#not as embarrassing as the last one at least

[ceesimz]

the love you have is better spent in some other place

knowing love and accepting love are two different things.

despite the menacing title+summary, it's not all doom and gloom :)

The funny thing about Alexia Putellas is that she's the version of herself she always imagined to be when she was younger. Yet, at the same time, she's nothing like she thought she would be. 

She's as good at football as she knew she could be. All the titles one could want, she has them under her belt. There are all kinds of awards scattered around her apartment, as well as her family home in the care of her mother. Stadiums chant her name in the same way she witnessed at Camp Nou with her father's hand in hers as a young girl. The combination of her name and number is spotted on the back of nearly every Barcelona shirt around the world, treasured near and dear to millions of hearts in the same way she cherished her Xavi shirt. 

Her wildest dreams had come true when it came to her career. But in her personal life, things weren't quite the same. 

Alexia had known from a younger age than most that she would end up marrying a woman rather than a man. That she would be the best spouse she could possibly be for her own wife. And when that opportunity seemed to arise, having a partner to love who is at her side throughout everything, it came at the most inconvenient time for her.

She acknowledged that, but failed to be the greatest version of herself for the woman of her dreams. Just as she was back from her injury, after winning the most notorious trophy of them all with her country and feeling like the world was hers, it all came falling down. The timing of it was exceptionally awful.

Football wasn't quite the same for her. Something was off. Her knee felt heavy, and it was evident in the way she played. Every game, it got worse and worse. With that came the anxiety, the doubt, the shame that she wasn't who she once was. And maybe she never would be that version of herself again.

That's when you came in. A saving grace, almost. Just one day in November weeks before her arthroscopy, the last attempt to recover and reinstate her name into the sport she loved, you and all you were walked in and flicked the lights in her desolate heart back on. You were a reminder of who she could be, you gave her a reason to change her ways, and if she never returned to football again, at least you never knew that part of her. She could take the fresh opportunity with you and grow into it, without having to face the embarrassment of no longer being the dominant figure of European football.

But she couldn't change her ways. Despite the fact that she didn't have to shy away from who she was, despite the fact she recovered and the surgery was as successful as it could be, she couldn't change her ways.

If Alexia had known about the deep-rooted problems she had surrounding love, she wouldn’t have put you through those first few months of your relationship. That time of her life was a dark one, where she hated the world just as much as herself, until you came along. Like the light at the end of the tunnel, she headed towards it, but with each step she took, the light never got any closer. It stretched on, slipping between her fingertips like water. The affection you gave her was there, but she never quite accepted it for herself. And it ate her up inside, gave her even more reason to loathe what her life had become.

In no way was it your fault, she knew from the moment she left you the night of your first date that there was so much wrong with her. Instead of working on those things, she chose to be selfish. She wanted you, despite the fact she didn’t want herself, and sure, maybe it did work out in the long run. But if time travel became a thing, it wouldn’t take her longer than a second to decide to go back and change her whole approach to falling in love with you. For her, that period of time was tarnished by her internal torment, when she should have given in to the desire to fall into your arms with no second thought rather than ruminate on all the wrong-doings she had been through.

Something had to change, she had to change, to ensure that didn't happen. She just didn't know how. How does one fix something that's been broken for years? Where does she even start?

Love was something everybody chased, whether that be platonically or romantically, and it was a bizarre concept, really. Was it a universal thing, or just something that occurred in this world only? What happened on the other planets? If there is life out there, what do they chase? Love, or something else?

Alexia began to think it was the latter, and that there was something so deeply wrong with her for her to reject such a beautiful idea when it was all anybody longed for. Almost as if her problems were alien to everyone else, because even her friends and family looked at her in utter confusion when she first stated she didn’t intend to go on a second date with you. Underneath the facade, there was nothing she wanted more than to chase the love you had to offer. She needed it, like food, like water, like oxygen. Why couldn’t she accept it for herself? It was something she wasn’t able to understand, and it felt unnatural to reach out and tell you how much she enjoyed the evening with you when her skin crawled at the hands of the devil on her shoulder, spewing all kinds of hate and insecurities in her ear.

She did it anyway, and it had worked itself out eventually. That’s how she had got here, months later, laying on her sofa with your arms around her and her head on your chest, finally at a place where she could accept your love with no second thoughts. However, the guilt still ripped through her whilst you were none the wiser (or so she thought), and she wanted that to change. That filled her with fear, approaching a topic she could barely stomach thinking about, but you had stuck around all this time and if it scared you away now, she was the only one to blame that she couldn’t have relished in your love longer.

—

The first time that you noticed something might be amiss with Alexia was after the third date. You’d known each other for a number of weeks now, and spoke near enough everyday. It was hard for the footballer to find time in her schedule to fully dedicate her time to you, which is how you ended up texting each other almost all day every day. But on the fourth date, when she joined you for breakfast one morning, she walked in like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. 

Each time you had seen her, there was a look in her eye that drew the image of a dark cloud following her wherever she went, but as soon as she settled into your company, it went away. She smiled, she laughed, her eyes creased with unfiltered joy when she was with you. Yet, when it was time for you to go your separate ways, that cloud loomed again. It weighed so heavily upon her, it was almost as if you could feel it too. Still, that didn’t deter you from falling in love with her.

There was something different about her though, on that fourth date. It was hard for you to not feel a little anxious when she sat down and that cloud didn't drift away like it usually did. The thought consumed you; maybe she was growing tired of you, since you didn't seem to have the same effect on her anymore. As it turned out, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

Just as you were about to leave for work, she reached out to take your hand as you bid each other goodbye outside of the café, and she leaned down to kiss you. It wasn’t the first kiss you had shared, but for some reason it felt like the last. There were too many emotions tied into it, and instead of getting that fluttery, lovesick feeling you got when you kissed her, all you felt was dread. 

However, before you could ruminate on that thought, she saved you the anguish and pushed through the mental roadblock that tried to stop her from being honest, and told you what was on her mind. She went against her instinct and opened up, for your sake. 

“I am having surgery after Christmas. It’ll be some time before I can go on a date like this with you again and I don’t expect you to wait for me. So… I am giving you an out.”

The look in her eyes had darkened, a facade built to temporarily shield her from the pain of hearing you agree and watching as you walk down the street, out of her life. Because how could you be with someone that was putting their weakness on show? How could you want to stay with someone that’s admitting there is something wrong with them? It went deeper than just a medical procedure, this surgery, it ran so much deeper and Alexia knew that you understood that, it didn't take a genius to piece the puzzle together of what was weighing her down. That’s why she was giving you an out.

You didn’t want an out. You wanted to stay. And you would go to the ends of the earth and back to make sure Alexia knew that.

“No. I don’t want an out. I want you to let me in, to let me stay.” You told her definitively, taking a step closer and looking up at her with concern etched all over your face. If the way she leaned into the hand that rested on her cheek after that was anything to go by, you knew she was fighting tooth and nail to keep her emotions at bay. “I don’t want to go. I want you, Alexia, and all that comes with having you. And most of all, I want you to believe me when I say that.”

Everything in her body told Alexia to refute that, to shake her head and to walk away for you. She knew she couldn’t be the partner she wanted to be, with all that came with having surgery, and she adored you too much to sit there and watch you shrink into yourself as a result of her own fatalistic miserableness.

However, she went against her instincts once more, and simply nodded once as her lower lip quivered. That gave her away; her whole demeanour cracked then, as you wrapped her up in your arms and hugged her tightly. It didn’t last long, Alexia wouldn’t allow that for herself, but it was enough for you. You’d take it for now.

Even despite the confirmation from you, Alexia didn’t believe you would stay. That wasn’t a problem because of you, it was because of her. The blonde thought the world of you, but not for herself. She had been labelled the best in the world countless times, but the events of the past eighteen months had caused her to strip herself of that title. In her mind, she wasn't worthy of your time and care, you deserved better than the grumpy version of her that she would be until she heard back about her surgery results.

And to no one’s surprise, it was her insecurities that underestimated you. Because you showed up the day after her surgery with open arms and love in your heart.

Alba had somehow gotten your number whilst Alexia was in the operating room, and had formed a plan with you. The younger Putellas had heard about you very briefly from her sister over the last weeks, and though she couldn’t pull more information from her sister no matter how hard she tried, it was unfortunately a gene in the Putellas-Segura family that everyone held their true feelings in their eyes. It just didn't help that Alexia wore her heart on her sleeve too. 

Alba thought of herself as somewhat of a professional when it came to reading Alexia, and she could see it in Alexia’s eyes how much she adored you. That point was further backed up by how Alexia, under the influence of some strong pain medication, spoke about you so lovingly as tears trailed down her cheeks. She spoke quietly, because even when she wasn’t sober, her subconscious knew what a sensitive topic it was for her, despite how the doubtful voices had been silenced. 

And it was then that Alba had snuck out of the hospital room and called you, forming a plan for you to visit Alexia and inject some light back into her life as she recovered. It would be some time before the results of her arthroscopy were clear, and Alexia was anything but patient especially when it came to football. Everyone close to her knew she would be miserable, stuck at home on the couch or in bed, and there was hope that you would cheer her up.

You did. Though it took some time to extract that truth from her, you did cheer her up from the moment you walked in. Alba greeted you when you first arrived, speaking in a hushed voice for a few moments outside the front door to update you and ask how you were, before she left the two of you alone.

“Hey Ale.” You smiled, slowly making your way over to where she was sat up on the sofa with her leg resting and bandaged.

“What are you doing here?” Alexia asked in a slight grumble, though that same dreamy look in her eyes made an appearance for just a second. You caught it and instantly felt reassured by that one small notion, a little more confident.

“I thought I would come and surprise you. Cheer you up a little bit.” You told her, sitting down beside her but being mindful of leaving a space so as to not overload her.

“But it is Christmas. You should be with your family.” You just shook your head at that. 

“The woman I'm falling in love with just had surgery. I wanted to come and check on her.” A glimpse of a smile appeared then as you shuffled closer and gently took one of her hands. 

“Falling in love, huh?” Alexia teased after a quiet moment with a smirk, dropping your joined hands into your lap and squeezing yours.

“You're not? I think you would be leading me on then.” You grinned shyly, giggling as she rolled her eyes and tutted.

“I… I am. You do not need to worry about that.”

You could live off of that admission forever. The little moments like that, the small gestures, you quickly learnt that they were how she showed her adoration. That was her being vulnerable, as much as she could, and you could handle that then. When some might have been deterred by it, you gave her a chance. You had a near infinite amount of patience for this woman, because she deserved the world and more. Your goal was to help her understand that. 

She had her reasons for having her walls so high, for struggling to let people in, but you had gotten this far already and you'd be foolish to give up on her.

During that day, you were able to identify something about Alexia. And as the hours went on, it only became clearer and clearer. Even though she was the one hurting, mentally and physically, she would only have it so that she was the one holding you. If you tried to reverse the positions, she didn't let it happen. She would wordlessly reject the idea and carefully move you back to how you were, with no explanation. No matter how many times you tried, she just didn't let it happen.

Even when you tried to make dinner for her, she urged you to sit back down as she tried getting up and cooking instead. That was your final straw. You had patience, sure, but you weren't perfect.

“Alexia, let me take care of you, okay? Let me help, let me be there for you. I'm not above begging, so just let me be a good partner, please?” You sighed in exasperation. A flash of hurt consumed her eyes, but like always, she disguised it in an instant. But it struck your heart like a dagger, knowing you had accidentally targeted her most insecure spot. You couldn't tell if she realised it came from a place of love or not.

“Sorry. I'm sorry.” The blonde muttered under her breath before clearing her throat, her eyes dropped to her hands on her lap. 

Exactly what you were trying to stop, you had made worse.

“Ale.” You murmured softly, placing both hands on her face to get her to look at you. Yet, she still found a way to keep her eyes averted. “Ale, look at me.”

“Do not apologise. You don’t need to.” One of her hands came up to rest on your forearm as her voice cracked and trembled. She sounded so dejected, it tore your heart in two. “I am difficult, I know that. So please… do not apologise. I do not deserve it.”

“What?” You whispered uncertainly, taking a moment to process what she had said. When it clicked, you frowned as you stroked your thumbs over the lines of her cheekbones. “Why would you say that?”

“The way I am, it… it is making you doubt what a good partner you are. But you’re not good, you’re the best I could ask for. And I am pushing you away.” Alexia fretted so quietly her words were almost intelligible. Key word almost.

“No, you are not pushing me away. I am right here, aren’t I? I told you, I’m here to stay.” You paused for a second, a silent moment that caused Alexia’s anxiety to spike. Your next words didn’t exactly help either. “I’m going to ask you a question, okay? Let me ask you something.”

“Okay.” Alexia nodded dutifully, hoping you didn’t see the nervous gulp that followed.

“I want to be your girlfriend. Will you let me be your girlfriend?” 

You gazed at her, eyes full of hope that this would be the moment she let you in. It wouldn't be smooth-sailing from here, you were more than aware of that, but this could be the start of something that would improve both your lives for the better. The start of a life together that could make you better people. 

“Sí. Sí, quiero que seas mi novia. I would love nothing more.” Her reaction was better than you could have wished for.

In an instant, she melted into you; her forehead dropped against yours and tension you didn't even know was there in the first place left her shoulders. You offered your arms out and she leaned forward into you with no second thought. You hoped that was a sign of things to come.

As you expected, though, it wasn’t always that simple. Some days, she was still distant. Not in her affection or attitude, it was just that she was stuck in her own mind more often than you had expected.. Being able to spend more time with her as her girlfriend meant you came to spot the signs, and despite the fact that you didn’t yet live together, things were even more noticeable than before.

Like, for example, when she was especially struggling, but she tried with all her might to hide it. Sometimes, when she was going through a tough week, you could see in her eyes of course the turmoil that dragged her down more everyday. It wasn’t all doom and gloom, there were countless occasions where she was smiling up into her eyes and the two of you were happy together, but for the footballer, joy wasn’t a permanent thing. It wasn’t her average mood. 

Her physical fitness could take her up the highest mountains, but over the years her mental stamina had been stamped on, it had reached its limits, and it couldn't quite break out of the confines of her insecurities. They had no boundaries, they showed up when they wanted and silently tore through her. Those eyes you adored, more often than not, were weighed down by burdens that you probably didn’t even know half the truth about. 

There was one evening, a while after her surgery when she was flying through rehab, that everything reached its peak for her. You decided to surprise her by being at her flat when she got home one day that week – what you were met with was far worse than you could have predicted. 

Your excitement at the sound of the door opening and shutting was swiftly replaced by overwhelming concern at the sound of sniffles that followed. You left the kitchen where you had just ordered Alexia’s favourite takeaway and headed in the direction of your girlfriend’s footsteps that went straight towards the bedroom. Seemingly she hadn't heard you, a curiosity instantly proven true by the sounds of choked cries coming from the figure that was slumped over, her fists leaning on the bed as her chin was to her chest whilst she cried.

Not for a second did you hesitate rushing over, coming to stand by her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She startled, unsurprisingly, and moved to hastily wipe the tears away in an attempt to mask the emotions coursing through her nervous system at that moment in time. It was too late, she knew that, but it didn’t stop her.

“Q-qué haces aquí?” Alexia asked, her voice stuttering and shaking as she spoke. Your arm stayed around her, your other hand wiping her tears with a tenderness too soft for her, she thought. “No, por favor.”

“Ale, talk to me. What’s the matter? Please let me in, please don’t shut me out when you’re like this.” The pleas fell from your mouth before you could properly think of what you were saying. It wasn’t the best thing to say, adding guilt to the list of things she was struggling with wasn’t your smartest idea.

“I can’t do this, amor.” 

The statement shocked you, the ease of which it left her mouth was unusual. But the shock wore off quick, making way for the worry that sprung to your mind because that short sentence was enough to signify just how terribly she was feeling.

Her voice was uncomfortably rough as she spoke too, despite her only saying five words, you could tell that she had spent the drive home forcing back her cries. It takes a lot of energy to break down and release everything in sharp sobs, but it takes even more to hold back all that emotion. Forcing back tears hurt, and it wasn’t a surprise that her voice was hoarse and hardly there at all. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You weren’t sure if something specific had happened that day or if this was a build-up of everything, but no matter what it was, you urged her into a tight hug, ensuring she was engulfed in the love you held for her. “You will be okay, Ale, I promise.” 

It took some time for her to calm down enough to talk, but whilst she did, you moved the pair of you onto the bed so you could hold her properly. She didn’t even put up a fight when you urged her to lay on top of you, your arms wrapped securely around her back as she hid her face in your neck. All she did was cry out the mass of emotions that were consuming her, and you just prayed that being there for her as she did so was enough to ease it, even if it was only a miniscule amount. 

Feeling concerned for her wasn’t a new experience for you – feeling downright devastated and grief-stricken for the woman sobbing in your arms was new. Never before had you seen her like this, and it scared you to death. All the possibilities that could be making her feel like this seemed insurmountable, like they were too big a challenge to tackle.

That didn’t matter to you. You would try for her, always.

“Do you feel like you could try to talk to me? Getting some of it off your chest might help.” You said softly, one of your hands slipping under her shirt to trail your fingertips up and down her back, something you knew soothed her. She gave a minute nod, which you felt more than you saw, and it gave you a brief feeling of relief. “Okay. In your own time, Ale.”

A few quiet minutes passed by, the footballer on top of you allowing herself some time to relish in the infrequent position she found herself in. She loved it. And it only gave the insecure voice in her head more ammunition to use against her; why can’t she allow her girlfriend to do this? She can never bring herself to accept it, but the day’s exertion had battered her defiance and left a hollow shell of her persona. If she looked in a mirror, she would probably be unrecognisable to herself. 

Sometimes, in her weakest moments, she thought you were better off without her. Better off not being dragged down by her miserable nature. You, the definition of beauty and light, with someone that exudes negativity and weakness. Someone that is the embodiment of imperfection with a person that is priceless. It didn’t make sense to her still, she wasn't sure it ever would.

“Every… everything is just so hard.” She spoke, letting out a shaky breath into the skin of your neck. You hummed sympathetically, giving her the space to elaborate whilst acknowledging what she had said. “Rehab is so tiring and I do not know why. I am not being given the space I need by the team to recover, they still expect so much from me and there is so much pressure. People online, the media and the fans, are talking about me a lot more than usual, which I do not understand because I am not even on the pitch. Some things that are being said are bad. And… I think I am not what you need, or deserve.”

Her face stayed hidden in your neck whilst she spoke, and you let her do that. Being vulnerable and open like that was hard, you didn’t underestimate that, and you would take it in any form because it was progress. You weren’t happy with what she had said because it broke your heart, but it was the first step of her opening herself up to help.

“Alexia, it is okay to feel overwhelmed. That sounds a lot like what you are feeling right now.” You started, your hand still slowly trailing up and down her back. “I’m so glad you told me, but I’m so sorry you’re feeling like this. There’s things that can be put in place to help you.”

You plant the seed, subtly, that she can get help. But really, all you can focus on is the fact they are all things you can help with. With the majority of her admission, they are things that can be changed to lessen the load of her newfound daily life after her second surgery. The last part, you know you can help with indefinitely. It won’t be quick, nor will it be easy, but reminding her of how much you value her is something you planned to do for the rest of your life anyway. Perhaps you just had to do it a bit more than you initially thought.

“You can talk to the team, tell them exactly what you need. They’re sensible, you know that, they’ll do whatever you need them to do. You just need to have the bravery to ask for help, which is a difficult step in itself, but I know you can do it. You’ve told me what’s on your mind and that’s something I’m not taking for granted because I understand it doesn’t come easy to you, and for that I’m so proud of you. So proud. And if you want me to help you come up with a plan of what you need or what you will say to the club, I can help you with that.” 

“You will help me?” She murmured, lifting her head up to look down at you with red, tired eyes and tear streaks down her cheeks. You smiled up at her and nodded, unwinding an arm from around her to brush the damp tracks away.

“With anything. Anything at all, I promise.” You told her, hoping the mixture of your words and the sincerity in your voice conveyed all that you wanted her to understand. “I also think you would benefit from a break from social media and most things online. Why don’t you ask someone on your team to run your accounts for you for a little while? Or ask your agent to hire someone to do that? I think it will be good to step away from that so you can focus on the important things.”

“I have thought about it before.” Alexia revealed a moment later. “I will do that. I should have done it a long time ago. I am thinking about going to see the psychologist for some… help. I will book a session with her tomorrow.”

She seemed to be doing better than she was when you first walked in on her. Her voice wasn’t so rough, it no longer sounded like it was taking every ounce of energy to get her words out, and her breathing was a lot more even than it was a few minutes beforehand. Accepting help didn’t seem so terrifying when the words were coming out of your mouth.

Where before, she was deterred by the idea of reaching out, too focused on her shame to find a way out of her turmoil, now she didn’t feel so scared by it. For so long, the world seemed like a tunnel with no end, but now there’s a crack, however small, giving her a glimpse of what life she could live without being restricted by her burdens. The idea that help is available felt foreign to her, and though she might still be uncertain about the path that had been offered to her, in your arms comforted by the thought of having someone to guide her down it, she found that she could breathe a little easier. There’s a sense of possibility, of no longer having to walk alone.

Hope was beginning to brew inside of her, and she felt compelled to reach out and grasp it with both hands. There was a quiet flicker of warmth that took the place of the cold numbness that once lived on inside her. Neither of you had all the answers in that moment, change doesn’t happen overnight and you both know that, and because of that there is a delicate balance of fear and relief that settled between you. 

It’s the first time since Alexia can remember that she felt like maybe things could change for the better.

“Good. Both those things will be so good for you. I’m so proud of you.” You said, turning to kiss her forehead. 

“It’s not up to you to decide what I need or deserve. I do need you, and I do deserve you. You’re the only one I could ever want, now that I’ve met you I know I could never be with anyone else again. You are struggling, and that’s okay. I’ll be here at your lowest, I’ll be here at your highest, and I know you would do the same for me. You know I love you, right?” 

At your declaration, especially the last part which she had heard a few times now, her heart clenched as she squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted to sob again, but out of pure happiness, because regardless of how many times you would say it to her over your lives, it would still be the most important statement to her. Hearing it at that very moment was so important.

“I do. I really do, amor. I just… sometimes I do not understand why.”

You pursed your lips at her response, wondering why the world had to treat her so poorly that her self-worth had been reduced to something so unimportant to her. You know for a fact there’s probably millions of people out there that idolise her, think of her as a hero, the perfect role model, but you also know that the insecurities she had weren’t on Alexia Putellas’ behalf. They were on Ale’s behalf. There were two versions of her, and the powerful woman that adorned the armband day-in and day-out for the club she’s committed her life to wasn’t the one combatting all these issues. It was just Ale, your girlfriend, her mother’s daughter, her sister’s older sibling, her aunt and uncle's niece, the ever-reliant and trustworthy companion of her friends. 

