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pomefioredove · 9 months ago

Note

housewardens + Jamil (separately) with a reader who is their s/o and reader is low-key their simp

like they won't worship the ground they walk on, but they just.. admire..??

like reader and the character will be hanging out, on a date, or in class or something and reader just sighs dreamily and looks at them with a look of like "im the luckiest person alive." because they love them so much

and if caught the reader won't be embarrassed and will just be like "you're so pretty." or "I'm so happy we're dating"

ik it's cringe lol but if I had one of these men as my boyfriend (cough Idia cough) I would literally just admire them so much because I love them so much and they're so freaking pretty

SWEEEEP I love fluff I love a healthy couple

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ abject admiration

summary: close enough. welcome back gomez addams! type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, kalim, jamil, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, FLUFFY!, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, established relationship

Riddle used to hate being stared at. it felt like judgment, like he was being put on trial for something he didn't do. as if the world was just... waiting for him to make a mistake so it could punish him. the first time he catches you staring, long before you were together, he almost had your head for it. now, the feeling of your eyes on him has become a comfort, though your words of admiration, your praises and affection, still make him blush

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona couldn't even remember the last time his parents told him they loved him. so when he hears it from you, his first instinct is to push you away. he thinks it's justified; you must want something, I mean, who would be so nice to him for no reason?

well, you. you would

he'd never admit it, but these days, he goes out of his way to do nice things for you, to make himself look and smell good, just to get more of your praises

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"you're so beautiful" and Azul crumbles. as cunning as he is, you could have him eating out of the palm of your hand if you really wanted to. he considers himself a fortunate soul, because all you ask for in return is his time and affection

your compliments are better than any deal, your voice more melodious than any song. the very thought that you think he is pretty... him, of all people... well, you could bring him to his knees with a word

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

fawning over Kalim is absolutely impossible. he's not competitive by nature, but what you give him, he gives back ten times over. one kiss turns into ten, two gifts into twenty, and, of course, one praise turns into an entire soliloquy. you're lucky to have him? he's luckier than the richest man in the world, the most powerful mage, he insists even the Sorcerer of the Sands himself would fall to his knees and weep if he were to see your beauty. you're his sun, his moon, and his stars, and he never lets you forget it

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil had never been in love, let alone in a relationship, before you. you're his first everything... and that means you're his first admirer, too. honestly, he's not really sure whether to believe you or not at first. "I'm so happy we're dating," surely, you're not talking about him...?

but you are. he can't even fathom why, but you are

...sometimes, it's better not to question everything

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil gets his fair share of compliments, and rightfully so. he's put in the work, he deserves the recognition. and, for Seven's sake, Rook is his vice housewarden- he can't escape compliments

but... somehow, they're so much different coming from you. maybe it's the way you say things, soft and gentle and full of admiration, maybe it's your voice, or maybe it's just because it's you. because he knows that when you say you're happy with him, you mean him, not the brand, not the image, not what he's expected to be. just... him. it's true love

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia.exe has stopped working

even after months of dating, you still manage to catch him off guard with your "cringe couple stuff", as he calls it. it's... very distracting. you'll be mid-game, staring at him, and when he asks if you hit your head on the way in, you'll say something like "just thinking about how pretty you are" and his brain will short circuit. it's too bad he can't patch that... he'd love to respond without melting into an Idia-shaped puddle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

being head over heels for Malleus is both a blessing and a curse. on one hand, he'll reciprocate that energy. on the other hand, he'll reciprocate that energy. even a simple "you look nice today" sends him over the moon with joy, and he will unapologetically cling to your side like the needy thing he is for the rest of the day, glaring at anyone who dares to take your attention off of him for more than twelve seconds. but, hey, you know what you like. you agreed to date him in the first place, after all

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #queued #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader

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419jhat · 4 months ago

Text

Steve becomes an actor. Eddie reacts to his movies while nursing his crush.

***

That Time He Got Naked

Steve had always been a good performer. Eddie watched him in school, putting on the face of a disaffected cool guy who was above everything around him. And he watched him put on a face of bravery for the kids when the end of the world was at their fingertips. When Steve got his first role, Eddie figured it made sense. He hadn't exactly been trained in acting, but he had a pretty face and the ability to do what he was told on a set.

When he got his second role, Eddie didn't pay much attention. Local art movies by Robin's college friends weren't that interesting to watch, in his opinion. But the third role was when it became a thing. That's when it started turning into a big deal. And before they knew it, a year later, Steve was in a real movie. A movie they could see in theaters and rent at family video. A movie people had actually heard of. The kind of movie everyone sat down to watch in support of their famous friend. Even if it was a just small role.

So, at the first available showing where the entire party could get together, Eddie found himself squished between Dustin and Nancy, watching Steve gasp and moan like it was his first time.

And Eddie's face was on fire.

Dustin had pulled his hoodie over his eyes.

Nancy was sitting straight as a telephone pole.

Jonathan leaned over and asked her, “Was he really like that?” Which made her smack him on the arm and tell him to shut up.

Eddie could barely pay attention. He was too busy wondering, as he stared at Steve's bare ass taking up half the screen, if Steve had been hitting the gym to tone up just for this scene because-

He needed to stop thinking about it before he made it even more awkward for everyone.

When Steve called him a week later, he could barely talk without stuttering like a fool.

“So, what did you think? Maria said I was really convincing but she was in the scene with me. She kind of has to say that,” Steve said.

Eddie thought that the sight of Steve's ass had been imprinted on the back of his eyelids, because it was all he saw when he closed his eyes to sleep at night.

“It was good,” Eddie said awkwardly.

“That sex scene was so embarrassing. People keep asking me if it was hot. There is nothing hot about standing around your coworkers in a flesh colored jockstrap.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie said, trying not to imagine a scenario where Steve was his coworker, and that was his uniform.

That Time He Died

The next time they met up to watch a Steve movie, nobody had warned Eddie about its contents. Or, maybe they did and he'd ignored it because he didn't want to think about the little mole on the small of Steve's back that he'd discovered last time they watched a Steve movie.

Either way, Eddie was completely unprepared to watch Steve gasping for air while being beaten to death in an alley.

“Ugh, I can't watch this,” Robin muttered when it became clear what was happening. She ran out of the theater a few moments later when the scene didn't end quickly enough.

Lucas was on Eddie's other side, cringing with each brutal punch. Steve was letting out pathetic, wet whimpers, his face literally crunching under the main actor's fists.

Eddie knew it was fake. The blood was kind of excessive and there was just no way you could rearrange someone's face like that with your bare hands. But watching Steve's eyes go glassy made Eddie feel sick.

He got up too.

He found Robin standing next to a water fountain, just staring at it.

“Thirsty, Buckley?”

She jumped.

“Oh. No,” she said, stuffing her hands in the pickets of her jacket. “I just dream about that kind of stuff a lot.”

Eddie nodded. “I get it. It's different when we've seen him hurt before.”

Behind them, the theater door swung open. Dustin paused when he saw them, and then propped it open with his foot. The rest of the party followed.

“I guess we're leaving early, huh?” Nancy asked.

Everyone nodded.

“Nobody tells Steve,” Robin warned.

When Steve called him the next day, he kept his mouth shut.

“You were terrifying,” Eddie said.

“You sure? I think I was supposed to be more pathetic than anything else.”

“I mean, that too. But it was super gory, so I think the whole theater was freaked out.”

“Neat,” Steve said. “You know, I'm going to be in Chicago this weekend. We should hang out!”

“I'd love that!” Eddie said too quickly.

Steve laughed and asked, “maybe you can show me around?”

“Yeah, you can stay at my place!” Eddie said.

And then he looked around his apartment and cringed. “On second thought, you can get a hotel if you don't want to deal with the mess.”

“I love the mess. It's you,” Steve said.

Eddie wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended or not.

That Time He Cried

The next movie wasn't much better. This time, Eddie came prepared. This time, Steve didn't get naked or die. What he hadn't anticipated was that there were other terrible things that could happen, like watching the man he'd held a crush on for years now scream and sob because he lost the will to live after his wife died.

Eddie honestly didn't know that Steve could sound like that. The anguish in his voice at the funeral scene, the pain in his eyes. It was raw, and difficult to face.

There wasn't a dry tear in their row.

“I do not like this one,” El whispered to Eddie.

“Why is he always miserable in these movies?” Max muttered. She had her shoulders up to her ears and her arms crossed, like she could hold the tears back if she wound herself up tight enough.

“Well. He seemed pretty happy in the first one,” Eddie said.

Max punched him in the shoulder.

Steve's phone call came that evening.

“Dude, I think you broke everyone's hearts. I didn't even know you could cry like that,” Eddie said.

Steve huffed a laugh into the receiver. “My agent told me to think of something sad.”

“What did you think of?” Eddie asked. He instantly wanted to smack himself in the forehead. Why would Steve share that with him? To his shock, Steve hummed, like he was thinking.

“I thought about how I felt when we thought Max was dead,” he said quietly. “Obviously, it's not like that between us. She's basically my sister at this point. But…it was the first time I'd ever lost someone but cared about. Someone I was supposed to protect.”

Eddie's heart melted into a million pieces.

“Steve. I think you should invite her to visit you. She loves you too,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, “the only thing is that Dustin would lose his shit if she visited first.”

“Oh, don't worry, I'll keep him distracted for you,” Eddie said.

“With Dragons and Dickwads?” Steve asked.

“You know it.”

That Time He Proposed

Eventually, Steve broke his curse of misery and managed to get a lead role in a rom com. Eddie hated it more than anything else. Watching him fall in love with the human equivalent of a shallow puddle pissed Eddie off more than anything else had in a long time. Steve's pretty eyes, staring at her. Steve, so visibly in love with someone who didn't deserve him. Steve, doing stupid shit to make her take him back when he hadn't done anything wrong in Eddie’s completely unbiased opinion.

It made Eddie want to tear his hair out.

The real cherry on top was Steve proposing to her at the end, because of-fucking-course the movie ended that way. That kind of heteronormative love at first sight, get married and have kids bullshit the media always pandered to, drove him up the wall. Steve did all the work. He set up a cheesy outdoor surprise at the beach and dropped to one knee while everyone in the background of the scene clapped like a bunch of lemmings.

“This is so fucking stupid,” Eddie said.

“Tell me about it,” Mike said.

