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yandere-writer-momo · 7 months

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Yandere Baki Short Stories: Courtship

Yandere Pickle x Afab Reader

TW: creepy coworker and yandere behavior

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A sigh escaped (your name)’s lips as she meandered down the street towards her home. She hadn’t planned on being at work for so long, but her boss peer pressured her into staying past her shift… and now she paid the consequences.

She clutched her lunchbox to her thigh for more of a sense of security through the dimly lit streets. (Your name) just had to pass by this alleyway and she was in the clear…

A low groan drew her from her musings, her head snapped toward the dark alleyway. The hair on her arm stood straight up in pure fear. (Your name) was certain her heart just went still for a straight minute.

“H-hello?” She meekly asked the dark abyss of the alleyway. This was like something out of horror movie and she would be the first idiot to die… she should just walk away. Curiosity always killed the cat.

And then another pained whine came from the darkness… was it an injured animal of some kind? Her heart ached at the thought. Maybe she’d shine a light down the alleyway to see what made those pained noises.

(Your name) pulled her phone out of her pocket and activated the flashlight on it. She then shined the light down the alleyway, her eyes wide at the sight before her.

It wasn’t a dog that groaned in hunger but a man. A man covered in jagged scars sat curled up beside a dumpster. His large, tanned body curled up into a ball. His golden eyes filled with fear when he looked at her. Was he homeless?

(Your name) slowly made her way toward him, careful not to scare him even more than he already was. Her eyes softened at how he cowered when she neared him.

“It’s okay… I won’t hurt you.” (Your name) continued to tip toe towards the large man until she was only a few feet off him. He only trembled in response, his golden eyes studied her in anticipation. And that’s when a loud growl from his stomach reached her ears, a sympathetic smile on her face.

The young woman slowly reached into her lunchbox and handed him her uneaten sandwich. The man’s eyes widen in surprise before he hesitantly took the sandwich from her.

Now that she could see his face a bit better, she realized this man was bewitchingly beautiful. It was as if he was from another world.

The man hesitantly sniffed the sandwich before he gingerly took a bite. His eyes lit up at the taste of honeyed ham and swiss, his abnormally long tongue darted out to lick the sauce from between the sandwich.

(Your name) could only stare in wonder at the odd man. Was this the first sandwich he’s ever had? He was taking apart each layer of the sandwich rather than eating it all together. Despite how bizarre this was, it was also kind of endearing.

(Your name) quickly handed him the fresh fruit and vegetables to try to put something else in his bottomless pit of a stomach. How long had he been hungry? She felt horrible for him…

(Your name) watched the man scarf down his food like a starving animal. His body language no longer showed fear, an expression of relaxation on his face. She wondered if he may be mentally impaired.

(Your name) sat with him for a bit, his putrid scent was a bit much for her to handle, but he seemed so lonely.. how could she not feel bad for him?

The man turned his completely attention to her. His head tilted to the side while he studied her pretty face. His golden eyes and mannerisms reminded her of an owl.

(Your name) sat with the man for a few more minutes until she decided to leave. It was getting late…

“Good bye, mister. Take care, okay?” (Your name) smiled brightly at the man, the man tilted his head off to the side. Poor guy… she hoped he stayed safe.

The man’s golden eyes watched the young woman leave. Pickle purred, his golden eyes studied her small form.

The primitive man slowly trailed behind her, the giant careful not to alert her of his presence. Pickle didn’t want to scare his future mate!

He wondered if he should start courting her since she had courted him… maybe some fruits would do? She seemed to like fruits!

Poor (your name) had not a single clue in the world of the trouble that was about to brew in her life.

Small rodent and avian carcasses were left on her step. It was a bit difficult to differentiate what they once were since their bodies were so mangled, but she was able to piece together what they were due to the feathers, blood, and fur that was mixed all over her doormat.

This was all so incredibly strange... Were these left behind by the local cat? Was it a token of appreciation for feeding it? (Your name) had not a clue on who or what could’ve left this on her step. She didn’t think a cat was capable of such brutality, but it was hard to imagine another human, leaving this too…

(Your name) grimaced when she picked some of the remnants of the small animal carcasses, a few guys spilled out when she did so. This was so gross.