Alexia knew that, and you did too. You couldn’t begin to imagine how difficult that must be to juggle for Alexia, leading two extraordinarily different lives in one lifetime. You hope, with the right help, she can learn to allow them to co-exist together and not be so far away from each other. She had expressed similar thoughts to you before, how difficult she finds it switching between the two everyday, though you knew she probably hadn’t even scratched the surface about how much it affected her. 

You were content with not being fully clued in, because there were some things that people preferred to keep private, and for Alexia one of those things was her thoughts. Your mission was to help her deal with those healthily, unlike how she had for the past god knows how long. Whatever worked for her, worked for you.

“You don’t need to worry about that. I’m secure in my love for you, and that’s enough. I know you love me too. That’s all we need.” 

After that day, it was as if a switch had been flicked. There was a distinct difference in her, in all aspects of her life, and she seemed truly happy. You had come to understand that you couldn’t wholly fix her, especially not just with words. All you could do was love her, which you would do for as long as she would let you.

So you met her defiance with kindness, her feigned confidence with support, and her insecurities with reassurance. And slowly, you began to see the progress in her. Truthfully, it might be one of the most beautiful things you'd ever had the privilege to witness. Allowing yourself to feel every ounce of your joy made it easier for Alexia to grow and settle into that prospect of living too. 

Not only did the counselling help her mental health, it made her better at communication, understanding, and just about every other thing that you didn’t even think needed improving in the first place. Each day, you adored her more and more. It takes a lot to accept help, but it’s an entirely different thing to wake up every morning and get out of bed, knowing what lies ahead was unexplainably difficult to overcome but facing it head on anyway.

However, the biggest evident difference came when she was cleared to play football again. With each milestone, came a newer, happier version. First it was being substituted on, stepping foot in a game after months of waiting, and straight after, it was her first goal back. The rain couldn’t dampen her spirits that day, nothing could, because thought past-Alexia would be disappointed with how scrappy the goal was, the new version of her was just happy to have a ball at her feet and making a difference for her team. Maybe past-Alexia would be angry with that fact too, at how overjoyed she was with a goal like that, but she didn’t dwell on that for too long. She was trying to change and she was making better progress than she could have dreamed of, she wasn’t going to stop that.

Her hard work was clear to see in the ache in her cheeks from the amount of time she spent smiling, something she didn’t even realise she had missed. Months down the line and she was in the best place mentally than she had been all her life. With that realisation, came the understanding that sometimes things have to fall down before they can be rebuilt again. She had that moment where she broke, in your arms, and since then she had rebuilt her life. The bad goes in hand with the good, and the highs are undoubtedly worth the lows. 

Though, she still wasn’t perfect, no matter how badly that irritated her. Every part of her had improved, apart from the one thing she did it all for. It did happen less often, but she still doubted her capabilities as a girlfriend. She still worried she wasn’t good enough for you. The cloudy days of anxiety were nowhere near as frequent as they used to be, but they didn’t magically stop. That was still something she had to come to terms with.

—

A particularly harsh bout of anxiety hit one day, something that filled her unease because she thought these kinds of days weren’t supposed to happen anymore. Yet, here she was, lay in your arms as the toxic cycle of doubt circled endlessly in her mind. She tried, with all her might, to shove the thoughts to the side, to rebuke them and not let them ruin her evening, but they came thick and fast and there was simply no stopping them. 

Something her psychologist had told her was that sometimes she just has to sit and let those feelings be. Thinking about how much she loathed them wouldn’t help, that would probably just make them worse. And taking the doubts and fuelling them by ruminating wouldn’t help either. But sitting there and letting them consume her as she did nothing to stop didn’t feel useful. So she let them come, and she took each knot of insecurity and made them bigger.

Nearly every moment of the last few months was tainted by the regret she felt. She really would give anything, she'd sacrifice it all, to go back and show her affection and appreciation more. From the moment she saw you, she knew you were special. She felt like she did a terrible job to show that, to the point where she wondered how she even found herself here right now with you. 

Alexia had never really experienced impostor syndrome before, and she wasn't exactly sure that was the right term for the cloud of anxiety she was experiencing. She didn't doubt her love for you, in fact she was sure she had never loved a human as much as she loved you. It's just that, even after all this time, she still didn't think she deserved to be on the receiving end of such an idyllic thing, especially at your hands.

Her biggest fear, after all this time still, was losing you. Out of all the emotions that she had experienced in the past months, there was one that reigned superior throughout: disappointment.

Disappointment that was aimed entirely at herself. Disappointment that had so many things tied into it, she could hardly keep up. Guilt, shame, embarrassment, when she dumbed it down it all led to that same disappointment she just couldn’t get rid of. 

She knows where she’s gone wrong all this time, she sort of knows why now thanks to her psychologist, but she has no idea how to stop that pattern of thinking, that she doesn’t deserve you. And because of that, a certain feeling of distaste for herself had grown over time, and it sat nestled in the back of her mind. It’s there, always, and it’s not afraid to make itself known. In the most unsuspecting moments, it comes seeping through the cracks of her mind, weaving its way into each and every aspect of her life, whether that be her memories or the present. Another fear of hers was that this disdain wouldn’t ever leave, even with hours spent in counselling and working on herself.

Like now. Even when she’s in your embrace, all she could think about is the guilt she had harboured for so long now, that at this point it felt like a tumour she had ignored for too long, one that had grown so big that it was now impossible to remove without causing more damage than good.

“Ale? You okay?” Your voice brought her back into the room, adding another crack to the fragile glass box Alexia kept her thoughts inside. The blonde felt like that box could shatter again anytime soon, and that would mean all of them could come spilling straight out. And that would be the end of it all, for good this time. Not like the other occasion where you welcomed her with open arms. Surely you would finally recognise you were sick of her when she inevitably falls apart once more.

“Hm? Sí, bien.” She smiled, a tight-lipped one that didn't even come close to reaching her eyes. 

You knew what that was a sign of.

“Ale.” You said softly, hoping you didn’t have to fight her for her to admit there was something wrong.

“I’m okay, mi amor. I’m just going to go to the bathroom, I will be back soon.” She rose to her arms, surging forward to leave a kiss to your lips before you could protest. Then, she was gone, rounding the corner of the lounge into the apartment corridor, leaving you confused.

Five minutes passed by and you let her be, giving her her privacy. But then five minutes turned to ten, and ten to fifteen, and you couldn’t hold off any longer. Just as you expected, when you passed the main bathroom, the door was open and the light was off. It was then, when you looked to your left, you saw Alexia through the crack left by the ajar bedroom door, sat on the edge of the bed facing away. Her shoulders were slightly slumped, her elbows were on her knees, and she was looking out of the window across from her. The only positive was that you couldn’t hear sniffling coming from her this time.

The door creaked as you lightly pushed it open, but the blonde didn’t acknowledge it. At that, you stepped in and kneeled on the bed, making your way to sit behind Alexia and wrap your arms around her as your legs fell either side of hers whilst your cheek came to rest in between her shoulders.

Neither of you spoke; you didn’t want to pressure her into speaking just yet, and Alexia was building up the courage to finally get the last plaguing insecurity off her chest. It’s late evening, the sun growing ever-closer to the horizon, and the only light in the room was the orange haze of the sky, softening every feature of your girlfriend’s face with a golden touch. The light added to her vulnerability, acting as a lamp that displayed the most beautiful artwork you could imagine in a gallery. 

For some time, there’s no movement within the room. Alexia doesn’t tear her eyes away from the sunset before her, though the look that’s embedded in the hazel and amber there is distant, lost in a maze of her own mind that she desperately tried to escape from so she could give you the answers you’re hoping for. The only movement you make is the sporadic kisses you dot over her back, as well as the soft, comforting movements of your thumb over her ribs where your hands sit. 

The silence was weighted, though not with awkwardness or impatience, but with understanding – a silent invitation to speak without any pressure or expectations. In the quiet space you've provided, no words are needed, only the steady warmth of your body against hers that offers a subtle, grounding reminder that Alexia is not alone, and she never will be. You would always be there to give that to her.

“I love you.” Alexia broke the silence but not the bubble of serenity, producing a sentence that was far more layered than anyone outside of this room would ever understand.

“I know.” You reminded her, hugging her tighter back against you.

“I wish I could go back and redo it all.” She stated, a heaviness to it that had you smiling sadly.

“Redo what?”

“Our relationship.” The footballer didn’t miss the way you tensed ever so slightly, nor did she miss how you lifted your head up from its place on her back. “I am so happy I met you. I feel so lucky that you love me, that you chose me, even when I have been a mess. I would only change how I acted, because I feel like I have not properly shown you how much I love you. How special you are. I wish you had got the love you deserved rather than the coldness I showed because… I don’t think I have been a very good partner to you.”

Some time ago, you had guessed this was a part of Alexia’s anxiety, and that point had been proven when she admitted a few months back that she felt you deserved better. But you didn’t know that it troubled her to this extent. She believed the doubtful voice in the back of her mind so much that she truly thought she wasn’t worthy enough of this relationship. That killed you, because she had been nothing but perfect, despite her personal struggles, from the moment you met her.

“You were not cold, Alexia.” You started, kissing the back of her neck before continuing. “You were the opposite. You were warm and kind-hearted. You were compassionate and honest. I look back on those days so fondly because of how you made me feel. From the very first date, you allowed me to be myself and that was something that meant so much to me. And since then, you still surprise me all the time with how amazing you are. To put it simply, Ale, I wouldn't be here if you were cold or a bad partner. There is nobody else for me, it's only you and it'll always be you.”

Maybe this was the one inadequacy you could fix with your words. 

“You really think of me like that?” Alexia asked in a sheepish whisper, turning her head slightly to look at you over her shoulder. You smiled brightly, nodded, and shuffled to sit beside her. One hand came up to rest on her cheek as you leaned forward and kissed her, soft and tentative, to convey all you could never find the words to tell her.

“I do think of you like that.” You whispered against her lips, foreheads together as your thumb lightly brushed over her lower lip. “And I hope one day you can look back and not see your flaws, but instead see the woman I fell in love with.”

She nodded because quite frankly she was speechless. And then there were tears filling her eyes that neither of you expected, which had you moving again as you slotted yourself into her lap. Her head fell to your chest, pulling you against her in a tight embrace. Your arms came around her neck, one laying across her shoulders and the other resting on the back of her head. 

Your words slowly began to sunk in, finally, which was a weirdly cathartic feeling for Alexia. She wasn't sure why it was this specific moment that something snapped inside of her, but it did. What was once a topic that consumed her, took over her every thought and switched it with a venomous onslaught of overthinking suddenly started forming into a thing of the past.

All along, Alexia had no idea just how deep your understanding ran about her insecurity with the love she has to offer. She thought you weren't aware of the guilt she felt and the struggles she experienced, but you were. That, and more. She could never repay you for that. All she could do was love you for a lifetime and hope that was enough.

Half a year ago, you were just two people getting to know each other. You liked her and she liked you. You looked into each other’s eyes and saw a future together. Then, you both took that hope, nurtured it, and made a life for yourselves, together. 

To anyone on the outside, this wouldn't seem like such a huge milestone. But to you and Alexia, this was a major turning point, for the better. Something like this wasn't expected when you first met, but that's the thing about love, isn't it? Nothing good comes easy, a part of life that Alexia had come to accept. Because it was so, so worth it in the end.

—

this fic was a little different but i hope it was good. first one that i have posted in the midst of my writing anxiety so i may or may not be terrified of posting this but well it's out now anyway. hope you enjoyed it <3

[fayes-fics]

An Artful Arrangement

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader (threesome)

Summary: A private art lesson with Benedict becomes something else when a Viscount is your subject...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, MMF threesome, no incest. Very mild restraint with hands, sensation play, smidge of breast play, vaginal object insertion, vaginal fingering, oral sex (M to F), masturbation, vaginal sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism.

Word Count: 7.7k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon, who wanted Anthony as a life model for one of Benedict's private art lessons. This request is from last year and I started writing it before the whole Benedict gives up art thing of s3. I hope artist Benedict returns in s4. Anyway, thank you to @colettebronte for beta-reading this monster. Enjoy! <3

“I’m not sure about this, brother,” Anthony frowns, surveying the jumbled art studio at Benedict’s London townhouse. 

Sunlight is streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rear of the property, but Anthony is grateful for the translucent voiles that drape over them; at least there will be some privacy from the surrounding buildings for this embarrassment.

“Too bad,” Benedict shoots back, bemused, fiddling through a pile of paintbrushes.  “A bet is a bet, and you lost.”

“You do not need to revel in my misfortune quite this much, though,” Anthony pouts.

“What can I say? The mallet of death does not always ensure victory at Pall Mall,” Benedict chuckles, readjusting one of the two easels in the room. “And I can assure you, this student will be worth your efforts,” he adds enigmatically as his trusty valet appears in the doorway.

“Ms y/l/n is here, Mr Bridgerton,” Mr Smith announces. “Should I see her in?”

“Certainly,” Benedict nods brightly, observing in the periphery of his gaze how Anthony’s interest is piqued at that announcement.

“A Ms?” Anthony echoes quietly as Smith slips away. “I did not think you offered private art tuition to the unmarried lady,” his voice filled with concern, patently preoccupied with the Bridgerton family reputation should Benedict be inviting innocent young women to his bachelor lodgings unchaperoned.

“Do not concern yourself,” Benedict sighs, knowing exactly where the Viscount's thoughts have gone. “I indeed do not do that. I would not wish for that reputation. Widows who have reverted to their unmarried name, however….” Benedict trails off.

“Oh… right….” Anthony nods in understanding. 

That, indeed, is an entirely different prospect.

—

You enter the room and suspect you may have interrupted a private moment between the two men before you. Both turning towards you, Benedict looks happy to see you once more; the other man - you would recognise his older brother, the Viscount, anywhere - seems taken aback, but you don't miss the tiny uptick in the corner of his mouth, hopefully also pleased to meet you.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” you nod courteously and move towards Benedict, allowing him to take your hand and kiss the back of your glove in greeting.

“Ms y/l/n,” he rumbles, “it is so wonderful to see you again.”

“Likewise, Mr Bridgerton,” you answer, enjoying the warmth of his lips through the silk, that trademark flare of exhilaration in your ribcage when your flirtation with him rears. 

This is your fifth private lesson with Mr Bridgerton, and while art has been a wonderful new pastime, you do wonder how much of your enthusiasm correlates to your tutor’s attractiveness. He has been nothing but a gentleman in his actions, almost to your chagrin, although sometimes his glances have felt heated and laden with something that makes your insides glow.

You turn towards Anthony. “Viscount Bridgerton, it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have seen you from afar at many an event.”

You take a few paces and offer your other hand for him to kiss, but it takes him a moment before he returns to himself and amends his frozen look of surprise.

“Miss y/l/n, the pleasure is all mine,” he replies, and there is something just as velvet in his tone as his brother's, his lips also warm and plush as he kisses your other hand.

Oh, my goodness. They are both entirely too charming and handsome.

“I apologise. When my brother informed me I would be modelling for a widow, I did not assume such a person as yourself,” he explains, his cheeks sporting a delightful dot of colour.

“I was widowed at age 24, my lord,” you explain, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “My late husband, 10th Earl of Pembroke, was a great deal older than me.” 

“Should we not address you as Dowager Countess?” Anthony checks, concerned at any potential faux pas.

“Please do not,” you instantly respond. “It is why I reverted to my unmarried name. I have no wish to be addressed as such. The title lives on in his eldest son, the current Earl, and his wife. Who are indeed older than me. I was my husband's second wife. A companion for his senior years after his first wife died.”

Anthony nods in understanding. “It must have been an interesting union,” he offers politely.

“I was seventeen, and the man was nearly sixty,” you sigh. “My parents saw an opportunity to climb the social ladder and took it. I did not dislike the man completely, but I cannot say I was particularly distraught at his passing,” you explain plainly. “I am, of course, grateful his estate provides for me now.”

Having explained your situation as thoroughly as you wish, you turn back towards Benedict, who appears thoroughly entertained by your bluntness.

“Is this my easel?” you enthuse, pointing to the one nearest the windows.

“Indeed it is,” he returns with a smile as he strides past you and clicks the door closed.

“Now the question is, would you prefer your model be clothed or unclothed? You have not done a piece yet on the naked human form,” he points out.

You look over to see Anthony’s face morph into a thousand reactions.

“That was not part of the deal, brother,” he warns lowly through gritted teeth.

“Maybe not, but I think the lady should get to decide, do you not, brother?” Benedict challenges in a tone laced with amusement, his eyes sparkling.

You can see the war on Anthony’s face and decide to offer an olive branch. “I would not wish to make the Viscount uncomfortable in any way…”

“It would not,” Anthony cuts in very quickly. “I was just pointing out it was not my expectation to do so,” his gaze softening as it slips from his brother to you. “However, if you wish it, Ms, I shall remove my clothing.” something in the way he says it causes a frisson down your spine.

You have only seen one naked man in your life. And that is your dead husband—a portly man of advanced years. Something about the look of the Viscount’s tailored clothing suggests his naked form would be very different. More akin to the rugged gardener you have occasionally seen topless at your country home and, yes, touched yourself while thinking of. You are not sure you could keep your wits about you to paint such a fine specimen of a man.

“Let us just remove our jackets for now, brother,” Benedict suggests. ”The lady may then decide if we shall proceed further,” his tone conciliatory as he removes his.

You smile at his gentlemanly offer. 

“Now,” he continues, rolling up his white shirt sleeves distractingly. “You may choose to pose your model as you see fit.” 

Anthony is doing the same with his shirt, and you find yourself staring at him as well, at the play of muscles in his forearms as he rolls the material. Behind him is an emerald green velvet chaise, and you ask him to sit upon it. He does so and then looks at you expectantly for further instruction.

“Perhaps place one forearm on your thigh,” you suggest, but the pose he adopts isn't quite what you had in mind.

“You can place him in the position you wish,” Benedict chuckles, seeing the knit in your brow, gesturing for you to go to Anthony.

Your heart skips a little as you approach the Viscount, his eyes almost trepidacious as you place your hands tentatively on his shoulders. They are so broad and warm through the thin white cotton of his shirt. You position his arms, noting the latent power in his biceps, fingertips lingering on the material, eager to trail your hands down onto the dark hair dusting his forearms. 

“Would you mind raising your chin, my lord?” you ask quietly, and when he tilts his head up, you almost gasp at the intensity of his gaze boring into yours.

“Like this?” he murmurs.

“Yes, please,” you whisper back, “the light catches your face perfectly.”

“Much as it does yours,” he returns softly and something warm spreads under your ribs as you drink in his handsome facial features, almost glowing in the sunlight—a want to run your fingertips over his cheeks, trace the lines of his strong jaw dusted with a trace of afternoon stubble.

“Are you happy with your placement?” Benedict’s voice rings out, cutting into your reverie.

“Yes, Mr Bridgerton,” you reply but do not move, seemingly rooted to the spot.

“Then please return to your easel,” he tutors, with a hint of sharpness you have not heard before. 

Part of you is tempted to spin around and ask if he is jealous, but instead, you shoot Anthony a tiny smile that he returns before withdrawing. 

You round behind your easel and pick up your charcoal, sketching an outline, as Benedict does the same. A few minutes pass pleasantly as you draw, glancing at Anthony around the edge of the easel to ensure accuracy. You could swear every time you do so; his lip twitches in amusement, almost as if he is trying to distract you.

“Benedict,” you call softly when you think your rough outline is done, “please could you check my sketch?”

It's a flimsy excuse you have used more than once now—a wish to have your teacher move closer. He doesn't disappoint. He takes a few strides and then stops close to your back, assessing your canvas.

“I would say that is an excellent start,” he assesses, his exhaled air wafting through tendrils of hair near your ear. “Except maybe here…” His arm curls close around your side, ghosting your dress, and taps the canvas where you have sketched Anthony’s left arm. “I think you flatter my brother with a shoulder that broad.”

“Perhaps…” you concede, and then your tongue runs away with itself. “It may indeed be easier to ascertain the correct proportions for the Viscount were he in less clothing.”

They both chuckle at your bold assertion, so obviously a flimsy excuse. But there is a vault behind your ribs as Anthony rises to that challenge—a glint in his eye as he stands up and plucks open his waistcoat, shucking it quickly from his shoulders, staring you down. 

You swear you can feel the heat radiating from Benedict behind you as Anthony unwinds his white cravat and then, with a smirk, tosses it towards you. It lands draped over your easel; you reach out unthinking, grabbing an end, caressing the fine silk absent-mindedly as you stare covetously now.

Anthony is indeed built like your gardener, possibly even more sculpted. A dark thatch over his chest tapers to a line of hair over his abdominals and trails temptingly into his trousers. You want to see where it leads to. You suspect something much better than you have ever encountered before. With a hint of swagger, he retakes his seat in the pose you had put him in, the stance making his bicep bulge out.

“I do not think I was very incorrect in my proportions, Mr Bridgerton,” you opine tacitly, turning your head a fraction so your temple is brushing Benedict’s jaw, knowing you are goading him.

“Then draw what you believe you see,” he returns, his voice a low whisper, his lips so close to the shell of your ear that your heart pounds in your chest.

Your eyes hold Anthony’s as you daringly glide your fingertips over the back of Benedict’s hand, lingering on the raised tendons before you push the charcoal between his knuckles.

“Perhaps you can guide my hand?”

“With pleasure,” he hums.

The charcoal glides over the canvas in guided unison for a few laden minutes as you draw under Benedict’s tutelage. Anthony’s chest rises and falls steadily as you glance at him every few seconds—a tension in the air that is portentous, crackling. Your traitorous mind wanders—a jumble of images of you laying with both of these men, bringing you untold pleasures with their mouths and hands.

“Are you even paying attention to the artwork?” Benedict's rich voice lilts in your ear as you realise your hand is almost limp under his.

“I… I must confess, my thoughts may be elsewhere, Mr Bridgerton.”

“Tell us. It could be something we would be most pleased to hear,” he posits duskily, his breath hot on your cheek, letting slip that he likely suspects.

“I am thinking… of other artful arrangements of human bodies,” you offer somewhat opaquely.

“Whose bodies?” Benedict presses, this time his lips grazing your earlobe, as you spy a vein throbbing in Anthony’s temple, looking like he wants to stalk over and claim you.

“The three of us,” you confess breathily.

