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bueckersbitch · 2 months ago

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Grace and Grit - paige bueckers x oc

chapter four: so high school

𐙚 grace and grit masterlist

𐙚 characters: hopkins!paige x oc

𐙚 warnings: none!

𐙚 word count: 2.4k

𐙚 authors note: here it is!! long awaited and i’m so sorry i haven’t put out a new chapter, life caught up to me unfortunately. anyway in this au larkin dance studio is in hopkins and jalen goes to school with paige. this is all fiction!!! enjoy <3

𐙚 taglist: @rosemariiaa @thaatdigitaldiary @pboogerswbb @sierrale8ne @lupinqs @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @bueckersfive @lovegalor333 @d3arapril @mrsarnold @janaelalfysblunt

The consistent hum of Blaire’s alarm woke her from dreamland. Her last first day. One more year, then she wouldn’t have to step foot in her confining high school ever again.

Blaire brings her hands up to rub her eyes, trying to exude sleep from herself. After failed attempts to wake her up, defeated, Blaire gets up slowly, trudging her way over to her vanity. Sitting down in the pink padded chair. Her seventeen years of dance experience had trained her makeup skills, the requirement of knowing how to do a full face in less than ten minutes was something she had to learn how to do on her own. While her dance friends sat restless in front of their moms at the ripe age of eight, getting their makeup done and being gushed over, Blaire simply watched, longed, and yearned for that experience that was stripped away from her. But she was never one to complain, so she did it on her own, learning how to contour, winged eyeliner, and apply false lashes all by the time she was nine.

Blaire turned her vanity mirror light on, the soft white illuminating her puffy face. She reached for her skincare, the coolness of the serums and moisturizers working to depuff her face. Swiping on some concealer, bronzer, blush, and mascara, was all Blaire could bring herself to do. Shoving herself up from her vanity, she goes to brush her teeth, breakfast in the morning makes her sick. The fresh mint hit her teeth, a slow moment finally found after a rushed morning, but when her mind slowed, she could only think of one thing, well, one person, Paige.

She recalled that night in the ice cream shop, a small gesture, sure. But Blaire had never experienced someone so interested in her before. Everything was perfect, like everything Blaire had been waiting for in a girlfriend was presented to her in a beautiful, bubbly, blonde, package. Blaire tried to focus on the task at hand, she really did. But something about the thought of the way Paige’s eyes scrunched up when she smiled, and the way her cheeks showed a tinge of pink whenever she looked at Blaire, was enough for Blaire to lose track of time. Glancing at the clock, Blaire was now off schedule, running late by three minutes. She quickly spits into the sink, swishing mouthwash into her mouth before expelling that from her mouth as well.

Blaire stumbles on her rug, grabbing onto the door frame as she drives herself into her closet. Regaining her balance, she flicks the light on. Pink bow wallpaper adorns the four walls. She reaches for the outfit she had picked out last night, black flare leggings, a white tank top, a light grey shrug, and a black headband. Boring, maybe, but Blaire couldn’t really care less what people thought of her outfit.

Blaire slid on her shrug, the last piece of her outfit. Realizing she had a bit of down time before she had to leave, she wonders if she should peek at Paige’s socials, something she had been doing a bit too much recently. It’s almost as if her fingers have a mind of their own, skidding across the screen to pull up Paige’s profile before she could even finish her thought.

She studied her profile. In a way, it almost exactly mirrored Blaire’s. A different sport, of course. But the posts wishing her friends happy birthday, photos from past state championships, the trophy being held up to the sky, ones where her and her teammates are biting their medals. Blaire knew the feeling all too well. It was just an instagram profile, but the memories of Paige’s time in high school flood her phone. It was sweet, the way she looked so intimidating on the court, her taunts cracking the confidence of her opponents, all for her to really just be a normal girl going through high school.

—

It was the end of fifth period now, Blaire’s AP Chemistry class ending with her teacher wishing them a good rest of their first day. It was lunch period now, all of Blaire’s friends either had schedules that let them out early, or a different lunch period. Blaire scratched her scalp, a consistent throbbing settling into the rear of her head. Continual reviews of class syllabi meant her teachers repeating the same rules like a mantra, late work policies, honor code, extra credit assignments, and test outlines were all things Blaire had grown bored of. Sighing, she hops down from the stool, picking up her Larkin Dance Studio backpack, the thread at the straps fraying from being her companion the last three years. Blaire stilled, the air around her restricting her, but also allowing her a chance to breathe. She moves one ugg clad foot in front of the other, making her way to the door, annunciating a quick “Have a good day Mr. Stone.” with a smile, pushing the door handle and stepping out into the hallway.

It was overwhelming, really. Looking out into the hallway. Blaire had navigated these hallways more times than she could count, but something about the masses of people bumping into each other, clueless as to where they were going, hurdled her anxiety into overdrive. All she needed to do was walk herself to her car, where she would eat her lunch, after, she had two more periods. Almost to the finish line, the wiring of school could be erased from her mind when she stepped back into her studio, being able to regain her consciousness.

Blaire gripped her phone in her hands tightly, her earbuds in her ears as an attempt to drown out the surrounding noise. It was no use though, the shrieking of high pitched voices cut through her soft music like nails on a chalkboard. In the midst of all the chaos, Blaire swears she hears her name called out. Glancing around, she’s met with nothing but bodies of teenagers. Brushing it off, Blaire keeps moving, shuffling slowly towards the doors that lead out to the parking lot.

Blaire feels a tug at her shoulder, yanking her earbuds out from her ears, turning to see what the fuss was about. Instead, she’s met with the smile and scrunched eyes she had been musing about in the earliest hours of the day. Paige and Blaire’s schedules had matched up for one period so far, study hall. Now, it seems that they had lunch together too.”Blaire! Who are you sitting with at lunch?” A curious Paige asked, Jalen poking her arm, ushering her towards a clear path to the doors. “I was just planning on sitting in my car, all my friends have different lunches.” Blaire responded with. Before she could register what was happening, she felt the comforting warmth of Paige’s fingers wrapping around hers, subtly dragging her along with herself and Jalen, while saying, “S’You’re sitting with us in my car now.” Blaire couldn’t help the soft smile that wound up on her face, her cheeks heating up at the kind gesture by the girl, something that hadn’t happened since their study hall during third period.

The three of them walked together to Paige’s car, Jalen walking backwards in front of them to talk to the two girls. “Soooooo… You’re Blaire, right?” He started. Paige groaned, trying to shut him down with a, “Jalen, bro.” while her hand ran over her face. Blaire observed the two, she knew what it meant, Jalen, Paige’s best friend, knowing who she was. Blaire pushed the thoughts of her heart gushing to the back of her mind, trying to focus on not messing up first impressions.

“The one and only, and you’re Jalen?” Paige’s eyes peek from in between her fingers, widened at the fact Blaire wasn’t weirded out by the prodding. Blaire wasn’t weirded out, in fact, she was overjoyed by the fact she seemed important enough to Paige to be mentioned to her closest friend. The boy smiles, his hands in his pockets, “Sure am, hear you’re a dancer. You tryna do that in college?” Blaire nods, “God Willing, something about Juilliard is calling me, but it’s nice to know I have U of Minny and Ohio State as cushion if that plan falls through.” Jalen’s mouth drops open at that, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise, “Damn, so you’re like, good good, then?” Paige smiles, wrapping an arm around Blaire, patting her head with the other, “Hey! I told you she was good. You doubting me is disrespectful.” The blonde says. Blaire shrugs, slightly surprised by the fact Jalen even knows how major of a deal both colleges are. “You could say that. How do you know about dance anyway?” Jalen responds without a beat, “I got sisters, they don’t dance but they like watching uda nationals.” Blaire smiles, it seemed being welcoming was something prominent found in Paige’s friends too.

As they got to Paige’s car, Jalen started to swing around to the passenger side, a routine perfected since Paige got her license. He whips his head around though, the blonde pointing at him saying, “Jalen, you’re sitting in the back.” Jalen’s face showed confusion, Blaire didn’t want to intrude, so she tugs at Paige’s shirt, “Hey, I can sit in the back, it’s okay.” She assured. Paige let out a laugh at that, an obvious fake one, “collecting” herself, she turns to Blaire, telling her, “You gotta be crazy, what kinda host would I be if I didn’t let you sit in the passenger seat?” Blaire scoffs, but under the front she put up, she liked the fact Paige was so persistent with her, really liked it. “Host? It’s your car.” Blaire said with a playful attitude. Paige cocks her head, “Whatever.” She says to the dark haired girl.

“Ooo, P’s got a crushhhh.” Jalen gets out, the two girls' eyes break away from each other, pulling to look at the boy waiting outside the back car door. “Seriously, stop.” Paige says, annoyed.

–

The loudspeaker starts up, it was eighth period, Paige sat clad in her Nike shirt and basketball shorts, Playing with the loose string that had managed to unravel from the hem of her shirt. Her calculus teacher was cut off by the announcement, “Good Afternoon Royals! I am overjoyed to welcome you all back to campus!...” Paige tuned out the voice of her principal, opting to look around at her classmates around her, all working on the pre-assessment for the class. Her eyes are drawn to the bulletin board, full of clubs and different volunteer opportunities. But one poster stands out, a specific dark haired girl that had been consuming her thoughts. Her teeth in a smile as the words around her talked about a dance gala, auctions being held at it to raise money for cancer research. Paige took a mental note of it, being snapped back to reality when she heard the euphony of backpack zippers, “Just like always, seniors will be dismissed first, if you’re a senior, you may make your way over to your car now!” Paige closed her eyes for a moment, the stress easing away from her as realization dawned upon her. She made it through the first day.

Pulling out her phone, she makes a new group chat with Blaire and Jalen, shooting a text about grabbing food at Panda Express, the Chinese food sounding awfully good to soothe the hunger that had settled into her stomach, she didn’t eat during her lunch period, wanting to talk Blaire’s ear off as much as possible in the allotted time.

–

Paige rushes towards the door, wanting to reach it before Blaire, stumbling over her excited feet, she yanks the door open, flashing a smile and wiggling her eyebrows at Blaire.

Jalen had gotten roped into helping his parents with stuff at home, but the two girls decided to grab food before Blaire’s practice anyway, the two of them both agreeing that Panda Express sounded too good to pass up.

Paige watches Blaire order, a simple bowl of white rice with some honey sesame chicken, and while she trains her ears on what Blaire was ordering, she couldn’t help but notice the small details about the girl beside her. How her nose moved slightly while she talked, her hands picking at the nail polish that slightly flooded over the sides, her legs crossed, and her eyes squinting to see the menu a little better. The truth is, Paige hadn’t felt this in a long time, her last relationship had lasted a while, but honestly the two of them had been done for a while, just not having the guts to call it quits, Paige was dragged through an emotional rollercoaster, but the familiarity of it comforted her enough to get her to stay. That was over now though, Paige felt grateful that it was, because the girl in front of her was so intriguing to her, she hadn’t known her for long, but she wanted to peel back all her layers.

Paige and Blaire slid into high stools, well, Blaire had slid onto her stool, and Paige had sat right next to her, scooching hers close enough for their legs to touch. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Blaire said, referring to when they were up at the register. Paige shoved her card into the reader before Blaire could pull out her wallet, murmuring a slick, “You don’t gotta pay when you’re with me ma.” Paige shovels her food into her mouth, swallowing and licking her lips, “Stop pretending like you don’t like it.” Blaire rolls her eyes at that.