The young woman scrunched up her face and distaste. she then began to clean up the mess and discard the carcasses into her trashcan. She would probably have to bleach her whole front step to get the putrid odor of death away after work…

“Meow!”

An orange tabby cat mewled at her. Its little orange body brushed against her in a soothing manner. She smiled a bit at the fluffy feline before she bent down to run her fingers through its small head.

“Hello, tiger. I haven’t seen you in a bit.” The cat simply purred in response, its tail rubbed against her legs to scent her. (Your name) indulged the cat a bit until she knew she had to leave for work. “Sorry but I have to go to work. I’ll see you later!”

(Your name) gathered up her belongings and hurried down the street to walk to work. The orange tabby sat on her step, it’s tail ticked back and for like a clock. It’s small pink nose sniffed the few remains she didn’t scoop up in interest. The cat then began to lick up the bloody remains.

Pickle whined from his spot in the forest. She didn’t like his gift… was it not to her liking?

Pickle snarled, his bloody canines flashed under the light as he watched the cat lick up the remnants of his gift. That wasn’t for that animal… it was for his mate. Perhaps she would like something bigger?

Pickle observed the local cat that (your name) doted on. He’d start with that creature that hogged her attention… then he’d set his sights to bigger game.

Pickle stalked forward toward his prey, but the cat tilted its head at him. The tiny animal sauntered over to him and brushed its head against his leg.

It dumbfounded Pickle. The Neanderthal scooped up the small house cat and stared at it. The cat’s purrs never ceased as it maintained eye contact with him.

The two creatures blinked at each other until the cat leaned forward and licked Pickle’s nose. Pickle furrowed his brow at the rough feeling but didn’t entirely reject the gesture.

Pickle changed his mind. He was fond of this tiny creature that purred like him. Pickle sat on the grass with the cat now in his lap. The cat rubbed its head over his palms to pet it.

Pickle would find something else to hunt… something much larger. He didn’t think (your name) would like if he harmed her companion.

“So I was wondering if you’d let me take you out on a date yet, (your name)?” (Your name) sighed and glanced up from her computer at her manager, Kenji. He was a nice looking man but (your name) had no interest in dating anyone at the moment. She was quite happy just caring for the local cat and tending to her indoor plants.

“Sorry, Kenji. I don’t have any interest in dating.” (Your name) bowed her head a bit to Kenji. “Thank you for the offer-“

Kenji sighed, the young man leaned his beefy forearms onto her cubicle wall. His dark eyes narrowed a bit before he muttered, “you’re going to end up alone. You’re still young and pretty. Don’t you think you should give this a chance? You might not get another.”

(Your name) furrowed her brow at Kenji in confusion. What on earth did he mean by that?

As if Kenji could read her mind, he chuckled. “Everyone thinks you’re a bit odd, (your name). You daydream an awful lot and you feed the cats. The other workers all think you’re going to end up being a cat lady.”

(Your name) frowned and turned her attention back to her computer, which made Kenji click his tongue. The brunette then went on his way.

Kenji swore he’d get her attention soon… he’s liked her for awhile now. And he’d do anything for her to notice him… anything.

Kenji smirked. Thank goodness she lived in isolation, it’d be easier to corner her since no one would hear her screams….

(Your name) made her way home, unaware of a presence following behind her. The young woman walked down the dimly lit streets toward her house with no awareness of her surroundings.

Pickle scuttled around in the shadows. His eyes narrowed at the man that followed (your name). His nose sniffed the air, his head cocked to the side in confusion. Was this a challenger?

Pickle quietly stalked forward behind the man. The man too focused on following (your name) to notice the Neanderthal behind him.

(Your name) eventually made it onto hee quiet street. The young woman hummed a cheery tune, unaware of the Kenji who was just a few feet behind her.

The man made a move to grab her but he was soon pulled into a giant, muscular chest. The man almost screened but a large hand was shoved over his mouth.

