#starting to feel pretty and like myself without makeup

[hsjazebel]

Desperate part 2*

Word count: 2763

A/n: I’m sorry to have made you wait so long for part 2, but here it is! I hope you enjoy💘

*the imagine is just for aesthetic*

part 1*

“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to look me in the eyes for a week without blushing."

He looks you straight in the eyes and your mind is blank, you just want to be fucked so good and not think about anything.

“Cat got your tongue? I've barely touched you and you're already all stupid! You just want my cock in your little pussy, don't you?”

You nod not having the strength to speak, but this isn't enough for him.

“Words, baby. I need to hear your beautiful voice. Is that what you want?”

"Yes, yes. I want you!"

“Oh is it, pretty girl? You want me? Who expected that the good girl who knows how to cook such good pasta would actually hide a dirty part! But don't worry, now I'm here to scratch your itch, I'll treat your pussy so good I'll ruin you! Are you ready pretty girl? There’s no turning back.”

“Yes, I want it so bad!”

“Good girl!”

And so, he sticks his cock in you and it's like the rest disappears. You lie there with your mouth open making little moans because of the feeling of his big cock opening you up and stretching you out to make his way in your pussy.

“This is all you’re good for, just a hole for me to fuck. Such a nice, wet little pussy for m-“

The sound of your alarm clock wakes you up from your wet dream. You open your eyes trying to adjust to the light coming from the windows. Last night you forgot to lower the shutters and you're mentally cursing yourself for it.

The memories of your dream are still in your mind that you can even feel your panties getting wet.

It's been a week since your first meeting with Harry and it's been a week that you only have him on your mind.

This isn't the first time you've had a dream like this. And you know it won't be the last either.

You desperately want to take care of yourself but you don't have time because you promised your mother to go out and do some shopping together.

You decide to go take a cold shower trying not to think about the all too real feeling of Harry fucking you.

Then you choose an outfit for the day and go down to the living room where you find your mother fully dressed.

“I'm so happy to have a mother-daughter day! It's been a while since we went shopping together. I'm sad your sister isn't here too, it would have been nice to just be girls!” Your mom says as she grabs her purse and keys.

“Yeah, but she’s like Dad, she doesn't like shopping,” you follow her as you leave the house.

“I really don't know how she doesn't feel like going out and buying new clothes!” She laughs.

“I always ask myself that too!” You laugh along with her.

You both head towards the city center and start entering various shops.

After spending an hour trying on clothes, you decide to go into Sephora, a place you can't resist, and while you're debating whether or not to buy the Rare Beauty blush you hear your mother's phone ringing. She spends a few minutes on the phone and when she hangs up the call she looks at you with a sad look.

“They just called me from work. They said they found a motive against the other defendant in the trial. I have to go to the office. I'm so sorry to have to leave now, I even thought about going to brunch together.” You can tell she wasn't happy about leaving, but your mom was an established lawyer in your city, and she was now working on this very important case, she couldn't do anything about it.

“Don't worry Mom, I know how important this case is for you! I think I'll take another look in here and then I'll go get something to eat quickly,” you smile at her trying to cheer her up. “Come on, don't make that face, I'll stay here all summer, we'll find many more days to have another mother-daughter moment.”

"You are right! It seems to me that I don't see you very often and I was so happy to spend this day with you! Please don't spend too much money on makeup, I know you don't have a minimum of self-control when you come in here,” she laughs as she hugs you goodbye. You hug her back and with that you see her leave the shop.

You finish your shopping trip - and you may not have exactly listened to what your mother told you about not buying too much makeup - and decide to go alone to that brunch you were supposed to have with her.

You arrive at a small place near the center called Jerome and already from the outside you could see that the interior was all decorated in pink and this caught your attention.

You had passed by here several times but you had never seen it or heard the name of the place, so you deduce that it is a new opening, and so you decide to go in.

The interior was as you expected, all pink with neon cursive writing. On the left was a wall covered in pink and white roses with large swings as eating stations, which also had a large teddy bear that you found absolutely adorable, and on the left a large glass counter showing that which, in your opinion, was paradise.

A waitress with a welcoming smile comes towards you, inviting you to take a seat in the front room and that someone will come to take your order once you are ready.

You return her smile by thanking her kindly and make your way into the room she indicated.

On the way, you find on the right side a wall covered with pink velvet and a bicycle leaning against it with another big teddy bear on it. You find this corner particularly cute so you take your phone out of your bag to take a photo.

As you open the camera app you hear a familiar voice calling you.

“Hi Y/n!”

You turn in the direction of the voice and find the protagonist of your latest dreams sitting at a table on a pink velvet armchair.

"Oh! Hi Harry!" You return the greeting by smiling at him.

He pulls back a chair as a sign to sit next to him and you gladly accept.

“Shopping day I see,” Harry tells you pointing to the bags you had to bring with you.

"Oh yes!" You laugh. “I was out with Mum but she had to run away to work, so I'm forced to go around with all these bags!”

Harry laughs back. “That's why you're here alone.”

You are about to answer him but are interrupted by a waiter who has come to take your orders.

Once he leaves - not before giving you a sweet smile - you see Harry give the boy a not-so-kind look.

You continue your conversation until within a few minutes your food arrives.

You start eating in silence and you notice that Harry keeps staring at you.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Mh? What?"

“I see you staring at me, I asked you if I had something on my face.”

“No, no you don't have anything on your face, it's just… I don't know if it's appropriate to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?”

He takes a long sigh. “I was just thinking… if you have a boyfriend”

You stop yourself from laughing at his question. “No, I don't have a boyfriend. Why do you ask?"

“I was just curious to know I guess. It is undeniable that you are a beautiful girl and I also noticed how that boy looked at you before and I was just wondering if you have a boyfriend, that's all."

"Don’t worry. In fact, right now I don't want a boyfriend, I broke up a couple of months ago so I'm thinking more about myself now."

“I'm sorry, I didn't know you broke up recently. Can I ask why if it doesn't bother you?”

“Don't worry, it doesn't bother me. I've been with this Italian guy named Lorenzo for more or less a year and a half, except that in the last period, things between us haven't been going so well. In the last few months, I saw him as more detached, and in the end, I discovered that he had another woman... that’s the reason!" you laugh sarcastically.

“Excuse my language but… he must be a real dickhead to have cheated on you.”

“I'm big now, you can use bad words in my presence, and yes you're right, he's a big dickhead!” You laugh and he follows you.

After finishing your brunch you are the first to get up.

“Thanks for keeping me company, Harry. I really enjoyed talking to you!”

“No, thanks to you Y/n! And I enjoyed talking to you too! It could be done more often!” He tells you smiling, making his dimples appear.

“Yes, I would be more than happy to do it again. Maybe I could mention to Dad to invite you to dinner some evening.”

"I'd really like to."

And so you head towards the exit of the place with him opening the door for you like a true gentleman.

Once outside, however, you remember that you had arrived here in your mother's car and now that she was gone you didn't know how to get home. So your only option - other than walking in the July sun for 40 minutes on foot, which you didn't think was the best option - was to ask Harry for help.

“Um, Harry?” You call him. “Sorry but I just realized that I don't know how to get home since my mother left with the car, and.. uhm I wanted to ask you if by any chance, if it were possible for you, you could take me home.”

You didn't like bothering people about your things, because you always had the impression that you were annoying.

“Of course, I can take you home Y/n! I would never leave you stranded. In fact, I was just asking you if you wanted a ride but you beat me to it."

And with that, you head towards his car. And again, being the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you to get into the car.

Along the way you are rather silent, in addition to the noise of the radio music in the background, there is every now and then an exchange of words.

Once you arrive at the gate of your house you almost feel sorry to let Harry go, and he seems to think the same as you.

You're about to say bye and thank him when an idea comes to you.

“You know I was thinking about the conversation we had that evening at my house and I just remembered that I have another book that I think you might like… if you want you could come in the house for a moment.”

“Yes, I'd like to come in but I don't want to disturb you."

“Don't worry, there's no one at home. Mom and Dad are at work and my sister is at the beach with some friends.”

“Oh…okay.”

He leaves the car in the driveway and so you go into the house.

As soon as you enter you head towards the bookcase in the living room but looking carefully among the books you don't find what you were looking for.

Going back in your memory you remember leaving it in your room; you had recently finished reading it and you immediately thought Harry might like it.

“Um…I think I left it in my room, if you want you can come with me, I also have other books there and I think you might find something you might like.”

"Yes, of course!"

So you go up the stairs and enter your room, but as soon as you enter you see the chair near your bathroom with your pajamas and underwear on it that you had taken off before entering the shower.

But the thing that immediately catches your eyes are your white lace panties on top of your clothes, and, if you look at them better you can also see a darker part on their crotch which you know well what is due to: the man next to you to you.

While you were both in your room, you felt a strange tension in the air. You look at Harry and notice the way he avoids your gaze as if he's hiding something. You suddenly feel vulnerable, remembering the embarrassing moment when you had accidentally left your panties on the chair. You wonder if he saw it.

“Sorry if the room is a little messy,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence.

He smiled faintly. “Don't worry, you told me that the book you recommended is here somewhere, right?”

Your heart beats faster in your chest as you try to figure out if he's just trying to be nice or if he's trying to avoid the awkward moment.

“Sure, it's right there on the nightstand,” you reply, gesturing to the book with a wave of your hand. “Sorry about the mess.”

He walks over to the nightstand, but in his gaze, he notices your panties casually placed on the chair. He lets out a short sigh, trying not to let his embarrassing discovery show. “Thank you,” he said, taking the book carefully.

The tension in the air seems to increase as they both look into each other's eyes, an energy filled with repressed desire and forbidden curiosity.

You try to ignore the racing of your heart as he walks away from the nightstand with the book in his hands.

“There are some really interesting parts,” you say, trying to keep the conversation light. "I hope you like it."

He nodded with a gentle smile. “I can't wait to read it, thanks for the advice.”

The silence that followed was heavy, full of tension and unspoken meaning. You both knew what was behind that embarrassing moment, but neither seemed ready to face it.

You bit your lower lip, trying to find the courage to say something, anything that would break the overwhelming tension. But the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.

Finally, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you tremble slightly.

“Is there anything else you would like to talk about?” He asks you, his voice barely a whisper.

You swallow, feeling your heart beat so loudly it sounds like a drum in his ears. “Yes,” you admit in a small voice. “There is something we need to address.”

You feel your heart beating furiously in your chest as he gently approaches, creating an atmosphere full of anticipation.

“I know,” he whispers softly, his voice a seductive harmony in the air vibrant with desire.

A shiver of emotion runs through your skin as your gazes meet, communicating desires and secrets hidden deep inside.

You nod slightly, unable to articulate a sound, your breath held in anticipation of what was about to happen.

He gets even closer, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, but without ever crossing that invisible border that separated reality from enchantment.

An instant of silence full of meaning lasts longer, time seems to have stopped as you let yourself be enveloped by the magic of waiting, aware of how powerful and precious that tension suspended between you can be.

You get dangerously close to the point where you can feel his nose touching yours, the desire between you vibrating in the tense air.

Lips a few millimeters apart, the imminent contact was like a promise of suspended passion, when suddenly the sound of the front door opening resonates in the air, interrupting the intimate moment.

You both tense up instinctively, your heart quickening its pace in your chest as your gazes meet in a mixture of agitation and repressed desire.

“Y/n! I am home!" You hear your father's voice coming from downstairs.

“Fuck,” you say as you pull away from Harry, but the heat of the barely touched contact still burned on his lips, while your body trembled slightly in anticipation of what might happen.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles blog #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #desperate

[teyvathandymenclub]

Good Morning

Story: You have just spent your first night together and the obvious nervousness comes in with a bang. Will he like me without makeup? I need to keep mints close to me to hide my morning dragon breath. Should I put on some mascara at least? 

Characters: Diluc, Alhaitham

TW: Beware! Fluf.

Diluc

You have promised yourself that you will wake up before him. And somehow you did. When you opened your eyes, the sun was still pretty low and the room was filled with Diluc´s deep calm breathing. Slowly raising your head you checked his chest. You have been sleeping on him the whole night so the possibility of you salivating on him was pretty high. 

It is fine. Thank god. You sigh with relief.

For a second you got stuck because you could not stop staring at him. He looks so peaceful, but authoritative at the same time. Diluc has this aura of confidence and stoicism that you have never seen in other men. He could have every woman in the Teyvat but he chose you. Your heart flutters. 

I do not know what I did to deserve you, but I will do everything to prove to you that I am worthy of you. 

With that, you stood up and tip-toed out of the bedroom.

"Are you trying to run away from me?" 

Diluc´s voice stopped you right when you were about to reach the doorknob. Heart in your chest started racing and all you could hear was your blood rushing through your veins.

"If I disappointed you somehow last night, you can tell me straight away."

"No!" You almost screamed too ashamed to look at him.

"Then where are you going? I was excited to wake up to you sleeping in my arms."

"Me too! I just need to… Use the toilet. If that is ok."

"Of Course, it is ok." Diluc chuckled with relief as he stood up. "I will show you the way."

"No! Umm… I will find it by myself."

"Y/N, what is going on?" He frowned. "Why you did not look at me once."

You wanted to protest even more, but before you were able to find new excuses, Diluc took your chin and raised your head so he could look you directly in the eyes.

After a short moment, you cracked under his gaze, just like last night.

"I did not want you to see me like this." You finally admit.

"Like what?" Diluc looked at you and scanned you from head to toe.

"No makeup, messy hair, puffy face…"

"Stop it, please." Diluc hushed you with a voice filled with amusement and disappointment at the same time.

"I am sorry." You whisper.

"For what? That I did not show you my affection the same way I feel it here?" He took your hand and placed it on the bare skin of his chest. "Can you forgive me for leaving room for so many doubts? My dear, I have traveled most of our world and I have never met someone like you. Do not ever doubt my affection for you. For any version of you. With messy hair, with whatever makeup you do not wear. I do not care. "

"But…"

You tried to protest, but he immediately stopped you with raised brows that said more than enough.

"With that settled, how did you sleep?" Diluc smiled as he hid you in his embrace.

Alhaitham

Last night was everything but what you have expected from a man who presented himself the way he did. Where did those passionate touches and kisses come from?

Never even in your wildest dreams, you dreamed about being smothered with so much affection. Even though you did not want to admit it, you felt addicted. Men are usually a source of disappointment in your life. How could you score an intelligent gentleman with ways that can make your toes curl from… Well, let's call it happiness.

It would be such a shame to scare him away with my morning state. I should freshen up a little. 

You debated with yourself a little before you took your chance. As you carefully moved away his hand wrapped around your waist and tried to stand up, Alhaitham deeply growled. His grip around your body tightened. Who would have thought that he would be into spooning so much?

"What is so funny?" He asked after you chuckled a little.

"Just wondering if I could be the big spoon now."

"No." Alhaitham murmured into your neck without hesitation.

"Can I at least go to the bathroom? Pretty please?"

"So you would let me here with nothing but your scent stuck to my skin?"

"Awwwww." You smiled. "But... Do you want me to pee here?"

"You are free to go wherever you want!" Alhaitham said while dramatically pushing you away from him. 

After you gave him your best fake sad stare you quickly left to deal with some important business in the bathroom. When you finally came back, Alhaitham was already sitting in the bed leaning against the headboard reading something.

"And I thought that I had bad bed hair." You laugh.

"You probably had. You have been gone for almost half an hour."

"You did not!" You audibly gasped before you jumped at him.

"Why… Oh god…" Alhaitham growled as he maneuvered you down from him. "...do you have so much energy this early in the morning? If I knew I would never invite you over."

"REALLY?!" You froze.

"Of Course not." He smiled sheepishly as he pinned you down to kiss you oh so sweetly.

#genshin #impact #genshin impact #fanfic #fanfiction #genshin x reader #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader

[waste-0f-spacee]

i have such an urge to overhaul and change my whole appearance but idk what to even do

#i’m so tired of feeling so ugly and disgusting #not even talking about my body #everything else #my whole aura #i need to change the way i present myself to the world #along with my face and hair #i want to cut my hair but don’t know what style to do #i want to dye it but it took me so long to get back to my natural color which i personally think is so nice #but i need a fucking CHANGE #i need to especially learn how to do makeup #i can do it good enough that i look better than without #but i need to learn how to shapeshift like all these other pretty girls #i want to be pretty so badly #i’m starting to think it’s less about my hair and makeup and more about what i have to work with #which is just a horribly plain face #ugly to me but to other people i know i’m the most basic looking woman ever #i want to be good looking jesus CHRIST

[emma-needs-attention]

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

#trans #transfem #transgender #lgbtq #comics #essay #art #cw dysphoria

[mellowsaturns]

all to myself

CEO!BUCKY BARNES X READER

summary: after bucky finds out why you've been acting up ever since his company's party, he teaches you a lesson and remind you that you're the only one for him

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, f!reader, soft!mean!bucky, slight bratty!reader, jealousy on reader's side, possessiveness, teasing, begging, oral (f receiving), fingering, basically fighting then making up

wc: 1.9k

“Don’t leave when I’m talking to you.”