Paige holds the trash can open, Blaire disposes her bowl and fork. “Sooooo… I know parties aren’t your thing, but you gotta come to senior bonfire. It’s tradition” Paige perks up as she says this, hoping that Blaire will cave in. “Paige, you know I don’t do well with those kinds of things, too much opportunity for things to go wrong.” Blaire reasons, Paige fakes a pout, “Oh c’monnnnn, if you worry too much about ‘what can go wrong’ you’ll miss out on experiences that’ll go right!” Blaire gives a puzzled look to the taller girl. “Okay, that didn’t really make sense, but you get what I mean.” Paige answers to Blaire’s questioning look, Paige is persistent, tugging on Blaire’s shrug sleeve while repeating the word “please” more than one should say in a lifetime. “OKAY! Fine, I’ll go, but you have to promise to stay with me. If something happens, I’ll never forgive you.” Blaire pointedly says. Paige’s hands shoot up in defense, silence between them before a notification sounds from Paige’s phone, “Deal.” The blonde says, smiling in triumph.

#a’s works ⭐️ ⋆₊˚⊹୨୧ #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconnwbb #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic #hopkins paige #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader

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604to647 · 11 months ago

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Barón Tovar Takes a Wife

Third Movement (Presto agitato)

11K / Bridgerton AU Regency!Pero Tovar x fem!reader, a childhood best friends to lovers story

Summary: What do you do now that you realize you have feelings for the Barón?

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Pining and Angst. Semi public kissing, groping and sex. Someone comes in his breeches 🤷🏻‍♀️. F!oral, fingering, thigh riding, unprotected PiV. Pet names (spanish), Pero catches reader and gives her a little twirl once.

A/N: I'm sorry for the word count 😅😅 I feel like the pacing of this final part is kind of like season 1 of Bridgerton where it was like 5 episodes of flirting and then SMUTSMUTSMUT 🤭🤭 Just wanted to give our Spaniard and his Dulce a HEA, that's all! Please please correct my Spanish!! Google won't be offended! Thank you for reading along and hope you're looking forward to Season 3 of Bridgerton next week!

Series Masterlist 🎼 First Movement 🎼 Second Movement 🎼

The following morning you wake to your ladies’ maid gently shaking you and a massive headache. Barely able open your eyes, so puffy from crying, you’re sure you gave her a terrible fright. After asking for and drinking some water, you try using the cool glass to depuff your eyes and alleviate the pounding in your head, but no difference is made; you continue to feel positively awful. Daphne comes into your room at the behest of the maid and immediately sees you’re much too unwell to entertain visitors today; it’s an easy decision to send all your suitors away and have them come back when you’re better. When you start to apologize for causing a fuss, she immediately shushes you and insists you get rest - she will have the maids bring up some soothing tea. You lay back down, exhausted, and drift off in the middle of telling her how much you love her.

---

Pero steps into Bridgerton House just as several young men are leaving; as they brush past him, he spots Colin speaking with a maid in the main foyer.

“Tovar! It’s been ages – how have you been?” Colin beams when he sees his friend.

In truth, Pero is here to see you; he can’t quite get over the look of distress on your face when you left him last night. Not for the first time, Pero silently curses Lord Ridlington for having sent over women to his house unsolicited last night, his apparent idea of a prank. Leaving the women to themselves in a waiting room, Pero had been discussing with his butler the next course of action when you had surprised him beneath his window. After you left, he made the proper arrangements for the women to leave discreetly, and had gone to bed thinking of you as usual.

“I’ve been well, thank you. Hope things have been going well here? Have today’s suitors started their visits earlier than usual?” He gestures to another three men now descending the stairs and making towards the exit in an orderly line.

“No, my Lord,” the maid explains, “Miss is ill today. Her suitors have been sent away and asked to return when she has recovered and is ready to receive visitors again.”

“Ill?!” How could you have taken ill when he just saw you? Instantly Pero admonishes himself for having kept you standing outside last night - the night chill must have disagreed with you. “Please,” he begs, “take me to see her.”

The maid looks panic stricken. Surely this Spanish nobleman must understand the impropriety of a man being let in to the bed chambers of an unmarried woman.

Colin diverts her attention, “Marie, it will be okay. Barón Tovar is an old family friend of the Count’s. There is nothing improper afoot. The door will remain open and you and I shall both be but a step away.”

With Mr. Bridgerton’s assurance, Marie the maid leads the two men to your door and opens it wide before stepping back to wait outside with Colin. Pero walks into darkness, the curtains still drawn to help you sleep and ease the pain of your headache, but your magnetic pull leads him to you with no issue.

Kneeling by your bedside, Pero says your name softly, but you do not stir. He goes to push aside some hair that’s fallen across your forehead and is alarmed when it feels hot to the touch; using the back of his hand to check your forehead and cheeks, he finds you clammy and feverish. Shouting for Marie, both Colin and the maid rush in to Pero’s call, “Please find the Duchess! Her friend is running a fever and a doctor needs to be called. And please bring me a basin of cold water and a clean washcloth at once!”

Daphne rushes in minutes later to find Pero dabbing your forehead with the wet cloth that Marie procured, “Oh no! I saw her this morning and knew she was unwell, but I did not think to check for a temperature!”

Shaking his head softly, Pero entreats the Duchess, “Do not blame yourself, your Grace. Likely this morning she was not feverish when you saw her. Please, has a doctor been called?”

The Duchess nods tearfully, grateful for Pero’s kind words and feeling a kinship with this man who clearly shares her tremendous concern for your well being.

When the doctor arrives, Daphne stays in the room and gives Pero a nod of reassurance; he leaves begrudgingly though he knows you are in safe hands with the Duchess. Hovering impatiently never more than a step away from the door, Pero breathes a sigh of relief when he overhears the doctor say that your temperature is no longer increasing, and that if kept cool and comfortable, your fever should easily break over the next day or two. He vows to ensure both conditions are met to the best of his abilities until the moment you awake.

After the doctor leaves and Daphne has gone in search of a servant to fetch your father, Pero stays by your side, continuously stroking your hair gently and dabbing your hot skin with a cool cloth. Every time Daphne passes by the open door of your room, she looks in to find Pero watching over you, brows furrowed, eyes full of concern and worry. Sometimes the Duchess will see Pero’s lips moving, speaking gently to you - though she never hears the words he says, she can tell they’re heartfelt. It becomes crystal clear to her that two weeks ago she had simply asked the Barón the wrong question; instead of “Do you intend to court her?”, she should have asked Pero: “Do you love her?” The answer obvious.

Pero never leaves your side, not when the Bridgerton women visit, or even when your father comes. He just tucks himself into the corner of the room until their visits are over, as if afraid to leave you. When it’s just him and you alone, he tries his best to make sure you’re comfortable, arranging your blankets nicely and propping up your pillows so that your sleep is restful and serene. He requests that cool water and clean cloths are at his constant disposal, and makes sure to dab your face, neck, and decolletage at consistent intervals in order to keep your temperature down. And while he does so, Pero continuously talks to you, encouraging you to get better, coaxing you back to him.

He calls you carino, hermosa, princesa, mi reina, mi amor, and all the other endearments he doesn’t ever let himself call you save for in his head. He lavishes you with compliments and words of praise that he's never allowed to slip past his lips - how perfect you are, how sweet and smart, that he doesn’t know anyone else like you and that your cheerful demeanor and melodic voice are the only things that can ever make him smile. He tells you how he hasn’t smiled as much as he has since he reunited with you at the Danbury ball in years. He confesses that every time he holds you while you dance, he has trouble letting go when the music ends, and when he sees another man take your hand and spin you around the room, he has to hold himself back from physically stepping in and pulling you back into his arms. He tells you that he finds you beautiful and intoxicating, and describes every last inch of you that he can’t stop dreaming about, but lingers the longest in his description of your eyes and the richness of expressions they make that leave him breathless. He tells you all these things because if he doesn’t say them out loud, he thinks he will burst from having to hold his feelings in all the time. He tells you these things because he knows you will never hear them.

As the doctor predicted, the fever breaks late the following day and you start to stir shortly after. Blinking your eyes open slowly, they come into focus to your father’s worry lined face and you watch as it cracks with relief, “Welcome back, dearest. How do you feel?”

Not sure you can trust your voice right now, you give your father a small smile and nod when he says he needs to get the doctor. In the few minutes you have alone, you try to get your bearings; the last thing you remember is waking to a terrible headache and falling back asleep after Daphne told you she would be sending your suitors away. You swear you have vague memories of Pero’s voice and soft touch, but that couldn’t have been real. Pero. Oh. You remember now the reason for having woken up before feeling empty and sad, but you don’t have too long to linger on it because your father returns swiftly with the doctor.

After declaring you well on your way to a full recovery, the doctor leaves you with your father; the Count, looking like the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders, hugs you tightly and clasps his hands tightly over yours, “I am so glad you are better, dearest. Now, will you please tell your suffering father what is troubling that heart of yours?”

You’re shocked. How could your father know about your feelings for Pero when you only realized them a few nights ago? Your surprise must be written all over your face because the Count gently explains, “My dear, in the entirety of your life, you have only ever had such a fever twice, both times due to crying yourself sick from heartbreak. The first time was when you were a young girl and I read you The Little Mermaid - the ending saddened you to tears. The other was when we were leaving Portugal and I didn’t let you keep the stray puppy you had been feeding for a month. This is how I know something ails your heart terribly. Please. Tell your father so he can help you.”

Your heart swells with affection for your father - he has always been the most loving and caring man, attentive to your feelings and understanding of your nature. There is no one on this earth who you trust so whole heartedly and with whom you feel so safe. Except for Pero, you suddenly realize.

You tell your father everything. You tell him about how Pero lets you be yourself without reservation, and that with him you don’t need to temper down your enthusiasm for your interests or make your experiences seem smaller than they are. How he encourages you in everything you do and makes you feel like you’re capable of anything and everything. He respects you and approaches you with kindness, always making you feel safe and taken care of. That he makes you laugh all the time. And that you’ve taken Pero and his wonderfulness for granted, not realizing just how rare and valuable all his amazing qualities are because if you had you would have figured out earlier that you’re completely in love with him. You cry softly and confess to your father that your heart is broken because you’re in love with a man who will never see you more than a childhood compatriot, and that you may never get over this sad truth.

The Count listens to you sympathetically, and when you’re finished, he simply tilts his head thoughtfully and asks, “How do you know he does not care for you in the same manner?”

You can hardly tell your father that you snuck out of Bridgerton House and interrupted Pero when he had company over, so you have to cite another reason you’re so certain of how Pero feels about you. But you find yourself struggling to come up with any concrete examples or reasoning that satisfy even yourself; all you can say is, “Because he wishes for me to find a husband. He encourages me to do so. I’m simply the daughter of his father’s friend.”

Something like bemusement dances over your father’s face, “It seems to a me that a man who thinks of you as simply the daughter of his father’s friend would not have purchased my shares in the fleet.”

You’re absolutely stunned. Pero purchased your father’s shares? But why? There was no inherent income from the investment, the dividends benefitted you and your future children only, “Why would Pero do that?”

“You will have to ask him yourself, dearest. It shouldn’t be too long before he visits himself now that he’s likely heard you’re awake. He had not left your bedside for nearly two days and it was only at my insistence that he let me sit vigil so he could go home and change his clothes.”

Again, you’re astonished; is it possible that your vague recollections of Pero’s voice and gentle touches while you were ill are real?

“I will say, when I asked him the same question of why, his answer was that he did not want the hard work you and I put into our happy venture to be squandered. He said he knew that would break your heart.”

It’s true, it would.

“With his experience, I know the fleet would be in good hands.”

Nodding, you have to agree.

“… and you would be in good hands.”

You look up to see your father looking at you with an expression you can’t quite place. You’re about to ask him about it when you hear a quiet knocking and you look over to see Pero standing in the open doorway, as if you had summoned him with your conversation.

“My apologies, I do not mean to interrupt. I thought I heard your voice and wanted to see if you were awake,” Pero looks tired, but hopeful.