Kenji slowly looked up, his dark eyes wide in horror at what held him like a snake. This was the caveman from the news…

Pickle tilted his head in curiosity. What was this small man planning to do with his mate? Pickle may not have been from the modern world but he was familiar with the laws of nature. And this man didn’t have good intentions for his mate…

Pickle bared his fangs at the man, his golden eyes glowed like a burning fire under the street lights. Pickle was terrifying… and his sudden appearance may have caused Kenji to urinate himself a bit.

Pickle turned his head to glance at (your name) who made it safely to her house, far enough out of ear shot now to what was about to happen.

Kenji tried to swing his fist up to punch Pickle but Pickle simply snapped his head off to the side. Pickle cooed a bit at the dead body now in his arms.

This was his competition? How disappointing…

Pickle carried Kenji toward the sewers. The caveman threw his body into the manhole before he jumped in after.

Perhaps he’d leave more gifts for (your name) later? He wondered if she’d like a pelt… he could show off his nest skills to her! She’d be so thrilled to se show hood of a provider he was!

But first he’d take care of this body. Pickle was feeling a bit peckish after all…

(Your name) hummed as she watered her various tropical plants in her home. The inside of her house felt much like a tropical rainforest for the various rare plants in her home.

(Your name) owned various orchids, a few vibrant flamingo flowers, and some lovely begonias. But her favorite was her monstera. She babied that plant the most. The young woman considered at her most prized possession since it was her largest plant.

She felt so at peace taking care of these plants. Her plants are better company than most people. She found it hard to be around other human beings, since they were always so conniving. She knew that at least plants would never betray her or try to harm her.

(Your name) hummed as she continued to tend to her plants. Unaware of Pickle who sat perched on a tree branch outside her window. The Neanderthal has recently found a way in through her bedroom but he preferred to wait until she wasn’t home.

It was much easier for him to find places where they could store young and to scent the outer perimeter of her house when she wasn’t around. Pickle made sure to keep her home extra safe.

The various plant life was a plus to him. It made him feel like he was at home himself… he was so flattered that his mate was so understanding of him.

Pickle would be sure to be wonderful to her once she accepted the last part of his courtship.

A few days have gone by and Kenji was no longer at work. (Your name) and her coworkers thought it was very strange. He never missed work.

A few had tried to call him, and one coworker even went to his house, but there was no reply. It puzzled them all. Where could he have gone?

Kenji was a bachelor so he didn’t have any roommates or a girlfriend. And no one in the office really knew his family either… it was a shame.

(Your name) felt bad about being relieved from his absence. She no longer was harassed on a day-to-day basis for a date. A part of her feel guilty, but the other part not so much.

(Your name) continue to type away on her computer, unaware of the caveman that sat on the rooftop of the building across the street from her. His golden eyes studied her as she worked diligently on her assignment.

Pickle placed his chin in his palms, the caveman purred. His mate was so cute… she seemed much happier now that the weird man was gone.

Pickle glanced down at the fresh bear pelt beside him. He would leave this for her at we home today and then he would start to bring her many more until she accepted him.

Spring time was coming soon and pickle was determined to mate.

A few weeks have gone by since the disappearance of Kenji now. It was spring now… and he was still missing.

Missing posters of Kenji were now set all over the city. There was absolutely no trace of him anywhere. (Your name) felt as if he was a ghost, because he disappeared into thin air.

The police broke into his apartment to find a body, but nothing was found other than old food and all of his belongings. There was talk that he might have been murdered or kidnapped. But who on this green earth would want Kenji of all people?

This matter didn’t help the young women feel any safer in his community anymore. In the last few weeks she felt as if there was always a pair of eyes that were on her. No matter where she went or where she was, she felt like she was being studied like a lab specimen. It made her skin crawl sometimes.

(Your name) clutched her lunch box close to herself and bit her lip. She didn’t feel safe anywhere she went. Her home no longer felt safe. She swore some of her belongings were missing and it drove her insane.

(Your name) had only a handful of panties left now… which was odd since she had just bought some new ones recently. She even took apart her washer to examine if they were lost in one of the crevices but to no avail…

But who would steal her undergarments? Kenji was no longer in the picture so it couldn’t be him… and he was the only man who was interested in her… she should stop thinking about this.