Bucky’s words should have sent shivers down your spine—should have made you stop dead in your tracks. But you were so angry that you just dismissed him and walked away.

He called out your name, in warning this time, and you chose to ignore him once again.

It only took him three steps to catch up to you. He grabbed one of your wrists and spun you around in seconds. 

“Did you not hear what I said? Don’t leave when I’m talking to you,” he fumed. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” you countered, trying to pull your arm from his grasp. But he was too strong.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been acting like this all night.”

Your boyfriend’s company had just hit the next milestone and of course, it was only appropriate to celebrate. But ever since the two of you left the party, you’ve been giving him the silent treatment.

You made sure you were always steps ahead of him when walking out the building. You ignored the farewells and even went as far as slamming the door to his three-million dollar Bugatti that he loves so much without even a second thought. You refused to look at him the whole ride home and when he tried to talk to you, you completely ignored him, focusing on the street lamps instead.

Once the two of you got back to his place, he started confronting you on your poor behaviour and all that other bullshit. As if he wasn’t the one to cause it. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. If you’re done, I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight,” you said bitterly, finally yanking your arm away. 

“Why are you being so fucking difficult?”

You scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry for being difficult,” you said, voice laced with sarcasm. “Maybe you should go be with those ladies you were talking to the whole night. Maybe they aren’t so fucking difficult.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “Is that what this is all about? You’re jealous I was talking to other girls?”

You bit down hard on your lip. “You were flirting with them!” 

“I was not flirting with them.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, because letting them touch and throw themselves at you is not flirting.”

Because while Bucky was enjoying himself, you were left to socialize with his stuck-up business partners and had to down your cocktails all by yourself. You got ignored by your own fucking boyfriend. To make matters worse, the two of you haven’t seen each other for a whole week because he was on a business trip. You even wore his favourite dress and did your hair and makeup all pretty for him but he didn’t even pay any attention to you. 

So excuse you for being emotional, but you think your anger is justifiable.

He sighed. “You’re overthinking it.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, “I’m going to bed.” 

“We’re not done here,” he demanded. 

“Mmm, I think we are.” 

He pulled you back, this time with so much force that you’re practically pressed up against his chest. 

“You were embarrassing me in front of all my friends, you know that?” 

You scoffed. “If that’s your only concern maybe we shouldn’t do this anymore,” you spat.

His eyes darken, “Say that again.”

You swallowed your breath and could feel yourself heating up at his words. And you didn’t know where all this bravery was coming from because a minute later, you said, “Break up with me then. Go find one of those girls from tonight and fuck them instead. I’m sure they won’t embarrass you.”

He tightened his grip when you tried to writhe out of his hold. 

“Stop fighting me,” he said. 

God—you were even more angry now. Because he’s so sexy when he’s boring his deep eyes into yours in that authoritative and dominating way of his. It was unfair. 

“You’re not leaving,” he continued, “you’re not stepping a foot outside this room unless I say so.”

That intense warmth building between your legs was getting worse and worse by the minute.

“What are you going to do to stop me?” you mocked, knowing it would irritate him to endless lengths. You lifted your hand towards your neck, where the diamond studded necklace Bucky gave you when he officially asked you to become his was delicately located.

His jaw ticked and you ripped the necklace off. 

Before you had a chance to think about what you’ve done, he grabbed you and smashed his lips against yours, knocking all the air out of your lungs.

You whimpered at the force but slowly, you melted into him as his hands made its way to cup your face.

He moaned into your mouth and for a second you forgot why you were angry in the first place.

Fuck Bucky Barnes and his plush lips.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” He growled into your ear before pushing you against the wall and caging you in between him. Your knees almost buckled at the huskiness of his voice.

He trailed his hand down to your thighs before dipping it into your dress, hiking it up slightly. He smirked. “Look at you,” he taunted, “so wet.”

Your breath hitched as his finger made its way to your panties, rubbing gentle circles on the now damp fabric. He hooked his finger along its band and ripped the lace off—like how he ripped all your other ones. 

“B–Bucky!” you gasped as he cupped your mound, finger brushing your clit and teasing you at your entrance.

His lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin.

You leaned into him. “Bucky,” you whined while rocking against his hand.

“So needy,” he teased. 

“Bucky,” you desperately begged, “—please.”

“Please what, baby? Use your words.”

“Want… need to feel you,” you murmured.

“Mmm, I don’t think you deserve it,” he said. 

“Fuck—” you gasped as he pressed his palm harder against your sensitive sex. “Please, Bucky,” you begged, “I didn’t mean to be bratty. Just wanted all your attention, that's all.”

He hummed. “My girl that desperate for me?”

You nodded. “Y–yes,” you stammered. “Want you all to myself.”

At that, he plunged two of his fingers into your wet core. You gasped at the fullness—at how good it felt.

“Look at you,” he whispered, pumping his fingers in and out. “A mess for me. What happened to all that defiance? Hm?”

You couldn’t even say any snarky remarks back. The only noise coming out of your mouth were your pathetic whimpers and desperate pleas as Bucky fucked you knuckles deep.

“You want to come, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, gripping onto his shoulders. “I want to hear you say sorry.”

“I’m sor—ah!” you gasped when he curled his finger at that spot he knows so well. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for acting like that tonight.”

“And?”

“And for slamming the door to your car.”

“No, not that. I don’t care about the car.” 

His hand clasped around your neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’m sorry for ripping your necklace off. I’m so sorry,” you cried. You leaned into him, just below his ears. “I’m yours, Bucky. Only yours.” 

“Good girl,” he rasped. 

And at that, you come crashing down, an eutrophic wave washing over you. 

He held you as you collected yourself. “I’m sorry for embarrassing you tonight,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s just I really did miss you. I even wore that dress you liked so much. Put on your favourite shade of lipstick.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he said, stroking your hair. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You burrowed yourself deeper into him. “Thought you got bored of me or something,” you mumbled more to yourself than him, but he managed to pick it up and he took it to heart.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he said angrily. He pulled you away and held your face. “I will never get bored of you. You’re the only one I want, you got it?” 

You pouted as if you didn’t quite believe him and if there was one thing Bucky couldn’t handle, it was those sad doe-eyes of yours underneath your pretty lashes. 

His mouth latched onto yours once again, deepening the kiss within seconds. He led you to the couch, never once breaking the kiss. 

You fell onto the black leather as he hovered above you. “What do you want me to do to prove it to you? You want me to kneel? Because I’ll go on my fucking knees for you,” he said, before lowering himself in front of you. And that was enough for you to come undone for the second time tonight.

He grabbed your legs, carefully stroking it before littering kisses all over your calves and thighs. You took a deep breath when he rolled up your dress again, exposing your stomach and cunt. Then he was in between your legs in seconds.

“Wait—” you panted. “Bucky,” you said, tugging onto his hair. “The windows.” 

The blinds to the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his New York City penthouse were still open.

“Fuck the windows. Let the world see. That’s what you wanted right? Me on my knees for you,” he said, licking a stripe up your folds. “Let everyone know you’re the only person I would go on my knees for.”

You clenched at his words which caused Bucky to chuckle, his hot breaths hitting your already overheated core. 

The flickering of his tongue combined with the sucking was too much. He was going down on you like a starved man and you pulled on his hair harder when his tongue hit that spot that made you see stars.

“Stop moving,” he grunted, gripping your legs even tighter. “You taste so damn sweet.”

You were trembling by now and he brought one of his hands to your chest to stabilize your body—grabbing and kneading the flesh while he was at it.

Everytime his nose rubbed at your clit, you could feel your orgasm come closer and closer. And when you finally release, Bucky made sure to clean you up with his tongue, not letting a single drop of you go to waste. When he came up, the scruff on his jaw was wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, trying to come down from both your high and at the sight of him.

“I love you,” he murmured. 

At that moment, you realized one thing. The entirety of New York might want a piece of him—the handsome self-made CEO whose eyes were enough to bring both women and men to their knees—but the only person he’ll ever go on his knees for was you. You’re the one he comes home to. He was yours. Completely, wholly, yours.

Before you got a chance to repeat those words back to him, he picked you up and threw you over his shoulders.

“Ah!” you squealed, “Bucky! What are you doing!”

He gave you a smack on the ass before carrying you towards the bedroom. “We’re not done here,” he said. “I’ll give you all the attention you want, baby. We have all night.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #sebastian stan x reader

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | now you got me

ix. now you got me by inhaler

series masterlist | previous | next

the happy little bubble you and luke made for yourselves inevitably bursted a few days after you made it official– though if you asked luke, you rejected his advances, which always earned an eye roll from you followed by a long kiss to his lips that had him silent for the next five minutes. you knew he was milking the hell out of you saying no to his question until he let you listen to the song, but you were his and he was yours regardless of the title. 

you stared at yourself in the mirror, blushing as you ran your fingers down the marks on your neck. you added a turtleneck under your chb shirt, not having enough energy to cover up the marks on your neck with makeup, and you definitely didn’t have the energy to explain to people how you got them. thankfully, the weather cooperated with you today. it was unusually cold for the summer, a slight breeze entering your room from your opened window. as you continued to get ready for the day, your phone buzzed with a text from your dad. 

‘hey kid, can you come to my office real quick?’

you hadn’t spoken to your dad in weeks, not since he stormed out of the cabin after finding out what started the fight with your teammate. this was the longest you’d gone without speaking to him. you texted a thumbs up and made your way out of your room. 

luke was sitting on the coffee table in the middle of everyone, looking at you with wondering eyes, “where are you going?” 

“my dad wants to talk.” 

“do you want me to come with you?” luke got up from where he sat. you told him last night that you’d been avoiding your dad as much as possible, and he did the same with you. as much as you guys butted heads, luke knew that it was taking a toll on you. you shared that you were scared about what would become of your relationship with your dad. luke, being as close to his mom as you were with your dad, understood. he knew what it was like to feel like your biggest supporter was giving up on you. it wasn’t a feeling he’d wish on his worst enemy, and definitely not a feeling he’d ever wish on you. 

“no, it’s fine,” you clenched your jaw, shaking your head. 

luke’s shoulders slumped over as he stuttered in his actions to sit back down, “oh, okay–uh, let me know if you need anything.” 

you nodded and waved a small goodbye before exiting the cabin. your heart was pounding the entire time you made your way to your dad’s office. a lot of things had been weighing on you this summer– your probation, a possible dent on your record, your estrangement from your parents, luke– and it was a lot to handle. camp half blood was supposed to keep you away from the problems that existed in your day-to-day life, but it seemed to follow you. 

you entered your dad’s office to see him typing away on his laptop. his eyebrows raised when you walked in, motioning for you to shut the door. he closed his laptop and placed it in one of the drawers of his desk. he took a deep breath, “hey, kid.” 

“hi, dad,” you replied, suddenly feeling like a little kid again. you sat on the usual chair in front of his desk and leaned back, “what’s up?” 

“i, uh,” he cleared his throat, “i just wanted to say i’m sorry for how we left things. i shouldn’t have stormed out like that. i was just angry. but not at you, at myself for making you feel like you had to fight these battles for me.” 

he leaned across his desk to hold your hands, “you’re my kid, y’know. my job is to protect you, not the other way around. so i apologize if i ever made you feel like you had to come to my defense.” 

“and i’m sorry for being mia the last few weeks,” he chuckled, squeezing your hands, “i’ve been in contact with my lawyers and they’re working on making sure the charges against you don’t stick so i’ve been pretty busy with that.” 

“you think it’ll get sorted out?” you asked. 

“yeah, don’t worry about it. it’s finishing up and i think you might even be able to play this season,” your dad smiled. “but i have to deal with a pr crisis right now that sprung up on me this morning.” 

your shoulders relaxed at your dad’s words. at least your probation was getting sorted out. that was one less thing to worry about. you tugged on the sleeves of your turtleneck as you got comfortable on your chair, “what’s the pr crisis?” 

he sighed, pulling out his laptop, “something with the band.” 

you hoped your dad didn’t notice the slight widening of your eyes. because you hadn’t been talking to your dad, he didn’t know about the recent developments between you and luke. you two didn’t show much pda outside of the cabin, scared that one of the campers would break their nda and post a picture of the two of you. neither of you were ready to tell the world about you two yet. it’s too soon. you didn’t even have the “what’s going to happen to us after summer?” conversation yet. 

“what happened?” 

“some pap pictures leaked. it’s of this new actress in hollywood and a guy leaving her hotel room. the press is reporting that the guy is luke. it looks a lot like him and you know the media– they run any story that’ll get them clicks even if it’s not fully fact-checked as long as they add the word ‘allegedly’ to the article,” he rolled his eyes, turning his computer to face you. “nobody knows where the pictures came from, so we don’t know if it’s actually luke or not, but i’ve been on the phone with may and their team all morning trying to do damage control. she’s telling the guys about the pictures right now.” 

at first glance, your heart dropped to your stomach. the guy did look an awful lot like luke. the rational part of you knew that this was probably taken before the two of you met because you’ve seen him every day since and he was practically imprisoned at chb all summer, but then you thought of your impromptu trip to achilles’ arcade and it made you want to throw up. if luke could sneak away with you like that, it would’ve been easy for him to do the same when he was alone. 

were the nights he didn’t spend in your bed because he was “writing” just an excuse to sneak off to meet up with the girl in the picture? she was gorgeous, after all. blonde, tall, the perfect new hollywood star. they’d make such a great power couple. the two rising stars in their respective industries, the perfect pair. 

the boy’s face, who may or may not be luke, was covered by his hood, but you can clearly see that he was kissing the girl deeply, with his hand placed on the curve of her back. the next picture was them with their fingers laced together as she led him into the hotel, giggling at something he said. the guy had a similar build as luke and dressed the same way as he did when he was having a lazy day– sweatpants, hoodie, and converses. 

bile made its way up your throat as you continued to scroll through the pictures. you looked at the time stamp of the photos and closed your eyes, wincing, when you saw that they were taken two days ago. luke didn’t sleep in your room two days ago, nor was he in the cabin. he showed up the next day saying that he was in the studio, trying to finish up the song so you would officially accept being his girlfriend. 

you squinted at a close-up picture of the pair, zoning in on the guy's hand. you breathed out a sigh of relief, fingers immediately clutching the ring that rested on your index finger. you turned the laptop back to your dad, “that’s not luke.” 

his eyebrows shot up, looking between you and his laptop screen, “how do you know?” 

“look at his rings,” you pointed at the bands around the guy’s fingers, “luke doesn’t wear a ring on his ring finger anymore. and look, the guy has a ring there and it’s gold.” 

“how are you so sure? what if he just decided to wear it that day?” 

“trust me,” you waved off, “he’s particular about his jewelry. he stopped wearing one on his ring finger a while ago. and luke doesn’t wear gold jewelry.” 

your dad narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously, shutting his laptop, “i didn’t realize you were that close to luke that you had his accessories memorized.” 

“ah– well,” you cleared your throat, looking down at your feet. you felt caught. “s’your fault, really. you made us live together.” 

“is there something you need to tell me, kid?” 

you got up from your seat, quickly making your way to the door, “geez, dad, i didn’t realize the time! i promised clar that i’d help her with camp duties, so i gotta go. thanks for all your help on the probation and permanent record thing. you’re the best!” 

you didn’t bother to turn around to see your dad’s reaction to your excuse. you knew that he could see right through you. 

you dad called from behind you, his joking tone camouflaged by his “dad” voice, “tell castellan that if he does anything wrong, i’ll kill him and his career!” 

“love you!” 

your dad shook his head, biting back the smile on his face, “love you too, kid.” 

as you were rushing back to your cabin, you ran smack dab into luke who was frantic, worry evident on his features. his eyes widened when he saw you and he placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you so you didn’t fall at the impact. 