“God, I hate romance movies," Eddie said.

“They always suck,” Mike agreed.

“Steve would never do that! He doesn't like big grand gestures!” Eddie said.

“What?” Mike asked.

“He's a very private person!”

“Eddie…that's not Steve. That's Chris. Steve’s character,” Erica said.

“I- I know that. I'm just saying,” Eddie sputtered.

“Can you all shut the fuck up?” Max hissed.

Steve called him a week later, and by then, Eddie had forgotten all about it up until Steve started waxing poetic about how romantic it all was. Ugh.

“Wait, I thought you didn't like that kind of stuff,” Eddie interrupted.

“Oh. No, I don't. But in the context of the movie, it was supposed to be.”

“So��what kind of romance do you like?” Eddie asked casually.

“Gonna surprise me with something, Munson?” Steve asked.

“Wha- no, I just-” Eddie stuttered.

Steve interrupted him with a laugh. Then, he suddenly asked, in a sinfully soft voice, “when are you going to visit me?”

Eddie's heart skipped a beat.

“Uh, I don't know. Tattooing doesn't pay for a California vacation yet,” he said nervously.

“You could move out here,” Steve said. “There's a ton of people wanting tattoos in LA.”

“I don't know if all that sun would agree with me,” Eddie joked.

“Youcouldmoveinwithme,” Steve blurted out.

“Hmm?” Eddie asked, twisting the phone cord around his thumb.

“You could move in with me,” Steve said.

Eddie nearly dropped the phone. He sat up straight and looked at his hands like they couldn't tell him what he'd really heard, because there was no way Steve was being serious.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I'm here. Good one, Steve,” he said with a forced laugh, “like you'd want me messing up your place. Anyway, got anything else going on?”

Steve didn't reply for a moment. When he did, he told him about some party he'd gone to. And Eddie forgot about the offer completely.

That Time He Was a Villain

Thankfully, Steve's next film was wildly different from the others. This time he was the bad guy. Eddie found it kind of thrilling to watch him parade around with the confidence of an unapologetic piece of shit. The way he led the main characters around like he had them on a leash, the way he looked when he was in charge. It made Eddie's pathetic little heart shiver.

Steve made a sexy villain.

Unfortunately for Eddie, nobody else seemed to agree. As they left the theater, all the kids were grumbling under their breath.

“I thought he was cool in that role,” Eddie said.

“He was such an asshole!” Dustin said.

“I can't believe he was so mean to Miranda! He didn't have to be such a bad husband!” Max said.

“It was the look in his eyes. Like he thought it was all fun,” Erica said with disgust.

“Once a douche, always a douche,” Mike muttered.

Nancy lifted an eyebrow. “You guys know that it was just a character, right? Steve didn't actually endorse any of that stuff.”

“He chose the role,” Dustin muttered. “I hope Hollywood isn't ruining him.”

Eddie was pretty sure they just missed him.

Steve called him three days later.

“Do you think I'm turning into an asshole?” he asked without saying hello.

“Dustin’s just being stupid,” Eddie said.

“He says I'm regressing back into my high school days!”

“That's dramatic,” Eddie said with a laugh, “he didn't even know you in high school.”

“Exactly!”

“I thought you were cool in your latest movie,” Eddie said.

“What?”

“I mean, you are a bit of an ass, but it shows your skill.”

“Wait, is that what this is about? I thought I missed his birthday or something!”

“Oh, no. They just don't like seeing you play the bad guy.”

“Oh my God, that is so fucking-”

That Time He Fell In Love With A Man

Eddie didn't know what was coming next. Steve had been in a wide variety of roles at this point, so when he sat down in the theater with a bucket of popcorn, he did not expect to witness the crush of his life, holder of his soul, dream of all dreams, to be making out with another man.

Eddie nearly threw his popcorn at the screen out of sheer shock.

“Buckley, did you know about this!?” he hissed to Robin.

“Yeah, I thought it was really brave,” she said softly.

“What do you mean? Because he's straight?”

Robin slowly turned to look at Eddie with an eyebrow lifted.

“...what?” she asked.

Eddie wasn't paying attention. He turned back to watch. It was beautiful. It was nothing like what he'd expected. Explicit love between two men, on screen for the world to see. He didn't even have it in himself to get jealous. For the first time, Eddie couldn't see Steve. He saw the story. He could see himself in the way Steve's character looked at his lover. The way they hid their feelings for each other in public. The film ended with Steve's character passing away in a car accident. It made Eddie cry. Eddie hadn't cried in a theater in years.

He left the building feeling raw.

The others were raving about the film, talking about how it would push Steve's career to the next level. No comments about it being weird or gross.

“Robin, why would he choose that role?” Eddie asked quietly.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I mean, did he do it for Will or something?”

Robin turned to Eddie with her hands on her hips, looking very much like Steve with the level of judgement in her eyes.

“Eddie…when you said Steve was straight. Were you being serious?”

Eddie just blinked at her. “Of course I was. He is straight.”

“Are you stupid?” she asked. Eddie opened his mouth to reply, but she didn't let him. “Where have you been the last few years? Has that apartment of yours been lined with lead?”

“What-”

“Eddie, he calls you almost every week!”

“He calls everyone-”

“He stays at your place when he's in town!”

“It's cheaper-”

“He is a successful actor! He has no reason to stay in your apartment, which is always covered in dirty clothes!”

“Hey, I try to keep it-”

“Last time I was there, your underwear was hanging on the bathroom doorknob!”

“Listen, I told you I can explain that-”

“Eddie, he asked if you wanted to move in with him!”

Eddie opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. Now that he thought about it, he did recall Steve joking about that. But it had just been a joke. Right?

“I thought he was being nice?” Eddie offered.

“Oh my god, you are so stupid,” Robin said.

“Wait, so let me get this right. Steve isn't straight. And he's interested in me!?”

Robin punched him in the shoulder. “Go call him, you dumbass.”

Eddie turned and ran all the way home without even saying goodbye. By the time he made it to his phone, he was gasping for air after running up three flights of stairs. And for the first time in years, he called Steve after watching his movie.

“Hello?”

Eddie could only gasp for air.

“...listen if this is some kind of prank-”

“No! Wait! It's me!” Eddie gasped.

“Eddie?” Steve asked.

“I saw your new movie,” Eddie said, brushing his hands out of his face with a shaking hand, “why didn't you ever tell me?”

Steve was silent for a moment.

“Tell you what?” he finally asked.

“That you like men!”

“I'm sorry?” Steve asked, sounding shocked.

Eddie's face was on fire. Had he somehow completely misunderstood Robin's point? Should he have stayed beyond to make sure?

“Eddie, did you not know that?” Steve asked.

“What! Of course, I didn't! If I had known that I would have-” Eddie cut himself off, too embarrassed to even say it.

“You would have what?” Steve goaded.

“It doesn't matter,” Eddie mumbled.

“No, I think it does,” Steve said.

“It's not a big deal,” Eddie said.

“I think it is,” Steve said.

Eddie bit his bottom lip, letting his feelings fester inside him until they finally exploded in the form of him shouting, “I would have asked you out!”

“And I would have said yes,” Steve said instantly.

“Really?” Eddie asked softly.

“I mean…I've been crazy about you for years,” Steve said.

“Why didn't you say anything!? Do you know how crazy you drove me last time you stayed here? You can't hold a man in bed like that and not expect him to fall in love!”

“I- uh, thought you didn't feel the same,” Steve said, sounding embarrassed. Eddie closed his eyes and sighed. Robin was right. He was so stupid.

“Steve, I feel the same and I want to ask you to be with me for the foreseeable future,” Eddie said boldly.

“The foreseeable future? Not just a date?” Steve asked.

“I am well past wanting a single date, to be honest.”

“Oh wow. Well, I've been looking for a boyfriend,” Steve said.

“I might even surprise you with something romantic,” Eddie said with a smile.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie drabble #check out my ao3 #419jhat writes

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screamlet · 1 month ago

Note

♞: Caring for each other while ill

thank you for the prompt! have another 1.2k of fluff, this time set during the summer between s7/s8 when bucktommy was new and anything we wanted it to be, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

On a really good, horny day, Buck might be strong enough to haul Tommy off his living room floor and drop him on the couch. That's not one of those days, though: Buck is sick, Tommy is sick, and they might be better off dying together in each other's arms on the floor of the loft.

"I should just go home."

"Tommy, you fainted when you tried to put on a sock."

They're lying side-by-side on the floor of the loft; Tommy did try to put on a sock and faint, but Buck caught him before he shattered his skull on the floor. Once he had saved Tommy's life, he felt vertigo kick in and slowly lowered himself to the floor, too, where he and Tommy could lie together for the last 10-15 minutes of their lives.

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

Tommy flashes him a grin that makes Buck an even weaker puddle on the floor. Good thing he doesn't have to get up yet so he can lie here, watching Tommy order them Gatorade and popsicles and cold medicine, and try not to fall in love with him.

#911 fic #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan #tevan fic #my writing #my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #writing games #writing games: acts of intimacy

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tammyjackson50-blog · 3 months ago

Text

No so secret anymore || G.C

George x reader

1/2

Summary: You and George have been dating for a few months, but you weren't as careful as you thought, and fans started to suspect, and your friends weren't helping either...

(Pictures are not mine)

You'd think that keeping a relationship secertly among a group of friends who are also YouTubers would be pretty easy because they will understand how things are going right?

Think again.

Today, you were all set to film a reaction video, each from your own setups.

The plan was simple: watch some TikToks, have a laugh, and entertain the fans.

But with the recent surge of fan edits shipping you and George in the last few weeks, you had a feeling this session would be anything but simple.

As you joined the call, George's familiar grin filled your screen. "Alright, lads and lasses, ready to dive into the abyss of TikTok cringe?"

Arthur (Hill) chuckled. "Always, mate. But before we start, have you seen this?" He shared his screen, showing a TikTok compilation titled "George and Y/N: A Love Story."

You closed your eyes. "Oh, for the love of-"

Chris smirked. "The fans have been busy. Look at this one." He played another edit, this time highlighting every time you and George had shared a look or laughed together in past videos.

George laughed, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "They're really reaching, aren't they?"

Max raised an eyebrow. "Reaching? Mate, even Stevie Wonder could see there's something going on."

George laughed. " Oh man, are we that obvious?"