(Your name) wished she could shrug it off but she couldn’t. Especially with the various animal pelts left on her door step.

Who was bringing her bear and deer pelts? She couldn’t bring herself to throw them away but she has just been shoving them into her garage. She didn’t know what else to do with them… she would feel bad if she threw away someone’s hard work.

(Your name) sat on her door step with her orange tabby, Tiger. The cat purred while she pet him. Lately she had noticed that the cat had put on a few extra pounds… has someone else been feeding him?

(Your name) patted Tiger’s little tummy in wonder. She didn’t have any neighbors around so it was strange that the cat had gained some extra cushion…

And that’s when a rustling in the bushes drew her attention. (Your name) snapped her head towards the bush, a giant man stepped forward. His golden eyes transfixed on her. It was the homeless guy she met months ago…

(Your name) glanced at the pelt in his arms in shock. Was he her stalker?!

Pickle gave her a toothy grin. The Neanderthal set the pelt in front of her before he began to dance. (Your name) could only sit still in shock while Pickle continued to dance before her.

Then it all clicked. Pickle was not a homeless man. He was the Neanderthal from the news a few months back… and he wasn’t stalking her. Pickle was courting her.

(Your name) froze when Pickle paused his dance, the Neanderthal cooed softly at her. His long fingers tilted her chin up to look at him.

And that’s when he licked her nose just like a cat. His eyes filled with wonder.

(Your name) remained frozen, even when he scooped her up into his arms to carry her into her garage where the various pelts lied.

Pickle finally had her… he finally had his cute little mate.

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kiwisbell · 4 months

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darling, so it goes [javier peña]

She glows.

read las mañanas here! | my masterlist

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags/warnings: pregnancy, pregnant sex, wife guy!javi, extremely protective!javi, girl dad!javi, javi is an overprotective dad and the baby isn't even born yet, fluff, married life, a sprinkle of texas!javi, smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), rough sex, unprotected piv (i mean she's not gonna get more pregnant), a bit of papi kink, slight degradation, she pronoun used throughout

word count: ~ 14k (i know, my bad)

read on ao3!

a/n: this is another re-upload from my ao3 account, and part of my siempre series! if you'd like to read the first instalment, las mañanas, it's linked above next to my masterlist!! ! i love you all so much, thank you for your patience 💋 xoxo kiwi

MONTH 3

She calls him crying.

Javier picks up the telephone and tucks it against his shoulder as he rushes to close the door. Feistl and Van Ness are taking respective phone calls, tossing a ball of wadded-up paper between them. “Peña.”

“Javi,” she sniffles, her sweet voice so weary. His heart beats a little faster, grows a little bigger in his chest. It's a swelling, heavy feeling, to hear someone’s voice and fall in love.

“You sad, baby?” he coos. “What can I do, huh?”

“I just miss you.” Another sniffle, and he knows she's curled up on her good side, clutching the receiver.

Javier can't help the grin that splits his face. “Company here isn't good, either, bonita. I’ll be home soon.” He knows that isn't the only reason she's calling. “Dime que está mal.”

“Everything hurts, I need to pee every ten minutes, and we're out of hot sauce.”

There it is.

Her third month of pregnancy has been riddled with emotion. A day rarely goes by when he doesn't see her cry at least twice. It'll be the question of what they'll eat for dinner, or it'll be the fact that there's a baby growing inside her and she doesn't know what to do with all the emotion she carries. Sometimes, it'll be both, and more.

On top of that, her cravings have been giving him whiplash. Two weeks ago, she would fall asleep with a jar of pickles on the bedside table, and now she can hardly stand to smell them before she’s rushing to the bathroom to heave into the toilet. Last week, Javier came home to her curled up on the floor in the kitchen, tear tracks on her face, digging a spoon into a plate of instant rice slathered in hot sauce.

“Hi, Javi,” she chirped.

“Hey, baby.” Javier lowered himself to the floor next to her and wiped the salty tears off her face with a washcloth nearby. Kissing her left his lips tingling. “This is new.”