There is a noise from both men that is a beeline straight into your core, and there is a mouth on your skin. You gasp, eyes closing as you sway backwards into Benedict, his lips travelling the column of your neck as your back collides with his solid chest. The gentle suction and warm wetness set your skin afire, tingles running down your arm. Your lashes flutter open, and your blood runs hot to behold Anthony’s face like thunder until you bite your lip and, feeling emboldened, you mouth to him…

‘Your turn’

Instantly, his mien morphs into one of desire, jumping to his feet as you slide a hand into Benedict's thick hair and grab a handful, making him groan into your skin. 

“You are entirely too clothed compared to your brother, Mr Bridgerton,” you coquette, untangling yourself from his arms and spinning to look back at him with a raised brow, backing away without looking, knowing you will soon collide with Anthony.

Sure enough, you inhale sharply as toned arms haul you into a firm embrace, the hair on his chest tickling the skin above the scooped back of your dress.

“The lady is not wrong, brother,” Anthony provokes, his tone smug now that you are in his arms instead.

Teeth nip lightly on your earlobe while you watch Benedict fight with his waistcoat, almost wrenching it from his torso. Anthony is more taciturn than Benedict, communicating with his fingertips instead, raking over your dress, silently telegraphing his desire through the gauzy layers. Benedict’s stare is heavy upon you as he unfurls his cravat, you melting into Anthony’s lips skimming down your throat. Benedict makes quick work of removing his shirt, throwing it aside, his smooth chest heaving slightly as he advances upon you. Then his lips descend and claim yours in a breathtaking kiss. 

If this is the Bridgerton boys competing for your affection, then you would do anything to keep provoking them. Sandwiched between their bare torsos, Benedict's tongue opening your lips, lathing yours, as Anthony’s mouth skates your shoulder. The taste and feel of them both has you suddenly impatient. To do things you never thought you would even moments ago. A forbidden fruit too tempting to resist. It makes you desirous, unbounded, a keening want to be reckless.

“Take off my dress, gentlemen,” you implore urgently as you and Benedict break apart, twisting to capture Anthony’s mouth now. 

His kiss is just as demanding, equally fervent, your heart racing as four hands trace the contours of your figure. You are not sure of who undoes the buttons down your back or who pushes the loosened fabric from your shoulders. Both unlace your stays, tugging almost impatiently until the garment relents and are certain both of them pull your gathered chemise loose, it falling from your shoulders to form a circle around your light summer shoes. Both make a noise as they realise you are now naked. It was supposed to be a little illicit thrill for yourself, foregoing stockings and underwear in Mr Bridgerton’s presence—little did you know how provocative that choice would be. 

As you toe off your shoes, the atmosphere seems as heated, the sun’s rays upon your back through the translucent window covering. There is a moment where you exchange laden looks with them, their eyes slipping down your naked body before Anthony leans in and retakes your lips.

“Touch me…” you implore, twisting briefly to address his brother before returning inexorably to Anthony’s hypnotic kiss.

Benedict's fingertips ladder up your ribs from the dip of your waist, his lips dragging hot over your bare shoulder blades. And then you gasp into Anthony’s searching mouth as those large hands seize both of your breasts, covering them entirely, your nipples snagging between his elegant knuckles.

“Here perhaps…” Benedict rumbles as you tear away from Anthony to meet his captivating gaze.

“Yessss,” you hiss hungrily, your breath catching as he plucks gently, tweaks that send a zinging bolt between your legs. You cling to the back of his sturdy neck and crash your lips into his. 

“Have you ever laid with two men before?” Anthony’s voice is like velvet in your ear as his warm hands grasp the flare of your hips, his teeth nipping at your neck.

“I have only laid with one man,” you admit as you pull back from Benedict's kiss. “And he looked nothing like either of you.” Your hands rake greedily down both of their honed outlines, a yen to see and touch more.

They puff with pride at your words as Benedict's fingers loop behind your left knee. He roughly pulls your legs up around his hip, surging into you so the rigid mass of his cock, straining in his trousers, presses your mound, making you gasp. Anthony pushes into you, too, his equally sizeable cock passing over the cleft of your bottom, so hot through the fine wool. 

“Did he worship you like you truly deserve?” Benedict queries, his cadence achingly seductive.

“I am not sure what that might entail…” your intentional evasive provocation makes him smile crookedly and lean in closer, his eyes glinting enticingly. 

“Did he feast on the bounty between your legs with his tongue until you screamed for mercy?” his words dripping from his lips like dangerous weapons, heat pooling rapidly right at that very spot.

“H-he did not…”you stutter over a slightly laboured breath.

“Oh, my poor lady,” Anthony tuts sympathetically. “You deserve to know true pleasure,” he adds, surging his hips again but also taking your hand and kissing your knuckles tenderly. 

“Lay down here,” Benedict smiles as he leads you back to the plush chaise. 

Both offer their hand to assist you in reclining, the velvet a plush tickle under your spine as you settle down, looking up at them towering over you, your hands itching to tug open their trousers and find what lies beneath, the fabric straining temptingly.

“What do you have in mind, brother?” Anthony asks, his eyes following Benedict as he turns away and appears to grab something from the bench at the side of the room, the sunlight dancing across the freckles across his back. When he spins back around, he is holding three clean paintbrushes.

“I think a sensual experience…” he replies, looking down to gauge your reaction.

“I thought our art lesson abandoned, Mr Bridgerton,” your gaze fixated upon the brushes of various sizes and bristle lengths.

“With my brother as the subject, I concede maybe so,” he remarks casually. “But I believe you to be a much more interesting prospect anyway….” his voice smoky as he looms over you, his eyes raking over you in a way that you can feel fizzling on your skin.

“Agreed”, Anthony chimes in, taking a proffered brush from his brother as they kneel on either side of the chaise, a silent exchange between them.

You want to ask what they will do, but the words die in your throat as Benedict's tongue darts out and wettens the end of a fine-tipped brush. Then, the damp bristles are upon your clavicle, tracing the arc of bone, leaving a thin, wet streak cooling rapidly, goosebumps erupting over your sternum, nipples pebbling. Without needing prompting, Anthony drags a dry, fanned brush over your ribs, tracing each contour. The sensation is different, ticklish, to the point your abdomen ripples, and you instinctively curl up a fraction, biting your lip to tamp down a giggle. Anthony smirks casually as a large hand wraps around your shoulder and pushes you back flat.

“No, no.” Your clit pulses at the warning tone Benedict employs, his hold secure but not painful, staring you down as Anthony repeats the same move upon the other side of your ribs. Your body rolls yet more, rebelling and pushing against his grip. “Stay still. Or he may desist.”

You bite your lip and exhale shakily as Anthony continues teasing brushstrokes over your stomach, each one a flick that makes your skin shimmer. Benedict releases his hold to paint his wet brush across your other collarbone, leaving a trail of his saliva along its ridge and then continuing down over your breastbone. Your breath catches as he trails under the curve of your left breast, just as Anthony’s brush sinks lower. Your instinct is to clamp your legs shut, a sudden wave of timidity, but both men grab your knees and pull your thighs wide apart. Air swirls around your slit as Anthony leans over and captures your lips in an enticing kiss.

“Do not be shy now….” is Benedict’s hot whisper in your ear, his teeth capturing your earlobe as Anthony’s tongue rolls with yours, swallowing your moans as his brush caresses the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs before he glides it between your legs, passing over your clit. 

Just that featherlight touch is enough to make you arc upwards off the chaise until again Benedict holds you down, brush stored expertly between his knuckles as warm fingertips press upon your diaphragm, and he hushes you. You have to bite the inside of your cheek as Anthony flicks a few strokes, his warm eyes blazing right above yours. The motions have you throbbing, desperate for more, and you can only gasp as he slips lower, pushing just a fraction of the brush into your soaked pussy. When you do not protest, he grins and pushes a fraction deeper as you bite your lip, wanting so much more for it to be his cock. You whimper as instead the paintbrush withdraws, and Anthony makes a show of bringing it to his mouth, sucking its dripping tip covetously.

“Delicious,” Anthony offers silkily, his face inches from yours, a thronging need low in your pelvis, aching for relief, something you never felt with your late husband. His lips are on yours, lust burning in your belly as you taste yourself in his mouth. 

Benedict chooses this moment to swirl his wetten brush tip around your areola, and that has you moaning into Anthony’s kiss, your fingers raking into his lush hair as your other hand shoots out to grab Benedict’s bicep, a need to touch them both at once.

“Please…” your voice cracking, greedy for them both.

“Please, what?” Benedict chuckles darkly, his lips brushing your hairline, again holding you down to Anthony’s sensual onslaught.

“More…”

It's all you can say, tilting to look into his hazy eyes, clouded with lust, enjoying watching you squirm and pant and blossom under their attentions.

“Greedy…” Benedict volleys light-heartedly before kissing you, both of them dropping the paintbrushes, clattering to the floor.

Anthony’s fingers slither back down your centre line, tracing over the sensitive skin beneath your belly button but not stopping until they rest tauntingly over your weeping slit. You gasp into Benedict’s mouth as Anthony pushes a finger into you, his approving groan into your shoulder as you leak down his knuckles has you clenching around his invading digit. He adds another and begins to pump slowly, rocking his fingers rhythmically as your tongue parries with Benedict’s. 

Benedict breaks the kiss to brush his lips down your throat, hot kisses over your collarbone, lower still until his mouth is on the swell of your breast. Anthony adds a third finger, wet, filthy sounds from between your legs as your pussy clings to him, feeling so filled. His thumb hooks under your clitoral hood and starts to flick your sensitive nub in time with his finger thrusts just as Benedict's tongue swirls around your nipple, making your back curve up from the chaise, pushing your breast into his open mouth.

“I could watch this for hours…” Anthony asserts with a wicked little quirk of his eyebrow.

You squirm under them, so achingly aroused you feel on the edge of reason. One of them would be more than you have ever experienced before; both at once is almost lethal.

“Me too…” mirth laces Benedict’s response as he trails the point of his nose over your nipple. 

They glance at each other, telegraphing ideas silently. Benedict swaps to your other breast as Anthony moves, the angle of his fingers changing inside you, twisting as he rearranges between your splayed legs, pushing your thighs wide open, draping them on either side of the chaise.

The muscular swipe of Anthony's tongue through your slit has you crying out his name, a spike of pleasure so rough it catches you unawares, this act entirely new to you, something so intimate about his whole face buried into the wet heat between your legs.

Benedict kisses his way back up your neck as Anthony’s strong arms wrap around your hips, the solid mass of biceps curled into you as he drives you relentlessly, his tongue a spear lashing your swollen clit. Benedict swings around from kneeling at the side of the chaise to leaning over the curved back, fingers spidering down your skin from your shoulders towards your breasts.

“Is this the artful arrangement of bodies you envisaged?” His words are whispered hotly into your ear, your eyes fluttering closed at the decadent, smokey cadence.

You mumble something incoherent, the rush washing through your system stealing your thoughts, just as Anthony’s fingers start to move inside you again as he feasts upon you, closing his mouth around your sensitive nub and sucking hard with his lips.

“What was that?” Benedict chuckles, a teasing lilt that has you nuzzling your cheek into his lips, his fingertips dragging agonisingly slowly lower, over the round of your breasts, your nipples, still damp with his saliva, pebbled painfully even in the warm room, tingling for his firm touch.

“Yessss…” your reply is a sibilant rasp; he must know this is even better than what you had imagined, but he seems to enjoy hearing your affirmation regardless. Such investment in your pleasure amplifies your need.

Your hand shoots down to tug Anthony’s luscious hair, pushing your pelvis up into his face as he groans his approval of your wanton actions, chasing pleasure covetously. His fingers are buried deep inside you, curling and dragging over a spot that has you climbing so fast. Then Benedict roughly pinches your nipples, throbbing in sync with your clit under Anthony’s tongue, and you are sent stratospheric dizzyingly fast, a touch of rough treatment just what you need to push you over the edge you have been skating.

Benedict swallows your screams as you ride Anthony’s face in a wave of pleasure, clenching hard around his fingers, trying to expel them as he fights to stay inside you. Benedict's mouth is hot, possessive over yours, not letting you up for air in a way that only heightens your pleasure, a tingle zipping over your scalp as you burst and fracture under them.

For a few seconds, everything is blotted out, just a rush of blood in your ears and white-hot pleasure coursing through you. Their touch turns softer as you float down, Anthony’s fingers withdrawing from you with a wet noise as you lay dazed, utterly overwhelmed by the sudden intensity.

“Now that was a work of art…” the filthy poet opines velvety, a handsome, lopsided grin claiming his face as you stare up at him hovering over you, your view upside down. 

You are still too stunned even to form words, a stuttering noise that sounds more like a whimper, the only thing escaping your trembling lips.

“I think we may have stolen her power of speech,” Anthony observes wryly, crawling up, dropping pecked kisses onto random spots of your dewy skin.

He settles his muscular body over yours, his chest hair tickling your nipples, his face glazed with your arousal, and his sizeable cock brands your thigh through the material of his trousers. He moves in to steal a kiss that tastes tart, rolling your flavour onto your tongue, seemingly wanting you to savour it as much as he does.

“I've never enjoyed losing a bet more…” he rumbles enigmatically as you break apart, your brow knitting in confusion.

“He would not have been your art model today if he had not lost a bet,” Benedict supplies, his fingers massaging your scalp soothingly, dropping a kiss onto your forehead.

You smile blissfully, head swinging to look at them both, knowing it will broadcast your response, as well as anything spoken could.

“You might be right about the power of speech, brother,” Benedict jests gently as they rearrange on either side of you.

Hands running lightly over your arms and torso. You just assumed, as with your previous husband, that they would immediately move on to pursuing their pleasure, so when they do not, you are slightly confused, especially as their unhurried, sensual caresses reignite that flame deep in your core. After a few minutes of gentle intimacy you are unable to censor your curiosity any longer.

“Will neither of you take me?!”

You don't mean it to sound quite as indignant as it does, even though a large part of you enjoys their shocked expressions, neither expecting such boldness. But then both of their faces morph into a dangerous, smouldering look so similar you can see their shared genetics. It has you biting your lip on instinct.

“We both will if you employ that sort of tone with us…” Benedict threatens sonorously, leaning in so his lips graze your cheek, giving away that is precisely what they want too, a shiver running down your spine at all the possibilities, your soaked clit throbbing anew.

“Is that a promise or a threat, Mr Bridgerton?” You volley back, raising an eyebrow, this new play far too beguiling to resist.

“Insolent little thing…” Anthony growls.

Hands clutch you tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft flesh, both of them demanding a kiss, pulling you in each direction to plunder your mouth in turn. A thrill zips all the way from your head to your toes with this sudden change of pace—the gauntlet of challenge you have thrown down, unleashing something primal in them both. 

Before you know it, Benedict is standing up, and the sound of buttons popping open makes you inhale sharply around Anthony’s tongue, wanting so much to crane to see him stripping off, but your entire field of vision filled with the powerful Viscount, his hand seizing your jaw.

“Look at me,” Anthony demands, perhaps a tinge of jealousy that you may even dare glance elsewhere when he is kissing the life out of you. Your eyes meet, all blown pupils and damp lips, and it's blazingly intense like he is peering into your very thoughts. “Oh good girl…” he drips praisingly, and something hot and molten unfurls behind your ribs. The smirk that engulfs his face tells you he knows precisely what those two little words have done to you, lust roaring back to life in your veins. “Such a live wire…” he breathes, and you can see it is nothing but admiration. “I will be back…” his promise trailing off as he withdraws, your eyes tracking his movements away from you, taking a seat in a nearby wingback chair, that handsome smirk still there. It makes you want to reach out your hands and beckon him back, a slight pout that he has left you so soon.

But you inhale sharply as warm, ropey thighs part yours, and your attention is pulled back to Benedict, prowling over you on all fours, naked now. The glimpse of his rigid cock bobbing between his legs catches your breath before he claims your mouth and lowers himself upon you. So much heat and lithe, supple musculature. He doesn't even ask; your knees spreading wide is the open invitation that he takes, angling his hips and slipping into your waiting weeping pussy with one decisive thrust that has you grasping his shoulders and calling out. The blistering stretch is unlike anything your previous husband could achieve, and you are grateful for just how aroused you are, the feeling just the right side of painful. He holds still buried to the root, his handsome face rightfully smug as you adjust to this novel feeling of utter fullness.

“Is that what you needed?” He leans down and whispers those words in your ear, your breasts crushed under his smooth, hard chest. The tone is doused with brazen provocation that you can't help but rise to, one of your hands sliding covetously down his back.

“I think you know the answer you seek. Impress me, Benedict...” you incite as you grab his shapely rear, his responding groan vibrating your entire being. He withdraws and surges back in, your toes curling into the light fuzz on the back of his calves, what you have fantasised about for many weeks now, better than anything you have idly thought during each art lesson with him.

Benedict nuzzles into your neck and starts to set a rhythm that has you panting with each stroke, your back chafing the rich velvet fabric of the chaise, engulfed in his heat and woodsy scent, caged around you, his hands hooked under your shoulders, pulling you down onto his invading cock, his lips murmuring encouraging words onto your throat. 

Movement out the corner of your eye distracts you, and you twist your head a fraction to see Anthony naked now, too. That dusting of dark hair on his chest tapers over his toned stomach, a thin trail leading all the way down to the patch around the base of his cock. He has taken himself in hand and is watching you intently, eyes trained on you as his brother fucks into you over and over, rolling with him.

‘I want you…’

You mouth to Anthony, a need to have him desperate and wanting. His nostrils flare, and he bears his teeth, his grip on his cock vice-like, speeding up, a glistening bead of moisture squeezing from his tip at your very words. 

“Call her a good girl,” Anthony snarls, an instruction as much as a suggestion.

“Why would I when she is looking at you while I fuck her?” Benedict scolds satirically, and that has you swinging your attention back to the man inside you, a little flare of guilt in your gut that you are unable to divide your attention between them, wanting them both. “There she is,” he teases gravelly as his lips ghost the shell of your ear. “There’s my good girl….” he adds for good measure, the lowest register you have ever heard from him, and you cannot help your body’s response.

You clench around him, and he groans long and low, his grip on you harsher, snapping his hips so forcefully his hip bones dig deep into your splayed thighs, your eyes rolling, his tip grazing your hilt.

“So fucking perfect…” he curses, his mouth opening yours, raiding you, setting a pace so punishing now you can only cling to him, moaning loudly, him nudging your swollen clit with each stroke. The chaise squeaks under the onslaught now, feet scraping hard on the polished wood floor.

Still, you cannot stop your stolen glances at Anthony as Benedict huffs into your neck. He looks so majestic, knees splayed, eyes trained on you. You want to climb into his lap and ride him until your teeth are rattling. You can feel yourself climbing higher, each jolt to your clit another step closer, a gentle flutter in your pussy you know Benedict can feel, him emitting little groans with each involuntary constriction.

“You are so close. Come for me again; I need to feel it,” Benedict pleads breathily, pulling up to meet your gaze, a sheen across his forehead as he ploughs into you, never faltering in his athletic pace. 

One of his hands sweeps down your flank, long fingers squirrel between your bodies, unerringly finding their target, a scream ripping from your lungs at the extra stimulation. A few flicks from him, and you are gone for a second time, hurtling towards the stars, bowing upwards, tensing hard, each muscle snapping taught as body and mind are flooded with ecstasy. 

Distantly, you hear Benedict growl, more animal than man, a litany of filthy praise you can barely decipher tumbling from his lips as he pulls out abruptly, you whimpering at the sudden loss, your pussy bereft, rippling around nothing now as his hot seed spills onto your belly.

He collapses onto you for a few beats; his weight is heavy and cloying, his lips meeting yours in an artless kiss. Then you feel him climb off of you slowly, a soft rag dragging over your skin as he cleans you of his seed and mingled juices. He kisses your cheek chastely, but his words are interrupted by Anthony calling out across the room. 

“Are you ready for more?”

Your attention immediately snaps across to the Viscount. Without thought, you are springing to your feet, gait uncertain, like a newborn fawn finding its legs as you take a few shaky steps towards him, an exquisite ache between your thighs from all that has transpired.

“Are you coming to me?” Anthony coos impressed, his hands shooting out to steady you, gripping your waist.

You nod enthusiastically, utterly drunk on the tide of pleasure coursing through you, which greatly entertains him. You climb into his waiting lap and draw him immediately into a filthy, wet kiss. Your tongues tangle as you shuffle forward into the wide, comfortable chair, his hips sliding forward to meet you, and without preamble, you rise fractionally and sink onto him, your puffy, swollen channel suctioning onto his thick veiny cock with a filthy sound. He groans beautifully as you sink, taking him into your pussy, the stretch of him just as mindblowing, perhaps even a shade thicker, like his physique. You stutter a curse, eyes to the ceiling, wrapping your arms tight around his neck, your nipples pressed into the fur of his chest, his balls pressed between your bottom cheeks as you sit speared upon him. 

“Are you going to ride me?” His question is rich like chocolate, buzzing against your chin where his mouth is now hooked open, his teeth grazing the bone there.

“Yes,” you slur, tilting your gaze down to look down at him, already knowing you would do it until your body gives out, so desperate again to feel that high only they can provide.

“Good girl.”

They know it's a weapon now and deploy it with gleeful abandon. Reflexively you contract around Anthony’s cock, both of you calling out, his muscular thighs tensing under your weight, his toes lifting from the floor. He utters a curse, too, a hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, then cupping the back of your head, tugging the hair at your scalp between his knuckles.

“Ride,” he commands, low and slow, a menacing tone that has you stuttering with restoked arousal. A burning need to please him, to do precisely what he tells you to. And so you push up until his head is just inside your pussy, then drop back down, shuffling your stance wider to get a better range of motion. He watches you with a hooded, scorching gaze; a devastating quirk of his eyebrow has you moving steadily. Pressing all of yourself into him, with each pass, his hard abdomen scuffs your distended clit, your pussy lips so puffy now with so much arousal and repeated blows.

He nudges your face aside so he can teeth your earlobe. “You feel exquisite. All swollen with lust,” he croons, his breath gusting hot, his choice of words making you flare hotter, driving onwards with renewed vigour, a slight burn in your thighs as you rise and fall upon him, feeling yourself dripping down onto him, needing to cling onto him to keep seated.

“Could we do this on the floor?” you murmur into his stubbled cheek, realising your range of motion is slightly restricted by the shape of the chair.

His response is immediate; without leaving your body, he effortlessly takes your weight, wraps an arm around you and somehow manoeuvres smoothly onto the floor, his spine now resting on the front of the chair cushion—so much vigour and athleticism from both of these men. 

“Turn around, sweet girl,” you startle and whip your head over your shoulder.

There sat on the chase, lower half now wrapped in a drape of crisp white fabric, looking like a Grecian statue made flesh, is Benedict—a sketchpad and charcoal in hand. 