The Count waves him in and gets up, whispering in your ear, “Be kind to him, dearest. The man has been in anguish and has not left your bedside for more than a few minutes these past two days.” Kissing you on the cheek, he tells you he will go and find the Duchess to give her the good news of your recovery if the doctor has not yet done so himself. After he pulls away, you notice for the first time that your room is filled with peonies, every flat surface covered with the most splendid displays in the prettiest pastel colours – your heart soars at the sight. When Pero takes your father’s place in the chair across from you, neither of you notice that the Count closes the door behind him.

“Dulce, how are you feeling,” asks Pero with as much feeling as you’ve ever heard from him.

You tell him you’re much better, and that although no one has said so explicitly, you suspect that much of your recovery is due to his diligent care and watch over you.

“It was nothing, Dulce. I was worried about you. I am glad you are okay now,” he says, relief evident in his voice.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I really don't know what I have done to deserve your kindness, Pero. And not only these past two days when I’ve taken ill, but over the entire course of this season – I do not think I have ever properly thanked you for being there for me, supporting and encouraging me, and bringing me such peace and joy so that I did not buckle under the pressure of my debut. Please allow me to do so right now. Thank you, Pero,” you look at him with adoration and admiration, pouring all your feelings out and disguising them as simple gratitude.

“It has been my absolute pleasure, truly. I am so very proud of the woman you have grown up to be: beautiful, smart, funny, and so, so very caring. You are one of kind, Dulce – and the lucky man who marries you needs to know just how special you are. There isn’t anyone else who has your vibrant spirit, your sweet disposition, your fun-loving heart. He needs to know and nurture all these wonderful qualities so that your light never goes out,” Pero espouses your virtues and merits with eyes fixed upon yours, wishing he could express just how deep his admiration truly runs.

To say you’re affected would be an understatement, and it makes you bold and brave.

“Pero, I cannot tell you how much your kind words mean to me. I have never known a man to be more genuine and earnest that you; when you say something, you mean it. I find you so very thoughtful this way. And in other ways as well – I know, for example, it must have been you who filled this room with my favourite flowers.” Pero nods indulgently and you carry on, “… and I know you purchased the shares in the fleet from my father. Thank you, Pero.”

Pero is surprised, although he had not asked the Count to keep the sale from you, he didn’t expect you to know already.

You’re looking at him with an expression he won’t let himself name, eyes soft, almost pleading, “Why would you do something so generous, Pero?”

Pero remains quiet, as if wrestling with how he wishes to answer and you wait patiently, not sure what to expect.

“The owner of the shares has custody of a great gift. The fleet is an impressive venture - it has potential to do considerable good in this world, and much of that is thanks to you and your father’s dedication and contributions – the holder of these shares cannot squander that opportunity; he needs to honour you and your father’s legacy by carrying on the good work you’ve started together. But that in and of itself is not the gift. The man who holds these shares is also given the gift of being able to take care of you, to have a small hand in ensuring a prosperous future for you and your children. I… could not take the risk that someone who did not understand the honour of this charge would hold these shares. I hope you can understand and not think it imprudent of me.”

You don’t know what to say. Pero is so generous and considerate – how could he ever think you would view his gesture as anything but deeply caring? Unsure of your silence, Pero attempts to lighten the mood, “This way, I can still be in your life. I can come to see you when I need to discuss matters of the fleet.”

“Pero, you’re my friend! You do not need to have a business pretense to see me.”

He shakes his head sadly, “You will be married, Dulce. Your husband would not like a man like me visiting his wife frequently.”

“A man like you?” you’re not sure what he means.

“A man who looks at you the way I look at you.”

You inhale sharply, hardly allowing yourself to breathe, “And how do you look at me, Pero?”

“Like you are the sun, Dulce. Like everything you touch is made brighter and better from the light of your smile and the warmth of your sweet laugh. As if under your care and attention, everything and everyone, including me, grows – stronger, brighter, better. I look at you like I dream about the graceful notes of your voice every night and wish to hear your melody of thoughts and opinions on all things. I look at you like I am hypnotized just by the sway of your hips and even the lilt of your fingers. Everyday, I’m ever more enchanted with the tilt of your head and curve of your mouth. I look at you like I could never get enough.”

“And what if I don’t want that?”

“Then I will stay away, mi reina. Anything you wish,” though crushed, Pero knows that he would do whatever you asked.

“No, Pero, you misunderstand. What if I don’t want a husband who does not want you looking at me like that? What if I want you to look at me like that? What if I do not want a husband who isn’t you?”

“Dulce…” Pero’s heart has leapt into his throat, he can hardly allow himself to believe what he’s hearing, “… you do not know what you’re saying. You would not want me for a husband.”

You smile kindly, “And why not?”

Pero looks at you so sadly it breaks your heart, “You would not wish to separate from your friends and leave England to be mistress of a lowly Barón’s estate in a foreign land where you know no one and do not speak the language. Not when you have suitors with much grander fortunes, with estates nearer to your friends, and where you and your children would grow up in the style befitting the daughter of a British Count. You would not want a husband who is never home and spends more time on the seas and in far off lands than he does on home soil; one you never see and for whom you would worry all the time, not knowing where he is or what he is doing.”

“Would you not be willing to take me with you on your travels, Pero?”

“Of course, I would,” Pero never second guesses his answer.

Heart still aflutter at Pero’s romantic declarations, you press ahead, determined. “Well. It seems then that no one would be better suited to be my husband than you! You must know me well enough to know that I do not care for grand fortunes and estates, and my dear father and now you have made sure that I will never be financially dependent on any husband. What I care for is freedom and adventure! And exploration and not being kept from the joys this life has to offer because I am a woman, or just somebody’s wife. As for my friends, I can always visit! And I am fortunate enough that the strength of our bonds is not dependent on having to see each other constantly. Honestly! This would not be the first time in my life I have gone to live in a foreign country where I do not speak the native tongue – it’s practically second nature to me now! But I can see how it would be useful to be able to fluently converse with servants and locals - I suppose I would just have to commit myself to learning Spanish. That is,” you’re suddenly embarrassed upon realizing that Pero hasn’t actually asked you to be his wife, and instead, you’re espousing all the reasons you find the match to be agreeable when he himself hasn’t expressed any desire for it, “if you would wish to have me.”

“Dulce, all I have done since the moment I laid eyes on you at the Danbury Ball is wish to have you. Do you know how hard it was for me to see you entertaining all those suitors when I was certain none of them could ever appreciate you for even half the wonderful person you are? None of them had any idea what a smar-“

You crash your lips to his, and after the initial surprise, Pero kisses you back with the fervent need that’s been building in his soul the past few months. Throwing your arms around him, you open your mouth to his just as his hands pull you flush to his chest; it’s the warmest, hungriest first kiss to have ever been kissed. Your mind having only recently caught up to your heart, and Pero’s constrained feelings finally being set free, your tongues press together over and over, spilling all the unspoken words between the both of you. On instinct you fist Pero’s shirt and pull him down with you onto the bed, Pero’s eyes darkening as he climbs on top of you, placing one knee in between your legs while keeping the other on the ground. You finally run your hands through his soft curls and it feels as incredible as you had imagined two nights ago; you both moan softly at the sensation.

“Dulce, you make the prettiest noises…”

You purr softly at Pero’s praise, leading him to groan deeper into your mouth and you feel the hand that isn’t braced on the pillow next to your head start to skate up your side, landing near your breast and tentatively drawing circles on the underside of your plush curves with its thumb. You arch into Pero’s hand to encourage him to touch you, and he responds as he always promised he would if he had the chance which is to give in to your every desire. Groping your breast and finding your nipple between his fingers, Pero rolls and pinches so expertly that you can’t help but writhe beneath him. He shifts to kiss down your neck as he continues his attentions on your peak and when his knee brushes your throbbing centre, you gasp loudly before covering your mouth with your hands. Still breathing heavily, the two of you giggle and smile stupidly at each other in the tender moment. Pressing his forehead against yours, Pero whispers, “Mi reina, we should stop, I still need to ask your father for your hand. Tomorrow, I am sure he will come here for breakfast and I will ask to speak with him after.”

Looking deep into is eyes, you nod; you know Pero’s right, though there’s a warmth radiating from your very being that wishes to invite scandal and tell him to never stop touching you, knowing by the way he’s making you feel right now that it would be worth it.

Not without regret, Pero pulls himself off of you and stands; after he helps you sit up, Pero tips your chin with his finger so you look at him squarely. A seriousness takes over his face, an expression he usually reserves for others, “Are you sure you want me, mi amor? You have so many suitors, so many options.”

Your eyes shine with sincerity and so much softness for this man that does not seem to understand just how much you love him. You vow to spend the rest of your days showing him, “There are no options when there’s you, Pero.”

You can’t help but shriek a little in laughter as Pero falls on you and crushes his lips to yours, pinning your body to your bed with his large and solid frame. Kissing you over and over, Pero punctuates his affection with barely strung together words of love - So perfect. So perfect. Can’t believe it. How. How did I get so. Damn. Lucky. Beautiful. Perfect girl.

Right before your giggles can turn into moans, a knock on your door freezes you both. The noise is quickly followed by the Duchess’ slightly amused voice, “Is everything okay? We have brought up dinner. Please let me know when it is decent for us to come in.”

Giving you one last peck on your lips before chuckling lightly, Pero pulls you up and whispers, “Tomorrow,” before going to open the door for Daphne.

The next morning you find Pero waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs when you come down. Checking quickly to make sure there aren’t any lingering servants, you step off the third to last step and fling yourself into his arms. Pero catches you easily and gives you a twirl before placing you gently on your feet, then places a less gentle kiss to your lips. With a few hurried murmurings of devotion - I missed you. You look beautiful. I still can’t believe you’re mine - you break apart and head to breakfast.

When the two of you enter the dining room, you’re greeted exuberantly by your friends congratulating you on your recovery and expressing their delight that you’re well enough to rejoin them. Your father hugs you and you think you detect a knowing smile gracing his face, but you’re too soon seated with platters of food being offered and pushed towards you for you to be sure. It’s a happy occasion but also slightly awkward – you’re seated next to Pero, but you have to pretend that nothing has changed between the two of you. Trying to cheerfully chat with your father and friends, you find yourself unable to give the conversation your full attention because you trying with all your might to hold in the most wonderful news of your life, and with it, your overflowing happiness. It doesn’t help that Pero finds increasingly mischievous ways to secretly touch you throughout breakfast: foot reaching over to playfully nudge yours, gently squeezing your thigh under the table. When he purposefully brushes his hand down your arm and over yours in order to reach for the butter dish, you gasp in surprise - his touch out in the open sending a warm thrill through to your heart. In response to your friends’ concerns, you have to lie and say you may still be feeling fatigued, and Pero, ever the menace, pats your shoulder affectionately and reminds you not to overexert yourself before buttering his scone with a smirk.

After your father finishes his meal, you nervously watch Pero hastily shove his last piece of food into his mouth before asking the Viscount for use of his office, and entreats your father for a word. Finishing your own breakfast as quickly as you can without drawing suspicion, you find your way to the closed office doors and pace outside impatiently. Try as you may, you cannot make out any of what is being spoken in the office, even when you press your ear up to the door. After what feels like an eternity, the door opens and Pero exits; not the least bit surprise to find you outside, he whispers in your ear as he walks by, “Your father wishes to see you now, Dulce. Come find me afterwards. I will be upstairs writing a letter.”

The Count welcomes you into the office with open arms and you immediately fly into your father’s loving embrace. As he continues to envelope you in the warmth of his joy, he chuckles, “Well, dearest, I think your old father deserves some acknowledgement for being right.”

Pulling away from him, you look at the face that’s so much like your own, eyes crinkled in mirth and a smile big enough to rival yours, “I concede, Father - you were right. And I have never been so happy to have been wrong!”