She shrugged. “I really wanted hot sauce. Couldn’t really eat it by itself, so I put some rice in the microwave. But then I started to cry because the rice was taking a long time.” She lifted the spoon and lifted her brows. “Want some?”

Javier likes spicy food. He’s indifferent to rice. Together, they didn’t sound especially thrilling. But it was the way her eyes went wide and expecting, the way her brow furrowed in anticipation of sharing her new obsession with him. He took the spoonful into his mouth.

Although it was exactly how he expected—bland, chewy, and mostly tasting of hot sauce—she grinned, leaning in to put her lips to his cheek, and he wanted to eat the entire plate if it made her this happy. “I love you,” she said.

“There’s another bottle in the cupboard, querida,” he tells her. “You want me to run a bath when I get home?”

The happy little sigh that leaves her tells him she’s not crying anymore. “Will you join me?”

“You know I can’t say no to getting in the bath with you, baby. Estaré en casa pronto.”

“Javi?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

There’s a new round of sniffles on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna be a mom,” she cries.

This is the second time she’s called him today.

MONTH 4

“Más despacio, baby. Let me help you.”

“Javi, I love you, but if you don’t let me get out of this car by myself, I’m going to choke you out.”

Okay. He knows. He knows he's smothering. Javier waits for her to step down out of the truck (he demanded the DEA give him one after he found out how much they both hated the fucking Cooper they wanted him to drive). “See?” she says proudly. “Still spry.”

He splays a hand over her belly: already a force of habit. The bump there has only just begun to show, but he's been putting his hand to her abdomen, imagining he can feel his baby’s heartbeat, since the day they knew she was pregnant. Now that he can see the slight curve to her belly, it feels so real, so immediate.

Javier was a grump before. He’s become somewhat of a monster when it comes to his wife. His pregnant wife.

“¿Estás bien?” he asks her.

They’ve known each other for over a decade. The way Javier looks at her still knocks the breath out of her. He wields those wide brown eyes like a weapon, gentle but incisive, staring deep, past where words exist and into the very soul of her. He can pull her thoughts and her feelings from her head just by looking at her. Yes, he’s been smothering her with closeness since they found out about the baby. Yes, he’s a thorough grump. She’s never loved someone more in her entire life.

“Javier,” she says softly, lightly tugging on his belt loop.

His eyes search her face for discomfort, but he won’t find it. “Cielito.”

“Kiss me, please.”

He’s learned not to compromise, raise his voice, or oppose. So, he cradles the back of her head and ducks down to kiss her, his hand still firm at her swelling belly. Another new habit: he doesn't let her stand on her toes anymore to kiss him. He started to bring himself down to her level, and now he won't stop. It was unconscious, just another instinctual desire to make his wife do as little work as possible.

Javier nudges his nose against hers. “I’m about to ask again.”

She places her hand on his chest. “Javi, don’t—”

“Are you sure you want to go back?”

Reparations on the university are still underway, but most of the infrastructure of the peripheral buildings affected by the blast are intact. Classes resumed last week, but Javier’s been reluctant to let go of his wife’s hand and watch her disappear inside the building where she nearly died two months ago.

She bunches up the material of his suit jacket in her fist and giggles. “You're a fool, Agent Peña. You and your… your sexy suits and your sexy pout.”

“Did that bomb give you a concussion we didn't know about, baby?”

“I just love you.” She cups his face in her hands. She can't choose which eye to look at, so she searches between them for the answer. “I love you. So much. I’m gonna be okay, Javi. I am okay.”

He wraps his hands around her forearms and strokes her skin with his thumbs. “You say something like that and expect me to let you go?” he grumbles.

“I know you worry,” she says, “but we've gotten this far. I'll be right here when you come to pick me up, and we’ll go home.”

He's still pouting when he presses his lips to her temple. “Have a good day at work, amor.”

“Don't work too hard,” she tells him, pushing his sunglasses back onto his nose. “I have plans for you when you get home.”

“Yeah?” He lifts his brows behind those aviators. “What kinda plans?”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a gentle shove toward his truck. “You'll have to wait and see, vaquero.”