“Turn around so that I may draw you in the throes of passion,” he clarifies, that dangerous crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You look back to Anthony, suspecting from the twitch of his lip he is more than happy about this development. Silently he spins you both around and lays prone on the polished floor underneath you, still rock hard and buried deep in your pussy. Placing your hands on his chest, you lean forward slightly, take a deep breath and then start to ride again, slowly, the slight discomfort of the hardwood under your kneecaps heightening your pleasure somehow. The range of motion possible now allows you to experiment, to test the delicious drag of his cock by tilting your pelvis in each direction, then in a circular motion, hitting a spot inside that has you hissing and your nails scraping through the thick thatch of hair there.

“Take what you need…” Anthony advocates through gritted teeth, reading your every signal. 

Your eyes ping up from his imploring expression to Benedict, his gaze holding yours daringly as you start to fuck his brother again. Wantonly, luxuriating in the rapt audience you have. A liquid cascade of heat deluges you, the scrape of charcoal on the page spurring you on—to be more daring, leaning back to grab Anthony’s knees as leverage for your movements, your breast pushed high into the air, more performative knowing this carnal moment is being committed to paper.

Benedict mouths words of encouragement as you glance down to see Anthony’s eyes now screwed shut, his biceps bulging in stark relief as his hands clamp your waist, and his hips rock upwards with each downstroke you take, chasing his peak with the same vigour you are, each press of his cock better than the last. Your muscles scream from all the effort, but you do not stop, a bead of sweat sliding down your spine as you ride roughly, with abandon. Anthony’s eyes are open again now, his hands cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples so hard you stutter. Greedily you mash his thick cock right against that same spot that has your mouth slack, head tilted up, and fingers curling into his flesh, shocked at how close you are yet again in such rapid succession.

“Say it,” you grit out, staring up to the ceiling, not looking at either, not sure even you know who you are even asking. 

“Good girl..” it's in perfect unison, and that is what pushes you into oblivion.

You grind to a halt, pussy contracting in waves around his cock as he writhes under you, him gasping loudly as you again float far away, that blissful cloud almost making you miss his urgent call, him eventually hauling you off of him, just in time for him to paint your belly with a thick arc of seed, his whole body jerking with the almost violence of release.

He collapses under you, quivering, utterly spent, and you do the same. Faceplant into his chest, rubbing your nose into the musky dampness of his chest hair as you huff breaths, bone-deep but sated exhaustion from the exertion.

Pliantly, you allow Anthony to slip out from under you and you feel him pick you up bridal style as you curl into him, fatigue lapping your edges. He places you onto the chaise, and then both men are flanking you, limbs tangling and gentle kisses as they entwine around you. It’s a few quiet, tender moments before curiosity again gets the better of you.

“May I see it?” you query quietly, abashed, pressing your nose into Benedict’s shoulder, not willing to meet his gaze.

His laugh is rich and resonant, reaching around to grab his pad and show you. There, in elegant charcoal lines, is a scandalous but beautiful rendition of you, naked, your peaked nipples standing proud, head thrown back. The detail is perfect, even down to the patch of downy hair at the apex of your thighs. There is no rendition of Anthony, but at one glance, you can tell it is a depiction of an erotic capture of a woman riding a man. The very picture of passion, just as he promised.

“It is stunning,” you gasp.

“It is yours,” he rushes out.

“I… I want it to be yours,” you confess ardently, your hands sliding to grasp Anthony’s arm draped over your belly. “Both of yours..” you confirm.

Warm lips kiss your cheek on either side. 

“We will treasure it.” Anthony asserts as Benedict nods sagely.

You stifle a yawn and nuzzle into their warmth as Benedict suggests you all retire to his bedroom upstairs. 

“Tis only 3pm...” your protest is nominal at best, and you allow him to pick you up, wrapping you in another sheet as Anthony does the same, trailing behind you as Benedict ascends the stairs.

“When is your next art lesson?” Anthony queries as the door to an opulent bedroom swings open.

“Tomorrow?” you riposte cheekily, and they both chuckle as you add: “If you will have me…”

“I do believe that can be arranged,” Benedict confirms fondly as he approaches a handsome four-poster bed.

“Artfully…” Anthony adds wryly as you share a laugh with them both, falling into their welcoming joint embrace.

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[nighttimealone]

Hi, I love your writing! And I was wondering if I could request a smut story. Where König, Price, or Soap is a budior photographer and is doing a photo shoot with an insecure plus size reader?

Cw: Nsfw (Why choose one? I wrote all of them in this, hope you don’t mind)

You’ve been looking at your feeds, sighs imperceptibly when it shows your friends sharing the photos of them having a boudoir shoot. You’ve always been craving one for yourself, but you don’t fit into the ‘beauty standard’ of the society, or at least that’s the people told you while snorting laughters throughout your life. But fuck it, you’re not going to care about those toxic murmurs from your heart popping up in your mind, or the taunts you’ve received from others. Your fingers type on your phone swiftly, sending a message to the boudoir photographer, then discard your phone on the nightstand and close your eyes, in case you regret your decision again and cancel it with a “sorry”.

John, the first photographer you contact, ring your doorbell and greet you with a polite smile. A gentleman, caring and make sure you’re always comfortable, that’s your first impression of him.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well.” He instructs you patiently throughout the shoot, sensing your nervousness and insecurity, but doesn’t point out. It’s obvious that he prefers a more romantic style, let you turn your back to the camera, hair splaying across your back, extending your legs back to accentuate your curves.

You try to hide the ‘excessive’ meat on your thighs, closing them tightly and turn them away from the camera subconsciously. His hands, warm and tender, hovering over your thighs with a gruff “May I?”, seeking your permission before maneuvering your legs, guiding it to expose the plump and soft flesh, “That’s it, good girl. No need to be shy.” He snaps the picture with a satisfied look.

His eyes are full of fascination when he looks down at you, skins glowing and cheeks rosy when he slowly peels the robe of your lingerie—french style with white transparent laces—off you. “Knew how gorgeous you look in these, love?” John’s touch is reverent, as if you’re a gift from the heaven, peppering kisses up your thighs, knowing how much you feel embarrassed about them. Yet the awe in his eyes makes your head spin as he wraps his hands around both of your thighs, “God, see how they spill out of my fingers, princess? perfect…absolutely perfect.” That’s the last thing he says before lowering his head, can’t control his urge any longer, lapping at your core and worshipping you thoroughly, there’s won’t be a spot left untaken care of as your back arch at how his tongue nudges your entrance, drinking all those nectar and groans lowly when your squeeze his head between your thighs. “Come on, squeeze those thighs harder around me, drown me in your pussy.” When you see him lift his head slightly, instructing you just like he was during the shooting—only this time his beard is glistening with your juices—you know you’ll keep being a good girl for him.

You receive the photos from John a week after, baffled and blinks your eyes a few times, trying to process the fact that the elegant woman in the photo is you. Your cheeks are hot when you observe the photos clearly, but the joy swirling in your chest overtakes the shyness of seeing yourself in such intimate positions.

So you search the internet again, and finds Johnny, contact him about booking a session, meanwhile take a look at his social media profile. He looks confident and quite a people person, the smug smile never leaves his lips in every photos of him. And he’s just like what you assume, the moment you open your door, he never stops talking, charming you with every words, even the stupid mohawk only he can make it shine looks good on him.

In contrast to John, Johnny’s style is more passionate, sexual and sultry. Teaching you to sit on your bed, legs spread wide and brace yourself with arms at your back, arch your supple breast high and let the locks falls naturally behind you. “Hell, you look like sexiness embodiment, lassie.” Johnny’s praises never stop, every moves of your body make him gasp in admiration.

Johnny insists you to sit on his lap, tugging the straps on your lingerie and let it snap back on your skin lightly, moans out like a needy wolf as he watch the strap’s digging into your skin slightly. “I knew this lingerie would suit ye the moment I saw your stunning body, pretty girl.” Yes, he suggested you to pick yourself a lingerie with more straps tying around each part of your body, but what you didn’t know is he’s been hiding that boner since he see you comes out the bathroom with it, his cock so hard and leaking precums in his trousers, good that he wears the loose and black pair, or he might get caught hiding his erection during the shoot, and ended up just fucking you straightly before finishing the shoot.

His thick dick sinks into your cunny, still pushing you down onto his lap, so he can stuff all that cock inside of your warmth. If you try to lift your ass, saying you don’t want to crush him under his weight, a soft smack will immediately lands on your buttocks, with him grabbing your thighs and thrust into you fully again, chuckling at your high-pitched whine, “Ditch those unnecessary concerns, doll. Think I can’t handle a bit of weight, eh? will change that thought of yers now.” His hips rocks upwards to emphasize his points, and you can barely understand his words when he’s fucking into your tight cunt fiercely.

During the wait for the photos from Johnny, you contact König. You’re more comfortable with boudoir shoots now, and when you spotted his work from his profile, you’re interested in getting one of those photos featuring exotic nightgowns. He replies to your inquiry quickly with a ‘:)’ at the end of the sentence, so you expect him to be a cute boy. Well, that’s why you almost close your door after seeing a 6’9’’ giant with a mask covering the lower half of his face, standing in front of you when the time comes, thinking he accidentally knocked the wrong door, until he swiftly explains to you he’s ‘König’ with a tint of fluster in his voice.

Despite the little incident and misunderstanding earlier, the whole experience is relaxing. He’s quieter and looks more intimidating than John and Johnny, yet he softly guides your movements and pose, and you almost snicker at his attempt to make himself less scary.

But when König scoops you in his arms without breaking a sweat, holding you in full nelson and driving that inhuman-sized cock into your pussy, growls teetering on animalistic and humane as he keeps lifting you, letting the position help him abuse your poor cervix and you’re singing his name in joy, squirting here and there every time he pulls out a bit just to slam back, heavy balls slapping on your skin, you know he’s been hiding the feral side from you, caging the animal inside him till he can has his way with you after the shoot. “So süß…so gut, liebe…” His hips never cease, standing tall and pinning you back against his chest. A german curse grunted against your shoulder as he goes pussy drunk, panting at how comforting and enticing to fondle your pillowy thighs when he fills you to the brim.

You wake up next day around noon, body aches from the activity from last day. Your groggy mind sluggishly recalls that Johnny tells you he’ll be sending the final files of your photos today, so you reach out to check if he sent them yet. Yet your eyes widened when you see the notifications popping up on the screen.

[Price]: You can just come to me whenever you want another shoot, sweetheart. Heard you went to get one from Johnny, hmm?

[Johnny]: Saw you following that giant’s account. König, eh? don’t go seek him when you need new photos, ask me or at least the old man first, I’ll always squeeze a session out of my schedule just for you, lassie.

[König]: *attached a picture of an exquisite nightgown* This suits you well, Schatz. I just bought it for you, and if you don’t mind, I want to see you in it and posing for MY camera.

Your palms are sweating as your eyes scan through the texts. Because no way all three of them know each other, right…right?

Bloody hell.

feel free to share your thoughts via askbox, hope you’ll like this.

[globalrebrand]

An Unexpected Evening

Warnings: Capitano x Reader, not sfw, mutual masturbation, slight coercion

A/N: A piece posted from my Ao3, a gift for @gojoidyll for their stubborn hearts series. Posted here after a request.

It had nearly been a month since your impromptu arranged marriage to Capitano. The first of the Lord Harbingers. He was a notoriously aloof and enigmatic figure, and thus far, married life had been far from standard. Not that it bothered you per se. You both agreed to have minimal expectations of one another. However, you weren’t entirely used to your independence being hampered by the proximity that marriage brought. You two now shared a home, a bed, and the occasional bath, and while you didn’t mind, sharing these important spaces made it difficult for you to have much-needed “me time,” especially in light of the fact you and your husband had yet to be intimate. 

It is late, and Capitano is in his office. You’d spent much of the afternoon helping to archive some older documents at his request, and while you were happy to help, you hadn’t been able to be very far from him since his return home last week. He’d often request your company for all manner of tasks and activities. It was evidence that your marriage was going far better than expected, considering it seemed that Capitano really enjoyed your presence or was putting in effort to acclimate to you, but all of this attention is also what has you feeling rather frustrated as of late. 

“Um, my lord. Is it alright if we sleep in separate quarters tonight?” It had taken you all night to gather the courage to make such a request, but you were pent up and desperate for release. 

“Why? Are you unwell?” Capitano's brows furrowed with concern as his hand came to his favorite perch on your chin, tilting your face this way and that as an impromptu medical examination. Gently, you gripped his wrist and pressed forward with your gambit. 

“No, I would. I just like a bit of alone time, just for this evening.”

Your husband's lips pursed. It was clear this was not an acceptable solution to him, so you offered a compromise.  

“I could even come back later in the night if that would be preferable.” 

Capitano's eyes narrowed, before a slight look of epiphany flashed across his features. “Wife, do you intend to touch yourself? 

“What! No, I-” You stuttered, embarrassed he would state things so plainly. Not that it was all too surprising based on what you knew of his character. 

“Do not lie to me. I am your husband, and you needn’t be coy with such matters.” He said sternly. Your eyes snapped to meet his gaze, knowing well that if you didn’t meet his eye, he would simply make you. 

“Yes.” You admitted, shoulders slumping with embarrassment but doing your best not to break eye contact. “I felt it would be rather inconsiderate to do so next to you while you slept.” That and you usually kept the light on to read whatever smut novel you liked from your collection. It was quite a challenge balancing a book, flipping pages while stimulating yourself, but you’d gotten the science down to an art. Capitano’s expression relaxes, and you feel a bit of hope that he’ll grant you what you desire. 

“Thank you for your consideration, wife.”

“Of course, I’ll be right back after-” You eagerly assure him, a light smile settling on your lips, but your excitement is interrupted, by your husband's thunderous voice. 

“You get ahead of yourself, wife.” He raises an eyebrow. “I will not permit you to sleep in the other chambers tonight.”

“Oh…alright.” You sigh. Perhaps he would at least allow you to bathe alone…balancing a book in the tub was tricky, but you’d managed before.

“But do not fret. You are permitted to masturbate in our shared quarters.” You cringe at his phrasing but continue on in desperate need of a bit of clarification on the logistics of exactly how you’ll get off…privately, of course. 

“…and where will you be, my lord?” You question.

“I shall be watching.” Capitano attempts to hide his grin as you gasp at his declaration, and the color drains from your face. 

“Oh no, that’s quite alright.” Touching your tender parts in front of your husband was out of the question. Besides a few kisses and bathing with each on the rare occasion he was home, you and Capitano were nowhere close to consummating your marriage as far as you were concerned, but even so, this ask to touch yourself, to bring yourself to completion in front of his steely eyes, felt like an even more intimate prospect than sex.

Capitano catches your flustered expression, eyes darting back and forth as his piercing stare silently demands your attention.

“While I am home, you will take your pleasure with me or not at all.” His countenance is stern. You instantly understand this is an important rule to follow if you want to stay in your husband's good graces. And to a certain point, you understand his perspective. He is seldom home, and to pleasure yourself without him would be cruel, but you had not yet broached actual intimacy…how would you manage such a task!?

“I promise it’s not an event that would be worth watching.” You try to insist. Eyes quietly pleading with him to just allow you to have your privacy. 

“I shall see for myself.” Capitano peered over your shoulder. “Are those your materials?’” He gestured to the book you had held behind you back. 

Your face threatened to burst into flames, but any further protest would likely only upset your husband, with your glance askance you quietly muttered “yes.”

“I can read it for you, so you may use both hands.”

“No, it’s ok!” You urge politely.

“Then you will read it aloud so I may hear what arouses you.” He suggests instead. 

Fuck. This was certainly not the anticipated or desired turn of events. 

The short novella you’d selected was an absolutely debauched tale about a menage-á-trois, where a married couple corrupts a young, innocent maiden who stays weekend at their country estate in Fontaine. Capitano would certainly think that you were a horribly lewd young woman if he heard this. 

“I’ll pick another selection-“ Capitano interrupts you by abruptly rising from his seat. 

“No, we’ve already wasted enough time on this matter tonight.” With that, Capitano grabbed your arm, his burly hand gently tugging you out of his office and up to your bedroom. If you didn’t know any better you would think he was rather eager to watch your toy with yourself—something you’d never done for an audience. 

Should you try to make it good for him? Being deliberately sexy was not something you were familiar with, any perceived sexiness in your past intimate encounters was just consequence of your desperate arousal. 

Ugh…you were regretting not just trying to figure out a workaround in the bath. Maybe if you’d perched your book on the end of the tub between the faucet and spout, you flip the pages with your toes? And just drape one foot over the side so your toes wouldn’t wet the pages? 

But then again, you’d ruled out that idea because Capitano’s tub was made for a man of his size and stature, the end of the tub was nearly a mile from the back rest-

“Wife. Make yourself comfortable.” Your husband drops your hand as he finished guiding you to your shared chambers. The opulent room is on the top floor of his manor, and while the wooden finishes are beautifully dark and glossed and the windows suitably grand and imposing, the furnishing in the room remained rather spare. 

Thanks to you there was now a plush rug, set of twin wardrobes and a perfectly situated  chaise, oriented to look across the dark forest to the nearby bay. Before the bedroom consisted of  just a bed, a rather cruel looking bearskin rug and one side table with every drawer neatly packed with a variety of state documents. But even with your additions in the dim candle light the room felt cavernous. It would take quite a bit more furniture to make things feel homey in your opinion. 

You glanced at Capitano as he pulled his night clothes from his armoire, without missing a beat you moved to do the same, but you struggled with the the back of your corset. Normally a lady would help you undress for bed but Capitano had seemingly been so impatient for this evenings decided course of events that you were now stuck fumbling with the laces on your back. 

You let out of slight groan as your nail bent crudely as you picked at ribbons, but before you could even register his advance Capitano was at your back. His hands surprisingly deft and focused as he worked you out of the piece of supportive clothing.  

“Thank you. “ You spoke softly but gasped in shock when your husband immediately went to pull you out of your dress and underdress, pulling both layers in one go, leaving you only in your stockings and garters. 

You were too shocked to utter any rebuttal, and it seemed that Capitano interpreted this as consent to strip you entirely.

You felt his course hands glide down your thigh to begin undoing your garter and pulling the stockings down your legs, but his thumb grazed too close to your bare cunt, and you leapt away from the contact. Entirely unprepared for the feeling of his coarse hand against your silky flesh. 

“It’s ok husband I’ll do this part, thank you for your assistance.” With no more than a grunt of  approval Capitano retreated to the bed as you undid your stockings and put them away. You cast a glance over your shoulder only to see your husband reclined on his side of the bed and quickly scanning a fresh stack of documents as he waited for you. Turning back to your wardrobe, you reach for a nightgown, but you are interrupted by your husband’s booming voice.

“You won’t need that until later now come.” He patted your side of the bed.

You hesitated at his command, a bit petrified at the prospect of laying next to Capitano naked, especially when he had the privilege of being clad in silk pants and a matching buttoned top which laid open against the firm planes of his chest and torso, dimly illuminated by lamp light. 

“Okay.” You muttered softly, resigning your yourself to the surprising turn of tonight's events. 

As you climbed into bed, Capitano handed you your book. He must have grabbed it while you were busy undressing. It was already open to the flap with the plot summary. Ugh, archons save you.  You gingerly took the book from him and placed it on you pillow. The poor novella was so accustomed to being used for this nightly ritual that its spine gave absolutely no resistance and fell prone, pages splayed against downy sheets. 

Your nerves were through the roof, so to calm yourself, you decided it would be best just to pretend your husband wasn’t there and that you were alone in your old dark bedroom in the attic, reading by candlelight. 

Your favorite position was a bit unconventional. Turning over in the bed, you got on all fours before sinking to your forearms and leaning back on your heels. Capitano let out a light groan as he watched you prostrate yourself, his hand slowly stroking against his thigh.

“Begin.” He encourages gruffly. 

Like you’ve done hundreds of times in your dark bedroom, you slide your hand under your body and touch your pussy lightly, letting your fingers slide through your folds to gather slickness. To your absolute surprise. You're completely soaked. Usually, you need to read a bit of the story and thumb yourself over your panties before your fingers are damp enough to glide through your plump lips, but tonight, even the creases of your thighs are slick with the evidence of your arousal. 

With a shaky breath, you begin. You skip to the best bits of the story, hoping you can get yourself to come quickly. 

You finger yourself through the plot, reading aloud all the while. Describing in vivid detail, Monsieur Guillaume Berteau secretly fingers the protagonist, Vivienne, in the bathroom. At the same time, his wife entertains the rest of their party guests, then steals her sopping panties, forcing her to parade around sans culotte for the remainder of the evening. 

But you get really close when, later, the couple seduces Vivienne into the swimming pool, and she shares a kiss with both husband and wife as she relishes being the center of their attention. Then Carmen guides Vivienne to spread her legs and welcome her husband's cock with all the enthusiasm of a baker gleefully spooning a first bite of something sweet into a child’s mouth.

You spare a glance at your husband. Capitano has pushed down his pants, leaving his groin exposed as he strokes himself to your words. Something about his arousal spurs you on, making you feel even hotter, even closer to reaching your peak. The headiness of your husband stimulating himself only inches away while you did the same felt empowering. 

Your cunt aches deliciously as your stroke between your folds even faster. Your awareness of Capitano’s arousal is riling you even more than the contents of the story at this point. You turn to look at your husband, and with just a  few more tight circles on your clit, you feel your whole pussy begin to spasm. You accidentally push the novella onto the floor. It's work done as your hole clenches around nothing as you start to cum, your fingers pressing firmly against your nub, working you through what is likely your strongest orgasm in recent memory. 

Capitano catches your eyes as his hand slides fluidly over his shaft while his thumb occasionally teases the head. His cheeks are flushed with pleasure, but his eyes are so frighteningly intense that your natural instinct is to turn away from his predatory gaze. Faintly, you hear him scoff, but your mind and body are too far gone to register what that could even mean. 

You shudder as you come, hips dropping, twitching, and grinding against the quilt of your bed to elongate your pleasure. With a few heaving breaths, you struggle to collect yourself. Eventually, you turn back to face Capitano, only to find him scowling. 

And still hard. 

“Turn over.” He instructs, not quite waiting for you to move of your own accord and flipping your hips. 

You spook slightly as he positions you on your back and spreads your legs. 

Is he going to fuck you!? The thought doesn’t scare you as much as it should, but this definitely wouldn’t be an ideal scenario for you to finally make love to your husband. 

By way of protest, you offer, “Should I get the bo-”

“No.” He cuts you off immediately. 

Capitano hooks your legs over him as he kneels in front of you, his thick thighs keeping your legs parted. 

You tense as he takes his member in hand and begins to stroke himself again. His eyes first trained on your cunt. He groans at the sight, and his other hand steadies itself on your thigh. 

“May I touch you?” He asks, only slightly breathless. 

