oblivious man back into the room to give you both some privacy.

You gratefully returned the hug, basking in the warmth he radiated.

“Thought I’d lost you.” He spoke, his chin resting atop your head and he never wanted to leave this moment.

“Not getting rid of me that easy, MacTavish.”

He pulled back taking in every detail of your face. “Fuck it.” He said before leaning in to kiss you. Slow at first and when you didn't pull away he deepened it. Years of pent-up feelings hitting you both at once. You reached up your good hand to cup his cheek as you kissed. Stopping to breathe the two of you brought your foreheads together, savoring the moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that for years.” You spoke into the small space between you.

“Me too.” He laughed, pulling you back into a hug. All the pieces were finally in place and he couldn’t be happier.

[bots-and-cons]

Heya Only! Here's my rq for now! (For Bee, Op, and whoever else you wanna add)

Bots find a young Cybertronian (somewhat younger than Bee,) whose family was killed in the war, who decided to become neutral or a 'Rouge' because of it. They've been alone and in survival mode for so long that they don't know how to act when meeting other Cybertronians, Autobots or not. So they freak out and try to run, but can't bc They're hurt.

Remember to drink water, get something to eat, and your writing is amazing<3

Maybe I’ll eventually do a part 2 to this where the reader wakes up at the autobot base stuff like that. Also thank you, and I hope you remember to eat something and stay hydrated too :D

~Bumblebee~

•Honestly, Bee has not met anyone younger than himself in a long time, because he has been with the team for so long, and he hasn’t met many other cybertronians in general during that time

•You’d crash landed on earth some time ago with a limited energon supply, so you were a bit lost on what to do when you started to run out

•You happened upon an energon mine while traveling around, but of course it was infested with decepticons, who were mining the stuff

•When you got desperate enough, you tried to steal some, but that didn’t end particularly well for you

•You managed to get away but you were hurt and scared and you had no idea what to do next

•A few days later, Bee stumbled upon you while he was scouting around the mine for a mission

•You were in really bad shape and scared out of your mind

•When you saw him approaching you, you assumed he was a decepticon due to the close proximity to the mine where you’d seen them

•You got up, hobbled a few steps and fell down

•You kept trying to crawl away from him, because you were so terrified

•Bee was a bit confused as to why you were so scared of him, but he soon realized you considered him a hostile entity that was out to hurt you

•Bee kept his distance while trying to calm you down and he showed you his autobot insignia

•This didn’t seem to make you any less scared, which also confused him, didn’t you know the autobots were the good guys?

•Eventually you were feeling so weak you couldn’t even crawl away anymore, you just laid on the ground in a fetal position, hoping that if he killed you, it would be quick

•At some point you passed out from the panic and your injuries and Bee called the base to get some help for you

~Optimus Prime~

•Optimus wasn’t particularly thrilled when he found you quivering in a cave in the middle of nowhere

•You looked terrified and there was this odd look in your eyes, like you were sure he was going to hurt you

•Optimus didn’t want to make you feel boxed in, so he sat near the cave entrance so you could see him, but also so you could see outside and leave if you wanted to

•Little did he know, you were barely functional at this point, your body feeling so heavy and in so much pain you didn’t even want to move

•You saw his autobot badge, but that didn’t suddenly make you trust him, it just meant he was just as responsible for the war as the decepticons

•Optimus tried to ask you your name, but you didn’t want to answer him, what good would it do? You were probably going to end up dead anyway

•He just talked to you for a while, he could see you were listening, since you were following him with your optics and you seemed to react very subtly to some of the things he said

•The only thing that seemed to really catch your attention was when he said he was a Prime

•That was the only thing you commented on; “You were supposed to protect us”

•Optimus of course knew he had lost the trust of many after Cybertron fell, but to hear it coming from someone so young, was so different and it made him go quiet for a while

•You eventually started fading in and out of consciousness, and when your optics finally closed, for a moment Optimus thought you had died from your injuries

•This didn’t end up being the case though and he brought you to the base, where Ratchet started patching you up

[destinygoldenstar]

I Made Disventure Camp Characters In Sims!