Your father’s already expressive eyes shine with an extra brightness, “All I have ever hoped for is your happiness, my dear. Pero is a good man, like his father before him and he has given me every assurance that he will cherish and take care of you the way you deserve. I shall rest easily knowing that you will be in his capable hands… and he in yours.”

What did you ever do to deserve such a brilliant father who has given you the most wonderful life? You ponder this as you walk up the stairs after telling your father that you love him and saying goodbye for the day. You suspect you’ll never discover a satisfactory answer, but can only hope you can one day bestow the same unconditional love and support upon your own children.

You find Pero sitting at the corner desk in the drawing room where some of the Bridgertons are relaxing: Eloise and Colin reading, Francesca tinkering at the piano forte, Daphne looking over some correspondence of her own. Approaching him silently, you look over his shoulder and whisper, “Mi rey, to whom are you writing?”

Smiling at your Spanish endearment of choice, Pero responds without looking up from his task, “I am writing my king, Dulce, and asking him for his permission to marry.”

Ah right, you consider that the Count could very well be penning a similar letter to the queen at this same moment, “What happens if he refuses, Pero?”

“Then I abscond with my new bride and we live like pirates on the run,” smiles Pero, still not looking up.

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you grin.

Pero finally sets his soft gaze upon you, “Nothing can be so bad if you are by my side, mi reina.”

He looks at you with such devotion and affection, you can’t help yourself - you cup his perfect face in your hands and bend down to kiss him. Pero returns your soft, gentle kisses with his own, nothing urgent, nothing hurried – just a moment of tenderness that couldn’t have been restrained.

You don’t break apart even when you hear the successive gasps of your friends or even when Colin cheers, unable to part from Pero’s lips even a moment sooner than you need to. When the two of your finally look up, it’s to the sight of the Duchess standing with her hands on her hips and a beaming smile on her face, “Do you two have something to tell us?”

You and Pero attend all of the remaining season events as a happily engaged couple. Pero, no longer scowling all by his lonesome against the wall, but standing tall and proud next to you; his hand laced through yours or comforting and firm on your lower back as the two of you receive congratulations from the ton. He drinks in the jealous looks from your former suitors and inwardly chuckles a little at the conceding grumbles from the mamas who proclaim with surprise that they didn’t know he had been looking for a wife. His stoic countenance cracking just a little at their poorly concealed scandalized faces when he replies that he hadn’t been. For your part, you don’t notice any of this; you only have eyes and ears for Pero. Your face hurts from smiling so much – it’s all you can do to tear your eyes away from your handsome fiancé in order to respond politely to the questions you receive from curious members of the ton.

You still dance every dance, floating on air as you traverse the floor in the strong arms of your dashing Spaniard; now that there is no danger of some other man whisking you away from him for the next dance, Pero quite enjoys the dance floor. He holds you closer than he probably should, chests touching and faces so close that the gentle fan of your breath curls over his lips; his hands find themselves placed low on your back during the waltz, dipping scandalously close to where he really wants them to be, itching to squeeze the plush globes of your ass. If anyone was to make a comment to you about it, you would giggle and simply say that your fiancé is a passionate man.

And he is. A passionate man, that is. Under his grave and steely visage, Pero is a man who yearns for and craves the woman he loves, hungry for you at all times. Such a man is not made of infinite restraint - the limits of Pero’s self control having already been sorely tested for the past few months. As such, whenever an opportunity to escape the rigid formality of these events would arise, Pero wasted no time whisking you away for himself.

At the Grand Picnic, he steals you away to a secluded spot in the gardens where he proceeds to kiss you so fervently and passionately that you actually get dizzy. He presses you against the base of some winged sculpture and hungrily licks and sucks down your neck, all while you cover your mouth with your hands, hoping against hope to contain your moans and soft whimpers. The stone angel watches from its perch as Pero trails his mouth down past your collar towards the swell of your breasts, already rapidly rising and falling. Pressing feather light kisses to the tops of your breasts, Pero drinks in your breathy giggles when his scruff tickles you, before diving in devilishly, lapping at your ample curves and the valley in between. As you start to pant from arousal, Pero finds himself most ardently wishing that your tits would break free of their fine silk confines and spill into his mouth.

A la mierda, he thinks and glides his tongue into the sliver of space between your dress and skin, dragging it across your chest until he hits your hardened nipple; having found his prize, Pero dives in, straining with his tongue to stroke your peak harder and faster. When he leverages enough space with his chin to wedge in between your soft skin and the fabric of your dress, Pero takes your breast into his mouth and sucks while groping your other breast with his hand, finding the twin nipple already straining against your gown, aching to be played with. The combined sensation has you grabbing at Pero’s hair and pressing him closer to you; with your hands now otherwise occupied, your gasps and moans spill unfiltered from your open mouth. The obscene sounds Pero pulls from you must start to carry, because soon you hear voices getting nearer to where you and Pero have now frozen, his mouth buried in your chest; he places one last chaste kiss to tops of each of your breasts before the two of you giggle and run hand-in-hand out of the gardens.

At the Opera, Pero secures a box on the second mezzanine for the two of you. With most of the ton preferring the orchestra seats or boxes closer to the stage, you find yourselves alone in the secluded alcove nearer to the house balcony. Once the lights dim and the overture starts, Pero takes your hand in his and you lean on his shoulder, relaxing into his closeness. By the time the audience is enjoying the soprano’s heart-breaking aria in the third act, Pero has his left arm thrown around you and the knuckles of his right hand are ghosting over the front of your panties where he finds them already damp from want.

“Keep your eyes on the stage, Dulce,” he whispers in your ear as his thumb draws slow circles over your clit. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, trying with all your might not to let your whole body react to Pero’s teasing lest it draws the attention of the opera house attendees sitting on the balcony or in the boxes on the opposite side of the hall.

Pero is patient. And thorough. He takes an inordinate time exploring the shape of your pussy - running his thumb then fingers over the outline of your slit and the hardening form of your clit, eventually cupping your mound and letting you grind down on his palm to give you some of the friction you so desperately seek. He toys with you over the fabric of your underwear for the remainder of the 3rd act until your panties are completely soaked through. Only once the 4th act is underway does he slip his hand down the front of your underwear and start to run his forefinger through your folds.

“Pero…” you sigh, spreading your legs wider to allow him more freedom of movement.

“Doing so good for me, mi amor,” he whispers back, continuing his smooth, teasing strokes, dragging your sticky arousal through the valleys of your seam and trailing it up to your clit, spreading it over and around your bundle of nerves before returning his fingers to your wet core. He repeats this over and over, alternating the speed and pressure of his fingers, never letting you settle into a complacent state. Quite the opposite – you feel like your body is on fire.

Willing yourself to breathe through your nose as evenly as you can, you focus on the soprano’s finale song before the ensemble gathers for the finale; just as the singer hits the high notes of her solo with a warm vibrato, Pero pushes a finger straight into your heat and you whine in harmony with her. Slowly he pumps his finger in and out of your tight hole, nearly losing control with the way you clench as he drags along your warm warms; Pero feels you hum around him as pleasure you’ve never felt before radiates throughout your entire body. The squelching sound of Pero working your cunt are thankfully masked by the musical drama unfolding on the stage, and Pero uses the opportunity to ask you if you’re ready for another.

Seeing you nod as subtly as you can, Pero murmurs, “Good girl,” before adding a second finger to join the first. Oh. You’re so full. It’s a stretch, but the sting pairs perfectly with the devastating pleasure now coursing through your veins as Pero slowly drives his fingers into you. Staying with a slower pace until you start dripping down his wrist, Pero’s fingers now start to thrust faster, keeping tempo with the musical build that the ton in the orchestra is enjoying, clueless to your lascivious activities above them.

When Pero presses his thumb to your slippery clit, you surge forward and grab onto the balcony banister for stability, nearly in danger of drawing the attention of unwanted eyes. Refusing to ease up in his efforts on your cunt, Pero continues to push you closer and closer to your high, his fingers never faltering from their punishing pace until you come and cry out in tune with the finale’s final chorus. While the rest of the audience applauses when the curtain falls, Pero’s praise is only for you - purring that you did so good for him and kissing you gently as his slips his slick covered hand back into his glove.

At the Hastings Ball, you’re the one feeling bold. Having arrived at your friend’s estate a week prior to help the Duchess with preparations, you familiarize yourself with the grounds and all the intimate, secret corners perfect for intimate, secret things. Once all the guests have arrived and the festivities have begun in earnest, you sneak off with your fiancé, leading him down a hidden staircase into the Duke’s impressive wine cellar. With all of tonight’s refreshments having already been pulled from inventory, you know no one will be coming down here during the ball; you’re free to touch, feel and love on Pero in all the ways you desire. Once Pero realizes the amount of privacy you’ve been afforded, he’s like a dog unleashed, stalking and cornering you into a wall with a growl, sniping at your neck with his teeth and lips, pawing at your soft curves already on display for him in your pretty ballgown.

Here in the cellar, while you still cannot be loud, but you don’t have to be quiet – the cavernous room echos your quiet moans and Pero’s deep grunts like a soundtrack of pleasure that’s percussed by heavy breathing as the two of you drown in one another. Lips attached to yours, but eyes kept open to take in your lustful expression, Pero spies an unopened crate out of the corner of his eye and smiles against your mouth, “Come here, Dulce. Let me show you something.”

After letting him lead you to the crate, you allow Pero to help you on top before scooting you back so your legs no longer dangle over the edge. Grinning, you ask playfully, “What, pray tell, do you wish to show me, Barón?”

“Want to show you how I’m going to make my pretty wife feel good every day we are married,” Pero looks at you, eyes dark, as his starts to ruffle up the many layers of your dress. You giggle as his pushes through the yards of fabric with a feigned annoyance, bunching it up for you to hold against your chest like an overstuffed pillow. Once Pero is satisfied with his unfettered access, he gently pushes you to lean back on your elbows, hands still laid prettily on your pillow of dress skirts, eyes watching your handsome fiancé’s movements. Pero leans over the edge of the crate and rubs your silk stocking covered calves with his big firm hands as he starts kissing up your leg starting from where your stockings end mid thigh. Every kiss he leaves on your skin gives you a shiver as the cool cellar air hits the imprint his lips leaves behind; then, as he gets closer to your heat, he starts to open mouth kiss where you’re the most sensitive, dragging his tongue back and forth over these tender spot and leading you to throw you head back and close your eyes in heady desire. When he repeats this fog inducing pattern on the inside of your other thigh, you start begging, “Pero, please… please, my Lord, ple-pl-please!”

Nipping at your sensitive flesh with his teeth, Pero smirks against your leg, “What do you need, mi reina?”

Opening your eyes, you nearly buck into his face when you see Pero’s roguish expression peeking up at you from between your wide spread legs, “Touch me please, mi rey.”

“Here?” he asks, with pretend innocence before he dives in and starts devouring your pussy over the fabric of your underwear without waiting for your answer. This feels different. So much like his fingers but even more sensual, intimate, wild. Pero mouths and nuzzles your cunt with a precision only rivalled by that of his tongue; his tongue has a mind of his own, gently prodding, exploring, reaching where his lips can’t. Pero's hands reach up your legs and hook under the band of your soaked panties and you catch him look at you before he murmurs “May I?” directly into your cunt. The vibrations of his question run through to your chest and it’s all you can do to nod quickly before you watch him pull the frilly undergarment down your legs and have them drop to the ground. Already completely wrecked, Pero takes in your glistening folds, wet and primed, and growls, “Look at this perfect pussy. And she’s all mine.”

You run one hand through his soft curls and grip his hair so he’ll look at you, smiling lazily, already unbelievably blissed out, you promise, “All yours.”

“Mine,” Pero repeats, and then he buries his face into heaven.