Silently, you nod, and Capitano takes the invitation to slide his hand higher. He pushes aside the curtains of your hair that have fallen over your breast and takes a soft mound in hand, grasping it with surprising tenderness and swiping his thumb firmly over your stiff nipple. You whimper at his ministrations, and his eyes snap your face. His hand quickly follows his stare as he brings his rough palm to your cheek, not waiting for permission, and presses his thumb between your plush lips. Capitano licks part his lips to offer a command, but you’re already sucking on his thick digit before he can instruct you. 

Your husband hisses and tosses his head back. You take the cue glance down to his member just in time to see the firm planes of his abdomen contract, and with a few more tugs of shaft thick white seed starts to spurt out. Then it is your turn to cry out at the contact of the hot liquid splashing onto your clit and dribbling down between your swollen folds. 

Capitano’s eyes return to your body, his steely orbs now pinned to where his spend clings to your cunt lips. Your frame is tense, but with a few strokes of his strong palm against your side, you begin to relax. 

“Good girl.” he praises as he begins to lower himself over your body. You reach a hand between the two of you and gather some of the semen coating your pussy on your fingers. 

Without thinking, you bring a hand to your mouth and tentatively suck his seed from your digits, tasting the viscous fluid like an adolescent sipping wine for the first time, which was essentially what you were. You didn't hate it as you thought you would, your eyebrows raise as if to say 'not bad.'

“Who taught you such a whorish trick?” He growls, grabbing your wrist. A slight look of awe mixed with a flare of righteous anger.

“I um, just wanted to taste you. I was curious.” You mumble shyly. Honestly. This was the most intimate contact you've had with a man and every physical sensation became new grounds for exploration.  

Capitano glares at you skeptically for a moment before pulling you up into a kiss, far deeper than any you’d shared up to that point. His tongue seeks yours eagerly, his lips surprisingly plush against yours. When you part, he gingerly lays you down and settles atop you, pressing you into the mattress. He lets out an aching sigh into the crux of your shoulder. 

“Beautiful.” He decides.

And your heart races.

[genderless-naper]

candle shopping pt.2

trafalgar law x strawhat!reader

warnings: wax play, slight voyeurism

nsfw smut, wc: 3k, lowercase intended!

law tried his best to stay away from you after what happened, but what was he to do when you walked in on him moaning your name

you can find pt1 here!

your last encounter with law was certainly the least of your expectations. you two avoided each other like the plague since then. maybe law avoided you because of the sheer embarrassment of what had happened. he would never forget what happened while hiding under the blanket with you, and he knew you wouldn’t forget either. still he likes to light his candle up during his times in which he isolates himself from the crew. the smell teleporting him to his memories with you.

sometimes the scent is strong enough to smell just by passing by in the hallway. the earthy forest scent with hints of fresh water would have you stopping in your tracks. blood rushing to your face just from thinking about it. from thinking about him.

law knew there was no point in giving anymore thought to what happened. the past is the past, right? if anything he figured he ruined any ounce of friendliness he established with you.

so then why did he find himself rock hard sitting on his chair whenever he lit the candle up? the sounds of your moans echoing in his ear. he can hardly resist ghosting his hand along his hard member.

he sits back with legs wide open while letting the smell of the candle intoxicate him. he massages the bulge on his pants while imaging the lewd faces you would make because of him. he wanted to feel you under him. under his control.

he kept his eyes shut to continue to fantasize about you as he unzipped his jeans. he snaked them down to reveal his member without restraints. oh how perfect you looked in his mind. it was no wonder he was as hard as the day he was stuck in bed with you.

he continued his usual routine. imaging you in his mind as he pleased himself absolutely desperate to re-experience what he did that day. hoping the candle smell could help him achieve time travel. it was the usual routine. he did everything like he always did. everything was how it was supposed to be except for one factor.

law didn’t factor in how he left the door unlocked. he always did, and never once was interrupted. he never gave it a second thought. he never would expect for you to walk in on him.

you didn’t plan on looking for law at that moment. you tried to avoid him as much as possible. every time you locked eyes you could see what had happened dance on his eyes. avoiding was the best to keep the blood rising to your face and the wetness out your panties. the last thing you wanted was to be near him. instead you helped crew mates in your free time. the only reason you were sentenced to the library, where law camped at, was because chopper needed a specific book of herbal medicine.

you stopped right before the door. the smell of the candle lingered out into the hallway. you felt slightly better knowing law still used it, and the candle didn’t end up being a waste. placing your hand in the knob you open it quietly without knocking. you expected law to be hunched over with books and coffee cups all around him. so you would avoid him like the plague.

what you didn’t expect to see was him violently stroking his hard-on while sprawled back on his chair. sweat covered his tattoo figure as he tries to reach the high he once experienced with you, but ultimately failing every time. his arm covered his eyes while he let quiet moans escape his lips. completely unaware of your presence he fastened his pace. he moaned out your name repetitively, “just like that y/n-ah… keeping going just like that.. fuck you feel so good..”

you watched the man in front of you unravel with thoughts of you assisting him reach his high. you closed the door behind you, and this time it was loud enough to draw the attention of the tattooed man sitting in front of you. he immediately stopped and snapped his head to your direction. seeing you standing by the door made him lose all thought as he slowed down his pace on his member. slowly coming to a stop as he held it up. still painfully hard and swollen at the tip.

he looked at your nervously afraid of what you would think of him now. it was already bad that you avoided him, but seeing him in such a state? he used you to fulfill his own desperate desires, and this time he got caught in the act. he would understand if you slapped him then and there.

he cleared his throat and quickly pull his pants back over his budge while desperately trying to pull the zipper up. he wasn’t sure how much of him you just saw. he glanced at you only to realized you were walking. walking right towards him.

he prepared himself for a blow to the face. he cursed himself mentally for being so negligent of the goddamn door. he didn’t dare look up at you when you stood right in front of him. he simply prepared himself for the worst.

you stood in front of the man sitting with his head low. you couldn’t help but notice his legs still spread with his hard-on pressing against his pants. you bit your lip as the heat between your legs starts to rise.

you cup law’s cheek to bring his face up to look at you. he stared at you taking in every one of your features. he wanted you then and there. he wanted to lock you away so he would be the only one to see that perfect face of yours. these thoughts only made his current sexual state more painful. he winces as you ran your thumb along his cheek. skin-to-skin contact making his bulge more painful.

you lean down to his level and whispered in the most gentle voice to be heard by his ears, “does it hurt law..? i bet it’s really painful baby.” he stared in disbelief not knowing what exactly to say as a response. his stomach did back flips when you eyes him between his legs. you slowly got on your knees to be face to face with whats causing the tattooed man his pain.

you look up at him as you ran a finger up and down his clothed shaft, “is this causing you pain..? were you thinking about me to help you feel better? hm?”

you knew your words were having an effect on him. he bit his lip and tried to compose himself not wanting to look weak in front of you. how could he admit he was all worked up and on the brink of an orgasm yet having to hold himself back because of you?

you lick your lips and stared the man between the legs. the smell of the candle fills your mind with lewd thoughts of your first encounter. you ran your hand and massaged the inside of his thigh. dangerously close to the energy point. you wanted him to feel good, but not yet.

your touches made the man throw his head back as he gripped the sides of the chair. he wanted you to do miracles on his cock. he didn’t notice you voluntarily pulling down his pants to expose his hard-on once again. he looked at you shocked only to see your hungry eyes which eyed him at his bulge. you licked your lips and mumbled quietly, “i want to help you feel good law..” you smirked up to him. you rubbed your thighs together barely able to suppress your moans, “i wanna make you feel good like before, please let me help you” you took his member in your hand and stroked it slowly. law bites his lip as he leans back more in his chair to expose himself to you, “fuck y/n, you always make me feel good even when you aren’t trying..”

you giggled when he admits the power you had over him. you filled his mind every passing minute of the day whether he liked it or not.

you pulled yourself away from the man under your control. his expression a mix of confusion and pain. you lay back to your elbows on the floor in front of him as you slowly run a hand in between your thighs. you bite your lip while holding eye contact with the man above you. you wanted to put on a show for him; something he’d never forget like before. you press your fingers onto your clothed core and let a slight gasp escape your lips. you stare up at his eyes which took every inch of you into detail. you went to unbutton your pants before stopping yourself. you looked up to him and asked him, “can i take these off?”

laws eyes widen slightly. the thought of you asking him if you could please yourself drove him over the edge. he nods slightly as he uses his foot to push one of your legs wide apart. he stared at you like you previously stared at him, “i wanna see you with your fingers in yourself y/n”

feeling your heat increase you wasted no time following his orders. you threw your pants off until you were left with your panties. they already had a wet imprint which hugged against your folds and carved them out persicely. you look back up for permission which you’re then met with a nod from the man. you pulled your wet panties off; shivering from the cold air hitting your drenched folds. law reached his hand out for the panties. you handed them to him obediently imagining all the things he would do with them when he would be alone.

you licked your finger and gently circle it around your clit. you were slow and careful just wanting to take in the feeling. you hear the man above you growl slightly, “i said i wanna see you fuck yourself, not play games with your goddamn self” law had already had his hand holding his shaft. he wanted to hear you moaning out for him. he knew you wanted to be his entertainment.

you inserted a digit into yourself. gasping as you adjusted to your own finger. the man in front of you start to stroke his member with every movement you made with your finger. his hand was slow since he was more focus on what you were yet to show him. he stared hungrily as you inserted another finger. you felt the knot in your stomach form as you moved your fingers in and out your wet walls. you moaned out starting to forget of the man in front of you, “it feels s-so good! i need to go faster…” law watched as you threw your head back while letting filthy moans leave your perfect lips. you uncreased your rhythm and curled your fingers so you could chase your high. you weren’t that experience with pleasing yourself, and it was obvious to him when you started to whine and get frustrated while chasing your high.

law wanted you to feel as good as you looked, so he ordered you to stop. you looked up at him confused. did you mess something up? law stood up and leaned down and pick you up. he gently placed you on the table in front of him while wrapping your legs around his waist.

he looked at the lit candle placed at the corner of the table. he reaches for it as he pushed your shirt off you. you lay in front of him with nothing but your bra on. he looked down proudly once again having you laid beautifully naked in front of him.

you eyed the candle confused at what the tattooed man was doing with it. he notices your attention on it and smirks, “we should use it y/n.”

you raised your brown, “u-use it? but it’s a candle?

law smirks as he plays with the hem of your bra, “its a lit candle. it would be perfect for this..”

law holds the candle right above your clothed chest and tilts it ever so slightly. he watches as one drop of hot wax hits your soft skin. you wince at the sudden hot liquid on your bare skin, and feel it solidify slowly.

you see his hungrily stare at you as he continues to drip small amounts of the melted wax on your skin. every drop stung you, but it made your stomach do flips. soon your closed chest and stomach were filled with drips of the wax. law stares hungrily at your bra eyeing for you to take it off. you obeyed his hungry gaze and exposed your hidden breasts. the cold air made your nipples harden. he groped one breast and ran his thumb around and over the sensitive bud. you arched your back to him instinctively. law moved his finger away and dripped the hot wax around your bud. he watched as the liquid hardens and take the shape of your hardened nipple. he smirked as you wince under him. every whimper that escaped you would make the man to roll his hips against yours. seeing you subject to his control using the item you gave him made him feel superior. he wasted no time coating your other precious bud in the hot liquid. you moaned out loud due to the heightened sensitivity of the location. once satisfied with coating your figure with the melted substance he places it back to its original location.

law leans back down as he kisses your ear before speaking into it, “ill take care of it from here y/n-ah. it’s you return to sit back and relax.” law ran his manhood along your saturated folds. he rubbed your juices down his shaft so he could easily slip into you. you stared up at him as towered over you while adjusting himself for your entrance. he returned your gaze with compassionate eyes, “do you want me to keep going y/n?”

he was still unsure exactly how you felt.

you nodded and have him the green light. you braced yourself as he slowly pushed himself into you. you engulfed him with no problem just like before. the memories from your first time flooding both your minds. you felt insane to have waited so long to feel like this again when the man was on the same ship as you the whole time. you wince and grab his arm once he pushes the last bit of his manhood in.

law takes a second before he moves. he waits for you to adjust and give him the signal to go. you bite your lip and talk quietly, “it hurts more than last time law..”

a flash of sympathy passes over his eyes. law holds your hand and leans back to your ear, “ill be sure to take it at a good place. i don’t wanna end up hurting my y/n.”

you blush at his assertiveness. he lets you hug his neck as he slowly pulls back to push back in. he makes sure to listen to every noise that escapes you. enjoying every second to its smallest details. the way you hug his neck longing for him. you missed his touch, his scent, and the way he fit perfectly in you. law holds one of your legs up as he picks up the pace wanting to reach into you deeper. the access that came from moving one leg helped law push himself deeper into you. your tight warm walls stretched just for his hard member. the wetness creating lewd sounds that filled the roam in combination with both your moans and pants.

he grunts in your ear as he speaks with a but more stern tone, “can i go faster y/n?”

you whimper under him as you take his member and his pace. you nod desperately as you shut your eyes to feel every inch of his manhood filling you and leaving you empty. you moan out to him and his movements fasten. you feel your core tightening alongside your walls unable to escape his thrusts into you. you moan non-cohesive sentences. law knew you were climbing your high fast. he saw it once before, so he knew what to expect. he pace moved faster as he imagined the last orgasm he shared with you. he thought about the endless amount of times he tried to satisfy himself after that and how none of his attempts came close to feeling like that again. he was going to experience that feeling again. it was going to be with none other than you.

the desk starts to shake as he picks up an aggressive pace. you hold onto him tightly for support afraid you might slip away from him if you let go. although you held onto him you needed more support. law could sense that when you looked at him with those glossed eyes. he connected his lips with yours and kissed you gently while maintaining his pace. he wanted you to know he was there, and he saw you. you moan desperately into the kiss and hug his body closer to you. both your highs approaching dangerously fast. you pull away from the kiss once you feel your knot release and orgasm hit you live a tidal wave. you felt the man above you accidentally empty himself into you as he moans into your ear. law the. sighs tiredly, “shit, i didn’t pull out y/n..”

you keep him close to you as you respond in a muffled voice, “i don’t care about that right now law. it feels so good anyways”

law chuckles at your response as he eases into you clearly exhausted from his own orgasm. this was the second time you both experienced each other in such close proximity.

something told him it wouldn’t be the last time as long as he had his candle lit.

[turcott3]

goes without saying

matt rempe x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, fluff, talks of anxiety, kissing

masterlist

-

“thanks mom.” you say hopping out of the car.

“now let’s hope he shows up huh?” she teases, waving to you as you walked to your ballet studio. it was being your boyfriend to class day, except you didn’t have a boyfriend. so you invited the next best thing, your highschool best guy friend. whom you’d also had a major crush on for the last few years.

you asked him to come, which he agreed, but said he’d have to come straight after his post practice shower and who knows how long that could be. and he was your ride home.

you stood awkwardly in class as everyone chatted with their boyfriends, one of your class friends included. you checked your apple watch a few times hoping for a text or something and your anxiety only grew as you got nothing. a few minutes later class had begun and you sighed. knowing you’d have to be standing in the back practicing something else, since this week was all about lifts for big performances, being in class was almost something you dreaded these days. ballet being something you love while also tearing you apart. you began warm ups at the barre as normal, still holding out hope that he would come. you continued your warm up, making it all the way through barre and out into center, eventually accepting that he wasn’t gonna show, before the door creeped open, matt peering in to make sure he was in the right place, smiling once his eyes landed on you.

“so sorry i’m late ma’am, lot of traffic.” he smiles at your teacher as he joins you by your side.

“i heard you play hockey? and you were coming here after practice.”

“yes maam.”

“well good, means you’re still nice and warm. when did you two get together, i feel like i’ve never seen you together.” she teases, him taking it extremely well as he dropped an arm over your shoulder.

“well, i don’t really think there’s a date, we were friends and then suddenly we just knew we were more than that. and now here we are.” he replies and your heart jolts in your chest.

he made up that lie on the spot, to spare you the embarrassment. you shook it off knowing you were never actually more than that, even if you maybe have thought at some points you were.

“thank you for coming, i was so nervous to be the only person without a partner.”

“come on y/n, i told you i’d be here. i’ll always show up.” he giggles.

“alright now that we have everyone we can begin our simple lifts.” your teacher states. you were nervous because you had never done partner lifts before, and matt is 6 foot 7.

“oooooh i’m lifting you.” he teases.

“i’ve never done lifts before, im scared.”

“you know i’d never drop you.”

“i know, i know.” you said grabbing comfortably on his arm.

this class was not going to help your feelings toward him at all. you’ve had a crush on him for quite sometime and now he’s gonna have his hands planted on you for at least the next hour. the two of you stood and listened, soaking in the instructions of a simple lift. simply picking you up and holding your chest in line with his forehead, to get a feel for how the rest of class will go.

with ease, he picks you up, chest to eye level.

“don’t be looking.” you smile.

“i am respectfully looking because your black leotard is all i can see.” he says, practically feeling the vibrations of his voice on your ribcage.

“now if you’re feeling frisky, hold her up higher.” you teacher suggests, matt instantly boosting you up above his head like simba in the lion king.

“holy shit.” you yelp, grabbing harshly onto his arms.

“relax, everything is gonna be fine.” he giggles, bringing you to him as he brought you back down, standing flush against his chest.

“alright now let’s try holding her above your head like you’ve just done, but with her in arabesque. your one hand will grab hold of her thigh and the other on the hip somewhere between the bottom of her ribcage and her hip bone.” your teacher says.

“which leg do you like?” he asks, asking great questions.

“right.” you said, lifting your right leg off the ground, his hand softly cupping underneath.

“this feel okay?” he asks, referring to the hand holding your inner thigh.

“yes, it feels good.” you nod as he places his other hand on your hip.

“okay, are you ready?” he asks and you agree, him steadily lifting you off the ground. you found yourself in the position high above his head, adjusting your position to be more comfortable. you began to shake in discomfort, him dropping you slightly but instantly catching you, a giggle leaving his lips as the teachers voice rose again, his arm placing delicately around your waist, his hand rested gently on your hip. in response, you rested your hand on top of his, giving his hand a light squeeze.

by the time class was nearly over, you became more comfortable with him picking you up. the last lift you tried being the riskiest, you still trusted him, catching you every time you began to fall.

this class was not helping your case.

“now let’s come center for reverence.” your teacher says, matt placing you carefully back on the floor.

“i am not graceful at all.” he mumbles as you both followed her curtsy.

“this is why you don’t do ballet matt.” you giggle, concluding your class. matt began to walk away before you grabbed his hand, pulling you up close to the teacher and thanking her.

“oh uh, thank you for having me maam, i had a lot of fun.”

“well thank you for coming! i don’t think i’ve ever seen y/n smile this much during class. keep it up matt, you seem to be good for her.” she smiles, thank you both for attending before you exit the building out to matt’s car.

“im sorry again for being late.” he says, taking your bag from you and tossing it in his back seat.”

“it’s okay, i’m just glad you came.” you replied as you both sat in his car.

“i had a lot of fun.” he smiles.

“you know, you didn’t have to lie to her about us being together. you didn’t have to spare my embarrassment.”

“well i said it because i wanted to, not just to spare you.” he says pulling out of the parking lot.

“what do you- what do you mean?” you ask, spiraling.

“i guess that was me trying to make it known that i really fucking like you, and i was excited when you asked me to come do this with you.” he replies. you reach for his hand that rested on his thigh and moved it to your lap, intertwining your fingers as you smiled to yourself, his thumb brushing softly back and forth on the back of your hand.

“i like you a lot too matt.” you say, looking at his perfect side profile.

“glad we’re in the same page.” he giggles, bringing your conjoined hands to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. a blush burned on your face as he returned your hands to yourself lap.

“what a relief.” you giggle, giving his hand a little squeeze which he returned.

“do you really not ever smile that much in class?” he asks genuinely.

“well not really, i don’t really feel as close to my classmates and stuff. i don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“no no y/n, it’s not stupid. i get it. well if you want, and if you can, how about i come pick you up after your class every week and i take us out to eat? yeah? anything to keep you smiling.” he offers kindly.

“i mean, that would definitely be okay with me.” you reply.

everything he was doing made your heart leap in your chest, knowing now how much he really cared for you.

“do you wanna come over?” you ask abruptly.

“like tonight?” he asks, pulling to a stop at the restaurant you’d agreed to eat at the day prior, it being both of your favorite restaurant.

“yeah, like do you wanna stay over? listen i’m trying to be bold, i don’t really know if it’s working.” you giggle nervously. smoothly, he closes the gap between you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“it’s working.” he smiles, pecking your lips one more time before you both get out of the car.

you spent the dinner gushing over each other, adoring how much he spoke lovingly of his family. the closer you got, the more your feelings grew for the boy.

“matt you don’t have to pay for me.” you say lowly, the server asking how to do the check.

“i’m paying for it, sorry for the confusion maam.” he says to the server, turning his head back to you as he walked away.

“why are you paying for me?” you ask sternly.

“because this is a date isn’t it? it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to not pay.” he giggles, signaling for you to take his hands in the table, much to your dismay, you found your hands rested in his large ones.

“let me take care of you. i know you aren’t doing the best right now y/n. i may be a man, but i’m not blind, especially when i see a girl i really fucking care about struggling, okay?” he says firmly, sighing with contentment as he finished his sentence.

“okay.” you reply softly, letting go of his hands as the server returned with the check.

-

“you really are letting this thing get to you huh?” he asks as you lay on his chest, tracing circles on his skin as you cuddled innocently, both in your pajamas ready to sleep for the night.

“yeah i guess i am.” you reply, telling him about how torn you were about ballet.

“well how about this, you tell me when your next performance is, i will be there front row to watch you. i want you to keep going pretty girl, i just know you’re incredible. i wanna help you.” he says, running his gentle fingers up and down your back.

“thank you matt. i think just from class today that’s a big stride.” you giggle.

“i hope so.”

“anyways, why don’t we talk about something other than me before we go to sleep.”

“well why would i want to, i could listen to it all day.” he teases, a hint of genuineness behind his teasing tone.

“no, it’s selfish.” you giggle. the two of you spent the rest of the night talking about hockey, giggling over your favorite movies and shows and him listening to your college gossip. all stuff he didn’t know about but loved to hear anyway.

“i think it’s about time we go to sleep y/n.” he giggles after hours of chatting lovingly with you.

“yeah i guess your right.”

“but i can’t let you go to sleep like this.” he replies and you cock your eyebrow. he pulls himself away from you, laying on his side to face you.

“i have a question.” he says and your stomach drops.

“okay?”

“would you wanna maybe fall asleep tonight and wake up tomorrow, and like maybe spend forever and more as my girlfriend?” he smiles slowly as the words left his lips.