You felt your cheeks heat up. "Guys, we're supposed to be filming."

Chris leaned back, feigning innocence. "Oh, we're just getting started. The fans ship it, Y/N. Who are we to deny them?"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Look, if you keep this up while we're recording, half of this is gonna have to be cut,either because I'll be laughing and getting red too much or because you idiots are gonna make it too obvious."

Despite your best efforts, the teasing continued.

Every shared laugh, every accidental overlap in speech, every mirrored reaction was met with exaggerated "oohs" and "aahs" from the boys.

As you prepared to sign off, Arthur grinned mischievously. "So, when's the official announcement? You know that there is no way that the fans would stop this shipping thing anytime soon."

George smirked, "Guess they'll just have to keep watching and find out."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. Keeping this secret was proving harder by the day, especially with friends like these.

As soon as the recording ended and the others kept chatting, you and George signed off.

"Alright, lads, enjoy talking shit. I’m out," George said, stretching.

"Yeah, same," you added. "Try not to plan our wedding while we’re gone."

Arthur snickered. "No promises, Mrs. Clarkey."

You laugh and shut off Discord, flopping onto your bed with a deep sigh.

The teasing had been nonstop, and while it was funny, it was also a bit exhausting in some way.

You knew the boys weren’t gonna let up anytime soon.

You barely had a second to collect yourself when your bedroom door creaked open.

And there he was.

"Mrs. Clarkey, " George grinned, stepping inside like it's his room.

You groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. "No, give me a break."

He caught it with ease, laughing.

"What? I thought you liked me."

"Not when you've spent the last hour making me look red like a freaking tomato."

"Oi, don’t blame me! They started it."

He closed the door behind him and climbed onto the bed, lying on his side to face you. "Besides, you gotta admit,it was funny."

You rolled onto your back and turned your head to look at him. "They’re getting worse, you know."

"They’re just having fun," he said, nudging your side. "We did throw this on them outta nowhere."

"Yeah, and now they think it’s their life's mission to make me feel embarrassed like a little girl every time we’re on camera together."

George laughed, draping an arm over your stomach. "Would it be so bad if they did? You look cute when you’re flustered."

You pushed him not seriously "You love pissing me off, don’t you?"

"Absolutely." He leaned in, "But you love me anyway."

You sighed dramatically. "Unfortunately."

He grinned and kissed you, "Lucky me, then."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have another part for this, tell me it you like it:)

#george clarke #george clarke x reader #george clarkey x reader #george clarkey x y/n #ff #one shot #george clarke x you #george x reader #george clarke x fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #george clarke imagine

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moonydustx · 1 month ago

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The dress

Law x F!Reader

A night trying on clothes with your best version looks better than you imagine.

warnings: F!Reader has some insecurities, I wrote this thinking about a plus size/chubby girl, but it's not very detailed. Below, I'll leave the color of the two main dresses I thought of, as for the model, it's up to your imagination: Pink dress - #e75480 Green dress - #808000

Law was known for being observant. This was nothing new to anyone.

He knew Shachi's allergies inside out, he had memorized Ikkaku's PMS period, after all she became a terrorist, and he knew perfectly well the ideal temperature for Bepo's baths. He knew everything that was going on with his crew, including you.

You had been part of the Heart Pirates for longer than you could count on your fingers. Being a pirate was basically what you knew how to be and do, and that required a different way of life. No fears, no loopholes, and no hesitations. But your captain knew better.

For some reason he refused to name - in fact, he was somewhat wary of such a feeling - you were the thing Law liked to watch the most. Like the time you almost got caught by the marines because you "got distracted" watching a romantic play on a certain island. Or how you spent weeks without talking to Shachi and Penguin, claiming you were just in a bad mood. In reality, they had invited you to go to the circus and you hated it, even if he didn't know it.

Law noticed how you tried hard in every fight, in everything, always lifting more weight than was necessary. You had always had this thick skin that you refused to admit. Not to mention the self-deprecating comments. Law made sure to intervene with the mere excuse that he wouldn't accept anyone talking badly about any of his crewmates, not even you about yourself.

The small island where they had stopped to refuel this time seemed to be something very calm. Lots of little shops, families having fun and no sign of the marine. Great for him and for the list of things he needed to buy. This time, you had been invited to be his companion.

"We also need some kitchen supplies, the basics, you know?" you pointed out.

"Okay, we can look into that later. Before that, we need to…" Law noticed that your presence was no longer with him at every step. Turning around, he caught you looking at a shop window. "Something interesting?"

"Oh no, no. It just distracted me." You tried to hide it as best you could, but it was completely in vain. "We can move on."

"No, I want to know what distracted you." He insisted. "Was it the white nightgown?"

"No, jeez."

"The purple dress." He insisted, knowing that you would deny it one by one. But he would never miss the chance to tease you.

"Too much purple."

"The pink one?" He asked and saw you hesitate. "The pink one, then. Do you want to buy it?"

"No need, Captain." you insisted as you watched him walk towards the door.

"Okay, do you want to steal it then?" he muttered and you could see the blue dome form around his hand. On impulse, you just grabbed it and walked into the store.

"Good morning! How can I help the young couple?" a clerk approached the two of you with a noticeable false friendliness. You knew Law was holding back from rolling his eyes.

"We're not…"

"She wants to try on the pink dress in the window." Law cut you off, speaking directly to the clerk.

"The pink one, the one over there?" the woman pointed and you nodded.

In a way that you could easily tell the woman was disgusted. She stopped you next to the mannequin and looked between you and the piece.

"Honey, I don't think this type of clothing is for you."

"What do you mean it's not for her?" Law could see you practically cringing in embarrassment.

"Well, just notice the difference between the mannequin and her, simple as that." A bitter and fake smile left the woman's lips.

Across the room, you could see another attendant and two other customers looking at you, whispering to you.

"Okay, thanks." You left the store without even looking back.

"That woman is lying." Law soon appeared behind you, seeing you walking quickly. "The dress would look good on you and I don't know anything about it."

"Law, can you leave this aside?" You asked, as he tried to keep up with you.

"I shoud go back there." He insisted and only then stopped in front of you, seeing your eyes flooded.

"It's okay." You gave him your best smile. "These types of clothes aren't made for me anyway." You took a piece of paper that was in your pocket. "Back to the list, we have to get sugar, flour…"

Your voice sounded like a background while Law put some pieces together in his head. Was that why you kept some aspects of your personality out of reach of others?

He needed to do something, even if it was just about the dress.

The day passed quickly, as did the beginning of the night. What you didn't expect was to find your captain at your door during the night, saying that the two of you had an important mission.

"Where are you taking me?" You followed him through the practically empty city, except for the occasional passerby who was excitedly leaving a bar.

"Just follow me." Law simply said.

The familiarity of the path became clear as soon as the two of you stopped in front of the same store in that morning. Standing next to you, your captain simply looked both ways to see if there were any witnesses and with a wave of his hand, the two of you were inside the empty store.

"Law, are you crazy?" You turned to him indignantly, who only maintained a calm expression, a slight smile on the corner that was reluctant to appear.

"You wanted to try on the dresses here, didn't you?"

"The attendant made it very clear that they don't fit me." Your frustrated tone didn't go unnoticed by him.

Law analyzed you for a few more seconds, watching you look around the store as if some invisible line was preventing you from exploring everything.

"We both know that was a lie, don't we? Just rudeness from a woman who was at least envious."

"And is there anything here for her to be envious of?" You pointed out, still feeling shy, but unable to resist touching the expensive fabrics.

Law looked at you again, a sigh released almost involuntarily. If only you knew.

"And there's something not to be jealous of." He murmured and picked up a blue dress first, handing it to you. "Since you're in doubt, start with this one."

Feeling your cheeks burning, you picked up the piece and guided yourself by the cracks of light coming from the street, you managed to get to the dressing room. The piece itself was beautiful but it really didn't seem to be suitable for your body - maybe it was just your biased gaze. After putting your uniform back on, you went back to find Law, who had already settled down on one of the benches.

"Did something happen?"

"No, I just don't think it looks good." You hung the dress back on the hanger.

"That's hard to know since no one has shown it to me." He said in the most cynical way possible.

"Do you want to see?" The enthusiasm in your voice lit up the whole place - at least in his eyes.

"Sure, we have until dawn to stay here. Please entertain me."

"Oh my, okay." A giggle escaped your lips as your hands reached for the next piece. "What do you think of this one?"

"I thought you liked the pink one in the window."

"Too girly, don't you think?" The insecurity was evident in the way your face contorted. Law could see from afar that this was the one you were eager to try on.

"No, but the best for last. Go and try on the green one."

You nodded and walked back towards the dressing room. The new piece, in an olive green shade, seemed to suit your body better. The outline followed your structure perfectly and matched your skin tone perfectly. It was beautiful, but it still wasn't perfect.

"You okay?" Law's voice startled you with its proximity, indicating that he was just behind the curtain that separated the dressing room from the rest of the store.

"Yes, well, I need some opinions on this dress." In a burst of courage that seemed to be lacking in you, you opened the curtain, coming face to face with him leaning against one of the hangers. "What do you think?"

"It looks good." He said in a sincere tone - and indeed simpler than his thoughts desired - he tilted his head from side to side, analyzing the piece. "It suits you."

"Thank you."

"What color do you want to try on now?"

"Aren't you going to try anything on? I bet there must be suits and jackets somewhere in here." You left the dressing room, taking him by the hand and heading to the other side of the store.

Walking past some racks of clothes, you finally found the men's section. Suits, jackets, hats, ties and everything as per the dress code. Standing on tiptoe, you managed to reach a top hat and placed it on your own head.

"Now my look is complete, your turn." You grabbed the closest suit jacket and handed it to him.

"Are you really going to make me do this?"

"Well, since we're here, I don't see any problem." Your smile was more insistent than any words Law could try to counterargue.

In the end, you were already stacking two hats on your head, a suit jacket three times bigger than your body on your shoulders, and a monocle. Law was wearing a red suit jacket, with a tie that was uneven against his body.

"What do you think?" He opened his arms, demonstrating the look.

"Moribund, at least." You answered, getting rid of some men's clothing on your body. Just like you, Law began to take off the extra pieces, keeping the tie in his hands.

"The best for last?" He indicated the place where the pink dress was still in the window and again, abusing his power, he exchanged the tie he was holding for the dress. "I'll be waiting outside."