Javier steals one more kiss before he's backing away to his truck with his hands in the air like he's in a stickup. “Sure you don't want me to walk you up the stairs—”

“Go. To. Work.”

“Feistl.” Javier peeks his head out of his office. “You and Van Ness find the fucker who planted the bomb?”

Feistl tucks his pen between his teeth as he hurries toward Javier’s office with a stuffed manila folder in hand. “Think so,” he says, his voice garbled by the pen. He jerks it out of his mouth as if he forgot it was there. “Alvaro Diaz made a call to his girlfriend the morning of the… well, you know. Told her he had an important job to do.”

“Diaz works for Pacho Herrera.”

“Got that right. After the bombing, he disappeared. May have been him.”

“You're saying the president of the school was involved in something Cali didn't like?” Javier frowns. “We would've known about that.”

Feistl snorts, slapping the folder down on Javier’s desk. “Yeah. We're always one step ahead, sir.”

Javier lets the attitude slide when he opens the folder. “Puta.”

He doesn't love the smug look on Feistl’s face. “The president’s son partied with North Valley just before the attack.”

“Jesus. He transported coke for them?” Javier flips through the file, lingering on images of the president’s mangled body, then the recovered cocaine from the operation.

“All the way to Panama.”

“How dutiful.”

“Yeah, well, like a good little soldier, he lost one of the duffels on the trip. North Valley wanted money to compensate, and the president offered to pay it. Looks like Cali wanted the world to see what happens when you get in with the wrong cartel. Fucking over North Valley on some money might have helped Herrera sleep better, too, I guess.”

Javier only breaks his intensive eye contact with the folder to pin a glare on Feistl. “Do I wanna know how you got this intel?”

“I have informants, sir.” Feistl chews on his retort for a moment before he decides it's worth saying. “You used to have those, too.”

“As I so love being reminded,” grumbles Javier. “Okay. Fine. Thank you. Where’s the kid now?”

“Turn a couple pages and you'll see that the prodigal son decided to pay his dad a visit the day of the attack.”

Jesus. The kid’s bloodied body greets Javier, and he closes the folder. Something nips at him. “Cali’s M.O. isn't bombs. It's not public attacks. They get by on threats, not action.”

Feistl scrubs at his jaw with his hand. He looks like he hasn't shaved in a while. “My informant overheard a conversation between Pacho and one of Cali’s sicarios. He mentioned a lost bag of money.”

“And your informant is close to Herrera?”

“In a way.”

Javier’s getting a headache. He rubs two fingers over his lips, squinting faintly at the folder. He should've worn his glasses. “Okay. Keep looking. We know who was behind the bombing, right? So we raid manufacturing houses in Cali to get some of those bombs off the streets. And look for Diaz.”

Feistl slaps his hand on the doorframe—his typical way of saying roger that—and moves to leave. “Oh, shit. One more thing. Your wife called while you were out. I answered your phone for you.”

Javier grits his teeth and tries not to reach for a cigarette. “Keep looking for Diaz.”

Before Feistl can back out of his office all the way, Javier has the telephone to his ear. “Hey, cielito,” comes his boss’s gentle rasp. Chris doesn't hear much more than that, closing the door behind him, but it makes him smile a little. Peña’s got one hell of a heart; he just lets it beat louder for her.

When she finally appears through the front doors, Javier finally breathes. He doesn’t realise he's been holding his breath until he sees her take the steps down to meet him in the pickup zone.

“Bonita,” he murmurs, crowding and kissing her before he even bothers to open the door for her. She laughs into his mouth at his tenacity but kisses him back just as eagerly. Her back meets the truck door and it's the sound of a horn honking that forces him away from her. He glares at the car waiting for him to move out of the way even though he's in the wrong.

She waves at the driver in apology and climbs up into the truck. Javier turns out of the pickup zone and grabs her hand.

“Fucking…” He huffs, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “Fuckin’ missed you. Jesus Christ, these assholes are trying to kill me.”

She beams at her grumpy husband and places their joined hands on her belly. “We missed you, too.”