“yes matt, i would love to.” you giggle, your hands cupping his cheeks.

“sorry if that was tacky, i didn’t wanna be basic.” he giggles, pulling you toward him.

“it was perfect, thank you m’love.” you say pulling his lips to yours anxiously.

“anytime. now you better keep a smile on your face from now on, and i mean it. if you have any problems just come to me, you know i would never in a million years judge you, and also, i would love to come to ballet class again, it was a lot of fun.” he says resting his head on top of yours.

“i will matt, i promise you. and i will definitely let you know, who knows you may be the next big thing.”

“well i know i have a b-“

“now is not the time for a dirty joke asshole.” you giggle smacking him on the arm.

“i mean after all i AM just a man okay? dirty mind and all.” he scoffs.

“and it doesn’t change a single thing i feel for you.” you laugh as he kisses you one last time before you both drift off to sleep.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 83

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe: Military School

Words: 5K

Masterlist

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A few weeks later...

Saturday, June 18; 1:00 p.m. -  Batlle Residence.

“You look stunning,” murmurs Lucy as I gaze at myself in the mirror.

A smile forms on my lips as I hear her voice. Indeed, I feel especially beautiful on this very special day. I turn toward her. She’s standing at the entrance of my room, wearing her beautiful long dress that matches mine. We’ve been separated during our preparations, and I don’t regret it. Seeing her now, when we last saw each other in pajamas, is extraordinary.

“You’re not looking bad yourself,” I say, making her chuckle.

She slowly approaches me, as if savoring the moment. I know I am, at least. She gently wraps her arms around me and leans in toward my face.

“No! Don’t kiss me now. We’ll mess up our lipstick.”

“As if that’s something that would stop me.”

I giggle against her lips as she kisses me anyway.

“You have no respect, Miss Bronze.”

“Oh, you’re finally deciding to use formal language with me? It’s about time.”

I burst out laughing, hiding in her neck. We’ve come a long way since that first day when she threw me out of my bed.

“Better late than never… right?”

“Hmm…,” she breathes in amusement. “By the way, how’s your mother feeling?”

“I haven’t seen her since earlier, but she seemed super stressed.”

“Stressed?” repeats Bronze, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t get that impression this morning.”

“Well, it changed since then. I had to call the caterer, the servers, and the florist to make sure everything was in order. Even though we’ve been preparing everything frantically over the past few days, she’s afraid something might go wrong.”

“I see,” she chuckles.

“Ona! Mom’s calling you.”

I sigh heavily, which amuses my girlfriend. I’m starting to regret accepting my role as a first maid. She keeps overburdening me. Yet, on the other hand, I think this is the first time we’ve been so close.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Thanks.”

We follow my little brother to the master bedroom, where my mother is getting ready with the help of professionals. Actually, we all received the same special treatment. My mother didn’t want us to worry about anything, and I must admit it was quite pleasant.

“Ah, there you are finally,” she says upon our arrival. “And with Lucy. You’re already ready, I see. You both look fabulous.”

“Thank you,” I say, blushing slightly.

“I was about to put on my dress. Would you like to help?”

“Yes, if you want.”

“Maybe I should leave…” says my girlfriend softly.

“Oh no, please stay. It makes me happy, and I’m not embarrassed at all. Unless you are.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

My mother takes off her clothes, leaving only her underwear. Lucy has joined my brother, who sat on the bed to watch. When one of the professionals opens the cover protecting the dress, we all fall silent with anticipation. My mother chose it before we arrived in Barcelona, and we wanted to keep it a surprise since we already know everything else. It was our only surprise, and it was worth it.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

The dress seems long and straight. Knowing my mother, I bet she opted for a train. She chose this style for her wedding with my father. From what I can see, the sleeves are made of lace, like the front of the dress. However, as you look lower, the material becomes lighter. It’s beautiful, no doubt about it.

“Come help us, Ona.”

I quickly join them to help take it out of the cover. There are two of us holding it as my mother puts it on. I didn’t expect it, but it’s heavy. I’m relieved when we button it at the neck. We couldn’t see it before, but the back is completely open. My mother, who is slender, wears it wonderfully.

“He won’t be able to say no when he sees you in this,” I say, making her laugh.

“I sure hope so, yes. Especially after ten years together.”

Ten years already... How time flies. The atmosphere is broken by the front door slamming. No one should be coming here. Marcus went to get ready at a hotel downtown, where his sister is staying for the festive weekend.

“Ona?”

“Well, it seems there are others who are ready,” I say, recognizing Mapi.

“I’ll go welcome them,” Lucy offers.

“Thank you.”

She goes off, taking Joan, who was getting restless here. Meanwhile, I turn back to my mother, who is looking at herself in the mirror. I feel a slight lump in my stomach from anticipation. I know today is going to be a big day.

“I’m happy for you, Mom.”

She turns around to give me a smile.

“You know what makes me the happiest?”

I shake my head.

“What makes me the happiest is that you’re here, with me on this day. I’m very proud to be the mother of such a beautiful, strong, and exceptional woman like you.”

“Mom…”

I try to interrupt her, but she raises her hand. A small lump forms in my throat. I expected a little speech today, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear it. Yet, these past few days have been indescribable. I’ve felt a real connection with my mother.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Ona. The worst was certainly not trusting you enough, my own daughter. I compared you to myself for a long time, and I shouldn’t have. Your father always told me that you inherited his wisdom and determination, but I never wanted to listen.”

I feel really strange. She has never spoken to me so openly before. I’m on the verge of tears, but I hold back.

“You’ve followed your own path, and from now on, I will support you, no matter what.”

I nod because I can’t speak at this moment. It’s the first time she’s said these words to me, and coming from her, it touches me deeply. I let her hold me in her arms.

“You’ve found a gem to support you in the future that awaits you. Lucy has my full gratitude, both as a person and for what she has done for you.”

“Thank you, Mom…”

“I know I haven’t always expressed it well, but I love you very much, Ona. You are my only daughter. I have two children now, but that doesn’t change the love I’ve had for you since your birth.”

I sigh softly with a small smile on my lips. It’s really what I needed for this day.

“I love you too, Mom.”

She steps back, and I’m surprised to see her in the same state as me. Tears have streamed down our cheeks.

“I think we need a little touch-up on our makeup before going downstairs.”

I chuckle, agreeing. I get my makeup redone first. Then, I leave the professionals with my mother so they can finalize the last details. When I come down the stairs, I’m greeted by whistles from my best friend.

“Looking hot, Batlle.”

I laugh softly, accepting the hug she offers when I reach her. Discreetly, she lifts the dress to see my shoes.

“And heels too. I thought you weren’t walking very straight.”

“Well, thanks! I practiced all week!”

I make everyone laugh with my comment. But it’s true. I continue my greetings with Ingrid, who has obviously been invited. It’s very strange to see her in a dress, she whom I’ve always seen in uniform or jeans, but it suits her very well.

“So? Is she almost ready?” Lucy asks me. “The car has arrived.”

“That’s good news. She won’t be stressed waiting.”

“That’s what I thought,” she giggles. “And you, are you okay?”

She strokes my cheek when I’m in her arms. She noticed. I must still have slightly puffy eyes. I smile and nod.

“Absolutely fine. I feel like today is going to be unforgettable.”

- That's good to hear.

She kisses me before I turn to our friends.

“Okay. I think we still have a little time. What do you say we wait in the living room? Would anyone like something to drink?” I suggested.

“No, thank you. We might spill something on ourselves.”

Ingrid is absolutely right. We join my brother, who’s already watching TV to pass the time. Meanwhile, we chat while we wait for my mother to arrive. She finally shows up half an hour later.

“Wow, Abby! You really went all out!” my best friend exclaims when she sees her.

Indeed, there’s nothing to say—she looks stunning.

“Hello, girls.”

“You really outdid yourself!”

“Can we go now?” my brother asks.

“Yes, Jo, we’re going,” I laugh. “Everyone must be waiting for us eagerly.”

After almost a month, it was time for this day to finally come. When we step outside, an old convertible Chevrolet from the 1980s is waiting for us. It was reserved by Hector, who is standing next to the car in a suit. I hold the train of the dress with Mapi as we walk down the steps.

“You look gorgeous, Abby,” says our driver as he opens the door.

“Thank you, Hector.”

“Here are the keys to your car,” he says, handing them to me.

“Thanks. We’ll meet you there.”

“Yes, see you in a bit.”

My mom gives me a final hug before getting into the car. Our ride for the day will be my mom’s car. We had fun decorating it this morning whenever we had a spare moment. I hand the keys to Lucy since she’s driving. Ingrid joins her in the front while I share the back seat with Joan and Mapi. We head out first to the place where everyone is waiting for our arrival. The lively atmosphere in the car makes the drive feel shorter. Before I know it, Lucy is parked, and I’m holding onto her arm as we walk toward Marcus, who is waiting outside the church doors. We move through the crowd of both families, greeting people I haven’t seen in a while. My mom organized a dinner with them last night for this purpose. Lucy was wonderful; she took the time to meet everyone and chat a bit with them. Since my mom is an only child, there aren’t many people my age, but it didn’t seem to bother her. I was happy to see everyone again. Lucy reminded me of the importance of family. On the other hand, I can’t say the same for Joan. Since no one has seen him since he was born, he was the center of attention all evening. I think he’s been a bit traumatized because he hasn’t dared to leave Lucy’s side whenever I’m busy or not around. He’s actually following us closely right now. We finally reach Marcus, who’s wearing a three-piece suit.

“You’re finally here,” he says with relief when he sees us.

“Hi, Marcus,” I tease lightly. “A bit nervous?”

“A little, yes,” he admits. “How’s your mom holding up?”

“She seems to be in the same state as you. But she’s doing fine.”

He smiles and nods gently.

“Don’t worry. Everything is in order.”

“Thanks, it’s nice of you to handle all this.”

“It’s no problem.”

Thanks to Ingrid and Mapi, the guests begin to enter the church. We step aside to let them go in. My stepfather is extremely nervous. He knows she’ll be here soon.

“She’s eager to see you,” I whisper to him.

“So am I,” he replies. “Thank you for being there for her these past few weeks. It meant a lot to her.”

“I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t very kind to you these past years.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Your reasons were completely justified. Even though your father hid his feelings from you, he felt the same way for a long time.”

I can’t hide my surprise.

“Really? He made me believe otherwise. He told me he wanted mom to be happy.”

“He did. That’s why he hid it from you.”

“Why?”

“He wanted the happiness of the two women in his life—your mom and you. In a way, he was glad your mom wasn’t alone. But he didn’t like that it was me, given that I was his long-time partner in the army…”

I nod. That’s completely understandable. I wouldn’t have liked it either.

“But he knew your mom wanted to win your love, and your father knew that. So he hid his resentment, which gradually faded over the years.”

I don’t know what to say. Even two years after his death, I’m still learning about all the incredible things he did for me.

“Your father was a great man, Ona. You were lucky to have him as a dad. I know I can never replace him, and that’s not my intention at all, but… I’m going to become your mother’s husband, and she cares deeply about you. Because of that, I intend to support you as best as I can, no matter what you think of me.”

“Yes, of course, you could never replace my father, Marcus. But if I accepted to be my mother’s maid of honor, it’s to show my support for your commitment.”

“Thank you,” he smiles sincerely. “It means a lot to us.”

Joan catches my attention by tugging on the hem of my dress.

“Ona, mom is here,” my brother announces.

I see the car approaching. I glance at Marcus, who immediately understands.

“I’ll see you soon.”

I return to Lucy, who’s surrounded by our friends.

“I thought our job would be more difficult,” Mapi says to me.

“So did I,” I admit.

“Well, let’s head inside then. See you in a bit.”

“Yes, see you soon.”

She goes inside, leaving only Lucy and me, as Joan has gone in with her father. I take the opportunity to find her arms again. She kisses my forehead.

“I love you,” she whispers.

I smile, resting my head against her chest.

“Did you hear?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replies. “I’m glad everything is finally getting resolved in your family.”

I nod with a big smile.

I finally step away from her when my mother arrives.

“I’m nervous,” she confesses, making us laugh.

“That’s normal; it’s your day, Abby,” my girlfriend replies.

“Did you see Marcus?”

“Yes, he went inside when we saw the car coming.”

She nods before sighing softly.

“It’s time to go in. Unless you’ve changed your mind…”

She laughs, shaking her head.

“No, we can go.”

Since no one is escorting her, she at least wanted someone to accompany her, and that’s us. Lucy extends her arm for me to take.

“Miss.”

I giggle, stepping away from her. I glance at my mom before leading the way down the church aisle. As we enter, the organ begins to play. I get chills. This is it—the ceremony is starting. I have butterflies in my stomach again, but now I know it’s just anticipation.

Saturday, June 18th, 6:00 PM –  Batlle Residence

It’s done. They did it. They’re finally married. The effort we put in was intense, but everything looks truly magnificent. We have every reason to be proud of ourselves. My mom didn’t want to deal with booking a venue, so she thought our garden was big enough to accommodate everyone. I was skeptical at first, but in the end, the result is truly incredible. A white canopy stretches from the roof of the terrace to the garden trees. The rest is decorated with lanterns and fairy lights everywhere. It’s very colorful, but it creates a real atmosphere. If it’s not the lights, it’s the flowers my mom insisted on having. I thought there would be too many, but it turns out I was wrong. Since we’re in a garden, it looks fantastic. Right now, I’m with Lucy, Mapi, and Ingrid, each with a glass of champagne in hand. I already know we’ll be spending the evening together. Having been involved in the preparations, I made sure we’re at the same table since they’re round tables.

“So, now that everything’s over and we finally have time to talk… How did your exams go?”

“You’re really starting off strong,” Lucy teases.

“What? She hasn’t talked about them since we got here.”

“Well… I’m not sure, actually. I have mixed feelings, so I prefer not to talk about it.”

“Oh… Was it that tough?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I worked hard, but I don’t know… There are several subjects I’m unsure about.”

I lean back against Lucy, who pulls me into her arms.

“You doubt yourself too much, honey.”

“No, seriously. I don’t know, and it’s stressing me out. If I pass, it will be by a very narrow margin.”

“You’re talking nonsense. I saw you work tirelessly for five months. If you don’t pass, it would be totally undeserved.”

“Anyway, the results come out in two weeks.”

“That’s true. By the way, since I’m moving in with you for good, can I go with you to get the results?”

“Yes, of course. Mom and Joan will be there too.”

My mom insisted on being there. She even took time off work for the event. Naturally, Joan wanted to come too, so he’ll be pulled out of school a week early. For once, we’ll be the ones welcoming her… It’s strange to think she’ll be coming to *our* place.

- Oh, that’s so cool! I’ve always wanted to see that famous school.

- It’s going to be so weird.

Not only will it be the last time we go there, but all my loved ones will be coming with me.

- How are you going to tell your school friends? she asks us.

I shrug and glance at Lucy.

- I don’t know. We haven’t planned anything. We’ll see when the time comes. It’ll probably be in the evening or something like that.

Lucy nods in agreement. I don’t want to overthink it anymore. It’s time to relax until the next school term. I had to clear out my room at school, and with Lucy’s optimism, I left with the idea that I wouldn’t be going back. It’s a bit heartbreaking. Alexia and I did one last tour of the school to reminisce about every part of it. After all, we’re leaving behind a lot of memories. Good ones, as well as bad. The most important thing is that we’ve freed up our spots for those who come after us. It’s nice to know others will get to experience what we did.

- Babe, I think your mom wants to see you, Lucy points out.

- Hmm?

I look in her direction and see my mom waving at me. Poor thing, she must be overwhelmed with all these people coming to congratulate them.

- I’ll go see her.

- I’ll go with you, Mapi says immediately.

I give Mapi a smile before giving Lucy a quick kiss.

- See you in a bit.

We head off, leaving them behind.

- Everything okay? I ask my mom once I’m beside her.

- Could you get us something to drink, please? We’re about to dry out.

- Yes, of course.

- Is everything going well on your side?

- Yes, yes. We made the rounds. Everyone seems to be having a good time.

- That’s good. That’s what matters most.

- I think the crowd will thin out soon. That would be nice.

- Yes, we���ll see. We’re not going to kick them out either.

- True. Well, we’ll go get your drinks and be right back.

- Thank you.

Mapi and I head towards the buffet. She puts her arm around my shoulders while we wait for our turn.

- So, when are you going to take the plunge?

- Shh, don’t talk about that here.

- It’s fine, they’re far away. Are you going to wait until you’re back in Manchester?

I roll my eyes, knowing she won’t drop the subject.

- If you really want to know, I’ve already got everything planned out. Unfortunately for you, you won’t know anything from now on. You’d probably spill the beans.

- Pff. You’re mean! I bet Alexia knows, though!

I giggle and nod.

- Yeah. Actually, she’s the one who gave me advice.

- I can’t believe it! You traitors!

I laugh, unable to hold it in. Finally, it’s our turn. I ask for two cocktails for the newlyweds. While waiting to be served, I look towards Lucy, but my view is blocked by a man whose silhouette I recognize instantly.

- Sam! I realized I hadn’t seen you yet.

- Hey, beautiful.

We exchange a hug before I notice the person beside him. My smile widens as I realize it’s Paolo.

- What a surprise. We finally meet!

- Hello, Ona, he says with amusement.

His voice is deep. He’s even more handsome in person than in photos. I’m glad to see that things are working out for them. Samuel told me they’re getting married after Paolo proposed. I’m really happy for them.

- Well, I don’t need to introduce you, Sam jokes. I talk about you two enough to each other.

- I’m so glad to see you both. How are you doing?

- Really well. You’ve done an amazing job. The garden looks beautiful.

- My mom picked everything, but she really made good choices.

- Absolutely. Isn’t Lucy with you?

- She’s over there with Ingrid. We came to get drinks for the newlyweds.

I turn to Mapi, noticing that she’s taken the drinks. She takes the opportunity to greet the guys, then we step away from the buffet to make room for the next in line.

- Do you know where we’ll be seated? Sam asks. I didn’t want to be nosy and wander around the tables.

- You’ll be with us, at the table to the left of the newlyweds. Since it was just us girls, I thought a bit of masculinity wouldn’t hurt.

- Of course! he jokes. That’s great. At least we won’t be with strangers.

- We wouldn’t do that. Sofia and her husband will be with us too. I wanted to be with people I’m used to being around at the table.

- You’re right. Anyway, I doubt we’ll be sitting much. There’s already good music, so I’m not worried about the rest of the night.

- No, definitely not.

- Well, we’ll let you get back to your mom. Can you tell me where your friends are? We’d like to say hi to them too.

- Over there, I say, pointing them out.

- Great. See you in a bit.

- Yep. See you soon.

We return to my mom with the drinks. The evening continues on. As expected, people who were only invited for the reception are slowly leaving, leaving only close friends and family behind. I gently encourage everyone to take their seats before joining mine between Lucy and Samuel.

- Everything okay? my girlfriend teases gently. You look like you’re running all over the place.

- No, you think?

She laughs softly. She opens her arms, and I lean into her to kiss her cheek.

- I’m staying here now.

- That works for me.

I smile, looking around. I made a good choice for our table. Everyone is already chatting with each other. Mapi and Sam are bickering. Ingrid is getting to know Sofia better, while Paolo and James, Sofia’s husband, are talking about sports. It seems like that topic always brings people together. The first servers are making their rounds to start serving wine, followed by the first course. My mom had already chosen the menu before we arrived, so it’ll be a surprise from start to finish. I finally relax and enjoy the evening and the meal, engaging with the rest of the table.

Sunday, June 19; 2:30 AM -  Batlle Residence.

It’s getting late. Some guests—the older ones—have already left the party. It’s been lively from start to finish, filled with emotion. There was the first dance, as well as games and even speeches. I gave an impromptu speech before dessert. After what my mom and Marcus said this morning, I felt compelled to speak to them from the heart too. Of course, it ended in tears. Right now, I’m in Lucy’s arms, swaying gently to the sound of the last few songs, which have become more mellow.

- Are you getting tired?

- No. I think the alcohol is wearing off. It’s lowering my adrenaline.

- Hmm... so that’s it.

I recognize her amused look. I must admit, I did drink a bit tonight. Between the champagne, cocktails at the reception, and wine at the table, I indulged a bit. Not to the point of being drunk, but enough to feel good. I stopped when my head started to spin.

- Do you find that funny? I ask with a small smile.

- Not at all. It’s just that alcohol makes you happier, it’s funny.

- Yes, that’s true.

I rest my head on her shoulder until the end of the song. I love being in her arms. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it. She kisses my temple at the end, pulling away slightly.

- Are you sure you don’t want to head back? It’s getting late.

- No, but we can rest a bit further away if you want.

- Okay, I’ll follow you.

Our garden is big, so there’s space to go further back. I grab her hand and lead her to the back, where the lanterns continue to light up along the fences. Lucy wraps her arm around my shoulders as my head rests against hers.

- I’ve never seen this pond up close before, she says as we approach it.

It’s big, with a small wooden bridge built over it. Marcus himself made it. He loves nature, so he wanted to make the garden as lush and natural as possible. For the occasion, the bridge has also been wrapped in string lights. It was probably the perfect moment, surrounded by these colorful lights.

Come on.

Her smile widens as I pull her toward it.

- "Slowly, babe," she says, laughing.

The music was still audible in the distance. A new slow song had started after a more upbeat one. Seeing the look in Lucy’s eyes, she must be thinking the same thing as me.

- “One last dance for tonight?”

- “I could do plenty more with you. You certainly know how to handle your dance partners.”

- “There’s only one partner I really enjoy dancing with,” she says, placing her hand on my hip.

- “Hmm. I like the sound of that.”

I wrap my arms around her again and kiss her deeply. If I had to, I’d stay here all night. We enjoy the dance quietly, which ends far too quickly for my liking. As another upbeat song starts, Lucy lets go of me. Now she’s leaning over the railing to look at the pond. I stand beside her, feeling a slight anxiety rising within me. I could tell it was the moment. I fumble through my little purse that I’ve carried all evening. It was a bit annoying, but I had no other choice. My hands are shaking.

- “What are you doing?”

I jump and look up at Lucy, who’s watching me with her head tilted.

- “Nothing. Just looking for something.”

- “Do you need help?”

I shake my head. Please, that’s the last thing I need. I feel like I’m messing everything up. Alexia told me to just do it without overthinking. Maybe I should have been better prepared and enlisted Mapi's help. I look up again as I finally get my hands on the object I’ve been searching for. Lucy seems amused by me, with her little smile.

- “Did you find it?”

I clear my throat, blushing slightly.

- “Yes.”

I take a deep breath. There’s no turning back now, and anyway, I’m sure about this. I’m just a bit panicked about how to do it.

- “Lucy... I...”