“five star,” he sighed out, out of breath, “i don’t know if mr. d told you but those pictures aren’t me, i swear!” 

you had two options– you could one, tell him that you knew it wasn’t him and put him out of his misery or two, you could pretend to not believe him and make him sweat. luke looked like he was about to get on his knees and beg you to believe him. you wouldn’t be surprised if he made a powerpoint presentation listing the reasons why it wasn’t him in those pictures. 

you pursed your lips, “i saw the pictures luke.” 

“and they weren’t me!” he said, exasperated. his eyebrows knitted in anxiety, as he chewed on the nail of his thumb, “you gotta believe me, babe. i don’t know who that guy is but i can promise you it’s not me.” 

you tried not to swoon at the pet name that left his lips. “how do i know that? you weren’t home the night those pictures were taken.” 

“i know it looks bad, but look,” he ran a hand through his curls. “i finished the song the boys wrote and you can go listen to it right now, but then that night, i got caught up with a song idea about you and i stayed up all night to write it. you can listen to the demo right now if you want. you can listen to all the demos you want if that gets you to believe me. i think the recordings have timestamps too, so you’ll see i was in there all nigh–”

“down, pretty boy,” you couldn’t keep it up any longer. luke looked like he was two seconds away from bursting into tears and as much as you wanted to hear him yap, you didn’t have it in your heart to drag it on. you chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and he instantly relaxed at the feeling. 

your lips moved in sync as his hands found your waist, pressing you closer to him. his tongue licked your bottom lip, asking for permission, which you gladly granted. it was the sound of clarisse and chris inside the cabin, tapping against the windows that pulled you and luke apart. you both turned to look at your friends who all had shit-eating grins on their faces. 

travis and connor were behind the couple, shaking their heads, “get a fucking room, you heathens.” 

luke flipped them off and pressed a softer, more innocent kiss on your lips before you spoke. “i knew it wasn’t you. just wanted to see you sweat a little bit.” 

“that was mean,” he pouted, but he couldn’t fight off the smile on his face. he always seemed to smile after he kissed you. it made you want to kiss him again, starting a never-ending chain of kisses that would surely lead the two of you to be unproductive for the rest of the day. “i was so scared, five star, you have no idea. the fucker looked so much like me.” 

you laughed, playing with the curls on the nape of his neck, “trust me, i know. my heart dropped to my ass when i first saw them, but i knew it wasn’t you.” 

“how’d you know?” 

“the rings,” you flushed, thinking about how crazy you must sound knowing these small details about him.

“shit, five star,” he whistled, surprised. there was a warmth in his chest that spread throughout the rest of his body at the idea of you paying attention to these things about him. “nothing can get past you, huh? i didn’t even notice that.”

“yeah, at least you know not to sneak around behind me because i’ll find out,” you teased, lacing your fingers together as you slowly made your way up the steps of the cabin. luke stood in his spot, pulling on your hand to get you to to turn around. you walked over to him, confused, “what’s up?” 

“y’know i wouldn’t think of doing that, right?” he asked, voice suddenly serious. “i would never do that to you.” 

your eyes softened as a wistful look appeared on your face. you kissed his cheeks, relishing in the feeling of luke wrapping his arms around your torso in a tight hug. you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, placing a feather-light kiss on his jugular, “yeah, yeah.” 

“‘m serious,” he pulled away, holding your face in his hands. he was staring at you intently, making sure that you were hearing his words. you never gave him an indication that you didn’t trust him, but luke knew that it was better to tell you these things straight up if he wanted to have a real relationship with you. he knew it takes a toll on the people he dates (not that he’s had any relationships like what he has with you) to see these bullshit stories online. if he was in your position, he knew the reassurance would help. luke placed a kiss on your forehead, “i wouldn’t do anything to mess this up if i can help it, five star.”

you let out a forced laugh, awkwardly shifting in his grasp, “yeah, given that my dad controls your contract, i know you wouldn’t.” 

luke frowned, “not because of that.” 

“uh huh,” you said, feeling too vulnerable right now. you didn’t know how to handle this situation, so you coped with humor, “he likes you so don’t worry, your contract extension is practically in the bag.” 

“y/n.” 

you tensed at luke’s use of your real name. he never called you by your name. he always called you by the nickname he gave you when he first met you. five star. you knew luke wasn’t in the mood to joke around. “luke, it’s fine.” 

“i don’t want to pick a fight,” he sighed, playing with the hem of your shirt, “but i just need to hear you say that you believe me when i say that. i wouldn’t cheat on you or do anything to make you feel like i ever would.” 

your voice shook as you spoke, “what if you’re just saying that because it’s still summer and we see each other every day? what’s gonna happen when i’m back in school and you’re out in the world traveling and living your rockstar life?” 

luke’s heart broke at your words. did you really think that he would forget about all of this once september rolled around? as if you didn’t consume his thoughts every day since he met you, as if he didn’t count down the minutes until he got to see you again when he was forced to be away from you because he had things to do, as if he didn’t have a sinking feeling in his stomach when you weren’t next to him. he was starting to think you didn’t understand just how deeply he felt about you even when you assured him that you did understand. 

“i’m not gonna lie, long distance is gonna be hard,” he said, “but we can figure it out. i know it.” 

“i never knew you were such an optimist, castellan.” 

luke laughed at that. if only you knew how many times he psyched himself out of making a move on you because of his own pessimism. it only changed recently, when he finally decided to say fuck it and go for it. “for you? always. i’d be stupid not to be. you’re a good thing, five star.” 

luke fucking castellan. you pressed your head into his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your face. he gave you a tight squeeze, placing a kiss on the crown of your head. he loved having you like this, all soft and cuddly with him like you didn’t want to let him go. he should be scared at how quickly he was falling for you, how attached he already felt. 

you kissed his lips again, pulling away with a smile, “so babe huh?” 

“babe, baby, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning over to kiss you again. “anythin’ you want.”

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

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER P6

matt sturniolo x fem!reader

thoughts on this one??😣

y/n pov

As I stood in front of the mirror, lost in my thoughts, I couldn't help but feel anxious. My heart was pounding, my palms sweaty. I watched my reflection carefully, trying to convince myself that I looked presentable enough. My hair was tied back in a messy bun, my makeup subtle but enough to accentuate my features. I glanced down at my outfit - a simple black tank top and a pair of sweatpants.

I was starting to rethink my whole life at this point I mean what if he's just an old fucker wanting to see my tattas You could never know :/

A text notification interrupted my thoughts and I looked down to see a message from him. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized his name flash across my screen.

I sighed for what seemed like the millionth time this night, a bitch was nervous but again it was too late to pussy out so without another thought I took a deep breath before finally taping the button

as the ringtone played a wave of anxiety washed over me. My mind started racing, and my heart was pounding so loud I thought he would be able to hear it from the other side of the phone. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down, but it was no use. I was a nervous wreck.

Finally, the call connected. "Hey" I managed to squeak out, my voice barely audible even to my ears. There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and then I heard him let out a shaky breath. "Hey," he replied, his voice sounding equally as nervous as I felt.

Something about his tone was so calming, it was as if all the anxiety that had been building up inside me suddenly melted away.

I took another deep breath and mustered up the courage to speak. "can you turn your camera on ?," I asked softly, I was feeling a bit silly but also strangely reassured.

He hesitated for a moment, but then finally replied, "If I do it then you gotta do it too"

"yeah, alright, in… 3…2…1" I said, as I counted down. A split second later, The screen flashes to life, revealing my face on the other end of the video call.

"HOLY SHIT-"I was cut off by him as he started giggling.

i hate myself for yelling that but what the actual fuck I think I just nutted I did not expect this man to be this yummy looking, I quickly composed myself as I realize i was staring at him like a creep.

"damn you weren't joking when you said you look like a rat," he says with a smirk making me roll my eyes.

the audacity of this bitch "Shut up" i muttered under my breath, I take a moment to take him in properly now that I'm not in a state of shock. His hair is a mess of dark brown curls that fall over his forehead and his eyes are a piercing shade of blue that seems to stare right through me. His lips are full and pink, damn this man is a snack.

"but seriously your eyes are so pretty, i was not expecting that" he blurts out and my cheeks heat up immediately. I've never been good with compliments. "well, uhh, thanks?" I manage to say. He laughs again, and the sound is like music to my ears.

"So?" he asks, his voice soft.

"bitch don't "So" me you were literally moaning my name a few weeks ago"i reminded him with a small grin, I can't help but feel a bit flustered still. "but uh, yeah, wanna see Stinky's grave? " I ask.

the rest of the night was a blur, honestly. we talked about the most random things. we found out that we had so many things in common. our favorite foods, movies, and music. This may sound corny but it was like we had known each other for years, not just a few weeks.

taglist :

@nickenthusiast @chrisfavoritepepsi @sunsetsturniolos @littlebookworm803 @sturniozo @sturniolooooo @athahliahxoxo @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ev3rgreenxtrees @nonamegirlxsturniolo @crybabycat1 @mooniethesimp31 @ducksturniolo @ifilwtmfc @pepsiimaxx @sleepysturnss @lustfulslxt @ilovemattsworld @hrt-attack @flowerxbunnie @leprechaunbirthdaygirl @secret-sturniolo @iluvmeeen

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt #matthew sturniolo x you #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #lets trip tour #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo texts #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo texts #let's trip #fresh love

[fluffylino]

boypussy!hyunjin pt 3

lollipop lollipop lollipop

-contains mature themes (it starts off smutty and then becomes really fluffy)

"hyunjin what are you doing?"

your eyes trailed down to the boy who was in your lap. the lollipop you were originally eating, not yours anymore.

the boy was hunched over, his legs spread out on the couch, laying flat on his stomach as he took the candy you were holding into his mouth.

his tongue rolling over it. as he took it deep, almost gagging. at first, you were innocently enjoying it when he plopped himself down.

"im tired" he had said. their shoot had ended only an hour back. you hummed, while eating the candy. you were used to him complaining and he loved when you'd listen to him. he lazily lied down beside you. sweetly asking if he could have a taste.

how could you ever say no to those pretty pleading eyes. not to mention the smudged eye makeup he had not wiped off yet.

dark makeup suited him.

unconciously you swiped your thumb against the corner of his lip. where sugary essence had stained his lips. making them extra pink.

"is it that good?" you asked and he looked up at you with sparkly eyes.

"mhm hm"

"yea?" you teased, running your fingers through his hair. he made a sound that almost sounded like he was purring.

he stuck his tongue out, licking the lollipop from the top to the base, gradually going lower. his hands holding onto your thigh, like an actual puppy.

"are you pressing your legs together" you confirmed, noticing how his thighs were quivering. he whined.

"Hyunjin."

he halted his tactics at your tone. this wasn't a time for him to be a brat.

if he really wanted something up his cunt, he'd have to work for it. you'd make him earn it.

"e-empty" he whispered, blushing when you looked down at him.

"the fridge?" you joked, faking a confused look. to which his cheeks grew red.

"n-no"

"then what do you mean?"

"me...i want m-mommy" you laughed softly.

"but mommy is here, im right next to you baby" you teased, heart swelling as he hid his face in his hands. he stayed like that for a few seconds before shaking his head.

"I want you to fuck me damnit"

you jumped at his sudden outburst. frustration in his voice. he pulled away, sitting on his haunches. he knew he made a mistake. this wasn't how he could talk to you. a quiet sorry was what he whispered.

you pitied him. maybe this time you could let it go. have a little fun with him.

"take your pants off and lay on your back"

he shuffled around, shoving his pants off and laying back for you.

you couldn't help but stare right at his pussy. he was...wet? or had he been wet?

"were you needy during the entire shoot?"

embarassingly he nodded, subtly crossing his legs.

"oh my baby, it must've been so uncomfortable"

he nodded again. he loved when you doted on him. made him feel like he was nothing but a dumb dog who'd listen to anything you'd say.

"im giving you two options. can you be a good boy and answer well?"

he shook his head.

"either i fuck you with this lollipop or you can hump my thigh" you stroked his leg, watching how his expression changed.

"i want y-you"

"but this is me, puppy. i'm tired today... will you please let mommy rest-"

"you can rest mommy...but i can't decide"

"does puppy need me to decide for him?"

"yes please" he was so polite.

"how about the lollipop?"

.

hyunjin mewled as you pressed the tip of the bubblegum lollipop against his folds. the pink sugary substance mixing with his wetness. you prodded at his swollen clit. that looked like it was begging for attention.

"baby your pussy is so pink"

you couldn't help but admire it. the colour dripping down. his inner thighs stained with it.

it looked sweet. even sweeter since it was on his pretty cunt.

without much thought, you pushed his legs apart to lick a long strip. both of y'all moaning in unison.

"m-mommyyy no teasing" he mumbled, lips forming into a pout. you wanted to kiss it away.

"sorry puppy...i couldn't control myself"

you were in fact wet and aching.

you slipped the candy between his cunt. the tip rubbing deliciously against his clit. he was good enough to stay still and enjoy it despite being horny.

In times like this you would always put his pleasure before yours. he needed relief.

you nudged it in, watching how his pussy spasmed. so eager-

"w-wait"

you stopped all your actions. worried that you did something wrong. there was a long pause until hyunjin clambered over to you. choosing to sit on your lap. his naked thighs caging you in.

not to mention he was bigger than you, so he covered you whole. but in moments like this, he looked smaller. and cuter than ever.

he cupped your face with his shaky hands, gently pressing his lips against your parted ones.

you felt your heart race. what was he doing? it took you off guard. you wrapped your arms around his waist.

"s-sorry i stopped you..." he apologised, his eyes a bit teary. you felt your heart sink.

"whats wrong? did you not like it"

"no i loved it...i suddenly felt like i just wanted to be close to you. i just want to stick to you" hyunjin mumbled, leaning back in to capture your lips. the taste of cherry still lingering on his lips.

he kissed you like he had not got the chance to for weeks.

slow and so full of love.

you could feel tears forming in your eyes. it had been a long time since the both of you had done something like this.

the lollipop still resting in your hand.

#pls i suddenly felt so soft #like yes i wanna tease him #but at the same time #i wanna love him #and make him feel #like he's the goodest boy #it started off heavy and then turned so fluffy #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz drabbles #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin imagines #boypussy stray kids #boypussy hyunjin #sub!hyunjin #sub!stray kids #bang chan smut #lee know smut #stray kids headcanons #fluffylino works

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

part one | part two | part three 

You don’t mean to make an enemy of Eddie Munson — he’s handsome and talented, but he’s the biggest jerk you’ve ever met. Eddie thinks you’re infuriatingly pretty, emphasis on the infuriating. Eddie goes home, you’re on tour, and the lines between you both continue to blur.

fem!reader, enemies-to-lovers, rival rockstars, mutual pining, kisses! tender neck kisses <3, past miscommunication, angst, hurt-comfort, sexual tension, TW mentioned recreational drug use, drinking, smoking, swearing 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Hawkins, Indiana, December 1990

Eddie listens to his walkman until it runs out of juice. Through the flight from California to Indianapolis, the hours-long bus ride that stops just short of Hawkins, and the final connecting bus on the outskirts. Some metalheads listen to strictly metal, but Eddie likes variety occasionally. Plus, he doesn’t think it’s possible to have ears and not love The Rolling Stones’ Some Girls. 

He has one girl on his mind the entire journey home. He tries not to think about you. He makes himself sick shoving you down into a crevice of his heart, so he admits defeat. His fingers twitch, eager to write about you. He has some lyrics in mind. Evil wretched girl with wicked sweet hands. Heart eater. Soft around the edges. 

He wants to write about your stupid chubby thighs and how they look in skirts. He wants to write about your wrists, your knees and their ever-present bruises. Metaphors for your sickly sweetness won’t stick; cruel becomes kind. Taunting turns teasing. 

It feels like it’s eating him alive, spine first. You’re gnawing on his ribs as he hikes the half a mile from the bus stop into Forest Hills trailer park. He can feel your thumb rubbing makeup off of his cheek as he drags his suitcase up the metal steps to Wayne’s —Eddie’s— front door. 

“Wayne?” he calls. It’s pitch fucking dark. He’s surprised he got all the way here without falling in some ditch. “Could you let me in? It’s freezing.”

He hears stirring from inside. He calls out again in case his uncle changes his mind. “Wayne, it’s me. I’m sorry it’s late. Please don’t leave me out here.”

He’s joking. Wayne would sooner shoot Eddie dead than put him in harm's way. He’s always been that kind of parent, hiding his deep rooted worry underneath a feigned reluctance. Footsteps shuffle and floorboards creak. The door opens between them, and Eddie shoves his suitcase and backpack inside without properly looking at his old man. 