The sensation is overwhelming in the very best way. Pero is eating you, no, devouring you like a man starved; every press of his lips to your pussy somehow deeper and hungrier than the last, as his tongue licks every crest and wave of your core and marks them for his own. Your slick pools from you, down your backside and dampens your gown beneath you; the wet noises from Pero’s mouth against your folds echo obscenely around you and your voice cannot help but try to add in its own harmony. All of this makes you feel like a worshiped goddess about to ascend her alter and simultaneously like a wanton whore who knows that true heaven lies in the bodily pleasures of this mortal realm. Then, as Pero’s mouth closes over your clit and he starts to flick your throbbing nub with his tongue, you realize in your daze that no, what you are is something better than either of those two things: you’re the woman who is marrying Barón Pero Tovar. That’s the thought that overflows from your thumping heart and pushes you over the edge, coming on Pero’s face as you chant his name in a grateful prayer.

After the Ball, you’re positively exhausted from purposefully overdoing the socializing after returning from the wine cellar so no one would recall your long absence. Yawning, you’re giving your hair a final brush when you hear a soft clink against your bedroom window, followed shortly by another, then another.

Confused, you approach your window with slight trepidation, and upon looking out, you think at first that your tired eyes must be deceiving you. Below your window, gazing up at you, is Pero. He looks devastatingly handsome; yet to undress – Pero is still in his formal breeches, but his white shirt has been unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, exposing his smooth, tanned skin to your admiring gaze. You might lick your lips at the sight. Giggling as you tiptoe down the stairs, you walk out onto the terrace that hangs off the sitting room directly below your bedroom, greeted by Pero’s blinding smile, “Barón, what are you doing here?”

It's an easy climb up the side of the wall to the terrace level for Pero and his long legs; once he’s standing directly in front of you, he answers, “I could not sleep without seeing you one last time, Dulce.”

Where did this man who adores you so openly and without reservation come from? You throw your arms around his neck and pull him in for a gleeful kiss; you adore him too, after all.

Still grinning, Pero jokes, “And as I recall, it is my turn to call upon you in the dead of night from beneath your window in order to rouse you from the comfort of your bed chamber.”

Although he has no such intent, Pero’s words immediately transport you back to the night you realized your feelings for him… and how you had left his house, devastated upon the discovery that he was not alone. Stilling in your movements, you shrink away from Pero a little; none of this goes without notice.

“Dulce, are you okay? I’m sorry, I did not mean to imply there was anything wrong with these late-night meetings, but if you prefer to go back inside, I understand.”

You shake your head to let him know you’re not upset by that, but still your expression remains slightly sad and hurt. Pero bends at the knee to meet your eye, “Mi amor?”

You’ve never lied or kept anything from Pero in all the time you’ve known him, and now that you’re his fiancé, you’re not about to start. Looking at the ground next to you, you mumble, “I’m sorry, I was just remembering the night you’re alluding to; when I interrupted you… with those two women.”

When Pero doesn’t answer, you wonder if he’s upset with you for having disturbed him that night, and you look up to meet his eye finally, trying to give him a brave smile, “Please do not be upset with me. I did not know you had company, which would have been entirely your private business, to which I know I am not entitled. But if I must be honest, I do not particularly enjoy imagining you with other women.”

Pero has to stifle a laugh; if only you understood the war that raged in his chest every time a suitor placed his hand on your waist for a dance or when you would laugh at their jokes with that twinkle in your eye he loves so much – then you would not feel as if you had to hide these feelings from him.

Stroking your jaw gently, Pero tips your face to his, “Dulce, I could never be upset with you. Firstly, you are entitled to all my business, private or not. Secondly, the women to which you refer were not there by my invitation – Lord Ridlington had sent them to my house that evening as some sort of prank. In his words, maybe if the Barón got laid, he would not be such a stick in the mud. Nothing happened with those women, I promise, mi amor. When you arrived, I was right in the middle of arranging for a carriage to take them home. And thirdly,” Pero walks you backward until your back hits the wall; he braces an arm above your head, and towering over you, grips firmly onto your waist with his other hand, “how could I ever even think of another woman when there is you? You with your pretty face, and your sweet smile, and your heavenly laugh. You with your witty quips, and your melodic voice that says the smartest things, and this gorgeous body…”

Pero’s voice trails off as he starts to kiss down your neck and his strong hands start to move up and down your sides in unison, then separating so one can reach up to massage your breast and the other down to grope your ass. Your head tips back to allow Pero more access as you melt into his touch - he’s everywhere at once, overwhelming all of your senses. Kissing down to your breasts, Pero finds them available to him in a way he has yet to experience, your thin night dress much flimsier than the gowns you wear during the day; he can already see your nipples poking up through the fabric, hard and inviting. Without warning, he ducks and takes one in his mouth, teasing and sucking in tandem with your loud gasps and moans.

“Oh Pero, right there, oh- nghhh, please that feels so good!” you cry out breathily. Spurned on by your praise, Pero frantically rucks up the skirts of your nightgown and slots his thigh between your legs, pulling you down to sit. The pressure and friction on your cunt sends a wave of pleasure through you, amplified and extended by Pero’s tongue and lips laving their attention on your breasts. He encourages you to rock against his thigh, using his grip on your waist to help you find an enjoyable rhythm, and once you’ve found one that catches your clit on the flex of his leg, his hands leave you to your work and travel up your body to pull down the front of your night dress, exposing your tits to the cool night air and Pero’s darkened gaze.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, as he leans back to admire everything before him: your naked curves, your hardened peaks begging for his attention, and the sight of the woman he loves getting off by rubbing her pretty pussy all over his thigh. He thinks he’s minutes away from combusting.

Instead, he dives right into your chest, mouth and tongue licking, kissing and nibbling, hands groping, pinching and pulling all your delicious parts so that he can bring you to your second orgasm of the night. While tugging at your nipple with his teeth, he hisses low, “Were you jealous, Dulce?”

Half out of your mind from pleasure you gasp back, “Yes!”

Growling, “Good,” Pero sucks in a mouthful of your breast and kneads what he can’t fit into his mouth with his hands, panting out words when he should be taking in breaths of much needed air -

Now you know how I felt.

When some other man would touch you.

When you would smile at your suitors.

When you didn’t know I would burn the world for you.

You cry out at his confessions, gripping the back of his head and pulling him closer to you still; increasing your rocking, you’re chasing your own high when your knee brushes up against something hard, something big. When it jumps at your touch, you use your knee to stroke Pero’s length with every pass of your pussy over his thigh.

Your breasts now wet from Pero’s mouth, the cool night air’s chill against your skin causes you to tighten in Pero’s arms as he continues to electrify you with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, his words -

Never need to be jealous ever again, Dulce.

There’s only you.

Never want anyone else.

Don’t need anyone else.

You’re my everything.

Mine.

You come to his loving and possessive declarations, singing back your own - Yours, yours, yours. Body violently seizing and shuddering, Pero holds you close as you ride out your high. As you continue to buck against him, he crests to your desperate whimpers and breathless panting – his eyes never leaving your face, mesmerized by the sweet blissed out expression that he pulled from you. Finally opening your eyes, you grin lazily at the sight of your lover smiling at you, calming down from his own summit; and when you feel the dampness of his trousers against your bare knee, you giggle in pride and pull Pero back to you lips for a flutter of happy kisses. As he walks you to the door to the waiting room, you hardly give him a moment without a light peck on his lips, cheeks, neck – not sure you’ll be able to stand being apart from Pero for even a few hours of sleep.

Before he leaves you, Pero cups your face in his large hands, whispering against your lips, “I’m yours,” and you smile back and press your mouth to his before returning, “Mine.”

You marry at the end of the season in late June with the blessing of the Spanish king to do so in England. The ceremony itself is wonderful and your gown is gorgeous, but you hardly remember anything save for how handsome Pero looks waiting for you at the end of the aisle and how he and the Count both had tears in their eyes for most of the wedding. What you remember much more vividly is the fun you and your friends had when preparing for the nuptials. Days and nights filled with laughter, play fighting over flower arrangements, tearful promises to never let distance impact your friendship – you thank the Bridgertons over and over for their love and support during this season and bringing you to Pero; you can never repay them. When you board the ship to your new home, it’s not without tears as you say goodbye to your friends and father; everyone sends you off with mirroring sentiments and promises to visit soon.

If the Tovar estate servants had any concerns or misgivings about having a foreigner as mistress of the house, you soon win them over with your kind and gentle nature; your cheerful and easy-going demeanor overriding any language barrier, which with their help and your dedication, you were overcoming more and more every day. And if there were any remaining whispers, be they among the members of the Spanish court, villagers, or any one else, they were quickly quieted once the concerned party bore witness to the ferocity of your love for your husband and his obvious and complete devotion to you. The older house staff observed quite readily that they hadn’t seen the Barón smile as much as he did since he was a boy. The newer servants declared that prior to his marriage, they had not seen him smile at all.

One morning, only two months after landing in Spain, you wake to find yourself alone in bed for the first time since you and Pero got married. Deciding it unnecessary to ring for your ladies’ maid (Lucia, a delightful woman whose English was improving as much as your Spanish), you throw on a dressing robe over your night dress and pad downstairs, sure you’ll find your husband in the dining room having breakfast.

As usual, you’re right; for a few minutes you remain standing in the doorway, admiring your handsome hulk of a husband as he shovels the remainder of his breakfast into his mouth. You love the way he eats… everything - with voracity, unabashed hunger, like he can never get enough. Strolling in only when you see him push aside his empty plate in favour of a pile of letters and paperwork to begin reading, you thank the footman who had already seen you and plated you a warm breakfast, before you approach Pero’s chair. Dancing your fingers across his broad shoulders, you slide onto your husband’s lap before laying a soft morning kiss to his lips, “Buenos días, mi rey.”

“Buenos días, mi reina,” Pero kisses back, turning his full attention to you as he always does.

“Te echo de menos esta mañana (I missed you this morning),” you pout, although you’re not really upset with him in any way.

Pero smiles at you indulgently, “I thought you might like to get some extra sleep.” He nuzzles your ear and you can hear him smile, “Considered you might be tired after your activities last night, Baronesa.”

You giggle and pull him in for another kiss, your cheeks get hot just thinking about the multiple orgasms that Pero pulled from you with his talented fingers, mouth and cock; you purr back and pepper his scruff with kisses, “Very thoughtful of you, Barón.” Your eyes soften, “No me gusta despertar sin ti, Pero (I hate waking up without you, Pero).”

Pero kisses your temple, “My apologies, Dulce. How can I make it up to my pretty wife?”

You squirm in his lap; a thrill still runs through you when you hear him refer to you as his wife, and you start to plant breathy kisses to the spot right behind his ear that you know drives him crazy.

“Already? Is my wife so insatiable?” chuckles Pero, though his voice his has dropped to that low baritone register that makes your stomach flip. You nod into his neck and start to run your fingers through his soft curls, tugging impatiently at the ones at the base of his neck.

“Déjanos por favor (leave us please),” Pero calls out politely. The servants in the dining room leave at once and close the doors, some smirking - all the servants having gotten used to their master and new mistress’ voracious appetite for one another. The younger servants were mainly amused and some even found it romantic; the older servants acting scandalized, but secretly pleased to see such a happy marriage on the estate after so long.

“Sit up here, mi amor,” Pero pulls you off his lap gently and directs you up onto the dining room table; you move his papers aside and push his flatware out of the way. Teasing him, you quip, “I thought you already had breakfast, my lord?”