You went back to the dressing room once more. The dress, in a dark shade of pink, was well-crafted, so as not to be flashy but to show off every inch of your body. It seemed molded to you, designed for only you to wear. Except that the clasps seemed too far away for your hands. The words came out of your mouth involuntarily, so much ecstasy and relaxation that you had been experiencing for the last few hours.

"Law, can you help me?"

Before you could process what he had asked, he had already opened the cloth that separated the two of you. His eyes were lost in yours for a few moments, even though you were all contorted trying to somehow make the hooks work.

"I can't reach them." You turned your back, hoping that would hide the wave of shame and anxiety that had hit you.

"Let me see."

It was supposed to be an easy task, it should have been an easy task, but it became impossible when you felt his fingers against your skin, adjusting the fabric. He noticed it too, since the small path of hairs under your skin immediately stood on end.

On another occasion, Law's rational side would speak louder, he would shout at the top of his lungs that there was no place for any kind of feeling, not with a person from the same crew. But he couldn't help the itch in his own hands, he let his tattooed fingers slide briefly under your skin. He knew that the movement was completely unnecessary to close the dress. You knew that the movement was completely unnecessary.

Even so, he continued and closed each clasp slowly, savoring the little moment of the two of you there, which who knows when it would happen - and if it would happen - again.

"There, dress closed." His voice faltered for a brief moment, sounding hoarse than natural.

"So… what do you think?" You turned to face him.

The piece fell perfectly on your skin, adorning every feature and even with the low light there, Law could see you perfectly. The day must have been about to dawn, since you seemed even brighter in his eyes. The contrast between the light on your skin and the shine in your eyes was intoxicating.

"Perfect." He answered as if it were obvious, as if he didn't understand why there was doubt behind your eyes. "You look beautiful."

"Don't I look like I'm about to go to a ball or something?" You turned briefly to the mirror.

"Still, beautiful."

"Stop it." You laughed more out of shyness than any other feeling - even though it felt like your heart was going to jump out of your mouth.

"I'd take you to a ball, right now."

"Right now?" You replied in pure disbelief, knowing that this could just be a joke from your captain. Or maybe some bad joke that life was offering you. "I'm definitely not the girl you take to the ball."

"Why not?"

"You're really going to make me answer, aren't you?"

Law seemed to think for a few more seconds, considering if he should take such action. If he should finally stop just watching you and be part of this narrative that he loved to watch.

"Will you dance with me?"

"Dance? Wait, you're not taking this ball thing seriously, are you?" You insisted and saw him still have his hand there.

"I promise you won't even win a prom queen title, but at least you'll be entertained. I'm known for my friendliness." He smiled cynically, which soon turned into something sincere as soon as you accepted the hand he offered you.

His other hand soon reached your waist and you began to move from side to side, without much choreography or rhythm.

"Like I said, I'm known for my friendliness and not for my ability to dance." He pushed you away and, a little disconcerted, spun you around and pulled you back.

"For someone who's dancing without any music, you're doing a great job."

You laughed, briefly resting your face against his chest. He murmured your name softly, like a little secret between the two of you. Something private and locked in that magical moment.

"I'd choose you for the prom. Not for the dancing, we're both terrible at it." You both laughed lightly in unison. "But because it's you. Because you're the person who's there, always pretending to be tough, but can't resist kittens, ballet performances and children playing, not to mention your irrational fears of clowns and needles." His hand that was next to yours rose and separated from your fingers, still keeping one stuck to the other, emphasizing the difference in size. "And of course, about how you always have glitter on your notes and hands without meaning to." The small particles still sparkled against your fingers. "You're cute and adorable, even when you pretend you're not."

"And would that be a big problem?"

"Only for me, who has a huge soft spot for cute things." His hand separated from yours and cupped your face. "May I?"

Without thinking much, just intoxicated by the feeling of being held by him, you just nodded. Law's lips touched yours urgently, but almost as if he guessed that this was so new to you, the urgency turned into a breeze as fresh as that night. As he explored your lips, his fingers reached your face, giving a brief caress, somehow pushing away the anxiety under your skin.

"I'm sorry. I mean, I've never done this and I've always thought about you, but…"

"It was perfect, you're perfect." His lips gave you a quick peck and he took a serious stance, looking around and before he could warn you, you both heard the screams.

"Mom! Someone came into the store."

In the midst of the fright, you only had time to grab your uniform thrown in the dressing room before your feet left the ground. When you noticed, you were already outside the store, being carried by your captain. An exchange of glances was enough for the two of you to laugh together and he gently placed you on the ground.

"Thank you for today."

"I'm the one who should thank you."

"And now, what do I do with this dress?" you pointed to the piece you were still wearing.

"You keep it. It would be a good piece to wear on our next date."

#fiction #reader insert #one piece #no use of y/n #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law

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ssentimentals · 4 months ago

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better late than never {jeon wonwoo}

pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader

prompt: honestly? justin bieber's 'mistletoe' playing around everywhere i go

warning: none, pure fluff, enjoy my loves!

desperate times call for desperate measures. wonwoo would've been embarrassed by the whole ordeal if only he weren't so deep in his misery that even his friends agreed to go with this plan. the 'plan' is very simple - fill hoshi's apartment with as many as mistletoes as it's only possible without making it look very... obvious.

'it's almost february, it's going to be obvious anyways,' dino supplies unhelpfully. 'even if we put just one, it will catch everyone's attention cause it's a freaking mistletoe and we're way past december.'

'but that's why wonwoo bought the little ones,' mingyu argues and wonwoo could kiss him for being supportive. however, he only wants to kiss you, so he keeps his lips away from the tall giant. 'they are not very visible.'

'and isn't that a problem on its own?' hoshi mutters, holding one mistletoe up in front of his face. 'what's the point of hanging them around if they are not visible?'

wonwoo is going to cry. or combust. or do something equally illogical because they have three hours left before the party and his plan is in ruins so far. he knows you're going to come a bit earlier than everyone else just to help get the space ready for the celebration because you're sweet like that; he can't have you walk in here when they are plenty of unused mistletoes lying around.

'everyone shut up and start hanging these things around,' minghao saves the day with his decisiveness. 'tapes are on the couch. we don't have much time, c'mon. it's either this or bearing wonwoo's lovesickness for much more time and i honestly can't do it anymore.'

wonwoo rolls his eyes. 'i'm not lovesi-'

'you are,' hoshi interrupts, grabbing one tape and throwing another one in mingyu's hands. 'me and minghao will take kitchen and living room, you go do bathroom and bedroom.'

'oooh, we're gonna do bedroom?' mingyu asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 'jumping straight into the action, huh?'

dino sends him a disgusted look and then turns to wonwoo, taking two mistletoes from his hands. 'i'll go add those on the balcony, i think it's the best place for your confession.'

wonwoo swallows loudly, gripping one mistletoe which's left in his hand. because that's what it's all about here, right? for him to confess. when he first came up with this silly idea about mistletoes, it was just a joke. they were all a bit drunk, sitting in hoshi's kitchen, when wonwoo muttered that he needs a little push, some sparkle of magic to confess to you, to kiss you. and to his own surprise, his drunk mind came up with a wonderful idea - what is a better incentive to kiss than a mistletoe? fast forward one week he's here in hoshi's apartment, making sure that there is pretty much no place uncovered with the mistletoe and all he needs to do is to jsut get you alone and point on the mistletoe. in his dreams you understand what he means and kiss him. in case you will not get it, he's going to suck his fears up and confess. being honest, wonwoo dreads this scenario but he is prepared nonetheless - little note with words that are on the tip of his tongue all the time.

'done!' guys announce one by one. minghao grabs dino and goes to his car to take all the drinks, while mingyu comes over to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. 'it's such a cool idea, honestly. i think she will love it.'

'i agree,' hoshi comes closer, smiling. 'it's really cute. just don't fuck it up and like, not confess.'

wonwoo cringes. 'i'll try.'

mingyu laughs, slapping his back so strongly that wonwoo almost falls forward. 'you'll be fine, woo. anyone with eyes can see that you're into her and i'm 100% that she knows it too.'

'i think she likes you too,' hoshi says, always there to lift wonwoo's spirits. 'i mean, she willingly listens to you go on about your nerdy stuff, so. if that doesn't mean she likes you then i don't know what is.'

wonwoo is not sure whether to be thankful for his friends or go strangle them all. he opts for the first option and simply goes to help prepare everything else for the party, busying his mind with other things. it doesn't really work, his mind always comes back to you either way; wonwoo thinks it's kind of embarrassing, actually. it's like you're always on the background and you pop up in his head whenever he does anything random: cleaning the house? he remembers how you said you stress-clean sometimes. going out with friends? he snaps a picture of a pretty interior to send to you cause he knows you'll like it. eating something? if it's good he makes a mental noise of buying it to you so you can try it as well. your invisible presence in his life is so huge, he sometimes wonders whether you can feel that he's thinking about you. if you do then how does it feel for you? do you get a pang in the heart every time you see him too? do you also get nervous when he hovers nearby? do your fingers tremble a little from the desire to reach out, to touch, to caress lovingly? wonwoo is so out of this that it takes hoshi smacking him in the head with 'she is here, idiot!' to wake up.

'hi guys!' you sweetly wave to everyone and easily accept one-sided hug from mingyu before noticing him. wonwoo's heart skips a beat at the way your eyes twinkle at the sight of him. 'woo! hi!'

'hi,' he lets out a bit too breathless for his own liking. he steps closer and opens his arms, welcoming you warmly and holding you a little too tight. 'you're okay? do you want anything? water, maybe? or are you hungry? we have-'

'we don't have anything, pizza will arrive only in an hour!' dino shouts.

you giggle, effectively taking wonwoo's focus from killing dino to your cutest self. 'that's fine, i'm not hungry. is there anything i can help with?'

wonwoo sometimes fears for his heart. you're too sweet, too cute, too good - how is he supposed to hold all his feelings for you inside when you're like that? 'not really, but hoshi bought new stuff, let me show you.'

you follow him eagerly and doesn't even blink when he steps very close to you. wonwoo hopes that this is a sign of you being comfortable with him, you wanting him in your space. he asks how your day's been and while he's listening attentively, he mostly watches your reactions, needing to see if you notice mistletoes or not. there are four of them in the living room with one of them being literally taped to the tv (god, who thought it was a good idea?!) and your eyes sweep past them with no care. 'everything is so cool!' you comment on new action figures hoshi bought. 'very hoshi style.'

wonwoo nods. he's getting nervous, knowing that soon people will start coming up and they will take you from him because everyone wants a piece of you and he will lose you to the ocean of people and-

'do you want to go to the balcony?' he asks suddenly.

you blink. 'um- sure? yeah, okay, let's go.'

you pass the bathroom with a very obviously hang up mistletoe and you don't even bat an eyelash, which crushes wonwoo's hopes. you don't notice them. he should confess on his own. cradling note in the back pocket of his jeans, he opens the door for you and takes a subtle big breath before following you. he can do it. he's an adult, for god's sake. if he manages to pull all-nighters for weeks during midterms and come out alive then surely one confession will not kill him, right?