Javier is lucky the drive home is so brief. His blood is humming with the need to be close to her, his bones weary with the weight of stress. He hoists her up and wraps her legs around his hips before they've even made it through their door. She buries her face in his neck and kisses everywhere she can reach. “Gotta give you your present, vaquero. Slow down.”

He pulls away and gives her a look that melts her. The fucking look. He’s staring up at her with those brown, begging eyes, a hopeful gleam in his smile. “Gonna tell me now?”

“Gonna set me down?”

He pats her thigh before he sets her on the floor. She wraps her hand around his tie and pulls him to the sofa. “Sit,” she says softly, kissing him on the cheek.

He's a little too eager when he obeys her command, adjusting himself on the sofa and spreading his thighs wide. She bites her lip, salivating at the sight of his strong body, so receptive to her. He's already hardening in his jeans, visibly straining against his zipper, and it only worsens when she hooks her thumbs in the waistline of her long skirt and pulls it down with her panties.

“Jesus.” Javier’s eyes are glued to her body as she reveals it to him, from her glistening cunt to her swelling breasts as she lifts her shirt over her head and unclips her bra. His hand flies to his length, squeezing it over his jeans. “Fuck, baby. Fuck, I wanna touch you.”

She steps closer, her legs bracketing one of his thighs, and removes his hand from his cock. She lifts it to her mouth and sucks on two of his fingers, swirling her tongue around them. His lips part, unconsciously, shifting in his seat and awaiting her permission to touch her. Her bump is more pronounced in this light: the shadows arch over it and bathe it in the soft orange low from the lamp beside the couch.

“You want to touch me?” she says, whisper-soft, bringing his wet fingers to her pussy and pressing them against her clit. Her eyes flutter, and Javier doesn't know if it's possible to be harder than he is right now.

“Fuck,” he rasps, swallowing hard. “Baby, please…”

She bends her knees until she's straddling his thigh on the cushions, her wet pussy darkening the fabric of his jeans. Her breath shudders out of her. “You can watch,” she says, gliding her hips experimentally, letting out a moan that makes his entire body convulse with shivers.

“Fuck!” His head tips back until he stops himself, desperate to watch her grind on him. He keeps his hands dutifully by his sides and fixated on her face as her brow furrows in pleasure, her eyes struggling to focus on him, her hands lifting to her tits and squeezing.

He's going to die. He cannot refrain from touching her. He needs her more than he needs air right now, and he'll suffocate happily inside her body. But Christ, he wants to watch her fall apart like this.

“Feels so good,” she gasps, rocking on his thigh, the friction against her clit sending jolts of pleasure ricocheting off each nerve. “Oh, fuck, yes. You're so good to me, Javi. So strong, always keeping me safe. Putting your baby in me.”

She's always been vocal during sex, but this is something else. This is making him leak precum into his pants, his mind going dizzy and lolling with lust. He squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again, but it does nothing to help him clear his head. “Fuck. Fuck. You like that? Like getting yourself off?”

Her moan breaks into a whine as she picks up her pace, her hands clutching his broad shoulders to keep herself from listing. Javier can't hold back anymore, not when her tits press up against him in her desperation to come. He holds onto her hips, squeezing her soft flesh as she stiffens, crying out his name. She soaks his jeans, falling into him, her face buried in his neck. “Oh, baby,” he murmurs, kissing her temple, his fingers gently tracing up and down her sides. “Fuckin’ great present.”

She giggles, drunkenly nipping at his throat. “Not done yet.”

He gently urges her away from him so he can look her in the eye, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “There’s more? Jesus, bonita, go easy on me.”

“You need to feel good,” she purrs, squeezing his cock over his jeans.

He hisses. “Fuck. I feel good. I feel real good already.”

Her lips chase his, and he ends it happily, cradling the back of her head as his tongue explores her mouth. She shifts so she's straddling his hips, sitting right atop his cock. “Tell me where you want me.”