My followers know my habit. I play Sims. I made Total Drama Sims.

So I decided to make Disventure Camp sims as well to add to my catalogue.

This is the Merge Cast of Season 1 of the show. A full household. (In the game you can only have up to 8 characters in your household)

They’re not 100% accurate. The game doesn’t transfer the shows canon outfits. So I tried my best. (You can also see their traits on the left)

I tried my best to make Ellie look fashionable like the fashion icon she wants to be.

Jake’s hair is a LOT more blue than in the show and it’s distracting. But it was either this blue or black, and I think his hair is more blue than black in the show. I think it’s a bit distracting though.

Before you ask, yes, I altered the sexual orientations of the sims accordingly. So the ones that we know of are accurate. (Ellie is bi, Gabby is lesbian, Jake & Tom are gay)

I also looked at the wiki for these designs and found their full names there. You better believe I flipped at some of these. (PARKER?! HAMILTON?! REALLY?!?!)

Tom was kinda hard because of the scars. They’re not accurate, but I tried. There’s also no face mask in the game, so he unfortunately doesn’t have it.

And he’s wearing a fireman suit… it was either that or a Star Wars suit. There was not a lot of options, okay?

I didn’t realize it before I put these guys on a lot, (AKA I ditched them in the empty woods of Hardford Bentley because of course I did,) that because of Tom’s outfit, he’s fireproof 😂

Tom is an OP character. Even in Sims. I shouldn’t have given him this power.

Fiore is a child. Alec is a full adult. Miriam is an elder. Everyone else is a Young Adult. Like they are in the show.

And then there’s Grett.

Live love Grett.

I’m actually glad the jumpsuit from the show wasn’t in the game and I could replace it with that dress. Cause I do not like that jumpsuit she wears in the show.

Oh, and the moment I put them on the lot there was a fox, so I had Gabby talk to it. So there’s that really cute Gabby moment for you.

If you have Sims 4, these guys are under the Disventure Camp & Total Drama hashtags if you want to play with them yourself!

[2dmanlover]

op I loved your linger fic with omen I NEED a part two I'm BEGGING

Linger pt. 2 | Omen x Fem!Reader NSFW

part 1

cw//just smut LOL, hints of voyeurism, love confessions :>, ooc (human form) omen.

a/n- okay this is a case in which i was willing to write a part two just cos the fic and anon were foaming at the mouth begging for me to write it so here ya go <3. ALSO IDK WHAT HAPPENED TO THE COLOR OF THE TEXT IM SORRY DARK MODERS

758 words

Ever confident of your intentions, he let his head fall to the side and flashed a rare smile. The sight made you shiver and subconsciously catch your lip between your teeth. Your eyes roved over his lenten form; his hand still resting at the base of his cock, hair splayed out on the pillow case, and thin blue wisps emanating from him, all perfectly framed by the moonlight spilling through the window. 

“You just going to stand there and stare?” His voice came out gravelly as always, sending licks of electricity up your spine. Your face flushed red and hot, knees almost knocking together. Omen began to tighten his grip on himself, slowly stroking up and down, putting on a show for you, knowing how cute you look when you’re flustered. 

You couldn’t help but let your shorts and panties drop, leaving nothing but your big t-shirt draped over your perked breasts, outlining your pebbled nipples. 

Slowly you walked towards him, each step light and almost silent on the floorboards. His gaze swept over your body as he sat up on the edge of the bed, kicking his boxers off in the process. 

“How shameless,” he sighed deep, hardening under his own touch. 

You cupped both sides of his face with your hands, kissing him hard. Rough hands dipped under your shirt, smoothing down the curve of your waist. The two of you reenacting what you both wished would have happened in the hall. 

