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#ted: but you're a hot mess mwah
rebeccasted · 2 years
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rebecca: i’ve tried to sabotage you for months, you’re only here so i could get revenge on my deranged ex husband
ted [2 minutes later]: ... let me flirt real quick 
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selfcarecap · 2 years
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Hi, could you maybe do something where Peter finds out that the reader thinks she's ugly and he just doesn't believe her because he has such a huge crush on her? I love your work
thank you! This is a bit of a mess and so random? Whskshsjshsns
Okay say it with me. “I am hot.” Thank you for coming to my ted talk- okay but also, “My looks are the least interesting thing about me.” Okay now you can go on mwah
But pls you do not need any man to think you’re hot for you to actually be hot. buuuuut i guess Peter can give you a little nudge in the right direction <3 because I know you're hot and you deserve to see it too
warnings: idk well insecure!reader (but she doesn’t wanna admit that she cares about how she looks) lmao?, the reader calling herself ug*y and believing it :(
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You and Peter are watching some old trashy comedy. It’s a cold Friday afternoon and you didn’t know what else to do.
Currently, in typical 2000s fashion, the conventionally un-attractive character is being made fun of.
“Oh he’s like me,” with a smile, you point at the guy on screen, pausing it for a second.
“In what way?” Peter asks, confusion painted across his face.
“Ugly,” you simply say.
Peter laughs and you press play again.
He looks over at you and realises you’re not laughing. He pauses the film, “Wait. Was that a joke?”
“You’ve seen my face, right?”
“I have. And it’s not ugly at all.”
You roll your eyes, “You don’t have to say that, I wasn’t fishing for compliments, I was just... joking.”
“So saying you’re ugly was a joke? Right?”
“No but.. just forget it,” you sigh at Peter misinterpreting your words. You were simply acknowledging a similarity with a character, not trying to make him think you were looking for compliments.
You press the space key to start the film again but Peter presses it again to stop it.
“No you... you think you’re ugly?”
“Yeah,” you shrug, “But it’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m not defined by my looks. I’m smart, I’m funny, I’m kind, that’s all way more important.”
“Yeah it is, of course it is. But do you think I talked to you first day of college because I thought you were going to be smart and funny and kind?”
“I don’t know, I do think I look approachable,” you frown. You were under the impression you looked nice and friendly.
“Yes, you’re approachable because you’re beautiful. Well, intimidatingly beautiful, but I’ve always been an optimistic guy.”
“I don’t really know where this is going.”
“I just can’t believe you think you’re ug— I don’t even want to say that.”
“I promise I wasn’t fishing for—“
“I know you weren’t. Look, I don’t want to make things awkward between us two but I can’t stand that you think you’re anything other than extremely attractive.
“I’ve had a crush on you since the first time I saw you. And yes, you’re kind and intelligent and funny and that has all made me even more attracted to you but I came up to you and talked to you because I thought you were hot. And I still think you’re hot, you become hotter every time you say something, except for that one word right now, or every time you look at me.”
You let his words sink in and look away, “Oh,” you can’t help but smile a little, “Well... thanks.”
“You don’t believe me,” Peter states, sitting up now.
“I do it’s just... surprising. That someone I like would also like me back even though I’m so ug—”
“Don’t say that about yourself. If you say negative things about yourself you’ll start believing it. Even if it starts as a joke, your subconscious can’t tell the difference. Please, at least stop calling yourself that.
“I mean I know you don’t need me telling you that you’re beautiful, we all have our insecurities and I don’t want to tell you what to feel but... I can’t believe you’re questioning my taste in women.”
“What do you mean?” you pull your eyebrows together, still trying to believe that he actually likes you.
“I like the hottest woman I’ve ever seen, and you’re calling her this negative word. It’s insulting,” he says it with a look that lets you know he’s not really thinking about how this is making him feel. He cares about how you feel.
You try to hide your growing smile but you can’t, “Sorry to burst your bubble but she’s not as hot as you seem to think—“
He interrupts you by (gently) grabbing your face, his fingers on your jaw, thumb by your chin and he angles your face so you’re looking him straight in the eyes. “Please. Don’t talk about her like that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
You’re silent for a moment, not knowing what to say so you decide to keep up your act, “Aw. Does that hurt your feelings?”
“Yes, actually. I know looks aren’t everything. And if you don’t care about how you look that’s okay. But we can’t have you walking around thinking you’re unattractive.”
You still don’t agree with him, but you can’t think straight when he’s so close, his hand still on your face. You catch him looking at your lips and you realise your own eyes wandering down to look at his.
You lean up and give him a short kiss.
“I guess I...” you pull away, “I’m cute,” you make a face right after, “No, that still doesn’t sound right.”
He licks his lips and you see he’s still processing that you just kissed him and suddenly you can’t tell if it’s good or bad.
“Sorry,” you say.
“For what?” He smiles.
“Kissing you.”
“I just told you I like you. You just fulfilled a wish I’ve had for months. I don’t know why you’re apologising.”
“Okay. I like you too by the way.” You said it earlier but you think he was too busy calling you hot to properly realise.
He grins and this time you let yourself smile too, but you suddenly feel shy and can’t look at him anymore.
“Should we uh...” your finger is already resting on your keyboard, about to press play.
“Yeah just.. I don’t want to overstep or anything. I know some people don’t care about how they look and it’s okay if you don’t agree with me about being the hottest woman I know, and don’t get me wrong you’re so much more than just hot.
“And I’d still like you even if you weren’t as attractive because you have an amazing personality and that’s what matters. It’s okay if you’re neutral about the way you look, but actively saying those negative things about you can’t be good for your self esteem. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, I just don’t want you to suffer.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let a man tell me what to do anyway,” you grin, rolling your eyes, “I know you have good intentions.”
“Yeah,” he says, thinking while silence settles between you for a bit.
“I don’t have to bring it up anymore because I don’t want you to think that that’s all I care about. You might not agree but I think you’re beautiful. I’m not saying it matters greatly but it’s simply a fact to me that I like how you look.”
“God, if you keep saying that I look good I might start believing it.”
The crinkles return to his eyes as he smiles again, “I might let it slip once or twice a day then. Or an hour. You’re hot. Oops, sorry.”
You giggle, lightly slapping his arm “Stop.”
“I bet you’ve never seen how pretty you look when you smile like that. And I bet you’d agree with me if you could see.”
Your eyes find his, “C’mere.” You take his chin between your fingers and kiss him again, letting your lips linger on his for a bit while your heart beats wildly in your chest. “Thank you,” you say, noticing how you feel better after Peter’s motivating words.
“I think you’re quite cute too by the way,” you tell him.
“Too?” He teases, “So you’re starting to see what I’m talking about huh?”
“Shut up,” you laugh, slapping his chest this time. You happen to look into the mirror across your room and see your own smile. “Maybe I am”, you whisper.
Peter holds your hand as you finally watch the film and you can’t help but replay Peter’s words in your head every time you smile. You’re already starting to feel a little bit better about yourself.
if i had a dollar for every time they paused or continued the film—
(gotta do some positive affirmations now so my brain knows it was just fiction and I don’t actually believe anything the reader says about herself hskshskjs)
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