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God, the dress was gorgeous. Baby pink summer dress, the one he’d been dreaming to buy, along with white thigh highs he bought on impulse immediately after seeing them, figuring they’d look great with the dress, and they’d make his thighs stand out.
He was so glad that his boyfriends weren’t home yet by the time he got home. He could dress up on time and surprise them that way.
He was almost sure they would like it, or that’s what he thought, at least.
Once he got the dress on, and slid the thigh highs on, he stood in the mirror, looking at himself with anything but pride. The dress fits; it fits perfectly, even, but the deepest parts of his mind kept echoing louder and louder, telling him his lovers wouldn’t take him seriously that way. They’d make fun of him, they’d say he looks ridiculous.
He knows his lovers like the back of his hand, he knows for certain that they wouldn’t make fun of him at all. Yet he can’t help but think that way.
And it wasn’t getting any better the more he stared at himself in the mirror.
I look fucking ridiculous, he thinks to himself, frowning. God, the tears are actually starting to prickle in his eyes. He’s starting to regret the money he’s wasted on these clothes, and the fact that he’s about to cry at any moment doesn’t make it any better.
Why did he have to be so emotional over the slightest things? Why was he so vulnerable all of a sudden? He hated it.
“Julián?”
That was Dominik. Such a soft spoken voice with a Croatian accent could only belong to him. Julián flinches, turning around, feeling the urge to hide himself though he knew that would be no use.
He was expecting a look of appalment, but no, all he got was Dominik’s eyes shining with amazement, which did relieve him a little.
“Juli…” Dominik mutters, approaching the Argentine to wrap his arms around the brunette’s waist, “you look gorgeous,” he added softly.
Julián could only pout, since his brain had trouble believing what he just heard.
“I look ridiculous…”
“No you don’t?” Dominik still sounded as soft as ever, as he planted a small kiss on Julián’s cheek and scanned his outfit through the mirror. “You look gorgeous, like the pretty flower you are.” The Argentine notices a soft smile on Dominik’s face, a smile that drives him insane. God, he could tell him anything with that smile and Julián would believe him. He knew it was sincere.
Dominik always compared him to a flower, telling him he was pretty like one. And Julián loved it; he always loved it when his boyfriends praised him. Especially Dominik, he was always so soft and gentle with him, always hesitant because he didn't want to make him uncomfortable. But Julián kept reminding him that nothing he’d ever do would make him uncomfortable.
“Pink is your color, baby, your pretty dress proves it,” Dominik softly says in the Argentine’s ear, before giving a little kiss on his earlobe, almost like a small nibble at it, which got Julián to giggle, as it was a pretty sensitive spot. Though slowly, his smile faded as the second thoughts started flooding in again.
“Still, I just…it feels weird, all of a sudden. Like I shouldn’t be wearing this, like it’s just a waste of money…”
“It’s not, Julián, it’s really not, that dress looks perfect on you, you were made to wear it,” Dominik reassures, before gently spinning Julián around as to get the brunette to face him. He noticed how the skirt of the dress spun around so smoothly, because of the light and smooth fabric.
The Croat takes his boyfriend’s hands, as if they’re about to ballroom dance, and they start spinning around, unrhythmically, laughing and giggling and smiling and enjoying life as it is. They’d end up in the dining room, still stumbling around and stealing kisses here and there.
Dominik just wanted to get Julián to feel more comfortable in his dress, getting him to move around in it and watch his eyes light up at the way his skirt flowed so smoothly.
God, his boyfriend looked fucking gorgeous and he looked even more gorgeous when he was happy and confident.
The next one to notice, was Yassine. He was sat in the living room when Julián quietly showed up, hesitant as to whether or not he should show himself.
The Moroccan obviously heard the quiet steps and he saw Julián from the corner of his eye.
“Julián?” He calls, making the Argentine visibly flinch as he almost hid behind the wall. A quiet “Yeah?” Could be heard from him as Yassine smiled to himself at the hesitance in the boy’s voice.
“Can you come here please?”
“Why?”
“Because I wanna see you, darling,” Yassine chuckled, which prompted Julián to show himself.
And there he was, in his pink summer dress and his white thigh highs. The boy could only avoided Yassine’s gaze, a gaze he didn’t know was full of fondness.
“C’mere,” the Moroccan demands softly, still smiling. Julián obeys, and goes to sit on Yassine’s lap, just like he insinuated. Immediately, the Argentine feels a pair of strong arms around his waist, hugging him close.
God, he feels much more comfortable now.