“Eddie, what the fuck, kid?”

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking up. Wayne’s squinting at him. He’s wearing jeans with deep creases. He must’ve been sleeping in them. “I timed it all wrong. Started coming home and I didn’t think about it. I walked here, you know that?”

Wayne hugs him. Eddie isn’t expecting it. It’s not like Wayne isn’t affectionate, he doles out shoulder claps and hair ruffles like candy, but their hugs are usually one-armed back-slapping affairs. This is a loose encircling with a scratchy cheek against Eddie’s forehead. 

“I’ve been worrying about you.”

Guilt sinks like a stone to the bottom of his stomach. Eddie kind of feels like he might puke. He wraps his arms around his uncle and breathes in his smell. Diesel and grease, sure, but so much louder than that is his mint and rosemary soap. 

The weight of Wayne’s arms over Eddie’s shoulders is one of his favourite feelings. He hadn’t realised how much he missed it, but then… maybe he had. 

He wants to tell Wayne there’s no need to worry, but he’s never been good at lying to him. “Think I might have fallen off the wagon, Wayne.”

“Well. Happens to all of us.” He pats Eddie’s back and steps away. He doesn’t look any older than the last time Eddie saw him. In fact, he looks good. Puffy-eyed but healthy. “I thought for sure I’d have to come track you down and drag you back for Christmas myself.”

Eddie locks the door and Wayne shuffles into the kitchen promising coffee and cake. He should protest, tell Wayne he can go back to bed and they’ll catch up in the morning, but he missed the small stuff like this, when he’d get home late from band practice or a midnight premiere of a sci-fi flick and his uncle would be sitting up waiting. 

Eddie loves being home. There’s something to be said about living like the rich —he loves all the high ceilings and endless cushy carpeting— but nothing feels as good as coming home. His room is exactly how he left it minus a few ashtrays and his super unsecret pot stash. The poster wallpaper and the cheap paint. His raggedy bedspread and the corners tucked in haphazardly by tired hands. Eddie resists the want to dive under the covers and slide into the dip in his mattress. He knows every box spring in that fucker, and he missed it. 

Eddie drops his bags at the end of the bed. All the clothes in his suitcase smell like Coors Light, so he changes into rags he left behind, a too-big pair of plaid pyjamas that slip down his hips and a sleeveless Motörhead shirt. Maybe. The emblem is worn to nothing but black lines. 

He follows the smell of coffee through the hallway and into the Munson kitchen, tightening the drawstrings of his pants as he goes, chin tucked to his chest. “I’m losing weight, Wayne, I’m like a fucking twig.”

“Don’t tell me that shit. God knows I taught you how to take care of yourself.”

“I’m stupid. I’m really stupid, actually.”

Wayne whacks the coffee maker. It whirs. “Pick a mug, son.”

“You been cleaning? I don’t wanna look down and see a spider in my cup.”

“Have you been cleaning?” Wayne asks. 

“It’s insane how much I haven’t been cleaning.”

“Some things don’t change.”

“You fucker,” Eddie says, laughing up a storm as he picks out his favourite mug, the Garfield one with a big scratch down the left side. 

“You fucker,” Wayne snaps back. “I should send you packing for the bad language alone.”

“They don’t make you clean your hotel rooms, Wayne, that’s the point of them.”

“I raised you better than that.”

“You did. I keep it classy, I swear, I just,” —Eddie sits down in his chair, watching Wayne stir in milk and sugar just the way he likes it, and feels more than sees as a familiar contentedness like a Gaussian film settles over their easy conversation— “don’t clean up after Gareth. He’s a monster.”

“Do me a favour, Eds. Try and be the best you can be, alright?”

He swallows. He purses his lips. A peculiar lump grows in his throat, but he bites it back and squares himself up. “Yeah. I will.” He thinks about all the parties and powders and girls. He’s never done any cruel shit to anybody and he’s a sweetheart with the ladies, but  there are times when he’d known he was lying before he even said he’d call. He thinks about some of the shit he’s said to you and has to wipe his sweaty palms off on his shirt. 

“I know we didn’t have shit when you were growing up,” Wayne says, not tearful or resentful, just honest as he passes Eddie his mug of coffee and sits down. “And all that money must feel good–”

“It’s not like that,” Eddie says.

“When I see my nephew on TV smashing up equipment worth more than his house–”

“I already told you on the phone it was an accident. And it wouldn’t be worth more than this if you actually cashed the cheques I send you. I know they aren’t bouncing.”

“I don’t want your money, Eddie,” Wayne says gently. It’s odd but not uncommon to hear him speak in such dulcet tones. “That’s not what I raised you for.”

“I know, you–” He cuts his insult off at the stem and scratches his head instead.

Eddie isn’t hankering for a tongue lashing tonight and his scalp is too itchy to focus. He hasn’t washed his hair in a week. It’s obvious just looking at him, curls weighed down and straightened out from the sheer grossness of it. “Shit, I’m disgusting,” he says. 

“You’re gross,” Wayne agrees. “I’ll cash a cheque when the bank opens and get you a bottle of degreaser.”

Eddie hides his smile with a long sip of coffee. It’s hot and awful, ‘cause no matter how much love Wayne puts into it, dollar store coffee tastes like burnt grounds from the get go. Eddie missed it more than anything. Sometimes he’s in the back of the queasy tour bus or lying on the floor in his hotel room coming down off of something risky and all he can think about is Wayne’s coffee.

Wayne has a hard and fast rule about drugs: if it isn’t green, I don’t want you touching it. Eddie still remembers the gasket he blew when he found that little baggy of red and white pills shoved inside an altoids tin. He can’t imagine telling his uncle what he really meant when he said he fell off the wagon. 

Hey, Uncle Wayne, I have this weird love-hate relationship with a girl I don’t really know, and I got caught up doing party drugs (unrelated to our relationship) until I got so high I blacked out, and when I woke up she was there and she was looking at me like you look at a bird with a broken wing, you know? Anyway, the memory of her face won’t leave me alone. It makes me feel like crying. So I haven’t touched anything in two weeks and I thought coming home for Christmas would make up for all the secrets I’m keeping, but now—

Now Eddie doesn’t know what he was thinking. He can’t tell Wayne any of that shit. He wouldn’t even know where to start. 

Wayne would ask something like, It took a girl for you to realise drugs are bad news? And Eddie would say back, No, that’s not it, it wasn’t just her. 

“I’m sooooo fucked,” Eddie says slowly, mildly, scrubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers. He drags his hands down his face and blinks against the burning he’s left in his wake. 

“You’re not fucked, kid. Lemme cut you a slice of cake.”

Wayne cuts him a slice of cranberry coffee cake and Eddie eats it in two bites. Wayne makes him a burger after that. He doesn’t know what time it is, if it’s closer to night or morning, but Wayne doesn’t mention it until the burger’s gone and an alarm clock is ringing. Eddie watches his uncle truck into the living room and feels crestfallen though he doesn’t deserve to. Eddie hasn’t been home in months. He imagines Wayne alone at the kitchen table with an empty greasy plate waiting on him and wants to cry again. 

Wayne returns in coveralls. He gets a good look at Eddie’s face and sighs, dropping a heavy hand into Eddie’s dark hair. 

“It’ll be fine,” Wayne says. 

I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. For being a bad kid. 

He’d said that once. Wayne was sweeping up a smashed plate after a long shift and Eddie, thirteen and defeated with an ache where his mom should’ve been, had been trying to apologise. It had felt so crushing, that broken plate. The last straw. He’d had tears running down his pale cheeks, his hands in his hoodie pocket desperately grabbing at one another. 

And when he’d said it, Wayne had just looked at him. On his knees with a brush, glass shards shining on the linoleum between them. 

You think you’re a bad kid?

Wayne isn’t old and he definitely hadn’t been back then. Thirty something with a crying teenager and what felt like all the world's self-loathing crammed into a tiny kitchen. Eddie’s older now, and he knows how much Wayne gave up for him. Not just his bedroom, which had been relinquished with little more than a shoulder squeeze and five dollars for posters, but a life. Wayne could’ve done anything. Could’ve been a rockstar. 

I ruin everything, he’d said. Teenage angst, maybe, but Eddie felt it in his bones. 

You ain’t ruined anything. 

He hadn’t known what to say so he’d cried, waiting for that nice heavy hand that tussles his hair and pats his back to finally strike out. 

Eds, you’re not a bad kid. Said so quietly. With a steadiness that meant truth. You’re my kid. Could I make a bad kid?

And yeah, there had been a threshold of sincerity and they were passing it. It was the late 70’s. Boys really didn’t cry. At least, not in public. So Eddie wiped his snotty nose in his sleeve and laughed, and then he got on his knees to clean up. 

“Try and sleep,” Wayne says now, older but unchanged otherwise. Still ridiculously forgiving of his not-so-young sprog. He looks at Eddie with his lips pressed together. Eddie wonders if he’s going to hug him again, but Wayne shakes his head. “Shower, you animal. I’ll be back early.”

Eddie sleeps. He showers. He washes his hair three times and doesn’t use conditioner so his curls don’t really curl but it’s fine. It doesn’t matter. He had a moment in the shower where he swore he remembered something you said to him when he was blackout on sniff cut with procaine and booze. Your voice tentative, the heat of your hand on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

He moans into his damp hands, limp hair hanging either side of his head and dripping into his pyjama pants. He can’t forgive his younger self for all the sleeveless shirts, not when Hawkins feels colder than the arctic circle and the window seal in the kitchen has been leaky for the last five years.

He thinks about going shopping, because no matter what Wayne says about degreaser, Eddie’s starting to realise that his uncle won’t be cashing any of the cheques he sent home, and if he wants Wayne taken care of he’s gonna have to do this shit himself, but he doesn’t know where his key is. 

“I’m a fuck up,” he says, catching his eye in the mirror as he straightens out. 

His reflection frowns at him. 

He did manage to get Wayne some shit from California before he came home; a real brown leather jacket from the 60s with minimal wear, though if Wayne wears it is another thing entirely; a Roy Orbinson record that’s miraculously unwarped despite Eddie’s poor packing; more sweatshirts than his uncle could ever wear through. Eddie knows he’ll try. 

There’s some other stuff. CD’s and a nice edition of War of the World’s. Whatever he could stuff in his backpack. 

“Are you going home for Christmas?” you’d asked him. 

He sat on the bottom step of a huge staircase and you the one above him. People walked around you without notice. Two rocks in a stream bed.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? You aren’t sure?”

He’d got stuck looking at your cheek, the soft curve of it and the highest point, where light like a small star had kissed you and turned his stomach, that’s how sick with envy he was. 

“I get it,” you’d said, “things at home aren’t always easy.”

“Not that. My Uncle Wayne is my hero.”

“And you still don’t wanna go home?” you’d asked gently. 

“It’s not about what I want.” He remembers this part in detail. He’d stopped looking at you, laying back against the stairs, each step digging into his back. The ceiling had been far away. 

You’d inched into his frame of view, looking down at him with an expression unreadable to his mixed up head. You weren't quite smiling. He still isn’t sure what it meant. 

“It is. That’s the whole point,” you’d said. 

Eddie’s all memory this morning. The ones with Wayne had felt less memory and more story, because memory is unfaithful, and over time we start to break down on the details, putting want in place of fact. But your face hovering above his as the soft strands of your hair ghost against his jaw, all your glitters and the shiny pink sheen on your lips, that’s closer. He remembers how you smelled, and how your tongue peeked out to wet your lips uselessly between words. 

Jet lag and the general feeling of you keeps him lethargic, but he cleans the house (and he’s always said house, even if some people don’t agree, it houses him, fuck you Jenny P from eighth grade grade) and makes dinner ready for Wayne when he gets home. He puts the radio on and tunes into Roller FM. When one of Godless’ songs comes on, he’s not surprised. He listens with his head lolled against the kitchen wall, eyes closed, and tries not to think about your fingers choking the neck of your bass guitar. 

—

Indy Rock Centre, Indianapolis, January 1991

Whoever arranged the tour is a sadist. You can’t believe that a team of professionals sat around a long glossy table with their coffee cups and finger foods and thought, yeah, that will work. You feel like you’re being fucking yo-yo’d between states. 

When you’d joined godless as a stand in for Millyanna, your dates had been plentiful but never as disorganised. Nothing compares to this shit. You wonder if going crazy is a sign of making it big, or if maybe you’re not cut out for all of this after all. 

Jan 22, Kalamazoo, Missouri. Jan 23, Toledo, Ohio. Jan 25, Los Angeles, California. Jan 26, Philadelphia; Jan 28, Indiana, Jan 29, Wisconsin. February? Back in Missouri, back in Ohio, a couple more state dates and then bam — Canada. Don’t worry though, after a week in Canada, you’ll never guess where you’re playing. 

Fucking Florida. 

At least you aren’t alone in your torture. For starters, there’s Morgan, your singer, and Ananya, your drummer, who will also endure and suffer. Then there’s the roadies, the techies and the groupies. The opening acts. The managers, the assistants, the personal assistants, the boyfriends and girlfriends and wives and mistresses. 

And what’s more, you're one of the hundreds of bands touring in North America this year. Maybe thousands. You certainly aren’t the first musician to have to suck it up and tough it out. 

Still, you like to complain. 

It’s your right, for dealing with Morgan. And also— you aren’t getting paid for the tour until after the tour is over, so really complaining is the wealth of the soul. You do get a weekly allowance, which is awesome and not something you were getting beforehand, working instead on an invoice. You’d play a show, you’d get paid for the show. This time you’re getting a flat rate at the end of the tour that’s been contractually agreed upon. It’s more money than you’ll ever know what to do with. One of the more shameful ways you waste time in your little bus bunk is trying to figure out where to put it.

I want a house, you think. A mortgage on a small, pretty house where the weather isn't too hot or too cold. And a puppy. Probably. Maybe a fish tank. I want a bed that spans from one wall to another and… 

You wince. For a moment, you’d seen something stupid, a pale face hidden in the pillow across the way. 

Two puppies, you think forcefully. 

You’ve played four shows already this week. You have one tonight in Indy Rock Centre, and another tomorrow in Wisconsin. You got to stay in the warm, non-vibrating luxury of a hotel room last night, but tonight you have to play the show and get straight back on the bus. 

“You’re gonna glare holes in her. What did she do?”

You stop your mindless staring and come back down to earth. Ananya’s smiling at you, thick eyebrows lifted in wait for your answering gossip. You’d been staring at Morgan where she’s sitting across the room in a plush armchair, cucumbers over her eyes and swarmed by makeup artists and hairstylists with a pedicurist at her feet. 

Ananya does all her make up herself. You want to ask her to do yours, but you worry her messy sweetness won’t suit you. She overlines her already big lips with a sticky red-pink, giving her an effect of having just been kissed (a lot), and rings brown eyes with a slick black kohl. 

“She hasn’t done anything. Yet. Today.”

“She has been a monster, hasn’t she?” she asks, sinking down into the couch with a sigh. She flicks her hair over her shoulder. Her curls are so healthy they bounce.

You hum your agreement and slide down with her. Touring again, Ananya has remembered how much it sucks to be alone without allies. Morgan gets especially volatile from the stress and close quarters. She’s nicer when you’re alone. 

She’ll still ditch you at a moment's notice, but you get it. It’s like high school. 

You miss Dornie. 

It’s cruel to make a friend and suddenly lose them. You can’t help thinking he won’t want to be your friend again the next time you see him. It had been so nice… so peaceful, to know there was someone in your corner. Dornie doesn’t care how famous you are or how much money you’re making. He just wanted to make sure you got home safe and talk about old movies. 

“I’m gonna go find something to drink,” you say. 

Ananya nods. “Bring me back a coke?”

“Yeah.”

Morgan stops you on your way out with a foot in front of your legs. “Hey, killer, I gave one of your passes to a fan earlier. Is that cool?”

“Morgan, when have you ever cared about my opinion?”

“Ooh, meow,” she croons, taking a cucumber from her eye to squint at you. “What’s the matter, baby? I figured you weren’t using them.”

You smile at her. You can’t help yourself. She stopped hurting your feelings a long time ago. “You want a drink from the machine?”

“Sparkling water, serf.”

If you smudge her nail polish on the way past it isn’t your fault. It isn’t cool with you that she’s given away one of your passes, even though you ask your general manager Angel to give them out at the beginning of the show every night. It’s presumptuous! Normal people don’t do stuff like that without asking.