“I’m ready for seconds,” growls Pero as he pulls up his chair and seats himself between your legs. Licking his lips greedily, he unties your robe and peels it open to reveal your lacey nightgown underneath. Lifting up the skirt to reveal your already wet and waiting naked cunt, he murmurs, "Delicious," before lowering himself to meet you where you already need him so desperately. Aware that you might still be sensitive from the previous night’s sex, Pero is careful with you – his licks and strokes to your folds are gentle and slow, he mouths and sucks your clit with tenderness and reverence, and when he presses two, then three fingers into your tight hole, he does so with restrained worship. It’s only when you cry out for more, more, more, that he quickens his pace and fully presses his mouth to you, tongue tangling with your sensitive bud before nibbling it between his teeth. Your moans and debauched sounds of rapture have never been restrained in this house, your house – and you come with a desperate and enchanting scream befitting the blinding pleasure now electrifying your body.

Kissing up your nightgown and planting loving open mouth kisses to your breasts before letting you taste yourself, Pero licks into your mouth and whispers, “Te amo, mi reina,” before standing back to unlace his pants.

Your mouth waters as you watch your husband free his cock; no matter how many times you’ve taken him in your hands, your mouth, your cunt, you’re still in awe of its size and the things that Pero’s length can do to you. Whenever you feel the stretch of him entering you, you always recall the first time and how gentle he was as he pushed in. When you remember the tenderness in his voice and face as he made sure you were comfortable, putting your pleasure before his – your heart always blooms with overflowing love for this man. How did you get so lucky? Pero would of course always say that he’s the lucky one, and then show you just how deep his affection for you runs by thrusting with intensity, punching that spot inside that makes you see stars, over and over – the exact way he’s doing so now. “¡Cómo te amo, Pero!” you whimper again and again, and by the way he continues to drive into you, you know he believes you. Folding himself over you so that he can bury his face into your neck and nip at the delicate spot at the base, Pero's pants and groans have you arching your back and fisting his hair just for something to hold on to lest you float away.

“I’m close, Dulce. Come with me,” Pero growls, snaking a hand between your bodies and finding your clit with ease. Drawing quick circles over your swollen nub, you feel the coil beneath your belly tighten and tighten until it snaps and you throw you head back chanting your husband’s name as you fall over the cliff. Not far behind, Pero’s pace falters before he spills into you with a long and low grunt in your ear that shoots straight to where you’re joined as one.

Weak, limp and perfectly satisfied, you let Pero pull you into a sitting position and kiss him deeply and sweetly as both of your breaths start to even, the heaving of your chests slowing in unison.

Forehead resting against yours, Pero catches your still dazed eyes and gives a small nod towards the papers that had been pushed aside and forgotten, “Dulce, I’ve been charged with accompanying His Majesty’s naval fleet to Naples, Italy. Would you join me?”

Smiling because you know he already knows the answer, you nod, “Of course, mi amor. I’ll start making the necessary arrangements today.”

Pero tilts his head, eyes soft and reassuring, “Are you okay with leaving? We will have only been home for a few short months.”

Cupping your husband’s face in your hands, you gaze adoringly into his eyes, “My home is where you are, Pero.”

Pero closes his eyes and pulls you flush against him, with him still softening inside you, you’re as close as two people can be. He tips your face to his and whispers, “You’re my home, Dulce,” and all you can do is sigh in unsurpassable happiness as he presses his lips to yours once again.

I've never done a tag list before so please let me know if it doesn't work, or you don't/do want to be on it, or it sets your phone on fire 😅 @drewharrisonwriter @inept-the-magnificent @tuquoquebrute @stcrrjoon @anoverwhelmingdin

@callsignmedusa @wintersquirrel @toobsessedsstuff @starwarslover-81 @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

#pero tovar #regency!pero tovar #bridgerton au #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfiction #pero tovar smut #pero tovar series #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x f!reader #pero tovar x reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #no y/n

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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kiss all your tears away

alternatively: we haven’t talked in almost 4 days (next)

in which she and logan don't walk into the paddocks together for the first time all season and sends everyone speculating about the status of their relationship friendship

(series masterlist)

she hikes her bag up her shoulder, pushing the sunglasses up her nose. she taps her card against the reader before she can step into the paddocks.

when she'd woken up this morning, she laid in bed with two packs of ice over her eyes to try and reduce the swelling of her eye area. when she’s gotten up to look at herself in the mirror, it did depuff but didn’t entirely erase the evidence of all the crying she did.

she dropped george a text message early this morning, asking if it was okay to be wearing sunglasses everywhere on the paddocks without looking like a complete fool — it’s just a rehearsal, after all.

george simply assumed she’s hungover or something of the sort, so he didn’t ask questions. he just told her he does it all the time.

so, here she is walking into the paddocks by herself. with her stupid bag on her stupid shoulder and a pair of sunglasses over her eyes to hide away from everyone.

oscar, who comes in right after her, almost walks right past her before he realised who she is. he just almost barely recognises her entering the paddocks with a bag on her shoulder and logan next to her.

oscar taps her on the shoulder gently, flashing her a bright smile. “alone today?”

“yeah,” she answers simply, a smile of gratitude stretching her lips when oscar slows his pace down to walk with her.

“oh,” oscar nods to himself. while he’s been slightly out of touch with her out of respect of their relationship, he still did grow up with her. he still knows her telltales when she’s got a problem. “fought?”

“yeah.”

“that bad?”

“pretty bad.”

“i won’t ask about it. but are you okay?”

“i guess.”

“i’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“hopefully.”

“let me carry your stuff,” oscar mutters, circling around her to her other side. he doesn’t wait for an answer — he just slides her backpack off her shoulder and throws it over his shoulder on top of his bag.

she opens her mouth to protest, but oscar is quick to shut her down. “i used to do it before logan. don’t act like it’s so new to you,” oscar laughs, shaking his head. “and it’s weird seeing you with a bag in the paddocks.”

“that’s true. i haven’t walked into the paddocks with my bag on my shoulder since i joined you guys in f2,” she grins shyly.

“let’s put your stuff down then come and hang at mclaren? lily’s just got a taxi to arrive from the airport.”

“oh, she’s here this weekend? she didn’t tell me that…”

“she was going to surprise you after the rehearsal,” oscar giggles. “so, what do you say?”

“okay, but only if lando makes me a cup of coffee.”

george tilts his head at the empty seat alex has left in the corner. “move to the corner, we’re going to hog the space and be shat on for acting like boyfriends.”

“logan’s sitting with us tonight,” alex answers simply with a shrug. “can’t fully commit to being your boyfriend tonight, mate, i’m sorry.”

“oh, how come?” george asks, furrowing his eyebrows. typically, logan would sit in the middle rows with his girlfriend. “doesn’t he usually sit with (y/n) or oscar?”

alex shrugs, bottom lip pouted out. “think they had a friendly squabble a couple days ago. he’s been weird since he arrived in vegas the other day.”

george surprisingly held on to the unspoken agreement he has with them. he hasn’t told a soul about seeing her in the gap between his door that one time. nor has told alex about it.

but he does talk to lando, which wasn’t a great conversation to start when he came up to him with a 50 pound bill in his hand. they danced around the information of knowing something particularly specific, and lando eventually blurted excitedly that he saw them on a date a few days back.

so maybe they fought. or worse, have they broken up?

logan arrives literally a second after the worst thought passes his mind. he takes the empty seat next to alex, greeting george with a small smile before leaning in to start a conversation.

he watches the door, curious at what’s exactly going on. he completely tunes out from the conversation, feigning intelligent answers and short reponses. his eyes dart over to the door whenever it’s pulled open, and sighing when it’s not the driver he expects.

he looks down at his watch. there’s about 10 minutes before the briefing starts for them. and, vegas is a race that had them come in a couple days prior to be briefed and conduct a short rehearsal for the opening ceremony.

luckily, there’s not much media around today, which would make tiptoeing around this issue a whole lot easier.

when the door is pulled open again, george lifts his head quickly, as he’s genuinely quite invested now. he raises an eyebrow and is taken aback by the girl holding the door open with a pair of sunglasses resting on her nose.

he’s absolutely forgotten the fact that she had texted him this morning about this issue.

she takes a step forward, but then takes two back. instead of walking in, she stays back outside the room with the door in her hand. pierre and charles walk in, thanking her softly before returning to their conversation.

there’s a momentary pause as she looks inside, where they’re seated, before she looks at somebody who’s in the hallway with her. oscar appears, motioning for her to walk in, but she shakes her head and simply points inwards to the room.

alex has chosen to settle for the wrong seats today, obviously. having logan sit right next to the door might be a bit more detrimental than he thought. but what would alex know? he doesn’t even know of their relationship.

oscar tries to fight with her, but she simply purses her lips. the australian slumps his shoulder before sharply turning on his heel and just walking into the room, followed by a distressed looking lando.

lando looks around, catching george’s curious eyes, so the man in orange simply shrugs tiredly at him.

she beckons for someone else in the hallway to walk in, but it seems that it’s a losing fight by the way that she’s continually waving her hands in the air to persuade them.

sighing, she just visibly sighs and winds her hand back to act out a punch. she drops her hands before finally turning around to take a step forward again.

if there’s any way that she announces her arrival, it’s typically by the scent of her strong perfume. her floral scent fills his nose, and it’s obvious that logan finally takes notice of her arrival.

because logan turns around, eyes trained on her as she walks in with an orange paper cup in her hand. what’s made everything stranger is that she simply walks ahead: she doesn’t spare logan another look as she walks down the side aisle to join max, oscar and lando who unfortunately only landed the front row seats.

george watches logan’s eyebrows furrow and press his lips together. logan shifts in his seat uncomfortably before turning back to continue their conversation.

“did you catch that, mate?” alex asks, nudging george’s arm with his elbow.

“what?” george tears his eyes away from the girl in front to look at the two men next to him. “sorry, i didn’t catch what you were saying.”

“right, so basically…”

she looks up at the giant yellow circle in front of her. she momentarily lifts her sunglasses to gawk at the ever changing expressions of the emoji face being projected.

“that’s so adorable!” she points out, reaching out to roughly pat max’s shoulder to get his attention. “look, it’s looking at us!”

“hey, your hands are not as light as you think!” max scolds, his arm darting out to catch her wrist in his hands. “you’ve got to make up with logan.”

she pouts, retracting her hand roughly from the older man’s grip. she drops her sunglasses back down to her nose and folds her arms over her chest. “what do you mean? you don’t like hanging out with me?”

“i do. trust me, i have the time of my life annoying the shit out of you,” max laughs dryly down at her. “but you are all over my hater hours. gawk at this… thing,” he points at the sphere, “with your boyfriend.”

“no,” she scoffs, simply shaking her head. she huffs and tries to walk past him. “forget it — i’ll just go and find yuki and hang out with him. he doesn’t try and push me away when i try.”

max sighs, rolling his eyes. he grabs her elbow and drags her back to him. he puts her in front of him, hands on her shoulders.

max reaches out and takes off the sunglasses, clipping it to the collar of his shirt. “you’ve got to talk this whole fight out with logan. stop ignoring him.”

“i’m not ignoring him. he’s ignoring me,” she insists, throwing a hand into the air.

“no, he’s not!” max cries, pinching the bridge of his nose. honestly, he didn’t want to enjoy this race in vegas. in fact, all he’s done leading up to this grand prix has been openly hate on the thought of even being here.

he didn’t factor in that he’d have to suddenly play the part of being an older brother and a therapist to the girl standing in front of him.

he has grown to be fond of her, yes, but he very much preferred not being put in the middle of all this.

“what?”

“yeah! he was literally boring holes into you when you walked into the rehearsal briefing earlier,” max points out. “and then he only left the room after you left; after you just walked right past him again without a flinch!”

“okay, listen! if you had the fight that we had, you wouldn’t make up so easily either, okay?” she rambles, hands on her hips in frustration. her puffy eyes are finally nowhere in sight. “you don’t even know what we fought about.”

“fine, then enlighten me.”