I can’t bring myself to look at her, but her hand caressing my cheek makes me do it.

- “Relax. It’s just us. Why are you so nervous? What’s wrong?”

I bite my lip. She looks so beautiful standing in front of me. I’m really lucky to have her in my life. These thoughts give me courage. I’ve decided; I want to do this right.

- “I had a long speech prepared, but honestly, I can’t even remember it anymore.”

She laughs softly. It’s a sound I’ll never tire of, just like her green eyes that gaze at me so intensely. They captivated me from the very first time we met.

- “A speech for what, hmm?”

Without another word, I drop to one knee, and Lucy’s smile grows. I let go of my purse and take out a small box I haven’t released since this whole setup began. It’s a bit messy, and I really wish I had planned things better, but I know I’ll make up for it later.

- “I love you, Lucy. Since you’ve been in my life, I’ve never been so happy. You are an incredible woman who makes me the happiest person in the world. It was hard to win your heart, but now that I have it, I want to make you mine forever. So…”

My throat is tight, but I’m not stopping now. I open the little box to reveal the ring I chose for her recently with Mapi’s help. Her eyes fill with tears.

- “Lucy Bronze, will you marry me, for better or for worse?”

Despite her tears, she laughs softly. She’s making me feel all kinds of emotions. It’s such an intense moment. I’m tearing up myself, seeing her so overwhelmed. I went through so much to get to this point, here in front of her, down on one knee. I even asked her parents for her hand during our visit last month. I wanted to do things right. Her answer takes a while to come. She finally searches through her own clutch before joining me on the ground with a box similar to mine in her hands. My eyes widen in surprise as I look at her. I can barely see her now through the tears that have filled my eyes.

- “Sorry, sweetheart, but... You haven’t exactly been discreet with Mapi these past few weeks.”

My mouth falls open, but she manages to grab my attention by opening the box. The ring is beautiful. It looks a lot like the one I chose for her. It has a big diamond on top and smaller ones set along the band.

- “I love you, my love. Of course, I want to be your wife... But only if you agree to be mine.”

I’m definitely crying now. I can’t believe it. I was so nervous about proposing, thinking it was too soon.

- “Of course! But... but, since when did you want to…?”

I can’t finish my sentence. Lucy chuckles softly.

- “For a while, actually…”

I blink at her words. It’s really too good to be true.

- “I asked your mom during our last visit here, and I bought the ring with Jenni when we were in Porto.”

I’m completely stunned. I can’t believe it.

- “Was it the day we didn’t shower together?”

She laughs, nodding.

- “Yes, that day.”

We usually took showers together every morning after their morning run. There was just one day she pretended to shower at Jenni’s. She even came back with wet hair. I didn’t question it.

- “I can’t believe it! But why didn’t you propose sooner? And why do you say we weren’t discreet with Mapi?”

- “I wanted to propose after your exam results, to really start our life together.”

I had thought the same, but I couldn’t wait anymore. With Mapi knowing and my own excitement, I was afraid I’d spill the beans before. Alexia advised me to do it as soon as possible, and that’s what I did.

- “As for you and Mapi... Well, because you really weren’t discreet,” she giggles. “Your excuses for getting rid of Ingrid and me for several afternoons were pathetic. I knew something was up. Ingrid even wanted to follow you once to make sure, but I wanted to let you do it your way and be surprised…”

I laugh softly. I admit, the excuse of “we want to make up for lost time” only worked once.

- “I knew I should never have let Mapi handle the excuses. Mine aren’t credible because I can’t lie, but hers are even worse.”

Lucy bursts out laughing. Our tension slowly fades away. We’re still on the ground, but now we’re looking into each other’s eyes with a small, knowing smile. I place my hands on her cheeks.

- “It’s so surreal...” I whisper.

Lucy smiles, leaning a little closer to me.

- “I don’t think so. I love you so much, my love. I’ve wanted to make you mine for a long time. It was the natural next step.”

I kiss her gently. I need to feel her close, and she seems to understand as she presses herself against me.

- “You’re probably right... I love you so much.”

In a peaceful silence, we each slip the rings onto the other’s finger before lying down on the ground. Nothing else matters now. We don’t care if our dresses get dirty. We don’t care about the noise in the distance. The only thing that matters is that we’re together, sprawled out on the ground, entwined, with our hands clasped as if nothing could ever separate us. Smiling, I gaze at the starry sky above, a perfect end to an extraordinary evening. And what a night... We’re now truly inseparable.

[thezombieprostitute]

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Summary: Jake's done a lot of things to keep his sister, and then his niece, safe from his parent's influence and manipulation. If he wants to keep them safe, he has to marry you.

Warnings: Bad parents, Implied physical abuse. Let me know if I missed any!

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

Series Masterlist

It takes you a bit to find the master bedroom. You tremble at the thought of what's expected of you tonight. The closets are full of clothes your and Jake's mothers chose. Thankfully a small dresser seems to have been filled with all of your preferred clothes. You wash off your makeup and clean up your hair so it looks more natural. You're not sure how Jake will react but at least you have the excuse of following Clay's instructions.

As much as you hate to go back out there, your mother's voice won't stop nagging you about being a good hostess. You have a guest, you should provide food and drink, right? You're not sure what all is in the kitchen but it won't hurt to look and familiarize yourself with the place.

You sneak past the two men sitting at the table with a laptop between them. The less attention you draw to yourself the better. It's what gotten you this far in life.

The kitchen looks like it missed the worst of your mother's attempts at interior design which makes sense. She always felt the kitchen was for servants which led it to becoming a safe haven for you. You start by opening all the cupboards and making a mental inventory. The cookware is quality stuff, not just for decoration. There are some decent options for the kind of cooking and baking you like to do but, if your husband will give you permission, you'll do some shopping for the rest.

For now, though, you can make a simple pasta aglio e olio. Simple, but tasty and filling. It might even help give Jake a better impression of you, ease his temper a bit.

Jake is so caught up in his discussions with Clay and securing all of the internet connections in the penthouse he almost misses you as you place the plates of food on the table. He has to do a double take when he sees you. Without the makeup, hair styling, you look...beautiful. His jaw drops slightly at the realization.

Thankfully Clay is quick to help him out. "Well that's mighty kind of you, young lady," he tells you. "If it tastes half as good as it smells, we're in for a real treat."

You smile and drop your head at the praise. If Clay likes it, that's one less thing for Jake to be angry with you about. His initial reaction had you worried you'd overstepped with your attempts to be comfortable.

"Thank...thank you," Jake sputters. He flinches as Clay kicks him under the table. "You, um, I, um, you look really pretty," he finally ekes out. "And thank you for the food!" That last bit is said in a rush as he feels his face heat up from embarrassment. Was he wrong about you? Was the makeup and clothing not your choice? Was Clay right about you being afraid of him?

You keep your head down as you head back to the kitchen to clean up. You want to cry. Your husband's reaction to the food, to your more comfortable dress, has you so frustrated and scared. He clearly didn't like it and was just trying to keep on his boss's good side. You saw how red his face had gotten from how angry he was. You're terrified about what's going to happen once Clay leaves. Eventually the tears come, unbidden, as you clean. The dishes could probably wait until tomorrow but you need to pour your energy into something.

A cough from behind has you freezing in place. "Um," it's your husband. "Do you, do you know where the glasses are? We, um, we could...I was, I was getting us some water." His tone is so much softer than before. You're not sure what to make of it. You point to the cupboard that has the cups and hear it open. He says a quiet "thank you" before filling them up at the refrigerator's water dispenser. It isn't until you hear him walk out of the kitchen that you let yourself breathe.

As Jake sits down at the table, handing Clay the glass of water, he says, "you might be right about her."

"Poor girl is a bit skittish," Clay nods. "You gonna be okay tryin' to talk to her?"

"I don't know," Jake confesses. "I...she...I tried to talk and she just froze up. I think she was crying."

"Take it slow and soften your tone, Jake. You'll get there."

"I hope you're right."

Series Masterlist

Tagging: @alicedopey; @ashdoctor; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn;

@icefrozendeadlyqueen; @lokislady82 @ronearoundblindly

[youre-a-total--poser]

Can you please write one with mama nat and teen reader where Fury sends the reader on a mission with another one of the Avengers even when nat told him not to, and the reader got injured or something and nat helps nurse her back to health cuz she sees her like her own kid <3

Or you can write anything with mama nat, i just love your writing so much aaaaaaaaaaa 🧎🏻‍♀️

Accident Prone (Request)

Warnings: I don't know anymore Age: briefly 10 and 15 Word Count: 955 Requests: Open Summary: Read the request and it will explain everything Requested by: Anonymous Date: 28/09/2024 paring: N/A A/N: Thank you for your request I hope that you like it. Not sure if this is even good enough since it has been so long since I've written anything

Masterlist

---⧗---

You were taken by HYDRA when you were about 10 and let's say you were one of their failed experiments.

You had telekinesis powers well sort of. Honestly, you had no clue how to make it work and when it did happen it would happen at the most inconvenient moments.

Things would be moving about randomly people, mainly you, would be getting whacked by flying objects. It wasn't great definitely a 0/10 wouldn't recommend.

Then one day the Avengers came in and put a stop to everything that was happening and rescued everyone like they do but the only thing that was different about this whole operation is that they found something or someone sitting in a cage who would change their lives forever.

You were sitting there covered in cuts and bruises and they assumed the worst but that wasn't the case at all. You didn't tell them what happened and even to this day you never did cause it's pretty embarrassing not gonna lie but eventually they figured out why.

They ended up taking you back with them and letting you stay probably because they felt bad for this little thing that can't walk in a straight line, trips over nothing and chokes on air.

---⧗---

You were now 15 life is great everything is great.

You were getting help to figure out how to use your powers and after years of training, you could successfully move… a penny.

Sure it wasn't the biggest thing in the world but at least there was one less thing randomly flying at you so you called it a win.

Over the years you had developed a close bond with Natasha. What started with her tending to your every wound gradually turned into a mother/daughter-like relationship.

Every time the Avengers went on missions you were left home alone and you wanted nothing more than to go with them to see what it was like but every time Natasha would say 'No it's too dangerous.', 'You're too young.', 'Do you really think I'm going to let you go when you can't even make toast without nearly burning the place down?'

In your defence it wasn't even your fault that the toaster caught on fire someone turned the dial too high.

You knew that Fury was here assigning Steve on a mission and you just happened to overhear that it would be an easy one so it would be perfect for you.

Your plan was to be as annoying as possible so he would get frustrated and say yes so that's exactly what you did you followed him around repeating the word please and just as expected it didn't take long for him to give in.

Your excitement lasted all of 4 seconds as soon as Natasha heard what was going on.

"Absolutely not," she said crossing her arms.

"Please, Nat." you begged, "nothing is going to happen."

"I'm sorry but I said no Y/N."

"Not fair," you mumbled while crossing your arm in a huff.

Then the best idea, well the best idea at the time popped into your head however now you regret it.

"I'll never ask for anything ever again if you let me go."

While Natasha was thinking you were giving her your best please face it's never failed you before.

She let out a sigh "fine."

Your face lit up and a large smile appeared.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," you said while hugging her.

"Don't make me regret it Y/N," she said sternly.

---⧗---

The mission was easy and boring it was just to collect paperwork or something you weren't really listening or paying attending.

It was all going well until it wasn't…

Natasha was anxiously waiting for the Quinjet's arrival once she heard you and Steve were on your way back.

She watched as Steve carried you out of the Quinjet. Natasha was already going out of her mind but when she saw Steve carrying it it sent her over the edge.

"What happened?" she asked hurrying over.

"She tripped over a stone and sprained her ankle." Steve briefly explained

"It was a very large stone actually." you chimed in.

"God sake Y/N, I thought something bad happened to you," Natasha said her voice still sounding quite panicky.

"Something bad did happen I sprained my ankle"

Steve let out a frustrated sigh and Natasha just shook her head.

"Can you put me down now?" you asked Steve who was still carrying you.

"I thought you said you couldn't walk," Steve said gently putting you down.

"I never said I couldn't walk I said I didn't want to walk."

"It doesn't matter let go and put some ice on it," Natasha said putting her arm around your waist and you slowly limped back inside.

---⧗---

"what am I going to do with you Y/N?" Natasha asked as she handed you some painkillers and a glass of water then placed a bag of frozen peas on your ankle.

"Lock me in a room and throw away the key?" You said quietly chuckling then you took the meds that you were given.

"Don't tempt me," She replied sitting down beside you.

"It hurts a lot," You said while wincing.

"The meds will kick in soon and it won't hurt as much."

Natasha picked up the TV remote and put on your favourite movie.

While it was playing you felt yourself getting tired.

"Thank you for taking care of me Nat," you said sleepily.

"You welcome, sweetheart," she said quietly.

A slight smile appeared on Natasha's face as she put her arm around you while you moved closer to her.

You ended up falling asleep in the safety and comfort of her arms.

---⧗---

Taglist

@saraaahsstuff // @marvelnatasha12346 // @amolapasta // @knox145 // @ducktamer415 // @romanoffliviv

Go HERE to be added to the taglist

[razorblade180]

The Grand Bet!

March: Dan Heeeeeng! Can you make dinner tonight?

Dan Heng: You didn’t eat with your masters?

March: We cut training short today. But get this! I bumped into master Yunli on the way here and she confessed her and Yanqing have Cloud Knight business to discuss at his. I would’ve loved to try his cooking!

Caelus:Ah, so you weren’t invited.

Stelle:You two would probably eat his budget.

March:Like you aren’t any different!? I wouldn’t eat that much. Surly less than someone like Jing Yuan.

Dan Heng:Oh, he’s joining as well. That means it’s possible all the Generals are.

March:W-Why? I just said Jing Yuan because why wouldn’t he be there?

Caelus:Why would he be?

March:Because……why would he miss a home cooked dinner? I know he’s busy but eventually he’d go home to at least leftovers.

CSD:…..

March:Why are you looking at me like that?

Caelus:March, Jing Yuan and Yanqing do not live together. Yanqing has his own residence.

March:Really?! All by himself!?

Dan Heng:He gets paid a lieutenant’s wage. He can afford an apartment easily.

March:Well that’s weird! Yunli didn’t mention that at all. I think I even mentioned how fancy the general’s house might be. She could’ve spoken up!

Stelle:Or she was fine with you being wrong.

March:So what, they’re having a dinner together? I wouldn’t tease her about that. Is it that embarrassing?

Dan Heng: What do you think is going to happen?

March:Eating and talking! Maybe someone will say something ridiculous. I guess it could be a date. That explains not inviting me.

Caelus:If that’s the case-

Stelle: Why not go to restaurant instead of his place? For Cloud Knight matters of all things!?

March:….*red* I don’t like what you’re implying!

Caelus: You mean the truth?

March:Not my adorable masters!

Dan Heng:It adds up. Neither of them seem like the type to be okay sharing a kiss in public.

Stelle:Dan Heng, nobody needs an entire apartment for a single kiss.

Dan Heng:…But they’re responsible.

Caelus:Now since when does that matter around a crush?

March:I refuse to hear you slander them. They’re far too awkward to get passed a dinner and a movie.

Dan Heng: That is Jing Yuan’s disciple. A kiss is on the table.

Stelle:I think you’re both wrong. March, your masters are totally making out. I do believe they’re responsible, but not that responsible! 20,000 credits on it.

March:Well I know them better and I think you’re wrong! 25,000 on just a dinner plus confessions!

Dan Heng: I’m sticking with kiss.

Caelus: Make out session.

Stelle: You can’t steal my-

Caelus:AND….they will be dumb enough to leave evidence. Somehow, some way, they are going to mess up.

Stelle:…Can we be one team?

Caelus:Oh now it sounds appealing!? We split it 60/40

Stelle:55/45! I’m broke. I will do your chores too.

Caelus:Fine.

Dan Heng:If you’re both wrong then you pay March and I 50,000 credits each.

March:Oh I love these odds!

Stelle and Caelus: Deal.

xxxxxx

The next day came quickly. The four stooges all waited in the training garden as Yanqing walked in.

Yanqing:Ummm did I get more students? Wasn’t expecting so many faces this morning.

Stelle:We had nothing else better to do so we thought we’d hangout for a minute.

March:Where’s master Yunli? You both usually race here to try teach your swordplay before the other.

Yanqing:Oh, um she’s probably a little busy. It’s not long before she goes home after all.

Dan Heng:It is getting close to that time. I could imagine her trying to make the most of her time left now that things are getting calm,

Yanqing:That does sound like something she’d do. *rubs head*

The stooges:(He’s holding out on us.)

March:Oh! I almost forgot. You two had dinner last night. Did it get well?

Yanqing:..It was fine. My cooking was criticized but she still ate two plates. We got through Cloud Knight business pretty quickly. Sorry I couldn’t treat you as well.

March:Water under the bridge. I’m amazed you two got along well enough. I thought I would hear another fight.

Yanqing:We don’t always fight.

Caelus:Then what’s the bruise on your neck?

The boy immediately went to adjust his collar, only to realize it was still perfectly in place. Suddenly, his body froze as he felt mortified. How’d he fall for such a bluff!? March and Dan Heng felt their wallets start to hurt while Caelus and Stelle gained a grin that might as will belong on Aha.

Stelle:What’s the matter Yanqing? You look pale.

Caelus:Kindly pull down your collar and we will go in peace.

Yanqing:You all made a bet, didn’t you?

Dan Heng:If it makes you feel better, March and I thought highly of you both.

Yanqing:I’m so sorry.

March:Nooo! *drops to knees*

Stelle:For clarification, you didn’t didn’t…

Yanqing:*red* Of course not! We aren’t dumb!

Stelle:Yeaaaaah! I expect my credits handed, not wired.

Caelus:*pats Yanqing shoulder* I don’t think they’re arguing with the results. Don’t worry about the collar.

Yanqing:Thank you.

Dan Heng:So, where’s Yunli exactly?

xxxxx

Lingsha:Medicine that removes bruises?

Yunli: *in Yanqing’s clothes* Yes. That’s all I require.

Lingsha:….

Yunli:…..Please don’t tell grandpa.

Lingsha:You have my silence. I’m just a little annoyed I now owe Jing Yuan and Feixiao 50,000 credits.

Yunli:YOU MADE A BET ON ME!?

Lingsha:In confidence, and you failed me! Just like that, they got the money back from the medical bill! *sends money*

xxxxxx

Feixiao:And that’s why you’re the Divine Foresight! We drink tonight!

Jing Yuan:Please, I’d rather not pay property damages with this. I’ll give you my share if you don’t drink until you’re home.

Feixiao:Deal!

Jing Yuan:…Was this your endgame?

Feixiao:Perhaps. Don’t worry. This goes towards a good cause.

xxxxx

Moze:How’s it feel?

Jiaoqiu: *holding cane* Natural. It’s pretty remarkable actually. How much was it?

Feixiao: *smiles* It was basically free.

[sturniolo04]

Soccer Couple C.S.

Bf!Chris xGf!Fem!Reader

A/N: If you don't like the preadded name in my stories, you can either add your own name or not read it; it's up to you :)

Ever since 7th grade all you could remember is soccer. You grew up playing soccer at a very young age and being a soccer player came with a very busy schedule. You honestly could say that you couldn't see yourself not playing soccer for the rest of your life.

Heading into Freshman year of highschool trying out for the soccer team was a piece of cake considering you trained practically your whole life. You quickly found your place on the team making varsity your first year and getting along with all of the girls on the team as well. What you didn't anticipate to happen though was meeting him.

Chris Sturniolo

You informally meet him sophomore year when some of the girls on the soccer team persuaded you to at least attending a couple boys soccer games last year. You willing did so ultimately being starstruck by his naturally curly messy brunette hair and his blue eyes. those ocean eyes. You knew it was only a matter of time before you ran into him.

you and couple girls were out on the empty field practicing some soccer drills, him having the same idea with a couple of friends which look super identical to him.

"hey!"

he yells out catching you and your friends attention from across the field.

"he's coming over here"

one of your friends gasps out quietly as you attempted be completely distracted from the drills your were running.

"hey you guys can join us and we can run some drills together if you want"

he geuininely offers fixating his eyes on you which unbeknownst to you was simply admiring your natural beauty as you get lost in his eyes completely taken back by his voice it not being quiet what you envisioned in your head.

" we would love that that would be cool"

one of your friends answers for you as you simply couldn't form the words from the nervousness that was coursing through you at the moment. And that's how it started. You absolutely adored that he loved the same sport as you as he had communicated to you. You guys ended up having more conversations off the field which turned into a friendship with a whole bunch of tension you both could tell was there.

"Hey Kay wait up"

chris calls out to you one spring afternoon after school had ended trying to catch you before you left your locker to head to soccer practice.

"hey sturniolo"

you greet him as you set your basic black northface backpack on the ground in front of your locker to put your hair up in your signature messy ponytail that chris secretly adored.

" i was going to walk you to practice and plus I had to ask you something kind of important"

he states mumbling that last part as you intently listen proceeding to pick up your backpack placing it back on your back carrying your soccer cleats in the other hand.

"oh okay whats up"

you ask catiously as you two begin walking out of school grounds to head over to the soccer field connect to the school.

"um so i know we have been friends for a minute like really great friends and I really like spending time with you and everything"

he trails off

"you scaring me sturniolo"

you giggle nervously out as you two approach the gated entrance to the soccer field.

" i guess what i am saying kayla is that I like you and I want you to be my girlfriend"

he blurts out as his face grow red from embarrassment as you halt in you tracks.

"what seriously"

you ask shocked

" youre not messing with me are you"

you breathe out looking at him scanning is face for any joking emotion, ultimately not finding one.

" will you be my girlfriend"

he mumbles out as you walk forward and place your natural French-tipped hands on his face.

"of course chris i would love to be your girlfriend"

you whisper out as you two connect your foreheads with each other. You are startled by the loud cheering coming from your teammates as you and chris start blushing like crazy. and every since that day you guys were considered the iconic soccer couple In the school for the last two years of highschool.

Being the soccer couple you and chris are it consisted of several soccer dates on off season afternoons.

"there is no way i let you win"

chris chuckles out as you are continuously gloating about making the game winning goal.

"uh huh no you didnt i won that fair and square your just a sore loser"

you gasps giggling as he begins to run toward grabbing your hips on lunging you over his shoulder.

"me a sore loser never"

he nochalantly states with you giggling at his actions. Not to mention you two becoming each other personal cheerleaders at your soccer games.

"oh my goodness im so proud of youuu"

you exclaim dragging out the 'u' running into your boyfriends arms on the field as the game ended, him picking you up and spinning you around.

"thank you my love"

he hums out contently kissing your temple.