Serf…

Your nose wrinkles. The dressing room door closes at your back and you take a moment to recall where you’d seen the bank of vending machines in the maze of white hallways. Indy Rock Centre is one of the biggest venues in Indianapolis, and you’ve been here before countless times on the other side to see Black Sabbath, Metallica, The Stacey’s, Doorway to Cooperstown. It’s where all the biggest and best get to play. You wish they’d given you a map. 

You can still walk around without getting recognised. You’re not a superstar, just a guitarist. You smile at people who smile at you and avoid the rest, dodging past black polo shorts wheeling equipment and busybody higher ups barking orders. Someone stands in a corner talking on a brick of a handheld phone. You stare at him for a bit. You’ll never get used to it, phones without wires. Next there’ll be TVs without satellites and electric guitars without amps. 

The vending machine shines like a red beacon at the end of the hallway. You hurry to it, feeding the machine your crumpled per diem one dollar at a time. You get a coke for Ananya, sparkling water for Morgan. When it gets to your own drink, the machine starts to revolt. It spits your dollar out unsympathetically. You pull it from the mouth and flatten it against your thigh.

It doesn’t work again. You nibble your bottom lip. Dollar pulled taut between your two hands, you lift your knee and rub it against your stockings. 

“Fucking fuck,” you whisper, watching in mild horror as the machine accepts and then rejects your dollar for a third time. 

You tuck it back into your purse, a pretty leather thing that clasps shut and fits perfectly in the small pocket of your jacket. It’s your luck, but whatever. They’ll probably bring a couple of bottles of water to the dressing room in a bit. Maybe even a cocktail bar. 

“Hey.”

Your internal monologue chokes. You question your senses for the split second it takes you to meet his eyes — baby browns, soft and flush with gorgeously long lashes. If there’s one thing about Eddie Munson, it’s that he has very sweet eyes. Not the kind you can replicate in daydreams. 

He’s dressed like a bitch. You’re so sick of him. He has his jacket tied around his waist and his shirt has no sleeves, the alarmingly shapely stretch of his arms on full display. Black ink climbs the hills and ridges of his stark veins, his herd of bats jumping as he offers you a dollar. 

You take it. You aren’t sure what to say, so you bask in the almost-silence, every nerve aflame as you feed the vending machine and click the button for your drink. Equipment cages rattle. Radios chirp. Your drink thinks from behind the red Coca Cola panel down into the bottom of the machine for collection. 

“What’re you doing here?” you ask finally, squatting to grab your drink. 

You stand, train your eyes on the floor, shove your drink under your arm, and crack open your purse to give him your defective dollar in exchange. He takes it without fanfare. 

“Are you busy?” he asks. 

Regrettably, no. The majority of soundcheck is done, and the show doesn’t start for hours. He gestures to the left and you follow, stupidly, with no idea where he’s leading you to and not a clue what he wants, leaving Morgan and Ananya’s drinks for whoever finds them. Eddie’s jeans aren’t as loose on his hips as they were the last time you saw him. His distracting arms are bigger, biceps like a taunt as he holds a door open for you. You take a breath as you pass him, but he doesn’t smell like anything. No sweat or cologne, no cigarette smoke. 

“Is it mean if I say you look good with clean hair?” you ask, squinting in the sudden brightness. 

He’s led you outside to the back of the venue. Your tour bus stands imposing at the end of the lot, surrounded by Godless branded vans and fancy cars. A truck beeps as it loads into the receiving area backward. 

“Probably.”

“You do, though. Look good.”

“So people tell me.”

Fuck, you think. Fuck it. If he’s gonna be weird about it then you’re pulling the olive branch back in and snapping it in half. 

The sky is white as snow. It hurts to look at, the sun like a steaming egg yolk covered in its own whites, thick clouds shielding her warmth. You pull the sides of your jacket together and button up, uninterested in catching a cold when the next six months of your life are planned down to the hour. Eddie puts his jacket on and zips it tight. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks. 

“Why?”

He pushes his hands into his pockets. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he felt self conscious. “Why not?” he asks. 

You nod. You and Eddie aren’t friends, but you aren’t not friends, either. You’re being cold because you’re seized with embarrassment, not because he deserves it. You have memories of his hand on your cheek, and a cherry stem between his teeth, and you don’t know what you said exactly but you know it hadn’t been amicable small talk. You hate him for knowing stuff about you that you’d wanted to keep secret, and you hate yourself more for telling him in the first place. 

“I came home for Christmas. I’m back in Los Angeles tomorrow night.”

“That’s convenient,” you say. 

“Just had to see you before I went,” he agrees. Deadpan humour is terrifying on him. 

He ducks under a low tree branch and holds it away from your face. Together, you begin to walk down the street and into the city, over patched sidewalks and past brand new stores. The mom and pop shops of your childhood are mostly gone. 

Conversations between you two have this odd oscillation between over familiarity and stilted nothings. You like over familiarity better, when you’re both prone to misunderstandings. You’d take snipping at one another over this strange quiet.  

“Is it nice? Being home?” he asks finally. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’ve been here for what, a month now? I just got here, and it wasn’t to see the ‘rents.”

Eddie lifts his chin to the sky a touch. Molasses of sunlight seep through the clouds now, racing to caress his waved hair and high cheekbones. “It’s been awesome,” he says, his eyes closed. His voice like tree bark, uneven but tough. “Makes me wonder what I liked about L.A. so much.”

“All the free stuff,” you offer. “And free girls.”

“The girls aren’t free,” he protests.

“You aren’t getting free girls?” you ask. 

“Are you?”

“Would that bother you?”

Close-lipped, his tongue pokes the skin under his bottom lip.

“You think stuff like that bothers me?” he asks. 

“It bothers some people.”

Eddie isn’t meeting your eyes consistently, but you don’t think he’s lying when he says, “No, it wouldn’t bother me. But my Uncle Wayne would fucking kill me if he heard me agree that the women are free.”

“How progressive.”

He visually bites back a laugh. He looks up from his shoes and sees you smiling and it breaks him, his laugh sputtering out in bits and pieces. “Shit, I’m just trying to be an okay person.”

You concede, “Fine, the girls aren’t free. They’re just very happy to sleep with you for very little reward.”

“Some might say the reward was, you know, pleasure–”

“Ew–”

“Don’t be childish. What did you want me to say? The reward is a long night of rough and tumble fucking–”

“I liked pleasure better,” you interject. You dance around a huge crack in the sidewalk and pause as you and Eddie reach a crossing. “All night? Really?”

“Want me to prove it?”

“I don’t think you could, Munson.”

“I could…” He rests his hand between your shoulder blades. “But I don’t think we’re there yet.”

He encourages you to cross the street, weaving and winding between parked cars, moving cyclists, and a small family bulldozing passers-bys with a twin stroller. When you’ve crossed to the other side uninjured, his hand falls away. The heat of his palm lingers.

“Good observation.”

“You’re sarcastic today. Or is being on the road making you cranky?”

“Being on the road is definitely making me cranky. It fucking sucks, I forgot how badly it sucks, and I don’t get paid day to day like I used to.”

“Oh, you’re getting a flat rate now? Go you, superstar.” Your walk is more of a crawl, the two of you turned to the left side of the street where children shriek and giggle in the outdoor seating of a restaurant. Eddie stops. “How’s the allowance?”

“You get one of those too?”

Eddie bumps his elbow into yours. “We’re kids. They know it. It’s pretty shitty considering how much money they make off of us in the end, but that’s an asshole thing to say, right? We’re lucky.”

You roll your shoulders. He’s more than right. Coming from nothing, a small town, with no college degree and no rich parents to float you, Eddie’s right. You might have talent and you might work hard but so do a lot of other people, and you’re here, and they’re working for minimum wage back home still hoping. 

You wish every kid like you could get to where you are, but they won’t. You’re more than lucky. You should buy a scratcher. 

“We’re fucking lucky,” Eddie says slowly. “And it’s awful anyways.” He grins. “Come to dinner with me?”

You blink. “What?”

“Dinner? I’ve been there before,” —he points to the restaurant you’d stopped across from— “and it’s nice.”

You’re insane and you agree. It’s not too fancy to feel like you’re on a date from the outside, and once you’re indoors you feel relaxed. With a glass of cider in your hands you feel positively giddy.

Eddie slouches back into a velvet booth seat that might’ve once been red. He keeps the jacket on and you’re grateful for it, lest you see his stupid nice arms and turn ditzy. His nose twitches as looks out over the restaurant floor toward the kitchen visible through a long window. It’s warm but not stuffy in here, the air fragrant with browning butter and minced garlic. 

The menus are sticky. You pretend to pour over one, not knowing what to say to break the silence. 

“I know I said you were being sarcastic,” Eddie says, “but I think I meant quiet. Even when you sound annoyed, I can barely hear you.”

“That’s dramatic,” you murmur, proving his point. 

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Well, in what way?”

“What way feels wrong to you?” he asks. 

Trapped. You sip your cold cider. He raps his knuckles against the table. “Come on, what have you got to lose? What did you say to me before?” His eyes soften. “Nobody would believe me if I told them.”

You tap your glass with your thumbnail. 

“I’m okay,” you say honestly. “Most of the time, I feel fine. Or, I forget what’s wrong.”

Eddie flicks his own glass. “Is this about feeling like nothing?”

“I don’t know why I told you that.”

“I have one of those faces.”

“And you were feeding me booze.”

“Don’t say that. You make it sound so shitty.”

“It wasn’t shitty,” you say. “Free drinks, right? What’s shitty about letting a pretty guy pay for you?”

“You think I’m pretty?” he asks.

You kick him under the table. You don’t know what comes over you, shy at your own honesty and irritated with his ridiculousness. I let you kiss me, you want to say. I’d let you do worse. Of course I think you’re pretty. You aren’t cruel — it’s more of a shove with the toe of your shoe. Eddie laughs through a gasp and kicks you back, heel of his converse flat to your calf. 

“You fucking–”

“Sweetheart?” he finishes. 

“No, fuck you. You string me around with your hot and cold act and now you’re coming to my shows taking me to dinner,” —your voice stiffens, thickens, as you glare at him from across the table— “asking me how I’m doing? And I’m the one who has to explain themselves? You tell me, Munson. Do I think that you’re pretty?”

Eddie’s sort of frozen, like a laugh got stuck in his throat and he really is surprised by your sudden anger. You might feel surprised yourself if you had the wherewithal. As it stands, your irritation and your want for an answer is too much.

He hits the toe of his shoe into yours. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry. I’m not… trying to string you around.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. You deflate, ashamed of your sudden outburst. Tired of all the games. 

“I think you’re pretty,” he says. 

“That’s not what I asked.”

“It’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

The food arrives and saves him. You want him to explain —you want him to expand, needily, on what he means and how much he means it— and he clearly doesn’t. He grabs his fork and starts shovelling pasta into his mouth like it’ll magically turn the conversation to something more palatable for him. 

“I’d like to change my answer,” you say.

Eddie swallows harshly. “Can’t. All compliments have been locked in. Maybe at our next cat fight.”

—

Eddie’s heart isn’t pounding like he worried it might when he asked you to follow him into the bathroom. He pictured sweaty, shaking palms, his hands hesitant, a reminiscent picture of a past self who didn’t know how to make girls make noise. He thought the next time he was alone with you, it would be the tragic scene from the movies where the boy bears his heart and the girl can’t accept it. He’s not expecting you to understand. It’s getting to the point where the mean shit he said to you isn’t made up of words anymore but the image of you in the Prover Theatre with your sparkling dress and your dull eyes. He hates that he made you feel that way, and he should say sorry. He feels fucking sorry. 

“Don’t cut me,” you say, quiet so you won’t be caught together. 

“I won’t.”

“When was the last time you did this?” 

“It’s like riding a bike,” he insists. “I haven’t forgotten.”

You simper. Propped up on the sink’s counter, your skirt hiking up your thighs (imagine him covering his face with his hands, rocking his head from side to side, you’re wearing garters) and your jacket falling into the basin. You’ve turned one arm toward him trustingly, but apprehension plays clear as day over your mouth. He wants to remark that your mouth is pretty, but it’s not the right word. Perfect feels closer, but again, it’s not what he wants. He has a fascination with how you talk and when you don’t, how your lips have a mind of their own sometimes, nibbled and popped and pouting. 

“It’s easier if you take your shirt off.”

“How many girls believed that one?” you ask happily. He’s ecstatic. Dinner perked you up and now you’re all smiles and warm laughs. He doesn’t know why you’d been angry with him (he does) because you started it (not really), but you got something off your chest at least. 

“None,” he says. “I’m serious that it’s easier. But you really don’t have to take it off for me to make it look good.”

Eddie wields his small pen knife toward your arm. 

“I like my sleeves,” you say as he takes the hem of one such sleeve into his free hand. 

“Don’t be a baby.” He pulls it taut from your skin. You’re both smiling. Carbs are good like that.

“I have fat arms,” you try. 

He’s out of his mind. Eddie leans down and kisses the top of your arm quickly. “Shut up,” he says.

He doesn’t have time to think about what he’s done. It’ll torture him tonight when all he has for distraction are hotel sheets, and then tomorrow on the red eye back to L.A. He honestly doesn’t wanna look at you because if your nose is even slightly wrinkled he’ll have to turn to the gross toilet in the corner and chuck up, but he also doesn't want to freak you out. He looks up at you from under his lashes. 

You look flustered. 

Not disgusted. 

“I’m doing it,” he warns. 

“Yeah,” you say, nearly normal. “Fine. Make me look cool.”

“You admit that I look cool.”

“No.”

Eddie digs the tip of his pen knife into your sleeve and starts pulling. The fabric tears away in a jagged-lined but even circle around your arm, broadening a tantalising stretch. His stomach hurts a bit. To reach your second arm, the one furthest from him, he has to take up station between your spread legs. Or maybe he doesn’t have to, but he does, your thighs like two warm spots either side of him as he leans in close. 

“And this is what’s gonna make them all like me, right? This is the cement of my street cred?”

“Your street cred? No. And I don’t think anything you do could make them like you.” You lean back at his words. He pulls you back in, fingers braceleting your arm as he fakes taking a measurement. “If they don’t like you already, they won’t. Not your fault, not your problem. Who says you even like them?”

“I do, though. That’s my problem. I even like Little Miss Fleetwood,” you grumble. 

He raises his eyebrows to show he’s listening, stabbing at your sleeve and tearing slow. “She still tripping you up?”

“No. I’m just trying to make you laugh.”

He laughs under his breath. “Mission accomplished, baby,” he murmurs. 

Both sleeves sliced, Eddie steps away from you, ignoring the heat in his stomach to take you in. People who don’t know where they stand shouldn’t be so close to one another, he decides, ‘cause wishful thinking has him marking your hands as wanting. Your fingers move slowly as if through water, tip of your index on the left hand stroking down the back of your right marriage. Eddie pins salaciousness on everybody he meets —coke is falling out of fashion fast but sex is always in— but he can’t get a faithful read on you now. He wants you to want to be kissed. Doesn’t trust that you do. 

“You look edgy.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” you ask.

“An awful way.”

You go quiet, your hands go still. You raise your head until it’s too much, and he realises he’s been moving back in. He drops the penknife in the sink on top of your jacket, putting his hand on your freshly bared arm and bunching the sleeve up as much as he can without it pulling at you. He’s greedy and he wants to palm at your skin like an asshole, that’s not your problem. 

“That bad?” you ask. 

He angles his face over yours. He needs two inches maybe three, and you’d be kissing. His hand falls down your arm to your elbow, clasping weakly over your skin. 

“No,” he says. He can barely hear himself. 

Greedy. His second hand comes up to your face, waiting, and when you lift your jaw just so he slots his hand under it and holds you. 

“What are we doing?” you whisper. 

What are ‘we’ doing? 

“Nothing you don’t want to do.” He widens the gap between you. 

“I know– I know that.” Your arm ventured forward, fingers twisting around the hem of his shirt. You tug it gently, pulling him forward again. “I just don’t understand it. You. I don’t get what’s happening, Eddie.”

“Well… I was going to kiss you.” Eddie fights to sound the way he feels, out of his element but so earnest his chest aches. “I really, really… want to kiss you.”

It doesn’t feel like admitting defeat, as he’d initially thought it might. Neither does it feel confessional. You can’t confess to a secret already known. 