'woo?' you call, frowning. 'is everything okay? you look kinda-' you pause as your gaze shifts to somewhere above wonwoo's head. 'is- my god, is that a mistletoe?'

wonwoo holds his breath. 'yeah,' he croaks out, frozen.

you step closer and come up on your tiptoes, wanting to touch it. 'did hoshi forget to take it off? it's way past christmas.'

you make a move to presumably take it off, but wonwoo catches your wrist and slowly wraps his another hand around your waist. his heart is beating so loud he fears entire city can hear it; you simply blush at the proximity. 'wait,' wonwoo asks, clearing his throat. 'don't take it off yet.'

'okay...' you mutter, lowering your hand.

your beautiful eyes stare into his and it's really not fair; how can he remember the words from his note when you're looking at him like that? 'um.'

'did you want to discuss something?' you ask, somehow not commenting on his hand on your waist. 'you brought me here, so.. i thought you wanted to say something.'

dying would've probably been easier than this, wonwoo swears. he swallows, his fingers flex on your waist. 'we should kiss,' he ends up blurting out because head to mouth filter refuses to work. your eyes widen and you make an attempt to step back, but he doesn't let you, holding you securely in his arms. he lifts his head up: 'mistletoe, you know. it's a- tradition. yes, tradition.'

you look confused at first and wonwoo braces himself for a fall. you're going to slap his face and walk away, you're going to call him different names and-

'only because of the mistletoe?' wonwoo blinks at you, shocked. you clarify: 'we need to kiss only because of the mistletoe?'

he shakes his head. your expression softens and with care, you wrap your hands around his shoulders. 'why else then?' you ask quietly.

your eyes are so pretty. you are so pretty and you are so close, wonwoo is losing his mind. 'because i like you,' he confesses in a quiet whisper meant only for you. 'because i wanted to kiss you for a very, very long time.'

you don't slap his face. you don't walk away. you don't call him different names - instead you move just a tad bit closer but it's enough for the hope inside wonwoo's heart to flare up. 'how long?' you ask, searching for something in his face.

wonwoo hopes you can find adoration there, because that's what he feels. 'for so long that it's embarrassing how i confessed only now.'

your giggle is his favorite sound on earth. you lean closer, brushing your noses together. 'better late than never,' you mutter, trembling a little in his hold. 'right?'

wonwoo nods. tightens his arms around you. 'right,' he whispers before finally closing the distance and kissing you.

a/n: missed writing longer stuff, god! hopefully it's not awkward, i did write only small prompts in last few months and got kinda used to them :/ let me know if you liked it or not! <3 - nini

my other seventeen works are HERE

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fumiscripts · 4 months ago

Text

✦ SO, BABY, HOLD MY HAND NOW

✦ one shot ,, michael kaiser x gn!reader

content:: kaiser never would've thought he'd be falling first and harder. after an inner debate, he decided he'll ask you out on valentines. he's not sure what to do, though one thing was for certain: he wants to make you happy

valentines fic ,, fluff ,, 877 words

additional:: WHIPPED loser kaiser who tries to act nonchalant, implied childhood friends if you squint, he prolly would not do allat but like c'mon man it's valentines let's have a little fluff, ts is so sappy like actually, kaiser attempts to pin after reader, ending is open heh

Kaiser believed that he was a nonchalant, male manipulator.

But, really, he could not be any more dramatic than this.

Seriously, what was wrong with him? Thinking corny, cheesy thoughts about you like he liked you. He's killing himself inside every time his mind points towards the idea of holding your hand, or whatever couples do, cringing at himself— which was a shocker, as he never seemed embarrassed from whatever bullshit he constantly does— and tweaking out violently. And not the kicking feet and giggling type of tweaking. The pulling hair, screaming into a pillow type of tweaking.

He's Michael Kaiser, for fuck's sake, not some hopeless romantic! Why was he even thinking of you? You're so mid compared to him. Seriously, you didn't deserve to be going through his head 24/7. You didn't deserve the way he feels warm whenever he sees a smile grace your face, didn't deserve how stupidly much he wanted to be the reason for it— to be the reason you're happy.

Well, you're close to him, that much he can say. To the point the two of you had witnessed each other while on their most vulnerable. Kaiser found himself sincerely caring for you—but that doesn't mean he liked liked you.

So what? He could wrap an arm around your shoulders and pull you around by your hand whenever the two of you were walking, and you could still be friends. In fact, he does lots of the latter. A lot of hand holding. He could say the weight of your hand was perfect against his–

God, he really needed to stop.

The way it’s nearing Valentines is not helping. Usually, he’d find these days boring and meaningless— but now that you’re in the picture? Yeah, no, it’s different. While crashing out over his feelings, he had come to a simple conclusion: He’s gonna ask you out. In the most extravagant way possible because he’s Michael Kaiser. Plus, if he was to ask you for a date with him, he needs to at least make it seem like you were the one desperate for him, and that he was only doing it as a favor. Really, he just wanted to take you out, though he denies it.

On the day, you were greeted by a notification from him, a short one, to not make it seem like he had been staring at his phone for minutes, debating how to write the message.

“Dress up, we're going somewhere.”

The text stated, making you wonder what the hell he’s making you get ready for so early in the morning. But you made the effort to follow along, anyway. If he was up to tomfoolery, you were in. Maybe you'll shit on couples, who knows.

You could hear him pull up an hour later, just in time when you were finished doing your morning routine. Opening the door, you were greeted with him leaning against the wall— acting all cool and composed, when he had been pacing back and forth anxiously while waiting for you to open the door— Kaiser spots you and pushes himself up, leaning on the doorframe, instead.

“Hey,” he forced the word out, trying not to let the way you looked so good get to him. His palms were sweating. Why were they sweating? He's not nervous. Totally not… was he? Kaiser forced out a smile, shoving an obnoxiously flashy bouquet of blue roses in your direction, having it from behind his back to in your arms. Seeing your puzzled expression, he rolled his eyes, shifting his position again to tilt his head, looking down at you.

This was his attempt at making a scene with close proximity, like what he had seen in those low-budget romcoms the both of you watch for shits and giggles. Really, he does not have any experience in relationships— all of this was ripped off straight out of movies and books he read, just to try and impress you.

“Happy valentines,” Kaiser greeted. Before it could seem too mushy and sweet, he followed up. “Since I just know you're lonely and all, I decided why the hell not take you out on a date? Better than being single while sappy couples are kissing all around you, hm? How lucky you are, scoring a date with me of all people.”

The surprise written on your face quickly transformed into a hint of slight annoyance. “...I never complained about being single on valentines…? Are you sure you didn't just wanna ask me out? I'm not shaming you for that,” you say, having a slightly amused grin right after. Kaiser wanted to wipe it right off your face.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, before offering you his hand. A simple, romantic gesture. “Yes, I'm asking you out.”

You stared at his hand, raising an eyebrow. To which he sighed, heat rising up to his face at the thought of being out here and doing something soft and romantic with you— wanting to see you smile and enjoy the day because of him. You weren't stupid, you saw the soft hues of red on the tips of his ears, and the way those blue eyes softened just the slightest as he muttered something out.

“Just hold my hand now.”

happy late valentines y'all 😓

taglist (ask to be added) @shrii-kk, @tired-xyra-urstruly, @fishii28, @yui2aku, @lakeside-paradise

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starlightsearches · 1 month ago

Text

Just a Matter of Time

Armitage Hux x wife! reader

AN: We've got even more marriage AU, my friends!! We're going a bit out of order now—I'm working on a different piece about Hux's first time with his wife, but it's giving me a little bit of trouble. I wrote this one for funsies because I'm obsessed with the idea of these two exploring sex and intimacy together. Let me know what you think, please! Comments, likes and reblogs are my favorites!!

Warnings: 18+ only (no minors), piv sex, unprotected sex (raw. next question), brief discussion of protection, partially-clothed sex, pulling out, cum, semi-public sex, titty sucking, language, and I think that's it. Let me know if I missed anything!

Armitage checks his reflection in the gleaming surface of a tie fighter and cringes internally. Just as he suspected. The shame is clear on his face.

Luckily there’s not many around to see it. It’s late in the night cycle, and this hangar receives less traffic than the others—usually reserved for small ships on diplomatic missions, or officers choosing to take their leave planet-side.

That’s why Armitage is here now.

Hux can’t imagine what would possess someone to willingly attend any of those noxious nightclubs on Canto Bight, and yet you had been endlessly thrilled when you received the invitation from a group of officers you had tentatively befriended. The prospect was exciting to you, and, regardless of his own opinions, Armitage was grateful for anything that allowed him to bask in the warmth of your delight.

Even if the thought of your going had his stomach tied in knots.

You had spent the evening getting ready, and Armitage had hung around in your shared quarters, making poor attempts to look busy: tapping away stupidly on his data pad as you rushed from your closet to the refresher, slipping in and out of every pair of shoes you own, covering yourself with glitters and fine-smelling perfumes.

He should have expected it, of course. The dresses you wear daily, while beautiful and elegant, would look out of place where you were going. And still, his heart had stuttered in his chest at the sight of so much skin—your legs stretching long from the hem of a very short skirt, hugging tight to the curve of your hips, the neckline that dipped low over the center of your breasts, held up by the flimsiest of straps.

Oh, fuck.

“How do I look?” you had asked, and it was clear to Armitage that you were in need of reassurance, shifting from foot to foot, fingers twisting together.