If it wasnt for the love of soccer you would have never met him

Chris Sturniolo

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @mintsturniolo @wh0resstuff @spicymuffins03 @aaliyahstrn @stayingstromboli @emely9274

[veidelon]

Thanks @thestarsarecool for tagging me! As always your taste is much more esoteric and intellectual than mine (Sgt. who?). But I guess I should have expected as much from someone going to Paul McCartney University 🙄

So here are my 4 most recently looped albums:

Grace - Jeff Buckley: THE album of all time (for me). I ruined it for myself a little by listening to it on loop while working two years ago, but finally I can listen to it again without an impending sense of dread.

Venus and Mars - Wings: Every song on this album is perfect (except Medicine Jar... I have no room in my heart for non-Paul Wings songs.) No song on BOTR has anything on Call Me Back Again.

RENAISSANCE - Beyoncé: cun-ty. cun-ty. cun-ty. cun-ty.

Double Fantasy: Stripped Down - John Lennon & Yoko Ono: Superior version because you get to hear John make strange noises at the end of half the songs.

I'll tag @m1ssunderstanding, @big-barn-bed, and @bambi-kinos if you're interested and haven't already done it + anyone else who wants to!

[mxtxfanatic]

Fandom Gripe #23: I know that fandom is in some deep denial about its treatment of female characters that are canonically involved with fan favorite m/m ships, but do y’all realize that when you disappear female characters from the narrative wholesale to push the idea that your canonically straight fav was “secretly gay all along!” you’re making several bad implications? That 1) bi men don’t exist, 2) bi men do exist, but those who have genuinely loved a woman before cannot genuinely love a man after that (therefore bi men don’t exist in practice), 3) women cannot inspire genuine love and devotion in men, therefore any relationship with a woman is “lesser” than the one they later have a man (see previous parenthesis), or 4) to acknowledge the existence of a lovable woman who isn’t a terrible person, where if a relationship previously existed, it did not end because of “incompatibility,” is enough to destabilize the present relationship between two queer men?

Because why is the tgcf fandom allergic to acknowledging that He Xuan had a whole ass fiancée that he loved? Why does no one ever seem to remember that the kidnappings and murders of He Xuan’s sister and fiancée were the final straws that sent him on his rampage, and he still keeps a shrine to them in the present-day of the story? Why is her entire existence and significance to He Xuan as a man, character, and to his character arc disappeared in favor of pushing Shi Qingxuan—the brother of the man responsible for his fiancée’s death—into that same role, as if to say that her impact on He Xuan is significant... just not when it's from her? Why does He Xuan’s life in fandom essentially begin not just after her death but because of it?

[dreamaze]

BFFL 41/∞ ↪ makeup artist chae hyungwon (don't quit your day job)

+ changkyun's first up-close look

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Part 3 of the Steddie Vegas AU!! Is it okay if this is a weekly thing? I know most of it is already written but it's finding time to edit it 😬 this summer is killing me istg

Part 1 --- Part 2

Steve awoke groggily sometime later to a sleep-rumpled Robin telling him they needed to get ready because they were being picked up in half an hour. Directing a confused frown at his best friend, Steve searched his mind for an answer, being picked up…?

It took a second for the past few hours to finally filter through but as soon as thoughts of Eddie flooded his mind, Steve's face slowly split into a sunny grin. He couldn't help it, no matter how much Robin scoffed and rolled her eyes, the butterflies taking flight in his stomach made him feel giddy.

He hadn't been this excited to see someone in a long time! Jumping up, he took his best outfit out of the wardrobe heading toward the bathroom to get changed and start taming his hair; kissing Robin playfully on the cheek and humming a merry tune as he practically skipped by her.

Robin tutted and rolled her eyes at him through the mirror above the desk, "Stop! God, you're gross when you're in love," she grumbled.

Steve laughed, "That's alright, so are you," he teased, pulling products out of his toiletries bag onto the side by the sink.

Robin scoffed, "I'm not in love!"

Steve's eyebrows jumped up sceptically, "No? That's not what you said at the cafe," he countered.

He heard more than saw her slam something on the desktop, "When did I say I was in love?" she squawked indignantly.

Steve's eyebrows furrowed at himself in the mirror as he thought back to that morning, "When me and Eddie arrived?"

She snapped the lid of something and snorted decisively, "I didn't say anything!"

"I know!" Steve agreed because she hadn't said anything, she didn't have to.

Robin sighed heavily, "How did I say it then?!" she retorted.

"With your eyes!" he shrieked, rolling his own in exasperation.

Robin huffed out a laugh, "Oh my god, Evie! You're such an idiot! Now shut the fuck up before I ruin my eyeliner!"

Steve did as he was told, pumping serum into his hands and smoothing it into his hair; running his own fingers over his scalp didn't have the same enjoyment now he knew what it was to have Eddie run his hands through his hair. He sighed wistfully, how do I miss him so much already?

Shaking his head to clear it in the hopes of not letting his thoughts run away with him, he rinsed his hands before poking his head around the doorway to check Robin was done with the pencil.

"So you don't like Chrissy then?" he asked curiously, leaning back into the mirror to check for stray eyebrows.

Robin let out a prolonged groan, "I never said that!"

Humming in understanding, he yanked out a hair with the tweezers, "You're just not in-love?" he clarified.

"Duh! I've known her a day!" she insisted, sighing heavily.

Steve chuckled, swapping the tweezers for a blob of moisturiser, "I've only known Eddie a day!" he argued, rubbing the cream gently into his skin.

She whined huffily, "Yeah but you're different! You're all…" Steve could practically hear her wafting her hands around.

He knew she didn't mean anything by it and he tried not to be offended but his voice came out all squawky anyway, "I'm all what?" he wanted to know, popping his head back around the doorframe.

Robin puffed out a frustrated breath, opening and closing her mouth a few times before settling on, "Romantic?"

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back into the mirror checking for imperfections, "Why'd you say that like it's a bad thing?" he asked, his tone not as neutral as he'd like it to be.

"I didn't!" she argued with a sigh, "It's just… that's not me. I'm more…" she lamented, and whimpered, unable to find the words.

Steve flicked on the tap, washing the cream off his fingers, catching sight of his wedding ring and smiling softly to himself. Okay, maybe she has a point!

"Reserved?" Steve suggested the word having popped unbidden into his head.

"Exactly!" Robin agreed.

Steve smiled fondly to himself, a reserved Robin was nothing new, but neither was her denying the strength of her emotions. What was new was the way she was with Chrissy but maybe that wasn't as good as he'd first thought, "But you had a good time with her?" he checked.

Robin made a giddy little squealy sound in the back of her throat, "Oh my god, Steve! I had the best time! She's amazing! Did you know she's a three times cheer champion? And she won gold in the regional gymnastics championships! Do you know what that means?!"

He had no idea what that meant, Robin couldn't care less for sports, or medals, or winning things, "That she's incredibly flexible?" he guessed, only half joking, stepping away from the mirror to get changed.

Robin huffed exasperatedly, "No! I mean yes but not what I meant!" she grumbled.

Steve was halfway through changing into his jeans when he paused to think about it for a second, standing abruptly as it hit him, "Oh! Oh, you like a jock! Robin Bobbin Buckley! You like jocks!" he taunted jovially.

Robin tutted, "Shut up! You've married a dork!" she grouched.

He couldn't stop the little giggle crawling up his throat at the thought of being married, at some point it'd stopped being scary and just started feeling exciting.

"We already knew I was into dorks! This is brand-new information! Have you ever dated a jock before?" he wondered aloud, bending back down to finish pulling on his jeans. He knew none of the girls she'd dated while he'd been around had been but she'd never really mentioned a high school love life.

"No!" she whined, sounding unsure and a little upset.

"Aww Bobs, don't worry. If it helps we're very easy to please," he told her, trying his best to be reassuring, "Plus, I don't think you've got anything to worry about, she seems pretty obsessed with you!" he added absentmindedly as he pulled on his shirt, concentrating on doing up the buttons.

Robin let out a hopeful little whine, "You think?"

Steve stopped what he was doing to huff a gentle laugh, thinking about how Chrissy had barely been able to keep her eyes or hands off his best friend, the way Eddie had found it adorable; it seemed Chrissy's attraction was obvious to everyone but Robin, "Yeah, I do yeah," he assured her gently.

She hummed softly and then went quiet, deep in thought and smiling to herself as she ran a brush absentmindedly through her hair, pretending she wasn't when she caught Steve sneaking a glance around the doorframe.

Steve popped back into the bathroom before he ended up with a hairbrush launched at him, chuckling as he twirled a stray strand of hair around his finger, that particular one always had a mind of its own.

At least chatting with Robin had somewhat calmed the jitters he was feeling! Just the thought of Eddie on the other side of the door, looking all pretty and wanting Steve to get involved in something that was important to him was making him want to jump up and down, or dance a jig, or maybe both at once.

He'd never had that before, someone who'd wanted to include him in their recreational activities. Nancy had thought him too stupid to help her with her journalism and decided for him that he'd find the library too boring, without ever actually bothering to ask him. He was never invited to hang out with her friends or to join her study groups, he was pretty sure he was only there to bolster her social standing at school and to keep her folks off of her back.

He and Billy shared a love of basketball but other than school sports, he was never invited to do anything other than "dates" with him, which usually turned out just to be an excuse to hook up. But Steve was certain Eddie had known from the look on his face that he had no idea who they were going to see, Steve wasn't even sure whether they were going to see a singer or a band, but Eddie had still wanted him to come anyway, was on his way over to share this experience with him. Steve couldn't wait!

He was just doing a final mirror check when Robin asked, "You want eyeliner, Dingus?"

Steve wandered out of the bathroom, smoothing down the front of his shirt, smiling to himself when he saw Robin was wearing the dark plaid shirt that was now hers but had once upon a time belonged to him. "Do I need eyeliner?" he asked curiously, he was never sure whether it did anything for him.

Robin stared bug-eyed at him through the mirror, then whipped around to stare directly at him, "what the fuck are you wearing?" she squawked.

Steve looked down at his outfit and then back to Robin with a confused frown. He loved this shirt! El had chosen it for him the last time she and Hop came to visit, short-sleeved and paisley in colours that really complemented his complexion. Pairing it with his favourite pale blue jeans that hugged his arse perfectly was a no-brainer and he always wore his trusty Nike's, surely she knew that by now.

Robin tugged on her hair trying to dampen her frustration, "Holy crap! Evie! You absolutely cannot wear that tonight!" she yelled. 

He knew she wasn't trying to hurt his feelings, she just had no filter when she was overstimulated, didn't make it sting any less though; on a normal outing, she wouldn't even bother to glance in his direction, she'd just tell him he looked hot (mainly, so they could make it out the door before Steve went back to his wardrobe to change, and the day was officially over) and off they'd go, but apparently not for one of the most important dates of Steve's life.

"I look fine!" he muttered indignantly, just for the sake of it because now he felt the need to be grumpy. He wanted Eddie to think he was pretty and he didn't bring anything else that made him feel as good as his SuperEl shirt did, or it had before Robin said that.

Robin rolled her eyes exasperatedly, "You're dressed like my dad!" she exclaimed, eyes going wide and immediately covering her mouth with both hands in shock. Clearly she hadn't meant to let that thought out!

Steve gasped involuntarily, and Robin immediately tried to backtrack, muffling an apology through the hands that were still clamped over her mouth.

There were only so many places to sulk off to when sharing a hotel room with your supposed best friend and honestly he really didn't want to hear it! Eddie would be here any second and now he felt like crap. He flopped face down on his bed determined to never move again, what was the point when your nicest outfit apparently means you're dressed like a pensioner.

Steve heard more than saw Robin turn back to the mirror, her hands landing heavily on the desktop, she sucked in a deep breath then jumped up, pacing in the small space; Steve could picture her wringing her hands as she moved around the room.

She was letting him mope because it was better to get it over with, that way he could change before the others arrived, which would be any second and she really thought it best for everyone involved if Eddie didn't see that monstrosity of a shirt just yet because he might be obsessed with Steve but the shirt was horrendous!

What Robin never seemed to realise was that she had this tendency to mutter her thoughts to herself aloud, especially when she was stressed. Steve rolled his eyes to himself and sighed, he thought Eddie would like the shirt, even if she didn't.

Robin sighed heavily, "You know I love you Steve, but you absolutely cannot go to this concert dressed like my dad!" And of course, Robin had to be shouting that just as there was a knock at the door! Steve groaned loudly and dragged himself up to answer it. 

He couldn't just leave them standing in the hallway! Robin said he was a perpetual people pleaser, said it had something to do with being left too young, that he'd learned the best way to get his parent's attention or approval or whatever was to be well-behaved. He didn't know if that was true or if he just enjoyed making people happy. Right now he was just battling with wanting to see Eddie and maybe getting a hug and wanting the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Steve hid himself behind the door as he opened it, only letting them see Robin, just while he gathered the last of his courage. Not that she gave him much of a chance to do that when she immediately screeched, "Eddie, tell him he can't go out like that!"

Eddie said nothing as the door slid shut behind him and Chrissy but it was obvious they were both trying their hardest not to laugh, at Steve or at their bickering Steve didn't know, but even though Eddie was physically biting his lip, his dimples were still poking through.

"Eds?" Steve whimpered pathetically.

And Eddie, sweet, wonderful Eddie, smiled his warmest smile, took Steve's hands into his own to stop him scrunching in on himself, and told him "You look beautiful, sweetheart!" humming and grinning in return when Steve preened. "Perhaps you could wear that when I take you out to dinner instead?" he suggested, cheekily waggling his eyebrows, making Steve feel all blushy and bashful.

He knew Eddie would like the shirt! Robin may be the brains of their pairing but her ideas of fashion left something to be desired. 

Steve wanted to snark at Robin about it but that was when he noticed Eddie was wearing eyeliner! And at least three necklaces, a leather one with a pick dangling from it and two different chains. A black t-shirt with an indistinct pattern because the fabric had been slashed as though he'd had a fight with a wolf or a tiger. Black jeans that were so tight they might as well have been painted on with chains and studs and safety pins attached with Docs and a leather jacket.

Is it warm in here or is it me?

Eddie had his head tilted, surveying Steve from head to toe, contemplatively he said, "Maybe if we just... come with me," he urged, tugging on Steve's hands, pulling him out of the room, leaving the girls behind. 

Eddie dragged him into a joyful skip to the end of the corridor, straight up the stairs, taking two at a time. Two floors wasn't far but it'd been a while since Steve had kept up with his fitness regime, so he was huffing and puffing. Coach would be so disappointed! 

Eddie just grinned at him fondly, told him, "You do look beautiful, Sweetheart, if it were up to me, we'd cancel the concert and I'd take you to dinner instead, but we can wait, can't we?" he asked, with such sincerity in his voice, and not nearly out of breath enough for Steve's level of embarrassment.

All Steve could do was nod, he couldn't speak even if he wanted to, and he did, he wanted to tell Eddie that of course they could wait, that he didn't want Eddie to miss his concert, that he too looked incredible but Eddie was happily tugging him down a corridor, unlocking one of the many doors and shoving Steve straight into their room.

A feeling of awe swept over Steve as he skidded to a halt, standing shellshocked just inside the door, because Steve'd thought his and Robin's room was nice but Eddie and Chrissy had a suite and it was fucking gorgeous! 

The door opened straight into a living space, a beautiful kitchenette with dark wood counters and a marble worktop, chocolate leather sofas and dark furniture and gold furnishings in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. And the view! Wow! 

The Strip lights were vibrant even against the setting sun, even though it wouldn't be long before she tucked herself behind the mountains for the night, Steve had this absent thought appear in the back of his mind that he hoped he and Eddie would have time to stop and just sit and watch it set together before they had to head back to Indy. Eddie squeezed his hand, smiling so affectionately at him, as though maybe he was sharing the same hope, before gently drawing him through one of the open doors that led into a bedroom.

The bed was huge with neatly made golden-coloured sheets, the decor just as ornate as the main room had been. Not even the mass amount of clothing covering the expanse of the room could make it look any less magnificent, if anything, the touch of Eddie just made it all the more beguiling. Steve just sort've stood there in wonder, taking in the space and watching as Eddie rifled through the wardrobe, finally coming out with a hanger that held what was once a black t-shirt with an "ah ha!"

The shirt was at least two sizes too big for either of them and had had the sleeves completely removed all the way down to the waist. Steve couldn't even call it a vest because he wasn't sure there was enough fabric left to be classed as one, convinced one of Robin's camisoles (that he'd once used as a windscreen chamois and got yelled at for) would cover more, and although it wasn't his usual style he liked it.

He definitely liked it more than the unsure smile Eddie was now shooting him, Steve grinned his brightest grin as he reached a hand out for the garment, making sure to fully appreciate the way Eddie’s breath hitched before his smile grew until it nearly split his face in two. Steve was expecting Eddie to just pass him the top so he could get changed, what he wasn't expecting was Eddie pulling him into his arms, trapping the fabric between them, Eddie cupping his jaw, gently caressing his cheek with his thumb.

It was his turn for his breath to hitch, Steve had seen pretty eyes before, but none of them held a candle to Eddie's; rich coffee coloured, lightening towards the pupil like the growth rings of a tree and speckled with gem coloured glitter that shined like diamonds, so expressive and full of life, he wished he could spend the rest of forever looking into them. 

As close as he was he could see the crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he smiled affectionately at Steve, then Eddie was glancing purposefully at his lips, practically begging Steve to lean in and who was Steve to refuse? 

He let his eyes flutter shut as soon as Eddie’s plush lips touched his own, as they both sucked in a breath neither of them realised they'd been holding out on taking as they melted into one another.

Steve had never been handled so delicately as he was by Eddie, with gentle caresses and soft kisses; the girls he'd been with always expected him to be the one to treat them gently and the guys, well it was obvious they were after one thing and getting there the fastest way possible but Eddie kissed him like they had all the time in the world, like all he wanted to do was just be here in this moment with him and Steve couldn't get enough.

They were interrupted, far too quickly in his opinion, by their best friends, standing in the doorway to Eddie's bedroom with their arms folded and matching raised eyebrows to go with their "ahem!" Robin couldn't keep up the ruse though, laughing at the guilty look on his face, even as Eddie pressed his forehead to Steve's unwilling to separate, glaring daggers at Chris while she laughed along with Robin.

Steve kissed Eddie on the corner of his mouth, reluctantly stepping out of his grasp, shooing the three of them away with a promise to get changed. Eddie stepped away only to scuttle back over to kiss Steve tenderly on the cheek, Chrissy calling for him exasperatedly from the living space. Eddie chuckled, chasing after his best friend with a "I'm coming!" leaving Steve alone in Eddie's bedroom. 

He took a minute just to centre himself, taking a deep breath to slow his beating heart, wondering how on earth they'd ever function when they had normal every day things to do like get to work on time. 

Steve could hear Robin getting antsy about being late and quickly started on the buttons of his SuperEl shirt, throwing on Eddie's top and heading for the door; an anxious Robin was not something he wanted to induce by dawdling.

But just as Steve was about to leave the bedroom, he could hear Chrissy teasing Eddie, "I can't wait to tell Gare! Jeff's gonna lose his shit, they were already pissed that they couldn't come with us! When they find out you almost missed the concert of the century for a boy! Minds will be blown!"

Eddie muttered something in response that Steve couldn't hear but both girls gasped audiably.

"Really?" Robin asked softly, something really hopeful in her tone, and Steve wasn't sure if Eddie replied verbally but he could see him nodding and Robin grinning as he finally left the bedroom.

"How do I look?" Steve asked bashfully, fully getting to enjoy the way Eddie's eyes darkened as he spun around to face Steve.

"Wow!" Chrissy complimented.

"Evie!" Robin breathed.

"Um, uh, looks- it looks great! You look great, just needs a little..." Eddie mumbled, trying hard for nonchalance and missing by a mile. He swooped forward and started adjusting the safety pins at Steve's hips, he'd originally assumed they were an aesthetic thing but as the fabric tightened the whole top seemed to settle better. "Of course, you're skinnier than me!" Eddie grumbled as he fixed the shirt in place, stepping back to admire his work.

With the bottom of the fabric tight around his hips, it draped loosely off his shoulders, the excess swinging freely around the pockets of his jeans, the round neck showing off the v of his pecks, the straps just barely covering his nipples. It was sort've... freeing.

No one said anything for a few moments, the three of them just stood staring at Steve, it was really disconcerting and it didn't help that he couldn't really decipher the look on any of their faces. Robin was the easiest to work out, she just looked bemused like something was missing, she pulled that very same face when she was trying to write a shopping list. Chrissy looked kinda impressed, like the difference between the two tops was that surprising. And Eddie had the same abstracted look he'd had back in the waffle house, like he was in a world of his own.

"Eyeliner!" Robin blurted, snapping everyone's attention to her as she handed Eddie a black pencil.

Eddie blinked rapidly before taking it from her and stepping back into Steve's space, gently forcing his eyes closed with his fingertips. Applying the makeup with practised ease and rubbing his thumbs gingerly over the lines he'd created.

When Steve next opened his eyes, all three of them were full on, jaws dropped, gawping at him. A shiver ran up his spine, causing goosebumps to break out and all the little hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. It wasn't like Steve wasn't used to the attention, he was Prom King, he'd been hit on and chatted up and propositioned in every club he'd ever stepped foot in, hell he'd been called pretty for as long as he could remember, but the look in Eddie's eyes was so intense Steve felt almost pinned by his gaze.

"That's just not fair," Robin whispered to herself.

"We should go!" Chrissy decided, grabbing hold of Robin and Eddie and physically herding them out the front door.

Steve took a moment to just shake himself off, he wasn't an idiot he knew he was attractive but he'd never felt that before, although feeling new things just seemed to be a reoccurring theme since he'd met Eddie. Then he heard Chrissy call his name from the hallway, his legs kicking back into action leaving the suite and following her to the lift, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror at the back and having to do a double take.

Because holy fuck! He looked hot! Like really Hot! Like HOT! And it wasn't like he was the only one, he took a look at the four of them in the mirror and holy shit! Together they looked incredible! They looked like something you'd see on the cover of a magazine, or like a band on a red carpet, or like the leads in that vampire movie with that handsome bloke from that show.

Eddie with his slashed band tee, his leather and chains, Chris in her little black dress and thigh-high boots, Robin head to toe in black with her trademark dark plaid, and him in a skimpy bit of black fabric, showing off muscles and moles and chest hair.

It wasn't a look any of them could get away with in Hawkins, they’d be branded Satanists before they ever had a chance to so much as smile, but Vegas was special and as the four of them stepped out of the elevator into the lobby, they just looked like they belonged, not just on The Strip but together.

Part 4

------------------------

tag list @estrellami-1 @gregre369 @adhdsummer @newtstabber @nerdfighteratheart @anaibis just lmk if you want removing

[b4kuch1n]

langa special