He urged you to straddle him, pulling you by the back of your thighs. You whimpered at the brush of his tip against your bare clit. Twitching under you, his kisses went rogue and sloppy. The very tips of your fingers dipped through each rift of his abs, lingering to smear the fresh load he had just spilt on himself. He pulled a tight breath through his teeth as you skimmed over the contour of his cock. 

“You don’t know what you do to me,” Omen spoke low into the shell of your ear, gently turning you over on your back. Two fingers dipped into your folds, teasing your hole and spreading your slick. Flames crawled from your core up your neck, decorating your cheeks in red; culminating in a light and shaky whimper. His broad hand followed the heat up to your throat, pinching your nipple on the way. 

You shook with anticipation, looking into his dark eyes, barely illuminated by the ambient light. Eyes shifted down to his achingly hard cock that he held at the tip, dragging it through your dripping slit. Your face heated up more with embarrassment, realizing how aroused you had gotten by watching him jerk himself off. 

“Little voyeur you are,” he chided, his gaze boring deep into you. Finally, he sunk in the tip, working it a little before sheathing himself in your warm cunt in one fluid motion. 

You sobbed out a moan of his name, stretching your head back as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you.

“Please Omen—“ he interrupted your pleas with a kiss, both of his arms planted by the sides of your head, holding up his weight. 

Each stroke became faster, your moans becoming increasingly harder to control. It wasn’t like it mattered, though, as every breathy mewl would be drowned out by the sounds of Omen pounding into you. Underneath it all, he was much more vocal than he normally was, blabbering into your ear between kisses.

“You’re so good for me,” he admitted, “so fucking good.”

“Omen, please,” you choked out between thrust induced squeaks, “make me yours– I want to be yours. Fuck– I need you.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, yet were not empty, each and every one true to your deepest desires. 

He shifted his gaze to your sticky, flushed face, brows knit together in pleasure. 

“All mine–” he cut himself off with a groan, your walls clamping down on him as your nerves crawled towards the climax. 

“I love you,” he breathed out, kissing you just under your earlobe. Your arms flew around him as the orgasm ripped through you, nails digging into the hot skin on his back. He followed shortly behind you, pulling out to release onto your stomach. 

His lips captured yours hard and passionate, something you never thought you’d feel out of him, making up for the sudden feeling lost within your pussy. 

“I love you too, Omen,” you sighed out the moment he broke away, shifting him and yourself over, slotting your bodies together.

[russadler]

A Little Death - A Note From The Author

For those on this website back when Cold War came out in 2020, you may have read a fic I wrote around that time titled ‘A Little Death’. It was pretty successful (at least by my standards as a first time author) and likely may even be the reason many of you are following me in the first place.

In 2021 I made the extremely difficult decision to delete it, with the intention of re-writing it as I had to come to the conclusion that the portrayal of the Adler/Bell relationship in this particular story was problematic for reasons I will expand on below the cut (for those curious)

I’ve had many people in the years since message me to ask what happened, and if I planned on re-writing it as I announced my intentions to. I’m incredibly touched that people have held my writing in such high regard, even after all these years ❤️

With Black Ops 6 coming in a few months, the topic has come to the forefront of my mind (and the minds of others) again. After an extremely difficult (and long) period of consideration, I am officially confirming that I will not be rewriting ‘A Little Death’ and consider it permanently shelved.

This is probably a surprise to absolutely no one since I’ve not really mentioned it since, but I have had several people still interested in what was going on. I still want to give thanks to everyone who has supported my writing, I’ve been wanting to start once again but felt like I couldn’t with the weight of this fic on my shoulders. I think finally closing this chapter will allow me to move on and evolve as a writer.

Please read the TW before continuing as I will be touching on some sensitive subjects in regards to Adler/Bell’s relationship dynamics. This is kind of long but honestly it’s a complicated subject, but I didn’t want to move forward without addressing some of the issues in detail.