“we fought about this,” she circles her hands around them, motioning to the track setup around them. “about all of this! formula 1! it’s caught up to us!”

max furrows his eyebrows. “what do you mean?”

“i mean like i literally had the sebastian vettel vouching for me to get a seat this season,” she sighs, shaking her head as she recalls the fight they had before flying to vegas. “i mean like i’ve been in the points consistently since i crashed in baku and he’s struggling to even be on par with alex!

“how is that my fault, max? it’s not my fault!”

“you’re right: it’s not.”

“why does it feel like it is? i hate that this is happening to him, of all people! but how is it my fault that i’m delivering and meeting everyone’s expectations of me entering the sport?”

tears rush into her eyes. she presses the bottom of her palms into her eyes as her voice cracks, shaking her head hopelessly. “like, it’s not my fault we’re performing differently. i’m literally driving for my reputation and seat — i’m on probation with my team just as much as he is.”

max suddenly regrets poking her button. from what oscar tells him, they’re not typically the couple to have very big fights. it seems that he has misread the severity of the situation.

“oh, (y/n),” max frowns, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her. he puts his hand on the back of her head, gently letting her nuzzle his face into his arm. “i’m sorry. i didn’t know.”

“it just gets increasingly difficult to comfort him weekend after weekend. i’m at a high, and he’s just-“

“i’m sure it’s not easy for him either,” max cooes, swaying side to side in an attempt to comfort her. “i am sure that it is not his intention to… make you ‘feel bad’ of what you’ve achieved thus far.”

“it’s just so hard,” she cries harder into his chest. “i want to be there for him, really. but it’s hard! it’s hard when my team is out celebrating after every race because of my points finish and he’s down with what’s happened with his race.”

max looks up at the sound of footsteps against the gravel, catching lando and george trying to make their way towards them.

he holds up a thumbs up to them, nodding gently enough for her not to feel it, to send them the other way. it’s bad enough she’s crying at the f1 track four days before a race with majority of the teams still in the paddocks.

he turns his head to the side, by the grandstands, catching oscar and sebastian’s stare of concern. he simply flashes them a smile and a reassuring nod. in return, he gets a firm nod from the race engineer and a thankful smile from the young driver.

from what he knows, she hasn’t told anyone about this issue. perhaps that’s why she’s stuck to him all evening?

“i don’t think we’ll get past this, max. that’s the worst part,” she sobs, pulling away to rub her eyes. she heaves as tears flow out of her eyes, lips quivering and voice cracking with every word she speaks. “how can we even? i don’t know what to do.”

max frowns. he pushes her head into his chest again, this time, resting his chin on the top of hers. he doesn’t exactly know what to say.

their situation is so unique, that even he — with as much trauma as he carries around — does not know anything he can say that would make her feel better. so, he just rubs circles on her back as he sways.

“i’m sorry this happened to you,” he sighs, readjusting to now press his cheek on the top of her head. “i really don’t know what to say. there wouldn’t be any words i can string together to make you feel better about this.”

from the distance, he can see alex walking out of the pitlane. the bright blue shirt didn’t really make him hard to spot in the first place.

alex is the least of his problems. because behind alex is logan trailing behind him quietly, completely taken a step away from the conversation alex holds with some of their team members.

“do you want to go somewhere more private? teams are coming out to scout the track, i think,” max whispers, moving his head to look at her face. “let’s go?”

“okay. it’s kinda weird i’m crying here anyway,” she manages to mutter a joke. “my sunglasses.”

max almost wants to laugh when she cries even harder, reaching out for the sunglasses he’s confiscated from her a while ago. she removes it from his shirt, then replaces it on her face.

while she had paraded about with her chin in the air all evening, now she walks with her head down. her hair is out of the braids that blythe had styled her with, now falling to her cheeks to hide her away from everyone else.

if max could have continued walking the other way to simply avoid the williams racing team, he would. but if he did that, they’d have made a complete round of the track on foot. which doesn’t seem like a good idea at all with her state.

max slings a protective arm around her shoulders, walking around her body to hold her away from the prying eyes of those that walk past them.

as they slowly approach the team in blue, alex grows mildly concerned at the weirdly silent girl. “is sh- oh, okay.” alex nods understandingly, holding a hand up to wave max for an apology. all because she’s heaving silently in her sob in max’s arm that immediately told alex to not intervene. “sorry.”

and max just knows they’d eventually find a way out of this fight they’re in. because he turns around to gauge logan’s expression: he’s stopped dead on the tracks with a lingering stare on the crying girl.

max just gives him a small smile, to which logan forces a grin before turning away to catch up with alex who calls out for him.

surely, there’s a way around this. right?

#whew #writing a long piece like this for logan and femdriver #was NOT on my todo list today #it just came to me #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial #disneyprincemuke vr

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navyhealthyglow · 4 months ago

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appearence; "is she glowing?" - glow up guide no.2

Hey love, how are you doin?

Today we'll cover the next part of our glow up journey - our looks. So without further ado, let's begin!

I prepared a list of things you can do in order to boost your looks, and take care of yourself at the same time, so you can glow up<3

FACE:

⟶ don't pick your pimples!!! It's the worst thing you can do when dealing with acne/spots/blackheads etc. Instead go see a dermatologist. You can also use salicylic acid, azelaic acid or pimple patches ⟶ start double cleansing to remove all makeup and dirts from your face. Use an oil cleanser first, and a water based one afterwards. ⟶ use vitamin C to brighten your skin and give it this healthy glow ⟶ diet is also very important to keep your face clean and glowy. Make sure you're not eating too much sugar and processed foods that may cause inflammation. ⟶ use makeup according to your face shape and to enhance your features. ⟶ depuff your face using ice cubes, gua sha and face massages ⟶ When you sleep on our side, your face is pressed against the pillow causing acne and wrinkles, so sleep on your back or invest in a silk/satin pillowcase to reduce friction. ⟶ make sure you're using spf 50 daily

BODY:

⟶ move your body! Find an acitivy that you enjoy and move your body daily. You can go to the gym, find a class (like pilates or spinning maybe?) or just workout at home, stretch or go on walks. I personally love dancing and stretching, and I also try to walk at least 10k steps a day. ⟶ check up at the doctors regularly to make sure you're healthy ⟶ make sure you're sleeping enough, this is very important if you want to feel and look your best. Studies recommend at least 7 hours for and adult, and minimum 8 hours for teenagers ⟶ diet, im sorry but this is key to a healthy lifestyle and body. A healty, balanced diet with lots of fruit and vegetables and whole foods is essencial. Make sure to get enough protein and healthy fats in. I am not a medical professional, so if you have any special needs, allergies or you are in treatment consult any dietetary changes with your doctor or a certified dietetician. ⟶ use a nourishing body wash and after the shower use a lotion to moisturise your skin. And use deodorant after every shower. ⟶ exfoliate using a scrub or an exfoliating glove once/twice a week to keep your skin soft ⟶ you can take a pumice stone to soften the rough skin on your feet, and make sure to clean and cut your toenails. ⟶ find a signature scent, I recommend perfumes as they last longer but scented mists are also good. Bonus points if you have a lotion in the same smell to enhance the scent. ⟶ this is optional, but if you'd like to take your body care to the next level, everything showers are amazing! I do one about every two weeks on sundays. This is the time for you to take a cozy bath, exfoliate, wash your hair, maybe do a face mask? There is no right or wrong for an everything shower, just make yourself feel good and clean the way you like it<3

HAIR:

⟶ wash your hair 2-4x a week depending on your needs. Don't wash your hair daily as it can cause damaged hair and a dry, itchy scalp. If your hair gets greasy easily, try to at least wash it every other day. ⟶ use a hair mask once a week ⟶ I find that the best hair care is according to your hair porosity. You can check it with the glass of water test. Simply take a clean, product-free strand of loose hair and put it in a glass of water. If the hair floats at the top then it is low porosity, if it sinks slowly or settles in the middle it is medium/normal porosity, and if it sinks straight to the bottom then it is high porosity. ⟶ every night before bed apply hair oil to your ends and put your hair in a protective hairstyle such as loose braid to keep it from damage while you sleep. ⟶ use rosemary or argan oil to grow and thicken your hair ⟶ trim split/damaged ends when needed ⟶ you can use a scalp scrubber to better clean all the dirt and scalp build up ⟶ avoid excessive heat and when you do, use heat protection

CLOTHES:

⟶ rather than buying every microtrend that exist, invest in quality pieces and create a capsule wardrobe. Keep in mind to adjust it to your own personal style, or if you don't have one you can look ideas up on pinterest. ⟶ wear accesories! Necklaces, bracelets, sunglasses etc can elevate your looks by 1000x! Find out whether gold or silver fits you the best, or maybe you find diamonds or pearls a better fit? ⟶ keep your clothes clean and neat, iron them when needed to avoid looking slumpy

ESSENTIALS:

⟶ brush your teeth 2x a day ⟶ brush and detangle your hair ⟶ use a lip balm to hydrate your lips ⟶ always keep a hand cream near to use when needed ⟶ get enough sleep ⟶ move your body and eat healthy ⟶ stay hydrated, drink at least 2l of water a day

That's everything for today sparkles, I hope you enjoyed this post and I am waiting for your comments on how your glow up journey is going<3

Find me here: 🤍💿

#navyhealthyglow - all my og content #navyhealthytips - glow up tips #navyhealthyjourney - my glow up journey

My other blogs: 📖💙

@navyisstudying - study blog

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litrlymine777 · 1 month ago

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ranking my fav things:

airpods (my bby)

cam, veta, jess, patch, mads, lu, stella, cyrus, ri, nina, kora

dance

uggs (matches every outfit)

money $$$ (my soulmate)

lash serum (makes my lashes so long + thick)

eye patches (depuffs my under eyes & makes my skin glow)

the gym (my only love)

iced green tea

summer (bikinis all day, sunsets, partying all night, no school, cocktails>>, beach bonfires)

piercings (getting my belly button + 2 on my ears done in a few months & i am so obsessed)

writing/poetry (heals my inner thought daughter)

makeup (so fun + makes me look so bomb)

wavy hair products (repairs my damaged ahh hair)

fluffy bath robes

listening 2 new music

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year ago

Note

what "glow up tips" do you have that (actually) work?

I know some of the common ones like "ooh drink water" and whatever, which I already do (I try to eat healthy most days, drink water every day, exercise 5 days a week, etc.)

And I understand that while all these work, I was looking for more short-term glow up tips, like how to glow up your hair/makeup etc. if that makes sense.

So I guess what advice do you have for a "overnight" glow up (quote unquote)?

Love the blog!!