His dry-mouthed response to your question had left much to be desired, and yet you had hardly noticed, so preoccupied with your own nerves that you couldn’t see the ways your husband had lost himself—about to drop to his knees in desperation and bury his face against your thighs.

Armitage caught you by the arm, instead, your skin bare and warm beneath his hand. Despite all the ways he’s held and felt you, touching you like this—so casually—still had his heart beating at a strenuous pace.

“Per- perhaps,”Armitage had stuttered out the word, and regretted it, starting again, “perhaps I should accompany you, as well.”

That had made you laugh, which at least made his idiocy worth it. Your nose had wrinkled pleasantly, your feet carrying you a step closer, bringing him nearer to the magnetic field of you as you looked up at him with soft eyes.

“Why?”

A fair question—and one Armitage had no answer for. It would cause all kinds of discomfort and embarrassment, and yet the need was there, the desire. Armitage wanted to be there with you, not only so he could deal with anyone who glanced in your direction with less-than-chaste intentions, but so they could see him beside you. Could watch the way you wanted him, reached for him over anyone else.

“For your . . . protection.”

You had rolled your eyes, pressing your fingers playfully against his chest. “It’s not an active war zone, general. Besides, Phasma will be there.”

Ah, yes. That had been his one concession, although he never mentioned it to you, letting her presence on your little excursion appear as natural as possible. Phasma would certainly keep you safe, and his reasonable ground was slipping. If it had continued, he would have ended up begging you to stay with him with the hopes you might call him general like that again.

And now he’s puttering around an empty hangar, making more work for himself and waiting for your return like a love-sick pup.

Armitage’s patience, or desperation, is rewarded, though. His mental pacing is interrupted before too long by the whir of an approaching ship.

He watches the landing from a distance, straightening his posture and keeping his brow stern as the others unload from the transport, waiting for you to emerge.

His eyes catch on a glimmer of rich fabric, and a breath punches from his lungs when he sees the rest of you—a little more disheveled from the journey, but alive and in one piece. How is it possible you look even lovelier now than you did in his feeble memory?

Armitage’s heart crumples in his chest when you meet his eyes and smile.

There’s a few slurred goodbyes as you part from the group—and a cloud of noise following the officers as they stumble down the hallway in pairs or groups of three, arms slung around each other to keep the most inebriated from falling.

You seem clear-eyed, though, as you approach Armitage, and steady on your feet. The even tempo of your heels against the floor echoes through the hangar, and his chest.

“Hello, general,” you greet him, meeting his eyes through your lashes, “were you waiting for me?”

Of course he had been, but it seems shameful to admit it, and so he stumbles into a lie, instead.

“Only to make sure you arrived back safely,” Armitage claims, “are you feeling . . . well?”

Your laugh is quiet, but the melody of it rings in his ears when you press a hand against his chest. Armitage resists the urge to glance around, to check for some disapproving glare or whispered conversation outside his line of sight. There’s no one around, really—a few technicians working on a busted tie-fighter on the other side of the hangar out of sight, some mouse droids zipping past, but no audience to this contact that seems wholly inappropriate in public.

And still you’re smiling that same secret smile. “I haven’t been drinking, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Ah,” Armitage replies, rather stupidly, but it can’t be helped with the way your fingers shift, circling around his bicep, stroking over the fabric of his greatcoat, “that’s—why?”

There’s a gentle frown on your lips. Armitage resists the urge to brush it away with a kiss.

“Because you won’t touch me if I’ve been drinking.”

Oh.

There’s so much in that statement that Armitage will need to parse through later—the pouty tone in your voice and the way it stokes the fire in his chest, your strange exasperation with his concern for your unhindered consent.

But in this moment, there’s only one realization on your husband’s mind: you want him to touch you.

Fuck. If only he had known. Armitage would have used his time more wisely, wouldn’t have spent so much of it pining for your return, dreaming of the sight of your legs in that skirt again, hoping he might feel the swell of your breast through his sleeve as you clung to his arm on the walk back to your quarters. He would have used it to his greatest advantage: fulfilling deadlines, creating plans, responding to missives, and he would have done the work happily—all with the motivation of your weight in his lap and your lips at his neck for as long as he could convince you to stay.

Armitage mentally tabulates the time it would take to return with you to his quarters, to lay you down on his bed and touch you the way you had asked, the way he craves. And there’s simply not enough for that and for the tasks he was supposed to already have completed before he must return to the bridge.

“I— I don’t think,” Armitage begins, even with all the ways you make his refusal difficult—the sensual warmth of you through his uniform, your teeth absentmindedly gnawing on your plush lower lip, “there’s so much to— it’s . . . unavoidable.”

He finishes the smattering of words with a pathetic little gasp as you bring your body even closer, his blood thrumming through his veins at the contact, cock growing stiff in his trousers.

There are no words at your lips, no hit of a frown. Armitage watches as your gaze shifts, landing deliberately on the transport you had just vacated.

Your eyes meet his again. The message is clear.

Oh. No.

“We couldn’t.”

That’s what Armitage tells you, but the voice in his head speaks much louder. He could. He wants to. He’s not sure if he can resist.

“No one will know,” you whisper through a smile.

Technically true—but Armitage is aware of the security cams, positioned around the large hangar and monitored always. He had watched the footage himself only a few hours ago as you left, and so he knows exactly what would be seen: his hand in yours, the look of incredulous panic on his face as you led him into the mouth of the transport before you both disappeared from view. That is, if the heat of his blush didn’t scramble the feeds.

Maybe no one would know, but someone might assume. And given the number of incorrigible gossips on this ship, they would certainly tell, and that message would spread, uncontained.

But Armitage finds he is not as opposed to the idea as he thought he would be.

“Yes, but . . .” it’s so like Armitage, arguing against his own interests, denying himself something he wants so desperately for reasons even he can’t understand, “what if someone were to . . .”

You interrupt before he can finish the thought, your other hand sneaking it’s way up to the back of his neck, your warm skin pressed to his. “The entrances all lock.”

How long had you been considering something like this? That alone could break down his resolve. Armitage might be able to keep himself from those distant pleasures, but not you. Never you.

And yet his hesitation has sent a different message. There’s an almost imperceptible shift in your demeanor—a half step you take away from him, the uncertain tremor in all those points of contact he had been enjoying only moments ago.

“But you have work to do, of course,” you concede, “if you don’t want—”

Fear strikes Armitage in the chest at the way you turn from him. He’s disappointed you, and worse, he’s made you feel unwanted. The shame floods through him, momentarily overwhelming his desire.

He might be too eager when he reaches for your hand, fingers circling around your wrist to keep you in place.

“I do,” he tells you. Armitage wants. He hopes you can feel it, past all his failures and idiosyncrasies. You must know how desperately he wants you, in every moment. Always.

His thumb traces over the veins in the back of your hand, relishes the way you tremble. Your lips part with a pop, expression unsure, and your eyes search his face the same way Armitage watches yours.

“Really?”

Against any better judgement, your husband nods.

And it’s all a blur for the next few moments—just your hushed laughter and the blood flooding his cheeks taking up all his thoughts. He imagines the scene from someone else’s perspective: an onlooker, brimming with skepticism as you pull him eagerly across the hangar. He’s sure they would find the situation as unbelievable as Armitage does.

Once you are alone—the mechanical whir of the locks assuring it—Armitage regains some command of himself, pulling into you. Your body is soft against his, your touch eager as you push the heavy fabric of his greatcoat off his shoulders. Armitage lets it fall to the ground with a thud, then reaches for you as soon as it's gone—tracing the slope of your hips, pressing you further against the durasteel until your spine bows and the only thing he can feel between the two of you is your heartbeat.

You kiss him, messily, eager, little giggles slipping out with each breath you take at this moment of rebellion and Armitage drinks your laughter in heavy gulps, kissing you back with fervor. Each encounter has brought him additional confidence, and seems to have given you more of the same—no longer hesitant in asking for what you want.

One of your hands snakes down the length of his chest; Armitage burns in its wake, unable to take any air in when your fingers trace over the outline of his aching cock.

“Fuck.”

The expletive slips out before Hux can stop it. He shouldn’t speak so coarsely in front of you—in front of his wife—and yet you don’t pull away, your hand cupping his length more fully as you slide your tongue between his lips.

Armitage will finish right now if he’s not careful. It takes so little from you—your hot breath and curious touches—to have him right on the edge, ready to spill into his trousers. He can’t have that.

And so, with one swift movement, he pins your hands out of the way, pressing his knuckles against the wall as he grips at your wrists like a vise.

He doesn’t have any time to waste. Not if he wants to feel you coming around him in the next few minutes.

Armitage takes in the heady scent of you as he traces the length of your jaw with his nose, parts his lips around the stretched expanse of your neck. His tongue follows, picking up the taste of your skin. There’s the tang of salt and the chemical flavor of perfume, and beneath that, something lighter, more refined.

He travels lower, kissing at the juncture just above your collarbone, feels your pulse jump against his tongue, and sinks his teeth into your plush skin until he hears you whine, your hot breath feathering through his hair.

Perfect.

Armitage continues to taste you as he shifts his grip, trapping both of your wrists in the grasp of one hand. He lets the other explore as it traverses over the dips and curves of your body before brushing the strap from off your shoulder, slipping the neckline down until he can cup at your exposed breast.

Your nipple pebbles pleasantly in the cool air of the transport. Armitage watches, transfixed for a moment, and then takes the bud into the warmth of his mouth.

The transport echoes with the sound of your high-pitched breaths, a few moans when Hux lets the flat of his tongue travel over the stiff peak while his hand slips up between your thighs, petting at the swollen ridge of your clit.

You gasp his name, pulling at his hold on you with desperation that still surprises him, despite everything.

There’s a part of him—a little cruel, incredibly curious—that wants to keep you like this. Wants to see how close he can bring you to the edge when you have no chance to retaliate. The thought ignites something in him. Armitage would like to hear you, tear-soaked, begging for him until his resolve finally broke.

Pity there’s so little time.

So he relents, loosening his grip, and you’re on him again before he can recover his bearings—your nails carding through his hair and your mouth fierce against his own and the press of your warm, soft body. Armitage lets his weight cage you in, holding you tighter against the wall behind you, his hands cupping at the swell of your ass until your body is flush with his, the hot press of his cock jutting against your stomach.