He kisses you just once. A light brush of his lips against yours. Anymore than that and he knows he’ll start making promises like someone who has room for them. His eyes scrunch closed hard and he struggles not to squeeze your poor cheek as the pressure of your lips builds, as they part, as he pulls back and you chase him. He can’t kiss your mouth anymore than that, but your hands are grabbing at him, pleading and twitching and cold against the searing skin of his abdomen as they search underneath his shirt. Eddie feels the soft curve of your hip under his hand, knowing he can’t fuck you here, and undecided on whether that’ll be his ruin or his saviour. 

You shudder as he kisses down. His hands are hungry but his mouth is sweet, gentle like you deserve as he noses down the column of your throat. 

“I don’t get you,” you say, your fingertips sewn into his hair, scratching over his scalp lightly. Your breath catches as he parts his lips. His teeth scratch over the damp crescents of previous kisses. 

He loses himself in the ticklish feeling of your hand and the heat of your skin. “Hm?” he hums. 

“I understood you better when I thought you didn’t like me.”

He kisses up to the soft crook of your jaw before edging you away, just enough to see the sad set of your eyes. 

“Hey,” he says, utters, like you’re trading secrets. His thumb rubs your cheek, a rough touch. He’s never been much good at aligning his words with actions; his heart and his hands. 

He doesn’t know what to do to fix your sad frown. He kisses you again in case that’s what you wanted but couldn’t say, and it works for a handful of blessed, wretched seconds. You kiss back hard. Eddie has to break it to take a breath. 

You rest your forehead against his. It slides slowly to his nose, and eventually you’ve bowed your head, your hands slipping down to his elbows. 

“I feel sick all the time,” you say. Your hands flex against his skin. “The only time I feel alright is when I’m playing– when I’m making something.” You press your head to his chest. “Or when I’m with you.”

Eddie thinks of all the shitty decisions he’s made. His restlessness, his bad attitude. His propensity to assume the worst. How he’d taken your thumb rubbing a smudge off of his cheek in the Prover Theatre as a jab, rather than a helping hand. 

He wraps his arms around you. 

Your head fits under his rather well. 

“I know what you mean,” he says. And out of everything he’s told you today, that’s the hardest to say aloud. 

Eddie hugs you in the dim light of that dingy bathroom knowing he’s running on borrowed time. All too soon, you’re pulling apart and he’s helping you off of the counter unnecessarily. You don’t hold hands on the way back to Wings Stadium. He thought you might. You’re quiet. He tries to cheer you up, feeling more and more like he’s done something wrong the closer you get to the venue.

He doesn’t have anything to offer. You’re both on tour now. He doesn’t have a clue when he’ll see you next, or what he’ll say when he does. 

Miraculously, he gets you back to your dressing room. He gives your cheek a quick squeeze. 

“Play well tonight,” he says. 

“I always play well.”

You do. He watches you from the VIP section a couple of hours later, impressed. Mildly nauseous. His thumb worries the edge of the pass until it splits in his hand, paper coming apart from cardboard. Your singer might be a handful, but she knows when to be discreet. He slinks out before your set finishes through a side entrance, and his head races with your image. If it weren’t for your cut sleeves and the flank of your upper arm glowing under the stage lights, he’d put his kisses down to surreal delusion. 

Eddie doesn’t notice the lone photographer hiding in the eaves. 

The photographer notices him. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

!!! thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! if you did, please consider reblogging, it helps so much! Let me know what you thought, what bits you liked and what you want to see next

can you feel another spat coming along 0.0 I honestly had so much fun writing this one especially the scene with Wayne and then the end scene in the bathroom <3 it’s always crazy to see hours and hours condensed into chapters like this but idc I’m having the time of my life and hope u guys r too! the word count is now at a solid 26k I believe though so it does feel rewarding in that way

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst

[sincerestlove]

My Angel (Part 2) - R.G.

hello hello! so sorry i've been gone for a while - kinda lost inspiration and energy to write, but i wanted to put this out! so here is part 2 :) let me know if you'd like part 3, which will likely be the last part.

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: None; possessive Regina, oblivious, gay and pining Y/N, jealous and kinda crazy/obsessed Cady

hope you enjoy!

The next few weeks passed without much incident. Regina and I had been spending more and more time together, just the two of us - going shopping, trying new restaurants, sleeping over at her house. Some days, they almost felt like real dates.

Almost.

Halloween was coming up soon, and of course Regina decided to throw a party for our entire class. I was currently in Regina's room getting ready for said event - we only had a few hours before people would start showing up.

Regina looked gorgeous in her angel costume, finished with large, feathered wings. The costume was ironic, given her nickname for me.

Regina easily somehow convinced me to dress up in a matching devil costume, adorned with plastic horns and a pointy tail. I felt way out of my comfort zone in the outfit, but Regina insisted that I "looked hot", so I kept it on. Obviously.

Regina decided to do my makeup on top of it all, reassuring me that it wouldn't be too much, just a little to match the costume. I, once again, agreed, sitting in front of the vanity as she leaned over me. Her face was so close to mine, I could see the pretty colors of her eyes swirling together and the faint dusting of freckles on her cheeks. She looked absolutely breathtaking. I could feel my heart restricting in my chest by simply looking at her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Regina teased, a smirk resting on her painted lips. I felt myself blushing, clearing my throat awkwardly.

"Nothing, I just...your eyes are really pretty."

Regina smiled, flashing her white teeth at me. "Aw. Thanks, angel." She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek, lips lingering for a few moments. "You're sweet."

I don't think I could've been any redder.

Regina finished my makeup in silence, tongue poking out from between her lips as she concentrated. After a handful of minutes she was done, leaning back to let me see myself in the mirror. It actually looked really natural, which I was happy about. Looking closer, I noticed a bright red lipstick mark on my cheek. "Leave it. Looks cute on you."

I nodded shyly, smiling to myself as Regina turned around, cleaning up her room a bit, as people were going to start arriving soon. Not that anyone was going to come up here. If anyone did, she would actually throw them out her window. "You ready to go downstairs?" She glanced over at me, ensuring that my costume sat in all the right places.

"Yeah, let's go."

As we made our way down, Gretchen and Karen were already here, waving at us excitedly. They both looked super cute in their costumes.

"Hi, Y/N! You look so good!" They complimented me sincerely, moving to fix my hair a little so it fell just right over my shoulders. I looked around for Regina, but she had already left the room, finishing last minute touches on decorations and food prep.

"So...cute lipstick mark." Karen teased me playfully, fingers poking into my sides. Gretchen smirked. I rolled your eyes at the pair's teasing, hand instinctively moving to touch the mark, making sure not to smear it.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up, you two." I flipped them off jokingly, allowing them to drag me into the living room to set up the playlist for the night.

As the sunlight disappeared, people began flooding into the house, music pulsing through the speakers. I still hadn't seen Regina since earlier, a sad pang thrumming in my chest. I was sure she was just being a good party host, but another part of me felt like maybe she didn't want to spend time with me.

Karen made sure I had a drink in my hand to sip on throughout the night, and after a good while I felt myself start to loosen up a bit. Karen pulled me into the middle of the room, dancing to a song I had heard on the radio a few times, but couldn't possibly name.

It felt nice to relax and have fun for once, not thinking about schoolwork or responsibilities. The song was almost over, when I faintly heard someone calling my name. I looked around confused, until my eyes landed on someone in an actual scary looking costume. The girl waved at me, taking out her fake teeth to smile at me.

It was Cady.

Yikes.

I waved back reluctantly, turning my back on her to see Karen already cringing. "Why is she here?" She whispered-yelled. I shrugged, genuinely not knowing. Regina definitely didn't invite her. Karen continued, "You should be careful, Y/N."

I looked at her, confused. "Why?"

"'Cause she has a huge crush on you."

I laughed nervously, glancing over my shoulder to see Cady trying to push her way through the crowd toward me. Fuck. "Really?"

Karen nodded, eyes looking at me with sympathy. "Be careful, okay? I'll be right back, Gretchen is bitching about Jason again. He brought some other girl with him." I didn't want her to leave me alone, but I reluctantly let her go, hoping that I could get away before Cady reached me.

I couldn't.

"Y/N, hi!" I turned around, almost jumping out of my skin at Cady's costume. She looked even scarier up close, dark makeup and fake blood all over her face.

"Hi, Cady."

"Wow, you look great tonight." Her eyes wandered along my body, an immediate feeling of discomfort rushing through my veins. I didn't like the way she looked at me.

"Um...thanks. Your costume is...cool."

Cady lit up excitedly, smiling from ear to ear. "Really? You think so? I actually made it myself." I nodded at her ramble, glancing nervously around the room to see if I could spot Regina. I didn't see her or her gigantic wings anywhere.

"Do you want to dance? I love this song." Looking back at Cady, I noticed she had moved closer to me. I stumbled backwards in shock, apologizing to a girl from my Geography class that I bumped into.

"Oh, uh...I was actually just going to use the bathroom. I'll...be right back." Shooting her a nervous smile, I shoved my way through the crowd, thankfully close to the stairs. I made my way up and into Regina's room, breathing a sigh of relief as the door shut behind me.

Was she always so...weird?

"Hey, angel." An unexpected voice spooked me, looking over at the bed to see Regina sitting comfortably on it, eyebrows raised at me curiously. She must've noticed my anxious state because she stood up and walked over, cupping my face in her hands. "You okay?" I nodded, falling into her arms, almost knocking her over.

I just needed her comfort right now. The interaction with Cady left a bad taste in my mouth, not to mention what Karen told me about her.

"What happened?" Regina questioned, quickly taking me into her embrace, her feathered outfit tickling my cheeks. I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it just yet.

"I couldn't find you." I decided to say, nestling further into her warm arms. The blonde cooed at me, running a hand down my back soothingly.

"I just needed a break from all the chaos, so I came up here for a bit." She sighed, resting her cheek on the top of my head. "I didn't think so many people would show up."

I scoffed at her, fingers digging into her sides playfully. "You're the most popular girl in school, of course everyone is going to show up to your party, Gina." The vibrations of her laugh reverberated through my chest, causing me to smile.

"Yeah, well, the only person who I actually wanted to come to this stupid party was you."

I blushed at that, looking up at her to see that she was already looking down at me. Comfortable silence filled the air around us both for a few minutes. "Why are you so nice to me, Gina?" I asked her softly, only a little bit scared of her answer.

The blonde paused, just looking at me. There was something in her eyes that I couldn't quite place, but it made my heart skip a beat. Several beats, actually. "Because you deserve it." She said it as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

For some reason, the response made tears well up in my eyes. The sight made Regina's heart melt, her hands reaching up to gently wipe the dampened skin, careful not to ruin my mascara. "How about we go finish the rest of this party, and you can stay over? I promise not to hog all the blankets this time."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

~~~

You smiled softly, boldly taking Regina's hand in yours for once, the pair of you making your way back downstairs. You weren't paying attention to anyone but Regina, never taking your eyes off of her, bright smile never leaving your face.

So much so that you didn't notice Cady lurking in the foyer, eyes filling with hate at the sight of you with Regina.

She left the party without another word, stealing one last glance at you. It should've been her holding your hand. Not Regina.

~~~

"Fuck, I am exhausted." Regina groaned tiredly, flopping into the large couch at the front of her room.

I followed suit, falling face first onto her bed, feeling my own tiredness lingering deep in my bones. The two of us, along with Gretchen and Karen's help, managed to push the last few stragglers out the front door. I made sure to call the two girls an Uber home, ordering them both to text once arriving back at home. Regina dragged me to her room once the house was locked up, the pair of us exhausted by the events of tonight. 

Clean-up was a problem for the morning.

"Y/N, you need to take that makeup off."

I grumbled in protest, feeling way too comfortable on the massive bed, the sheets flooding my senses with Regina's scent. "C'mon, sit up. Let me take it off."

"Fine." I complained, but did as she asked, sitting up on the edge of the mattress. Regina was already waiting, looking at me with soft eyes. She could tell how tired I was, my eyes blinking slowly. Luckily I had already changed into a pair of her sweatpants and t-shirt. 

"I'll be fast, I promise." The blonde assured and moved to carefully straddle my legs, gripping my chin in her left hand, makeup wipe in the other. I was far too tired and far too drunk to actually realize that she, Regina George, who I had a big, fat, lesbian crush on, was actually sitting on my lap, gently wiping the makeup off of my face.

"There, see? Done." She kissed my forehead sweetly, adjusting some pillows to allow me to fully lay down while she finished getting ready for bed. I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the lights turned off eventually. The bed dipped beside me, Regina scooting closer to my side. She pulled me closer, adjusting me so that my head rested on her chest. Near her boobs.

Her boobs.

"G'night, Gina." I mumbled into her shirt, flinging a leg to wrap around her hips.