TW: discussions of consent, sexual assault, manipulation, abuse

Why did I delete it in the first place?

‘A Little Death’ started off as a three part smut fic that grew into something more in part due to the positive reception I had received, but it was also my first ever piece of writing. It lit something in me, and it was no longer about just being “horny for Adler” and it involved into a bit of a character study.

I actually made a post years ago touching on this, but the jist of why I deleted the story was that someone who was close to me at the time I was quite deep into writing it pointed out that a brainwashed Bell, in an altered mental state, could not actually give consent to any sort of sexual relationship with Adler (who also facilitated their torture) I know this might seem to be fairly obvious to many, but honestly at the time I hadn’t even thought of it that way. I felt incredibly stupid someone had to tell me for me to even realize.

Now, I don’t intend this post to be one about total condemnation of the Adler/Bell ship. I mean we are talking about a game that revolves around some very dark subject matter like torture, murder, brainwashing etc. A lot of people have OC! Bells that they ship with Adler, and I still read fic of the ship and have my own OC. The ship is problematic for obvious reasons, but I began to realize that as an author I had a duty to portray dark subject matter with a certain level of responsibility, respect and with appropriate content warnings.

I was doing none of those things. I was writing a fic that portrayed a brainwashed Bell in a sexual relationship with Adler that begins to evolve into this emotional “affair” I had written something like 10 chapters, but I couldn’t continue with the knowledge that I had essentially been marketing sexual assault as smut without even really realizing the implication. I mean it wasn’t all smut, it did taper off into an actual story, but the damage had been done.

Wouldn’t that mean all Adler/Bell fic is problematic then?

I mean yes is probably the right answer, but my own feelings about the relationship in summary, is that a ‘romantic’ relationship with Bell utilized as a manipulation tactic by Adler would not be out of character for him, I mean it literally does happen in the game in a more platonic form. Dark? yes, very much so, but not totally out of the realm of the game’s themes.

Even then, we have to keep in mind that if we are going to write stories that have darker themes that could also contain potentially triggering subject matter, we have to approach these topics with respect and responsibility. Writing a scene or relationship that portrays sexual assault as romantic or sexy is not okay. (which was basically what I was doing, which was very bad) Appropriate content/trigger warnings should be used as well.

I think the Bell/Adler gold standard is fic where Bell and Adler meet each other long after the events of the game. Still a pair of messed of people with a messed up dynamic 100%, but Bell is no longer brainwashed and has developed into their own person who can make their own informed decisions. (My all time favourite fic is a Bell/Adler fic that follows this sort of plotline)

I wanted to try and salvage ‘A Little Death’ by re-writing it, but I just…couldn’t. I would have to re-write from the ground up, and honestly the central conflict was Adler “falling in love” and the guilt that subsequently followed because he knew the situation was fucked up and that he was in it for his own selfish reasons.

I have considered re-publishing in mostly the same form but with the sexual content removed and more as a dark fic focused on the messed up relationship Adler pursues with Bell because he wants ‘results’ that bad, but I wasn’t sure if that was any better???

Anyways, that’s why I deleted that fic in particular and not any other. It was deeply problematic and for that I apologize.

If there’s any other questions, please feel free to inbox or DM me.

Thanks ❤️

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for leaving my friend to die?

I know the title sounds bad, but this is a specific situation, so hear me out. I (26+ thousand, M) ran away from my family and home planet with my sister, who we’ll call WC (12+ thousand), to a neighboring one when I was 16 thousand and she was 2 thousand. My mother, who was the queen of my home planet, was emotionally abusive to us and my father blindly followed whatever she said. I ended up working as a bartender at night and pursuing my dream as a racer to make ends meet. It wasn’t much, but it put food on the table, a roof over our heads, and kept my sister in school, so we didn’t complain. 

One night, while I was at the bar making drinks, I met my friend, who we’ll call Sal (26+ thousand, M). Now, I’d like to mention that Sal was built and not born into a family like I was. He grew up in, what you humans call, an orphanage, and never really understood how to interact with others. He and I disliked each other at the time, but we couldn’t stand to be away for a long time. 