You groan, needy, and you once again drop one of your hands, slipping the fastening of his trousers out of the way, fingers just barely dipping past the band at his waist, nails dragging against his skin.

Armitage feels his desire in the backs of his thighs, coiling at the base of his spine, flooding his lungs—that strange singing sting that has his teeth bared, chest shuddering with rapid breaths. He wants to give into it, to fuck into you with rabid strokes, wants to feel you unravel around him as you spill moan after moan into his gloved palm.

Just as your fingertips meet the head of his dick, he’s interrupted by a frustrating oversight.

“I don’t,” he grunts out the words, pulling away from you, despite the pain it causes, “I don’t have any . . . protection.”

Armitage digs his knuckles into the durasteel behind you, lets his irritation manifest itself in the ache that blooms through his hand. He never would have assumed something like this would happen, but he should have been prepared, regardless. He’d been so careful elsewhere—quietly maintaining the stock in his quarters and, shamefully, his office, although the need for it had felt like a distant fantasy at the time.

You meet his eyes, and he knows that the full meaning of what he’s said is beyond your understanding—something he, once again, is to blame for. Conversations around his insistence on protection had been limited, and Armitage considered it his sole responsibility for moments like these.

“Oh,” you respond, and there’s a tinge of heartbreak in your voice, “should we . . .”

Stop? Armitage knows what you’re going to say, and can’t bear to hear it. He won’t even let the word broach your lips, kissing you deeper, more fully than he had previously allowed. You accept this answer without question, like you had accepted so many others—things about Armitage you had never even considered could be denied.

He lets rationality take over for just a moment, lets it ground him. Armitage pulls away slightly, breathing deeply and doing his best to ignore the wet shine of your lips, the strings of your spit that tremble and break in the space between you.

He won’t last long, not if he’s looking at you. Watching your eyes roll back, feeling your lips tremble against his with unrestrained moans—it would have him spilling inside you before the moment had truly begun. So Armitage takes your hips in both his hands, guides you gently to face away from him.

Armitage can’t remember a time where he’s felt like this—so desperate for gratification, his vision blurry and lungs heaving, on the edge of tears for the need of it. Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he takes the hem of your skirt in both hands, pulling it up over the swell of your ass. There’s a soft sound, like seams popping, but it’s barely audible over the groan that escapes him at the sight of your soft skin, the way it indents against the harsh press of his hips.

He frees his cock, gives his length a preliminary stroke. It’s not necessary—he’s more than hard enough for you, blood throbbing at the feeling of your wet folds against his leather-covered fingers as his other hand peels back the sticky lace.

Your husband breathes, steeling himself as he slips his cock between your thighs, wetting his length as it brushes against your slick and eager folds. A moan breaks through your lips when the head of him nudges against your clit, and he repeats the movement again just to soak in the sound.

“Are you ready for me?” Armitage asks, his whispered breath hot against the shell of your ear. You nod in response, and he feels your lips against his neck, forming the word yes.

He slips the tip of his cock back toward your entrance, presses gently until your body opens for him, head buried inside the inviting heat. The grip of your walls tightens around him, and Armitage grunts, pressing forward—slowly as he can manage before wrapping one arm around your waist. He braces the other against the durasteel to mitigate the press of his weight as he begins to thrust.

Your body welcomes him, as it always has, taking him so perfectly for every inch he gives you. It feels different, without the thin barrier Armitage had become accustomed to. The already intense sensation is multiplied to a dangerous degree—the warmth, the soft grip of your cunt. He pauses once he’s fully seated, breathing in the scent of your hair and perfume, soaking in the feeling of you, of your presence, of your want.

Wants he’s not fulfilling. Your hips press back against his in desperation, breathing out his name.

“Armitage, please.”

The movements are automatic—Armitage is so adverse to denying you anything in this moment that his body responds without thought, his hips shifting against yours immediately. He starts slowly, but that tempo only lasts so long, and the transport fills with the measured beat of his hips against yours, and the wet squelch of your cunt and those soft, alluring moans.

One of your hands reaches back, cupping at his neck, fingers grazing through the soft hairs there. Armitage feels your head tip against his shoulder, feels your damp breath against his flushed skin.

And under normal circumstances, your husband would hate to rush you, would let you find your release gently and on your own terms. But Armitage is too close, and has to be careful his end doesn’t sneak up on him. So he drops his grip from your waist, slipping two fingers against your clit. The pressure of his hand has you shaking in his grasp, but he doesn’t relent, circling the little bud with an even tempo, matching the pace of his thrusts until he feels the tell-tale clench of your cunt around his cock, the flood of heat and the weakness in your legs that has your husband supporting most of your weight as you let the pleasure take you.

Armitage barely has the sense about him to slip out of you before the shocks find him, his cock throbbing and his mind a dizzying mess as he spills his seed . . . right onto the magnificent skirt bunched up around your waist.

Your gaze finds his over your shoulder before you’ve even caught your breath, slipping the garment back down over your hips, assessing the damage before leveling him with an accusatory stare.

“This was new.”

Your admonishment only serves to make him laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a prideful smirk as he admires the slow drip of his cum down the fabric. Armitage presses his forehead to yours, and your demeanor changes, brows pleading, your lips searching for his.

“I’ll get you another,” he promises. Armitage would buy you a thousand just like it, if he could mar some of them in the same way. He hears no protest from you when he presses a kiss to your waiting mouth.

There’s a gentle shuffle as Armitage rights his uniform, erases any trace of this little dalliance from his appearance. There’s no such ease for you though.

“I can’t make it back to our quarters like this,” you whisper against his mouth, a hint of a smile at the corners.

That is certainly true. If he had thought people would talk before—with only the security footage of your path to the transport—the sight of you now would cause a riot.

But the transport is frustratingly low on supplies that might help in this situation. Armitage searches the space with an analytical eye, and finds only one solution: his greatcoat, in a heap on the floor.

Armitage lifts the heavy garment, holds it out for you, and finds his cheeks heating with a blush when you slide your arms inside the sleeves.

Oh. It doesn’t fit you well—the coat was made for him, and it shows in the gaps at the shoulders, the way the hem rests a little too close to the ground. And still, Armitage’s heart races when you pull the front of it closed around your body like a blanket, finding comfort in something that is so ostensibly his.

“How do I look?” you ask the question for the second time that night, and once again, Armitage is at a loss for words. There’s no need for it, though, not when he can hold you in his arms, assure you with a few gentle kisses.

Your goodbyes are short, but no less full of longing. Armitage watches your form as it disappears into the distance and feels his heart as it thuds heavily in his chest with each sway of your hips. The desire to follow you almost overwhelms him.

Well. At least he has plenty of motivation to finish his work now.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #armitage hux fanfiction #armitage hux fanfic #general hux x reader #general hux x you #general hux fanfiction #general hux fanfic #my writing

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agirlwithglam · 5 months ago

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embarrassment is a choice.

so today i was feeling a bit tormented by something that happened a while ago (a year ago i think even!) and t

bh idk why it came up so randomly now, but it just makes me cringe and feel so embarrassed by what happened. so i'm taking it as a sign to write this post for anyone who needs it.

embarrassment is a choice.

i know how icky it can feel to recall a past memory about something that happened, but let me just tell you one thing; the past doesn't exist. the past only exists in your mind. it only exists because you give it your attention and your energy. so if you don't like the way something unfolded out in the past, change it! go into your mind, go through the whole situation and then just change what happened. this exercise is just something to give you a peace of mind so you're not bothered by what had happened.

but whats important to know about embarrassment is that it only exists if you choose it. if you choose to be embarrassed.

listen honey, the only time someone would judge you is that either a) they want to be at such a high place that you're currently at & their insecure, or b) they're to afraid about what other people think to be doing what you are doing right now. c) or they're just really sad with their own lives. no one listens to what this person has to say so the only time people do listen is when they talk about you.

in fact, you should seriously applaud yourself for doing something so daring, so scary something outside of your comfort zone instead of just simply staying quiet and small.

this also links into exposure therapy. the more you do something that scares you and its outside of your comfort zone like being alone, or going after an ambitious goal, the more you start to become used to the feeling. you start to become more numb to it so it means that you're not as affected or sensitive to it as you used to be.

right now, the best thing you can do is just do it anyway.

"they're gonna judge you anyway so you might as well just do it"

and think: will this matter in a year? will be a big deal in 5 years? chances are, it won't be. and plus, anyone who does make you feel ashamed or cringy for doing you and being yourself, they don't deserve a space in your life anyway. you're being GUIDED on a higher path to a life with better people, better environment. so girl, unless you're not hurting anyone, GO!! LIVE YOUR LIFE!!!

its not your life if you're living it based on other people!

at the end of the day, we all die. we're on this earth for a limited time. you will grow old, the haters will grow old, then, we will all leave this earth. and that is a very peaceful thing to understand. nothing matters at all. you'll be 90 on your deathbed one day and you want to be thinking "i lived. i lived an amazing, happy, fulfilling. authentic life." so right now, you do everything that will make you feel that way when that day comes without another care in the world for what someone else things.

love you always, have a beautiful day. xoxo, Vanilla <3

#agirlwithglam🎀✨#it girl #self improvement #it girl energy #self love #becoming that girl #girlboss #girlblog #self development #girlblogging #embarrassment #self loving activities #self love tips #self love advice

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leiascully · 3 days ago

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But the numbers don’t lie. It sounds like barely anyone bought tickets. That’s embarrassing for you all to be part of a fandom that’s basically nonexistent.

It's embarrassing for you to spend all your time harassing people you're obsessed with in a fandom you claim not to even enjoy. We're having fun. You're just sitting in your hateful little cave with your fingers crossed for bad news so you can type out your cringe little messages about how we shouldn't be enjoying ourselves because you're incapable of happiness.

Here's some bad news for you: if TXF has one fan, I'm still alive. And I promise I'll outlive you :)

#chitchat #love is dead anon

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pitchsidestories · 5 months ago

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under the mistletoe II Ellie Roebuck x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2032

summary: With a little help of Ellie's and Reader's Barcelona teammates a near kiss on Ellie's return to the pitch turns into a real kiss at the team's Christmas party.

author's note: Dear readers, we hope you had a wonderful Christmas, whether you celebrated it or not. Enjoy reading ! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

19 months had passed since Ellie had suffered a stroke, there were days the English goalkeeper believed she wasn’t able to make her return in goal, but her will was stronger and tonight marked her emotional return.