The blonde laughed lightly, holding me closer to her. "Goodnight, angel."

~~~

I woke up to a loud bang on the front door.

It startled me awake, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes to glance at Regina's large wall clock. The time read 1:23am. The house fell silent again, until the same loud bang resonated through the house. I could hear it even with Regina's bedroom door closed.

Speaking of, the blonde was still fast asleep beside me, arm slung around my shoulders. I gently removed her arm, slipping out of bed to go investigate the noise.

Was this a really stupid idea?

Yes.

But, I was also nosy and had a strong urge to protect Regina from anything and everything.

I grabbed my phone and put it in my pocket, moving slowly toward the door. I spotted Regina's old softball bat sitting in the corner of the room, decided that would be a good enough option to arm myself with.

The front door banged again. Fuck.

I took one last glance at Regina's bedroom door, choosing to keep it open. Gripping the cold metal bat between my hands, I descended the stairs, eyes flicking back and forth in case I spotted anything out of the ordinary.

"Open the door!" A loud, slurred voice yelled from the other side of the front door, my eyebrows furrowing at the sound. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

"Helloooo?" The person called out again, fist pounding incessantly on the wood. Taking a step to the side, I peeked out the side window, stomach sinking through the floor once I saw who it was.

They were still clad in their Halloween costume, hair messy and eyes looking scarily glazed over. I don't even know if they realized where they were right now.

It was Cady.

My heart rate sped up, hoping and praying that she would just leave. "Y/N," She sing-songed, the sound sending an uncomfortable chill up my spine. "I know you're in there. I can smell that bitch all over you."

Bitch? Was she talking about Regina?

Cady laughed, sounding way past drunk. She was nearly falling over onto the pavement, knocking over the potted plants in the front yard. "Come out here, Y/N. You should be with someone better. You should be with me."

I took a deep breath, willing myself to speak. "Get the hell out of here, Cady. You're drunk." The redhead just laughed, moving back to lean against the door. She kicked it a few times, the sound making me jump.

"Let me in, Y/N. You can come home with me instead. That bitch doesn't even like you. She's just using you for attention - you follow her around like a lovesick puppy." Cady hiccuped before continuing. "She keeps you around just to make herself feel better. She doesn't give a fuck about you. You think I didn't see you two holding hands at the party? That meant nothing to her, just like you mean nothing to her."

I don't know why I was so emotional, but Cady's words stung my heart deeply. I began to question if what she was saying might have some truth behind it. Did Regina really not like me? Was she just using me all of this time?

The silence that filled the home was deafening. So much so, that I began to cry, sliding to the floor of the foyer. The softball bat clanked onto the marble floor, pulling my knees up to my chest like a child. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but every ounce of emotion that I had been holding in, seemed to all pour out at once. My feelings for Regina, my fears about how she felt for me and Cady being a total stalker weirdo, all coming out right now. So very timely. I'm sure all of the alcohol I had wasn't helping. 

Cady continued drunkenly yelling for me outside - I had to cover my ears to try and drown it out. I wasn't sure how long I was sitting there, but eventually, I heard footsteps running downstairs. Regina entered the foyer, a frenzied look on her face. She was looking for me, but kept her eyes on the door for a beat. "Y/N? Where are you?" She called out, eyes alert and quickly scanning the room. They landed on me curled up on the floor, tears streaming down my face. The blonde rushed over, hands resting on my shoulders. "Hey, hey, it's okay, I'm here. What is going on? Who the hell is that?"

Before I could even say anything, Cady pounded on the front door. "The queen bitch is here! Regina George!" Regina's eyes steeled, turning to face the noise. She grabbed the bat in her hands, standing up and marching over.

"Gina, don't!" I cried, fear bubbling up in my chest for her. I didn't know if Cady had some kind of weapon or something that could possibly hurt Regina. Just the thought of that terrified me.

The blonde stopped in her tracks, glancing over her shoulder at me. She sent me a reassuring, confident smile, that sent flutters in my chest. "Don't worry, angel. I've got this. I won't ever let anything happen to you." She gripped the bat tighter, flipping it in her hands. "Plus, that bitch made you cry. She's not getting away with that."

Without wasting another moment, she swung the door open. I scrambled to my feet and followed closely behind her, peeking around the door to see Cady, completely wasted. It was almost scary. She didn't look like a human being.

Regina fully squared her body to the redhead, raising the bat over her head. "Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Lawn."

Cady simply laughed, acting as if she had no regarding or understanding of the situation. She was just talking out loud and to no one in particular. "Look here, one and all! The bitch is acting tough!" Cady turned to Regina, a scary looking smile on her face. "You don't deserve Y/N. Give her to me."

Regina's brows furrowed, eyes darkening - there was a look on her face that I'd never seen before. Regina looked genuinely scary. "Give her to you?" The blonde stalked closer, looking even taller than she actually was. Even from here, I could see the vast height advantage that Regina had over Cady. "Y/N is not my, or anyone's, property." Regina spat, moving closer with each sentence. Cady's face was slowly changing, her glazed eyes beginning to realize the grave mistake she made and who she was standing in front of. "She does not belong to me. She chooses to be here, she chooses to be around me." Cady began to walk backwards, almost tripping over the shrubs scattered across the lawn. 

"Me. Not you. You want to know why? Because I appreciate her, I adore her, I would to anything for her, I treat her with the respect that she deserves. You could never give her that." The blonde didn't stop advancing. "You think I haven't seen how you look at her? Like a fucking piece of meat?" She was in Cady's personal space now, stopping directly in front of her face. "You don't know a god damn thing about me, or her, or our relationship. You will never hold a flame to that. Ever." Regina clenched her hands, knuckles nearly white around the bat. "If I ever see you near me, Y/N, or my home again, I will fucking kill you. Don't speak to her, don't look at her, don't breathe the same air as her. You don't deserve to." Regina simply pointed in the opposite direction of the house before speaking one final sentence, voice dripping with venom. "Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Lawn. Before I call the police and ruin your entire life."

Cady, with the fear of God in her eyes, stumbled off in the direction Regina pointed, thankfully not turning around or stopping. I let out a deep sigh of relief I hadn't realized I was holding, running out into the yard to Regina. She stood there with her shoulders slumped, breathing heavily. The bat slipped from her hands and fell onto the grass. "Gina!" I called out to her, nearly football tackling her to the ground. Luckily she steadied me, holding me snug to her own body.

She was shaking.

"It's okay, Gina. She's gone. It's over."

The blonde broke out into a sob, gripping onto my arms tightly, as if I would disappear. "I was so scared, Y/N. I woke up and you were gone. I heard the banging, and I thought the absolute worst." She cried into my hair. I rubbed circles into her back soothingly, reassuring her that I was safe, nothing happened to me, and everything was fine. I don't know how long we were standing there, holding each other.

It was something we both needed, I think.

"Come on. Let's go inside." The blonde nodded in agreement, taking my hands as we walked inside, together. Regina triple checked that the front door was locked before guiding us both upstairs and back into bed.

this is the end of the main storyline! i have a part 3 basically ready to go, which is basically just a time skip of y/n and regina's relationship.

i will be working through the rest of my asks in my inbox before opening requests back up again!

thanks again for reading! it means the world to me!

#regina george x reader #regina george

[queenofcoquette]

how i started to feel pretty

hey loves! i’ve struggled with feeling insecure over my looks, but recently i’ve made changes that have helped me be less insecure. little improvements with my lifestyle and mindset have already made a big difference. first i’m going to talk about my insecurities, then what i did and then general tips.

my insecurities:

hyperpigmentation. i have bad undereye bags due to genetics that landed my family to call all of our eyes “raccoon eyes.” then redness above my eyelids, then darkness above my upper lip no matter how much i shaved. 

facial asymmetry. we all have it, but i felt so bad anytime i took a selfie and i couldn’t bear to take any photos of myself. 

body dysmorphia. this one is weird. i don’t view my body the way others do, and honestly the way i view it changes all the time.

changes i’ve made:

first i started doing things that didn’t help. they were temporary solutions that did nothing. i used concealer and powder for the hyperpigmentation- but it looked cakey and a little ashy-kinda cuz i wasn’t using a color corrector. for my body i did these “abs in 2 weeks!” challenges during covid, and was restrictive, which is the worst thing you can do for yourself.

for my skin:

i started using the glycolic acid serum by the ordinary. this stuff is life changing! i’ve been going makeup free on my skin lately and my skin tone has gotten so much more even. plus it’s affordable and it’s a giant bottle.

for my face:

i started doing face massages for muscle tension

i also realized that my facial asymmetry is 1) normal (we all have it to a certain extent and 2) it’s probably not as bad as i think it is. 

for my body:

i’ve started to focus more on health than appearances, because that my view of my body is distorted. i don’t see it like other people do, so i need to prioritize my health. i started eating MORE- more foods that are healthy, more fruits and vegtables. instead of restricing i allowed myself to have more.

i developed a pilates plan that focused on building strength, and incorporated a little bit of weights. now that i play sports i’ve put an emphasis on strength which has actually helped me get more toned.

journaling. i began to write down about my feelings- the way i view other people vs. the way i view myself. it made me realize how social media gave me an unrealistic image, and how i wasn’t viewing myself the way i really am.

advice:

what are you insecure about? the first step is just writing down your biggest insecurities- aka why don’t you feel beautiful? what made you feel this way? no one is born feeling ugly- we’re all taught to feel this way, whether it’s comments that have been made to us or others.

find people with similar stories. this helped me in the past, watching videos about people who had the same insecurities as me, it opened my eyes to how harshly i treat myself. 

get to the root of it. for my skin i realized that covering up my hyperpigmentation with makeup wouldn’t solve the problem, so i put an emphasis on incorporating things into my skincare routine that could solve the problem, without makeup!

think in the long-term. think about what’s healthy for you, and the most natural way of doing so. for example, when it came to my body i had to think about what’s healthy for me overall, not a quick fix. quick fixes aren’t attainable!

prioritize mental and physical health. i think we should all embrace our natural beauty by focusing on our skincare and the health of our hair. additionally, mental health is equally important, especially when it comes to body image.

positive thinking. a lot of times we tend to vocalize our negative thoughts, ive heard ppl make horrible comments about their bodies and things like that. first of all, stop saying those things out loud- you’re only reaffirming them in your head, and furthering the bad feeling. when you get horrible thoughts about yourself, try to stop them and replace them with good ones. even if you don’t believe it at first, you soon will.

it sometimes takes a while for beautiful people to realize how gorgeous they are. i had friends who i thought were some of the prettiest girls in the world, but they didn’t even realize it. i bet there’s so many people in your life who look at you and see the beauty in you that you don’t see in yourself. just stay healthy and keep positive thoughts, and i hope in time you’ll see your inner and outer beauty.

#that girl #that girl 2023 #self improvement #pink pilates princess #queenofcoquette

[mngo-jii]

☆ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 (𝐡𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝) 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 CRUSHING HEADCANONS ! 🐚

✉️ : i guess ill write it myself then (p.s. i havent written in MONTHS but you have NO right to tell me this sucks because this is the most you can get for hpma x reader 😠 /j) I'm open to requests, I'm bored

Daniel Page, who accidentally messes up his potion from staring at you too hard—who, on the other hand, was too fixated and focused on trying to help him ferment the mixture with what he had teached you so far.

Daniel Page, who constantly, indirectly calls you pretty.

Lottie had asked for advice on who she should draw to practice anatomy on, adding that it should be someone who has relatively pretty features so it won't be too hard to captivate. On the spur of the moment, Daniel was the one who almost immediately responded with your name.

Daniel Page, who always offers to help you study for exams, of course without a remark on how you "always need him" first.

Daniel Page, who ironically always needs you, and goes to you for help even though everyone else is a 100% available and a lot more suitable for the situation.

Daniel Page, who's slowly getting used to sneaking out at night with you to explore Hogwarts even further. To the point he could almost feel a pang of disappointment when you decide not to go.

"Alright," he speaks through his usual accent, "It's better not to get hung up by Mr. Filch anyway." He wishes you a goodnight after you do and tries to ignore the way his shoulders slump and how his mood lightly drops.

Daniel Page, who randomly gets reminded of how pretty you are despite the light frown you have displayed on your face as a result of whatever he said.

Additionally, Daniel Page who can't help but halt his speech when he realises how pretty your pout looks and the way you sassily cross your arms at him, so out of patience yet ready to hear him out. Hence why he always ends up "reluctantly" complying with your plan instead of his.

Daniel Page who covers up the fact that he wants you to dance with him "as a favor."

Daniel Page who gives you a flower because it was an "extra herb" he didn't need (even though he could have kept it for the next potion that acquired it), and makes up an entire potion when you asked what it was used for.

Daniel Page who suddenly distances himself from you when you start hanging out with another male student—

Daniel Page who says it was he who was "your first" and who has been on adventures with you more than anyone else and asks what's so special about said male student once you worriedly ask him what's going on

Daniel Page who's stuttering, awful lying, and flushed face never fail to give him away every time the others question him about you

Daniel Page who looks like a beaten-up puppy whenever you choose someone else over him. Notwithstanding it might be the smallest matter as to accompanying you to go back to your dorm to pick up something you forgot ☠️

Daniel Page who starts to stammer and sweat when you ask his opinion on how a certain outfit, accessory, or makeup looks on you— His response either being "It-it looks fine" or "uhhh um 🧍🏻‍♂️"

Daniel Page who feels guilty about the lack of solid answer he had given you, not to mention the pout on your face once you back away.

So he apologises afterward and straight up tells you that you're always pretty, and that he doesn't understand why you need to be told that when you'll always be the same or even prettier in anything you wear 🤷🏻...

Daniel Page who goes blank when he realises what he had just said ☹️

Just Daniel Daniel Daniel Daniel <3 he's a cutie patootie fr

a/n: GOD I ACTUALLY DON'T LIKE THIS ITS THE BEST I COULD DO IM SORRY

#(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ— written by lnr #hpma #hogwarts magic awakened #hpma x reader #hogwarts magic awakened x reader #daniel page x reader

[secret-sturniolo]

stay - chris sturniolo

summary - based on the prompt "stay with me tonight, please." where chris comforts y/n after she gets hate

warnings - hate comments, lil angsty

a/n - this one is kinda short but i like it so hopefully you guys do too

why is y/n here again?

i get the feeling y/n is using the triplets for clout

i thought we made it clear nobody likes y/n

lmao y/n really thinks she has a chance with chris who's gonna tell her

The comments came flooding in on the new car video the triplets posted, where I joined them as a special guest. It wasn't the first time I had gotten hate for being friends with them, but usually I was able to ignore it as there wasn't very much of it. But this time, I couldn't just ignore it when the majority of the comments were mean ones about me. Overwhelmed with sadness and anxiety, I stood up from the couch as I announced that I was going to head back to my place.

"Are you sure? Is everything okay?" Nick asked me.

"Yeah, I just don't feel good all of a sudden." I replied.

Nick and Chris shared a glance before looking back at me.

"I can get Matt to drive you home if you want?" Chris asked me.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I'll text you guys later, okay?"

I made my way out the door and into my car. I waited until I had pulled out of the driveway, but then the tears started rolling down my cheeks. Am I really that bad? I thought. It was only about a five minute drive back to my apartment thankfully. Ignoring the smeared makeup I could see in the mirror, I went straight to my bedroom and laid down, staring at the ceiling. I tried not to, but I picked up my phone and started reading more of the hateful comments directed at me. My promise to text the boys when I had gotten home was long forgotten as the sadness took hold of me, and I fell asleep, tired from crying.

Chris's POV

I thought it was strange how y/n suddenly decided to leave. It was very unlike her, and she didn't even give a good reason, simply saying she didn't feel good. I tried not to worry about her too much, but as time went on I just couldn't shake the feeling.

Our new video had been up for a while now, so Matt, Nick and I decided to check YouTube to see how it was doing and if people liked it. Right off the bat, we could see that it already had more views than we normally get, which at first glance seemed like a good thing. I watched as Nick's eyes widened at the computer screen, mouth hanging open. I grabbed the laptop to see for myself what made him so shocked. Scrolling through the comments, almost every one was about y/n. My expression quickly changed to match Nick's as I read through them.

"Dude, do you see these? They're all about y/n, and they're terrible!" I said, showing Matt the screen.

it's so obvious that she likes chris. im embarrassed for her

do people actually like y/n?

why would they hang out with a girl like y/n? shes not even that pretty

My heart dropped as I finally realized why y/n "wasn't feeling good".

"Matt, you have to drive me to y/n's place, right now." I said urgently.

Matt seemed to understand instantly. "Okay, I'll go start the car."

When we got to her apartment, I told Matt he could go back home and I would call him if I needed a ride. I grabbed the spare key from my pocket as I unlocked her door. There was no sign of y/n in the kitchen or living room, so I made my way to her bedroom. I softly knocked on the door, but there was no answer, so I slowly opened it. My heart broke when I saw her curled up on top of her covers, dried mascara on her white pillows. Without even thinking, I moved to her bed, and gently laid down next to her, pulling her into my chest.

Y/n's POV

I felt someone wrap their arms around me, and for a moment it startled me as I opened my eyes, but when I realized who it was, I snuggled deeper into his chest as I began crying again.

"Shh, it's okay. I got you." he said gently.

We just laid like that, with my head in his chest until finally he spoke again.

"I'm so sorry I didn't realize sooner."

"Am I really that bad, Chris?" I asked, sniffling.

"Absolutely not, y/n. Those people are just morons who aren't happy with themselves so they like to pick on other people. I know they upset you, but that's exactly what they wanted to happen. You can't give them what they want."

I let his words sink in for a moment. "So you read the comments?"

"Yeah, and they're wrong by the way, about everything." he said, looking into my eyes.

I realized what he was saying, but I was too tired to bring it up right now.

"Stay with me tonight, please?" I asked him.

"Of course. Let's get you under the blankets though, it's getting cold."

I giggled as he lifted me up to pull the blankets out from under me. I rolled over, and he pulled my back into his chest, as we matched each other's breathing. I sighed contently as he gently played with my hair sending tingles down my spine.

Just as I was falling asleep, I felt his breath as he whispered against my neck.

"I love you, y/n"

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #fluff #matt sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #fanfic #angst #imagine #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #y/n

[public-trans-it]