Looking back, I realized how… toxic(?) our friendship was. I used him as my punching bag whenever I was angry, and since he was taller, bulkier, and way stronger than I was, I never paid any attention to it. He yelled at me every chance he got and criticized my choices when it came to my life. Despite all that, he still had my back and I still had his. When he came up to me and said he got a job transporting cargo to a planet called Terra Firma, which is light years away, I immediately quit my bartending job and started attending flight school. It was at this time I was getting attention for my incredible speed through my races, so I kept that job. After I finished flight school and Sal got confirmation to leave, I asked WC if she wanted to join us, to which she said no. She said she wanted to finish her studies, which I respected, so I left her with a friend and promised to come back.

Now, I’ll get to the situation at hand. 10,000 years ago, Sal and I crash-landed on Terra Firma. We got to where we needed to go, but we had no way back. We met some humans, who we now know are known as cavemen, and stayed with them for a while. Then, there was a meteor shower, and it was threatening the lives of those humans. Sal and I agreed to save the humans, with some hesitation on my end. We built a raft for the cavemen, but then Sal realized that one of the cavemen was missing, so I offered to go find him. 

This is where I may be the asshole. Instead of looking for the cavemen, I decided to go back to the ship. I figured Sal was going to get himself killed helping those humans, and I needed to get back to my sister. I promised her I would come back. As I was trying to power up the ship, Sal came in and asked what I was doing. I didn’t expect him to come, so I was startled and replied that I didn’t think he’d make it. Sal got angry with me and punched me, making me drop to the ground. He hit me a couple more times on my abdomen, legs, and arms, and the entire time I was pleading with him to stop. I was tinkering at the edge of unconsciousness when I heard alarms. I saw Sal’s panicked look before he shoved me into a stasis pod and I blacked out.

Then, 10,000 years later, four emergency responders from the planet I moved to, which we’ll call the Rescue team, found us and took us out of stasis. They live with a human family, who are also first responders. Salvage had lost his memory of that night, so to make him not hate me, I spun the story and told him that I was the one who saved the cavemen. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but Sal was all I had, and I didn’t want to lose him. Eventually, the leader of the planet, OP (9 million+, M) found the true story through the ship’s security cameras. I tried apologizing to Sal, but I don’t think he believed me. OP doesn’t want to give up on me, and neither does one of the Rescue team members nor the youngest of the human family. But three of the members of the Rescue team called me a liar, a rogue, and that I “ran out on my partner,” which I admit I did do, but I truly do care for Sal. I think that was their way of calling me an asshole, so am I?

[thatswhatsushesaid]

hmm

the point of my being a bit of a bitch about people who drop transparently bad faith commentary or straight up rude character hate in the tags really was just me deciding for myself, and not for anyone else, to confront people who are being deliberately rude. because i’ve got a higher than average tolerance for conflict and i do think people who are being trolls for the sake of trolling deserve to get a taste of their own medicine from time to time. i realize some people have no time or patience for this even if they otherwise agree with my takes, and that’s fine, the cut of my jib isn’t for you, go with god etc.

my goal wasn’t ever to discourage anyone from tagging thoughtful meta that also happens to be critical in the tags, because that’s as valid a use of a community space as my dumb text post memes, and i already scroll past jgy critical meta 9 times out of 10 when i encounter it unless i think i have a useful point to make and think the OP might be receptive.

idk where i’m going with this exactly, i just am having a bit of a Moment grappling with what i personally set out to do originally with this blog, which i truly never anticipated getting the following it currently has, vs the perception of what i’m doing by people who don’t know me, and trying to figure out how i feel about it. not great obviously. frustrated and sad. that was never the vibe i wanted to help foster and i’m bummed that i contributed to a new problem while trying to tackle an old one.

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