Ever since the blonde joined Barcelona in the summer, you witnessed her achievements as well as her struggle first hand. Both of you were in recovery together for different reasons, yet it made you bond over the similar situation.

As the season changed from summer to autumn, you went from being regular teammates to friends. Now that winter had arrived in Spain, you wondered whether the two of you could be more for each other.

The football game against Real Betis turned out to be a solid win for Barca with Esme, Caroline and Ona scoring.

Much to your own dissatisfaction, Pere substituted you at the end of the game. He told you he didn’t want to risk anything after your recent comeback but was happy with your performance.

The words of your coach calmed you down a bit while you sat down to watch the rest of the game including the only goal from a Sevillian player. The team celebrated it like their own little win, immediately your eyes went to look for Ellie’s reaction who was clearly frustrated by it.

Nonetheless, it was a win that meant so much more because the goalkeeper had returned to the beautiful game she loved so much.

After the game officially ended you immediately ran on the pitch to jump into Ellie’s open arms. “Congratulations, babe. We're all so proud of you,’ you whispered in her ear, ignoring the fact that your lips were almost touching her in a perfect kiss.

The English woman beamed at you: “Thanks.” Her face literally lit up and competed with the beauty which were the glowing and colourful windows inside the Sagrada Família. For a moment both of you forgot you were still surrounded by people until Kika reminded you.

“Move over, we want to hug Ellie too!”, the Portuguese forward chuckled amused.

Slightly embarrassed, you release yourself from her embrace, feeling your cheeks turn fiery red at her comment.

Many team-mates followed the striker and hugged the goalkeeper, who responded with a warm smile and said thank you, girls.

” You’re welcome, we've been waiting for this moment, and it hasn't disappointed us”’ replied Kika in a friendly tone

Curious, Keira asked her friend, whom she had known for so long at this point: “How does it feel to be back?”

“Unbelievable. I'm glad I can share this with you in the team too”, Ellie replied gratefully, hugging her sideways, knowing that the older midfielder wasn't so keen on physical affection.

Nevertheless, Keira was incredibly touched by the significance of the moment they were able to experience together: “You deserve to be here on the pitch again after all you’ve been through.”

“Stop it, Keira, or I'll cry”, the younger English woman warned the older one, tears of joy already forming in her blue eyes.

“Oh, sorry, don’t cry, please.”, the midfielder begged.

To save this situation, you suggested: “What about a group hug and no more tears for tonight?”

“Promise.”, Ellie said as the team hugged each other tightly to celebrate her return once more.

“Good.”, you nodded satisfied.

The wholesome moment was only interrupted by Mapis voice: “Girls? Don’t forget about the Christmas team dinner!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there.”, you promised as you all finally started to let go of Ellie again.

The blonde goalkeeper smiled: “Yes, I will convince Keira to join us.”

Her lionesses teammate cringed at that: “I hate Christmas parties.”

“But you love me, so…”, Ellie blinked at her innocently.

Keira knew she couldn’t disagree so she just groaned: “Ugh.”

“Count us all in.”, you laughed before you all started heading towards the dressing room to change. One by one, they all started to leave the stadium until only Mapi and Ingrid were left.

“Ingrid, you noticed that earlier too, right?”, Mapi asked impatiently, once the door fell shut behind Irene.

The Norwegian nodded: “Of course, amor.”

A smile spread on the Spanish defenders face: “I have a plan.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes.”

“Tell me.”

Mapi just shook her head with a conspiratorial smile: “You will see. Let’s go buy some mistletoes for the Christmas dinner.”

“Mistletoes? I think I know what you have planned now.”

“It’s the season of love after all.”, Mapi winked.

“And we saw that they almost kissed on the pitch.”, Ingrid added.

“Exactly. Now let’s go, we have to prepare everything.”

When you arrived at Mapis and Ingrids apartment, the Christmas party had already started. Most of your teammates were already there, standing in the middle of the room with drinks in hand. It looked like Mapi and Ingrid had to move some of their furniture to accommodate the number of football players they hosted.

You immediately spotted Ellie standing to the side, talking to Kika.

“Hi.”, you greeted your teammates.

The goalkeeper quickly pulled you into a hug: “Hey. You look pretty.”

“Thank you. I love your outfit.”, you replied politely but truthfully.

“Thank you.”, Ellie smiled back. “Who hung up all those mistletoes?”

You followed Ellie's gaze to the ceiling, where sprigs of mistletoe hung at regular intervals.

“Mapi? Ingrid?”, you suggested with a shrug but you also couldn’t hide how impressed you were with their decorations. They really went all out for the Christmas dinner.

As if she had been waiting for it, Mapi appeared on your side with a smirk: “Oh, don’t you two know what tradition wants from you?”

“We do but we’re not standing under one.“, Ellie replied laughing.

You nodded in agreement: “Exactly.“

Mapi raised one eyebrow at both of you: “At least you know, in case you find yourselves under one.“

Keira stood with her back to the wall, studying the parasitic plants above her with wide eyes: “I’ll make sure I won’t move for the entire evening to avoid standing underneath them then!”

“And how are you going to get your food?”, Ellie asked, her warm laughter filling the air.

The English midfielder replied with an embarrassed smile: “Well.”

“I can bring you some.”, the goalkeeper offered then gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Thank you,’ Keira muttered, incredibly grateful for their friendship, which has lasted since their time together at Manchester City.

Still smiling the blonde answered: “You’re welcome.”

“When’s the dinner ready? I’m getting hungry?”, Kika changed the topic swiftly.

“It should be done by now.”, Mapi and her girlfriend quickly left their seats and went into the kitchen to fetch the festive meal that everyone was waiting for. Inside there was a buffet there every guest could get what the heart desired.

Just outside the door, the Spaniard stopped and looked up at the ceiling with a dreamy expression on her face. With a mischievous grin on her lips the defender added: “Oh, look, Ingrid. A mistletoe right above us.”

Ingrid’s green eyes lit up with amusement: “You’re such a dork, Maria.”, the Norwegian mumbled into the older woman’s ear before kissing her despite the teasing comment.

“You love it.”, Mapi observed confidently.

Her younger girlfriend admitted: “Maybe a little bit.”

“Want to get some food too?”, Ellie turned her face towards you beaming.

You nervously push a loose strand of hair behind your ear before answering: “I do, but the mistletoe.”

“We can avoid them.”, the blonde offered conspiratorially with a wink.

“How boring!”, Mapi threw in.

Ignoring her teammate's words, Ellie stood up and took your hand as you followed her: “Come on.”

“You can go first and then I’ll follow you. Oh, uhm sorry.”, you apologized with heated cheeks while you stumbled into the goalkeeper who caught you without a problem, but now the mistletoe was hanging right above you, waiting for the next act to unfold.

You both didn't see that Keira was the one who was inconspicuously pushing you. Later in the evening the midfielder would explain her reasoning behind it to bring you figural speaking closer together.

In the present moment Keira waved it off nonchalantly: “Don’t worry about it.”

“‘Well, you know the tradition, I guess we...”, began Ellie, her cheeks colouring slightly pink as she felt all her teammates’ eyes on the two of you.

A gentle reminder came from your lips: “I mean no one’s forcing us to.”

“I’m aware of that, but what if I want to do it.” Much to your own surprise, she made this quiet confession, which rekindled the sparks between them.

“Maybe, I want it too.”, you agreed flustered.

A shy smile spread on Ellies face: “Close your eyes.”

Without hesitation you did as you were told, waiting patiently for what would happen next. You almost flinched when Ellies lips lowered down on yours with the softest touch. You didn’t dare open your eyes, in case she might stop.

Only when Ellie finally pulled back after what felt like minutes, you finally blinked and found yourself too close to her face. She studied you in anticipation but you had no words except for: “Oh wow.”

“That was…”, Ellie started, clearly unsure how to put her own feelings into words.

“Absolutely delicious. Can I have another taste?”, you asked with an innocent smile.

The goalkeeper nodded happily: “Yes, maybe in the kitchen without all those eyes staring at us?”

You couldn't help but notice the slight blush on her cheeks.

“Okay.”, you agreed and followed her into the kitchen, ignoring all the other mistletoes on your way.

“Ellie, don’t forget my plate!”, Keira called after the two of you.

The goalkeeper shrugged and continued her way: “Sorry, I have to go.”

Keira pouted from the other side of the room: “Rude.”

“Young love, what are you going to do about it, right?”, Mapi grinned as she joined the midfielder leaning against the wall.

Ingrid appeared on Keiras other side, handing her a drink: “Thanks for your help, Keira. They really needed that push in the right direction.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kika held a plate out to her: “Here, Keira.You can have a bit of my food so you don’t have to starve because of those two lovebirds.”

“Thanks, Kika.”, Keira smiled, gratefully accepting the offered food.

“No worries.“

While your teammates stood outside gossiping, you and Ellie were alone in the kitchen. Every surface was covered with food or bottles but you didn’t mind. It was just you and her and no one else.

“So when did you first-…”, you started but stopped immediately when you realized that Ellie said the same thing at the same time.

“No, you go first.”, she insisted.

You cleared your throat before replying: “I’m not sure when it was. But I like your vibe and how positive you are even with everything going on.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“I just have so much… love and respect for you.”

“And I loved that you didn’t pity me. You just welcomed me with open arms. And I like that you don’t hate it when I take photos of everything and that you’re able to just enjoy the moment as it is.”, Ellie answered, surprisingly passionately.

“You’re so sweet, Ellie.”

You watched her face suddenly light up with a smug smile: “And you know what they say about me. I’m a keeper.”

The joke came so unexpected that you started to giggle: “Then I’d like to keep you in my life.”

It was Mapi who softly knocked against the kitchen doorframe to receive both of your attention. “Hey, just letting you two amantes know that we’ll start playing games soon.”, she informed you with a wide grin on her lips.

Ellie quickly promised: “We’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.”, the Spaniard nodded in satisfaction.

Innocently, you placed a finger under the taller woman’s chin so that she had to look into your eyes when you said: “You know, Ellie, I think there’s another mistletoe right above us.”

“Looks like I’ve to kiss you again.”, the goalkeeper replied happily.

Her lips felt incredibly soft against yours as they met in a tender kiss. Warming both of your hearts on a cold December evening.

Christmas/Winter Oneshots

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