Hi love! Thank you so much <3

Yes, totally get what you're saying (and that's great – it's all just so important, honestly). Here are some of my "overnight glow-up hacks" if we shall call them that, which I believe fit into this category:

For your hair, use a mask on your hair the night before you want it to look extra shiny and smooth (I use this HASK one – it's $2-3 and works like magic). Wash it in cold water, and let it fully dry (even for a little while after using heat to dry it!) before putting it up or playing with your style at all

Dermaplane your face, tweeze your eyebrows and then put on an extra hydrating face lotion to lock in glowing, fresh-looking skin (I use Embryolisse Lait-Crème Concentré, it's a "dupe" for La Mer's famous face cream)

Exfoliate your entire body with a sugar scrub and use an ultra-hydrating body lotion (I use Tree Hut's Coco Colada scrub and Uriage's Xemose Lipid-Replenishing Anti-Irritation Cerat moisturizer)

Do a face massage/use a facial or body massage ball to depuff your face

An orgasm is a natural lip-plumper

Use Vaseline/Homeoplasmine to hydrate under your eyes + your lips

Apply concealer as a primer under your eyeliner (use a brush to thinly trace it before) setting powder/face powder under your eyes to "lock in" your eyeliner so it doesn't smudge (or at least way less)

Layer a cream blush with a powder blush over the top right away your cheekbones for a glowy, more lifted face

Outline your brows and lips with concealer with set powder over the top to avoid brow or lip product smudging

To help your lip color last all day: Apply a coat of lipstick, and blot excess with a tissue. Then, apply another coat and blot the excess again

Hope this helps xx

#femmefatalevibe #glow up #glow up tips #glow up era #makeup tips #makeup products #beauty routine #beauty tips #beauty advice #haircare tips #haircare #haircare routine #haircare products #q/a

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axelsagewrites · 1 year ago

Text

Jan Maas*Buttercup

Pairing: Jan x pregnant!reader

Word count: 2479

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, morning sickness, petty arguments, mentions of childbirth but nothing detailed, Jan being the biggest girl dad ever

Requested by @hypocritic-trash-baby (sorry it took sooo long)

Masterlist Here

There were many, and you meant many, downsides to working in a pub but one of the upsides just walked in. the Richmond coach Ted lasso and beard came in pretty regularly already but recently Dani, Sam, and Jan had also become regulars with the latter being the only thing you can think about. Jan mass was tall, handsome, and his jersey number was 13 which was basically fate since it was your lucky number.

“Hello,” his adorable Dutch accent greeted you as Sam and Danni claimed a table. “Three pints please,”

“Hiya and no problem,” you grinned, already holding the first pint in your hand since you knew their order by heart not that it was hard to remember, “How are you?”

“Better now,” he smiled, sipping on the first pint you slid him. “I was wondering if I may ask you something?” he asked, his smile dropping for a second as he glanced to his friends.

You tilted your head but smiled anyway, “Course you can. What’s up buttercup?”

Jan chuckled at this, always finding your expressions funny for some unknown reason to you. however, everyone on the team knew why. The boy was absolutely smittened by you. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

You almost choked on the pint you weren’t even drinking and for a second his smile faltered before you quickly began to splutter, “Well yes that sounds I mean yes I think I mean fuck-“ you paused, sitting the final pint down before smiling, “I’d like that yes,”

“Okay great,” he said but it came out as a laugh, “Could I pick you up tomorrow? Say seven o’clock?” he asked as he handed you the money for the drinks.

“Seven. Perfect. I can meet you here if you’d like?”

“Okay,” he said, picking up the tray of drinks before adding, “Buttercup,” with a large grin.

You watched him walk to the table for a moment before turning to Mae, “Could you- “

“Yes, I’ll cover your shift you little pest,” she rolled her eyes before finally grinning, “Told you he bloody fancied you,” As she said this however cheers came from the Richmond players who were now patting a very happy look Jan mass on the back.

The first date had gone so well you woke up in his apartment the next morning before he whisked you out for breakfast and a second date. You didn’t actually sleep in your own apartment for the first four days after the date you were that wrapped up. Thank god for the off season.

Jan mass was everything you could hope for. He was sweet, kind, honest, and downright gorgeous which helped. You had been dating for 8 months now before the first problem arose. Sure, you had had petty arguments, but this was far more serious. Two pink lines stared back at you in the bathroom.

“Honey, I need to leave now or ill be late!” Jan Mass called through the flat you had now moved into with him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah!” you called back, wrapping the stick up in a ton of toilet paper before stashing it in the back of the bathroom cabinet behind the spare toilet rolls. You’d deal with it later you told yourself as you quickly washed your hands and pressed the cold backs of them to your eyes to try depuff them.

You ran out the bathroom with a forced smile, but Jan mass was angrily pacing the room, “I cannot be late,”

“We won’t be late,”

“We will,” you began to bicker as you both ran out the building to the car. The whole way there he complained as you drove, but you saw the way his leg was bouncing. After all each of these games were important if they wanted to make it back to the premier league but his constant petty jabs were not helping the delicate situation.

When you arrived at Richmond he basically ran out of the car, ditching you to find a parking space. Technically he’d been right but by the time you parked he was only 3 minutes late but only to the recommended early start time Ted recommended to get them ready.

After another quick cry in your car, you headed up to Rebecca’s office to meet her and Keeley. “You alright babes?” Keeley asked, her head tilting like a puppies when she saw your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine just allergies,” you smiled. Somehow you managed to dodge the rest of their questions as you headed to the stands.

“Look at your man,” Keeley grinned, nudging you as Jan Mass ran onto the field. You smiled lightly and just nodded making her sigh. “What happened babes?”

“Nothing- its just he was being annoying today that’s all,” you tried to assure her, but she gave you that look like Rebecca screamed her team on. “He was just getting all bitchy cause he thought we were gonna be late,”

“Maybe he’s on his period,” she joked, and you felt your stomach drop as you tried to laugh along.

Richmond tied, again, which even though was technically a good thing was just starting to get everybody down. You’d decided to head home before Jan and when he arrived you were in no mood to talk to him. Especially not since morning sickness decided to hit your mid game instead of the expected 8am.

By the time you made it home you honestly just felt like crap and collapsed onto the bed. At some point you must’ve fallen asleep because when you woke up Jan was sat beside you on the bed stroking your back. “Hey,” you muttered, your head falling back onto the pillow.

“I’m sorry. For earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped,” Jan said as he moved to lay in front of you, wrapping his arms around you, “Everything has just been so stressful you know? especially with another tie,” he half laughed but you knew it had been weighing on him, “You disappeared half way thought though. I thought you’d already left but I saw you just before we finished,”

You tried your best to smile but you could tell he didn’t believe you, “Just didn’t feel very well but id never miss a game. You know me,”

“I do,” he smiled, wrapping his arms tight around you and bringing you into his chest, “My little trooper,”

You knew you should’ve told him, but you didn’t know how. As you searched online for ways to tell him you fell down a rabbit hole of unhappy reactions. He was already so stressed with football a baby wasn’t exactly going to help with that or fit into his busy schedule. What happens if he has an away match when you’re in labour? Or if he wasn’t ready to settle down? Or if it throws him off his game?

Eventually you snapped under the weight of it all and broke down and told Keeley. She came over in a heartbeat to help you hug it out and try get you excited. “We should go baby shopping!” she said suddenly grabbing your arm, “Cmon it’d be so cute! We can pick up a baby Richmond jersey or something,”

“Okay alright,” you laughed as you tried to pick yourself off the couch to get ready, “And thanks for coming over, babes. It’s just been so hard wrapping my mind around it,”

“I know babes,” Keeley said as you both got ready to leave. You sent Jan a quick text saying you would be back around 5 since he was still at practise, “But hey once you tell him it’ll be a thousand times easier,”

“I hope so,”

“I know so,”

Shopping defiantly helped lift your spirit and Keeley even agreed to stash the baby things at her place, but you did take the baby Richmond jersey with you and stuffed it in the bottom of your handbag. You came home all smiles as you opened the front door. “Honey I’m home,” you jokingly called as you tossed your keys in the bowl by the door. “You home yet?”

“In here,” Jan called from the bathroom. You sat your bag down and wandered to the open door, seeing Jan standing in front of the sink looking at something. “I was looking for bandages,” he said softly as you walked in and went to wrap your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his back.

“Oh no are you okay?”

“Yeah um. I hurt my ankle a bit but its fine. What is this?” he asked, his voice coloured in shock however when you looked past him the colour drained from your face.

You started to stutter, all the joy vanishing when you saw his blank expression. “It’s a pregnancy test,” you eventually managed to say, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You unwrapped your arms around him as he turned to face you. “And its positive?” he asked as if he wasn’t holding the literal evidence in his hands.

“Yes,” you said, your eyes falling to the floor as you felt them start to well up.

Jan sat the test down and you have expected him to push past you and straight out the door. but instead, his hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs rubbed over the tops of your cheeks, “I love you. so much. I cannot wait to meet them,” he whispered as you noticed his own teary eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you lent up to kiss him, “I was scared to tell you,”

“Why?”

“Encase you hated me,” you confessed, seeing his face fill with guilt, “I didn’t want to ruin you career or throw you off- “

“Football is a job,” he interrupted, “one that yes, I love and yes has become my life. But you are my family. never for a second think you don’t come first,” he said before he tightened his arms around you and you allowed yourself to cry into his chest while he stroked your hair, “We’ll make it work baby. We always will,”

After a few moments you pulled away, “You wanna see what I bought?” you asked while leading him into the living room to get the tiny jersey out the bag.

You turned and showed it to Jan who’s smile somehow got even wider, “See,” he said as he took the jersey, “How could you possibly ruin anything? We’re going to have another player on the team,” he said, and you both laughed this time.

You did however make him promise not to tell anyone about the baby however keeping it a secret was hard. Jan’s birthday was coming up however and with the whole team really needing a chance to blow off some steam you both decided to invite them over and tell them at the same time.

The players had completely taken over your flat, every seat was taken and half of them were sat on the floor. Jan however made sure you had a seat. As everyone was sat around the room Ted stood up to give a birthday toast to Jan. “So, a very happy birthday to you my friend,” Ted finished his speech, all the boys giving a small cheer or a clap.

Jan stood up from where he’d been sitting next to you on the couch to take Teds place at the front of the room, “I would also like to thank you all for coming however I have a confession,” he said, looking at you with a wide smile, “I have an announcement to make,”

“Now you better not be quitting on us,” Ted joked making you and Jan both chuckle.

Keeley sent you an excited grin when she realised what was happening, “I’m not going anywhere,” he laughed, “No actually there is someone coming to meet the team. And they are very special to me, so I hope you love them just as much as I do,”

“Is it Zava?” someone asked causing a flurry of conversations and a very loud ‘shut it’ from Roy.

“Someone even better,” Jan said once he finally had their attention again. He pulled the tiny jersey out of his back pocket and held it up, “We’re having a baby,”

To say the team erupted in cheers was an understatement. You were suddenly being hugged by about 20 different footballers all at once who were all congratulating you both. Even Roy gave you a hug it was wild.

However, it was not easy being pregnant. Especially not when your stomach suddenly became the size of a large watermelon that weighed what felt like 100lbs. between the stress of Jan’s job and the constant pressure on your bladder and joints there was defiantly some struggles but some how some way you managed and now you were holding a baby girl in your arms.

“She’s so beautiful,” Jan whispered as he sat beside you on the bed. “Just like her mother,”

As you leaned in for a brief soft kiss a nurse knocked on the door, “Hi you have um some visitors?” she said making you look at Jan.

“Who did you tell?” you sighed but he just gave you a sorry smile. “How many are out there?” you asked.

The nurse popped her head out and did a brief count before giving you a sorry look, “20ish people?”

You groaned but internally smiled since you knew your daughter would be surrounded by love. You turned to Jan, “Two at a time. two minutes each. No one gets to hold her, but they get to see her,” he nodded and instantly got up to fulfil your wishes.

The first in were Roy and Keeley. Keeley instantly rushed to give you a hug on the side that you weren’t holding your daughter while Roy slowly wandered over to look down at the small bundle in your arms. “She’s fucking beautiful she is,” he said, voice choked with tears making you and Keeley chuckle.

Jan however was less than impressed, “Hey! Language,” he said rolling his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry. Effing beautiful,” you let that one slide, however. Half an hour later the whole team had finally met her and were content enough to finally leave though they all left some kind of gift for her ranging from baby cleats she wouldn’t be able to wear for months to a massive panda bear from Isaac.

Finally, though it was just you, Jan and your baby again. “Can I take her?” he asked and you of coursed passed her over, “Hi baby,” he cooed as he held her to his chest. “I love you so much. Both of you,” he added, kissing the top of your head.

You smiled up at him, watching how he awed over your daughter. “I love you too,”

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#ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fluff #jan maas #jan maas imagine #jan maas x reader #jan maas fluff #jan maas ted lasso

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