“…What— what do you think of the dress?” He asked, hesitantly. Yassine looks at him and smiles, a smile Julián could never get enough of.
“You look gorgeous, mon ange. Perfect, even,” Yassine responds, before attacking Julián’s neck with small kisses, earning a laugh of surprise from the brunette.
Yassine showered him with love and made him feel comfortable and confident in his dress, calling him perfect in every way, along with the compliments in Arabic.
God, there was something about Yassine speaking in his native language, it drove Julián insane. He started picking up on the meanings, and found himself in love with the beauty of the language. Each time, he melts whenever Yassine compliments him in Arabic, and the Moroccan clearly took note of that.
".حلوتي"
Helwati.
Julián knew what it meant; Yassine told him. Could be translated as, “My sweet,” ‘sweet’ being used as a noun. And by God, this time was no exception. He melted just as much at the sound of the nickname.
“Te amo,” Julián responds, planting a kiss on Yassine’s cheek. Yassine smiles, and hides his face in the crook of the Argentine’s neck, squeezing the boy’s thigh in the meanwhile.
“I love you too, princess,” Yassine mutters, planting kisses on Julián’s neck, before placing a last one up on his cheek.
Emiliano made sure it was the first thing he’d notice when seeing Julián. His outfit.
He saw Julián standing at the kitchen counter, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. Emiliano went to hug his waist by surprise, attacking him with little kisses, earning a chuckle from him.
“Need any help, princesa?” Emiliano asks, seeing as Julián was struggling to reach for the cupboard. He gets a glass for him, earning a small “thanks” in return.
A small moment of silence follows, and Julián is hesitant. He wants Emiliano to say something, anything, about his outfit. But clearly, the elder wasn’t saying anything on purpose, just to see what Julián would do to bring up the subject.
“…What do you think of the outfit?” Julián asks quietly, looking up to Emiliano. The elder looks down at him, smiling, before stealing his lips in a slow kiss. He pulls away, and speaks;
“It looks gorgeous, muñequita.”
The nickname makes Julián flustered, like it always did. He loved being called muñequita. Emiliano knew it, and he made sure to take advantage of it as much as possible. “You look like a pretty doll,” Emiliano adds, getting Julián to smile shyly.
“Thank you,” Julián mutters, still smiling like a shy idiot. Emiliano can only smile fondly in return, before he suddenly turns Julián around to pick him up by his thighs, and sits him down on the counter, whilst following that up with a slow kiss he steals from Julián. Said kiss which turns into a make out session.
Emiliano grabs onto Julián’s thighs, earning a small noise from the brunette. After a while, they pull apart, and smile breathlessly at each other.
Night fell, and the house was quiet. But that didn’t mean the atmosphere was tense; it was a comfortable silence, in fact.
Julián was in the bedroom, sleeping. Dominik laid with him until the Argentine fell asleep, and he then joined Emiliano and Yassine who were still awake, roaming around the house, mainly switching between the kitchen and the living room.
The three sit in the living room, snuggled up to each other. Dominik, as per usual, had trouble sleeping. Yassine was simply not tired at that time of the night, nor was Emiliano. So they figured they’d help the Croat relax more by cuddling with him.
“I don’t understand why he was insecure,” Dominik says quietly, breaking the silence. He catches the two others’ attention.
“What do you mean?” Yassine asks.
“Well, Julián. I saw him standing in the mirror earlier today, in his outfit, looking at it like he just wanted to rip it off. Yet he looked gorgeous in it, so I don’t get it.”
“He has tendencies to get very doubtful and insecure,” Emiliano explains, “I’ve seen it happen. Though less frequently than before. But it seems like it hasn’t really gone away.”
Dominik nods in understanding.
“We should definitely buy dresses for him, he genuinely looks gorgeous in them, and most of all, he looks happy wearing them,” Yassine suggests, a soft smile tracing his lips.
The three agreed, and talked a bit more, until Dominik started feeling tired. He kisses them both goodnight before making his way up to the bedroom to join Julián.
It was just Emiliano and Yassine now, cuddling together, in another comfortable silence.
“You think Dominik would also wanna wear dresses?” Emiliano suggests, half-jokingly. But to be honest, he didn’t mind suggesting the idea to the Croat.
“Well, he’d look great in it,” Yassine begins, “Come on, have you seen that waist?”
“Can’t lie, I love grabbing onto it. Even more if it’s in a dress,” Emiliano admits.
“‘Course you do,” the Moroccan snorted.
Either way, they will have to make more space in the wardrobe, reserving it for some extra pretty dresses.
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