i was a trans man until after a lot of build up of doubting myself, i finally realized that we are putting ourselves further into boxes by not accepting that we are the biological sex that we are and we can do WHATEVER we want at the same time.

clothes and makeup and certain interests do not equal gender.

and not liking being a woman is an unfortunately natural symptom of puberty and/or experiencing society’s deeply ingrained misogyny. and everyone deserves support for those problems.

but we can all fight together against gender social constructs in a healthy way without prescribing people hormones and invasive cosmetic surgery to make them more like the sex they “should” be according to… social constructs…. and help them be comfortable in who they are

Alright. Its been like 9 fucking months that I have been staring down this ask. What better time than to give TERFs some nuance than right in the middle of a fucking hate campaign going on where people (well... singular person probably) are calling me a TERF. This wont backfire.

This post arrived in my inbox shortly after I made another post about gender, and just how fucking weird it can be, and how I genuinely believed every single person on this planet has a fascinating relationship with gender, and so much nuance and personal identity in theirs. Even cis people. Even TERFs. In the tags, I even begrudgingly encouraged TERFs to talk about their gender on that post if they wanted. I genuinely think that TERFs do have really cool relationships with gender. As I mentioned in those tags, the quickest way to explode a group of TERFs is to get them to start talking about their own relationships with gender, and see how vastly different it is, and watching them stab each other in the back over it. So I told them to ramble away about how they view gender, as long as they stayed the fuck away from the rest of the blog WHICH THIS ANON CLEARLY FUCKING IGNORED.

But... this anon does bring up another topic I want to talk about.

Detransition.

Read More

I am a huge supporter of detransitioning. This is... surprisingly... not a very common stance in the trans community, and it breaks my fucking heart. Like, I get it. I understand why. A LOT of detransitioners, like the person in this ask, end up weaponizing their feelings of gender against other trans people.

My support of transition comes from the intersection of two very central beliefs of mine:

Everyone should explore their gender without feeling a need to commit! This is a pretty common belief in the trans community! Damn near universal in fact! We even have a fun little term we use for people who decide to play around with gender, only to end up a bit closer to where they started and being perfectly happy with that: Cis+. Someone who is cis, but at least put in the work to understand the trans experience, and actually CHOOSE to remain Cis instead of just defaulting to it with societal pressure. Many trans people are much more comfortable around 'Cis+' people, because they know these are people who have taken the time and put in the work of being an ally. Self examination isn't easy, especially not publicly, and doing so is genuinely one of the strongest ways a Cis person could ever show their support.

It is never too late to transition. This is also a pretty common belief in the trans community! It is... sadly not quite as universal though. But it is something very important that needs to be said. You could be 80 years old, sitting in a retirement home, and go "You know what? I think I'd rather wear a dress and be treated like a lady. I don't want to be buried as a man." And I think every single trans person should have that freedom!

I was discussing this with @thydungeongal the other day, far more paraphrased than this post, and she said something incredible that has been knocking around in my head ever since.

"Gender is an ongoing process"

Those five words they said to me sum up my feelings far more than this entire post could. Gender IS an ongoing process. My gender has changed SO MUCH over the past three decades. From the straightjacket of assigned gender that I was once forced into; to the very stylish and still lovable finely tailored suit of femininity that grew a little too stuffy to wear constantly, even though I do still enjoy it and try it on from time to time; to the wonderful and freeing losely fitting clothing of being aegogender, finally feeling free to be myself and just act naturally and feel natural without having to keep up an appearance!

And I think, there is no length of time you can try out being trans, and trying out new genders, before eventually coming to the realization you were cis all along. Even if you started HRT. Even if you got SRS. Heck, I don't even think you should have to call yourself trans to do either of those things in the first place, why would I be upset that someone did them and then realized they weren't trans? No single moment in your life should EVER lock your gender in place into some unchanging, set in stone thing.

So I support detransitioners completely, with my entire heart. They deserve just as much support as every other 'Cis+' person out there.

So anon, while many people may hate you and lash out at you for detransitioning, I want you to know, that I am not one of them. It sounds like your detransition might have been forced by peer pressure, which is heart breaking to hear. No one should ever force their own gender expectations on another. I hope that wasn't the case. I hope you came to the decision yourself, after realizing whats right for you. I will never give you hate for your detransition.

I WILL ABSOLUTELY GIVE YOU HATE FOR BEING A FUCKING TERF THOUGH. YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE WITH GENDER DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO POLICE THE GENDER OF OTHERS, FUCK OFF. GET THE FUCK OFF MY BLOG, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!

#I think I'm gonna start doing that for Read Mores #so you can find your place easier after click it #since my 'style' in these long posts is like... a fairly longish NON-readmore post. followed by the actual readmore. Let me know if it work #text essay #gender #detransition #I uh... also have some more... complex feelings of detransitioning #that may be a LIIIIIIITTLE more controversial......... #none of it goes against what i said here #its more personal stuff with my own gender and how detransition specifically is something that exists not as gender itself #but as the societal perceptions of a persons gender #but thats a more complex topic that I'll add on to this at another date #also I am absolutely taking this ask at face value for the sake of this post #but I am not so naive as to believe that the blatant TERF that sent it was being genuine #this is ABSOLUTELY the kind of thing they send people to drive a wedge in the community #I'm not even going to fucking dignify that part of it with any mention in the body of this post #edit: ........... okay the readmore accidentally moved somehow #I fixed it now though

[strniohoeee]

I need and angry love confession from Matt to Reader !! super angst but ends in fluff

I can’t

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: You moved on and now you’re soon to be engaged, but Matt knows this isn’t right. Desperate to get you to change your mind he races over to you. But will he get there in time?

Warning⚠️: NONE, I lovedddd writing this ughhh😩😩got me all in my feels and shit😔

Song for the imagine: Chasing Cars- Snow Patrol

I don’t quite know

How to say

How I feel

Those three words

Are said too much

They’re not enough

I’m not sure how to explain it and I’m not sure that I’d ever be able to. I never planned to see myself with anyone else other than Matt, but here I was sitting in my makeup room with a dazzling diamond promise ring sitting on my ring finger.

It felt right? I mean I wasn’t sure how to feel actually. A million questions ran through my head and they all tied to Matt for some reason.

I left Matt a little over a year ago after being with him for two years. I felt like I treated him wrong, I felt like I held him back from what he wanted…..

Flashback

“What are you saying?” Matt asked me as he stood up from the couch

“ I’m breaking up with you Matt” I replied looking at him

His face dropped and he swallowed thickly

“You’re what?” He replied blinking fastly

“I’m holding you back Matt and I haven’t been the best girlfriend. I can not live with myself knowing that there’s someone out there better for you” I replied swallowing back a sob

“I don’t want no one else, I want you. Why can’t you see that? You always tear down the perfect things around you.” He said rubbing his face with his hand

“I’m not happy because I’m not making you happy” I replied

“You don’t get to tell me how I feel. I love you and I love us and sure we have our problems, but I can’t imagine a life without you” he said slapping his hand down on his leg

“That’s the issue, all these problems are because of me. Matt you have to let me go” I said shaking my head

“I can’t! I can’t let you go” he replied rushing up to me and grabbing my hands

“This hurts me too, but I don’t think we’re for each other anymore” I said letting a few tears slip

“No….please don’t do this to me” he said in a whisper

“I love you, but I can’t keep holding you down. I’m sorry” I told him

“You’re not! Please just stay and relax and we can talk this out” he said looking into my eyes and gripping my hands firmer

“Matthew….no this is over” I replied sliding my hands from his and walking back

“Please don’t leave me” he pleaded with tears in his eyes

“I have to” I replied and with that I walked out

Flashback Over

For a while my thoughts were clouded with many doubts. Wondering if I made the wrong decision. But as soon as we broke up Matt and his brother's careers took off even more. Further proving it was me who needed to go.

But sitting here right now with this ring on my finger my brain told me that Matt and I were completely over. Nothing more than mere memory, a glimpse into a great time in my life, but it was over.

I loved my boyfriend more than words could explain and this ring finalized that it was him who I would spend the rest of my life with.

Him and I had posted our pre engagement on Instagram explaining that this was a small step in me eventually becoming his wife. It was a bittersweet moment because this was a new chapter in my life and I had to look forward. However for some reason I was constantly looking back….

Matt's POV

I laid in my bed journaling when my phone started to ring. I looked down and saw it Chris calling me

“Yo?” I said as I placed the phone to my ear

“Did you see it?” He asked me

“See what? Chris what the fuck are you talking about?” I asked furrowing my brows and shutting my book

“Y/N…” he said and paused

“Is she okay?” I asked suddenly sitting up

“Yeah she’s fine, but she’s pretty much engaged” Chris said in a whisper

“What?” I replied

My heart dropped to my stomach as my throat ran dry.

“Yeah they posted it on Instagram. I’m sorry bro” he said clearing his throat

I didn’t even reply, I just hung up on him. Opening instagram I searched up her page and I let out a small gasp and the picture…..reading the caption made my skin crawl

I grabbed my keys and rushed out the house. Running out to my car in the rain. My mind raced as I hit the gas. Doing 80 in the rain as my breathing became erratic and my fist tightened on the grip

Y/N pov

I walked out of my makeup room and walked out to my living room. Peering outside I saw that it was raining. My heart burst with excitement.

I decided to sit in my glass lanai and watch the rain hit the roof. Smiling at how happy I was becoming and how content I felt in life right now.

I stood by one of the windows writing my name in the fog that crackled along the glass. Suddenly I heard the door open and a creak of someone’s foot stepping down

“Hey babe” I replied before turning around

My heart dropped when a soaking wet, crying and shivering Matt stood in front of me.

“Matt?” I said blinking quickly

“Don’t do this” he said shaking

“Matt you’re wet and cold” I said walking up to him

“DON’T” he said sternly causing me to look up at him and stepping back

“How did you even get in here” I said sternly

“Your hiding spot for the key hasn’t changed” he said bluntly

“Why are you here?” I said scoffing

“So that’s it? You’re just going to marry him” he replied

“You’re talking crazy Matt what’s going on” I said getting concerned

“I waited…. I waited for you praying you’d come back. Having to go through days of being so unhappy and angry, and for what? For you to spend all this time and energy on someone new and get married? What was I? What was I huh?” He said choking out a sob as his voice cracked

“I loved you and I had the best time with you, but it wasn’t going to work and with Y/BF/N it worked” I said swallowing thickly

“You gave up! You gave up on us… that could’ve been us but you chose to run” he said breathing heavily

“I didn’t give up, I did it for you! Can’t you see that?” I said pleading

“I can’t” he said

“Let’s go inside you’re shivering” I replied pointing to the door

“NO” he replied choking out another sob

“Matt, what do you want me to do?” I said getting teary eyed

“I want you to be honest with yourself” he replied

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at” I replied throwing my hands up

“Goddamnit Y/N! I love you! I have loved you. I let you into my life in a way I never did with anyone else. I loved you to the point of distraction, and you dropped me like I was nothing. I can not pretend that didn’t happen” he said loudly

“You love me?” I replied shocked by this

“Hasn’t it always been obvious? I begged you not to leave me and you did. And now you’re basically engaged to this guy, so like I said be honest with yourself” he said pointing at me

“Honest about what?” I replied raising my voice

“Your feelings” he said bluntly

“My feelings? The fact that I’m in love with my new boyfriend and we’re going to get married eventually?” I replied talking with my hands

“That’s bullshit” he said bluntly

“No it’s not matt” I replied back

“Yes it is” he said pushing back

“No it isn’t” I said sternly

“Just admit” he said pushing even harder now

“ADMIT WHAT?” I yelled at him throwing my hands up

“You know what…it’s creeping in the back of your mind consuming all your thoughts” he said breathing through his nose heavily

“I can’t” I said shaking my head

“You can’t or you won’t” he replied

“Jesus Matt! What do you want me to admit? Admit that I’m madly in love with you? Admit that the thought of marrying my boyfriend scares me. Scares me because it’s supposed to be you. Is that what you want to hear” I said yelling

“Was it that hard” he replied

“What have you done” I said looking at him wide eyed

“This wasn’t me….this was you” he replied

I stomped over to him pushing him back repeatedly

“Who do you think you are? Huh? You think you can just come back into my life and push all these things on me. How could you Matt” I said smacking at his chest in anger

“Stop it! STOP IT” he said grabbing my arms firmly

“LET ME GO” I yelled pulling against him but he was much stronger than me

Pulling against him as we were both breathing heavily. I stopped and stared at him letting air come out my nose as my chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Why?” I whispered tears brimming in my eyes

“WHY HUH? WHY?” I yelled against him pulling at my arms

Yet he didn’t say anything. Instead he let me freak out, watching me intently as his eyes were glazed over with tears threatening to spill out.

“Stop fighting it” he said in a whisper

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! I was supposed to forget about you. I was supposed to move on. You were supposed to move on” I said slowing my breathing down

“I never wanted to move on, and I never will” he replied back

“I have always loved you from the moment I bumped into you on that street to the day you walked out of my life. I prayed day in and day out you’d come back and you didn’t” he said letting go of my arms

“Matt I can’t do this, not to you, not to me and especially not to Y/BF/N” I replied wiping my eyes

“So then don’t marry him” he said pleading with me

“Matt I can’t do that” I replied shaking my head

“He’s not meant for you and I’d like to believe….I’d have to believe that if you knew that…. I mean really really knew that deep in your heart. You wouldn’t be getting ready to marry someone unless that someone….unless that someone was me” he said swallowing thickly and letting a few tears fall

I stared at him shocked before opening my mouth to speak

“Matt I’m not going to lie to you, yeah I have felt things since breaking up with you that I didn’t know or think I knew I could feel, but I have realized you can’t just turn back the hands of time” I replied running my hands through my hair

“Why not?” He said in a whisper

“Because I moved on….you were supposed to move on. We’ve gone down different paths. We made choices and I….I chose Y/BF/N” I said wiping my eyes

Matt licked his lips and jutted his pointed tongue to the inside of his mouth. Letting a choked sob fall from his mouth.

“Can’t you see? Even after letting you go and trying to do what’s best for you, I still am somehow hurting you. Please don’t cry” I said pacing a bit

“I’ll be fine… I promise” he said rolling his eyes letting the tears go back

“I love you Matt” I said walking up to him and grabbing his shoulders

“No you don’t, if you did you’d be with me” he said scoffing and shrugging my hands off

“It doesn’t work that way” I said shaking my head

“Doesn’t work that way? I just professed my love to you as you did the same, but still you’re going to marry someone else?” He replied getting upset again

“That’s not fair” I said blinking at him

“Whatever…I’ve wasted my time clearly” he said throwing his hands up

He began to walk back into my house. I trailed close behind him calling out his name.

“Matthew please” I said running a bit faster

I got in front of him, grabbing his upper arms and stopping him. Looking into his eyes searching for something. Searching for an answer to this complicated puzzle.

My breathing became rapid as I searched for the words to say. Matt got clearly impatient as his jaw was clenched and his glare was intense. My eyes darted from one eye to the other.

I let go of him blinking and swallowing thickly before opening my mouth.

“Matt I love you a lot, and that never went away. I never wanted to hurt you, but rather I wanted you to get stronger. I was holding you down and that you can not deny. I have realized that the way I went about it was wrong and I hurt you, but I also hurt myself. I truly wanted to heal myself and not look back, but everyday all I could think about was you. Yes Y/BF/N is amazing and a great guy but I just…..I just…..” my words began to scramble because I wasn’t sure how to say this next statement

“But you don’t love him” he said in a whisper

My eyes slowly lifted from the floor to meet his once again, nodding at his answer

“I don’t love him” I said swallowing thickly

“If I’m reading into this wrong then I’m sorry” he said and before I could react he suddenly lunged toward me

Smashing his lips into mine, his right hand finding its spot on my left cheek. His thumb gently rubbed the warm skin as our lips locked.

My mind was fuzzy with what was going on, but all I knew was that this felt so right. Like the stars aligning perfectly. What I was so unsure of with my current boyfriend I was 100% sure of with Matt.

When he pulled away we locked eyes, catching our breath as we smiled gently

“I’m so sorry for leaving you” I said in a whisper

“Just promise to never do it again” he said

“I promise” I said smiling at him

Matt grabbed the back of my head, pulling me into a hug before placing a kiss to my forehead.

Breaking things off with Y/BF/N wasn’t easy. I truly had some love for him, but not in the way I did for Matt. Matt was my soulmate and I was so dumb to turn a blind eye to it.

I made him understand that this wasn’t because of him, but because I wasn’t ever truly sure that we were meant for each other. And that the promise ring made it all a bit too real. In the sense that I could not see myself with him forever.

Matt and I took things slow, we reestablished a connection starting off as friends first was what we wanted. We didn’t want to see each other hurt ever again.

I can’t live with the idea of ever hurting him again… I just…

I can’t.

The End

I hope yall loved this one, it was giving very early 2000s love confession in the rain. I’m here for itttt, but we’re almost at 1,800 followers OH YEAHHH i love yall🥹🖤🖤

-J💅🏽

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets imagines #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagines #matthew sturniolo imagines

[doberbutts]

I can't speak for everybody who's a trans man or masc of color, but I feel like I've gone most of my life having my femininity stripped away from me for not fitting the mold of white womanhood. Only when I came out as transmasc and started presenting more masc was I forcefully shoved into the role of woman and misgendered again but this time in reverse. I was a man in the eyes of white society when I presented as a woman, when I called myself butch. But since I'm a trans man, I'm suddenly a woman, suddenly addressed super femininely. It's a weird dissonance, I haven't seen anybody talk about it so I assume my experiences aren't universal, but it's a point of frustration. I'm a man to racists until I'm trans, then suddenly I'm a women and always have been seen as super feminine.

You did it! You hit the nail directly on the head!

People used to be horrifically cruel to me on the basis of not believing me when I said I was a girl. I've been groped and pantsed and kicked and punched and had my hair pulled all by people trying to prove that I was actually a boy.

Then I came out as trans and it was "you are the girliest girl woman female I've ever known and you've never been boyish ever" and "if boy now why when 4 wear pretty dress without fuss? Because girl checkmate loser"

Now I'm medically transitioning and it's "I should never have told you [that my natural t levels were high]" and "I should have made you wear a dress/makeup" and "what you need is a husband to put some kids in you and then you'll understand you were always meant to be a woman"