He's so lightheaded he can barely process her words, let alone speak. Javier drops his face into her neck this time, breathing in her scent. She's fresh air and rippling water and hormones, and she's popping open the button of his jeans and pulling out his cock. It taps against his stomach as he makes his decision. “Turn around, baby. Sit on my cock; I’ll take care of you. ¿Claro?”

She does so with an excited smile, shuffling around so his cock rests between her asscheeks. Javier holds onto her and shifts down the couch so she can lift up and sink herself down perfectly on him. He works her open, gently guiding her to rest against his chest. She turns her head to meet his eyes, clouded with desire. Her laugh is breathless when he bottoms out inside her. “I'm supposed to be taking care of you,” she mutters, lazily nosing her way along his cheek until she finds his mouth.

“You are.” Javier rolls his hips, thick and heavy inside her, and nibbles her earlobe. His arm is around her belly like a seatbelt, keeping her snug against his chest as he drags his cock in and out, in and out—

“Javi!” she moans, her thighs trembling around a particularly deep stroke. It makes him feel good, really fucking good, making her clamp down on him like this, her changing body supple and seeking his touch. She's all his to hold this way. She's his to touch forever. Her hair drapes over his own shoulder, soft and rich with her shampoo, and Javier eases her thighs open to keep her firmly on his cock.

“Who makes you feel this good, hmm?” he coos into her ear. It wrecks her, her sweet drunken eyes trying to focus on him. He grunts when he prods at her cervix, so fucking deep inside her hot, wet body that he's having trouble seeing straight, too. “Who gets to give you a baby? Say it, sweetheart.” He nips her jaw. “Dime.”

She gasps, grasping at his wrists, her eyes rolling back in her head. It's the very picture of eroticism: she's writhing and frowning and trying to stave off her orgasm, make it last. She never wants to lift herself off his delicious cock.

“Ohhh, you. It's you, Ja—vi!” He presses two fingers to her clit and makes her squeal, hips rocking up against them. He soothes her back against him, keeping himself nice and warm with her body. “It's you, amor, it’s you. You're the one who fucks me this good. You gave me a baby. You're gonna be a daddy. Fuck, it feels so good, Javi, oh!”

“That's right, baby.” His balls draw up at the sound of her babbling for him, his fingers rubbing circles into her clit. Her orgasm is intense when it crashes down on her, but he's got her, he always does. “Easy, easy,” he whispers into her ear, watching her jerk and writhe on top of him, her cunt soaking his cock. “Fuck,” he grits out, tucking his cock all the way inside her warmth. “Jesus. I’m gonna—”

His words crumble to groans when he comes, the pleasure crackling up his spine. He bites down on her shoulder as her pussy milks him, his cock drowning her in hot cum. They both collapse backward on the sofa, Javier’s mouth still attached to her skin, pressing gentle kisses around the bite mark.

“Fuck. Sorry,” he grumbles. “Does it hurt?”

She just giggles, high-pitched and somewhat delirious. He loves her afterglow; she smells of sex and her, and she always laughs. It's never felt emasculating. “You could never hurt me, vampiro.”

“That…” He huffs his way back to her face, turning her face toward him with his finger, and kissing her softly. “… was a good surprise.”

“Mmm. Maybe I don't fuck you enough,” she says, kissing him back. “Shouldn't have been that big a surprise.”

“Honey. You fuck me plenty.” He laughs into her mouth this time. Her post-sex giggles have their way of infecting him. “I’m an old man, remember?”

She laces their fingers together and places their hands on her belly. “Our little baby,” she says softly, playing with his fingers, “is gonna be so safe and happy with their papá.”

Javier’s entire body feels like it's swelling with the choking, lurching feeling of love for this woman. He slants his mouth over hers, caressing her jaw with his thumb, taking his time with the kiss and relishing the sweetness of her mouth. He'll never forget the first time he tasted her. And here, draped in the body of his pregnant wife, inside their dim little orange-lit home, Javier wants to forget every day before her.

MONTH 5

Most days, his job is thankless. Not that he welcomes the praise; in fact, he'd rather sit at home and talk in whispers with his wife while they share dinner. She knows what to say. She knows when he doesn't need her to say anything. The world doesn't know, and they never seem to learn.

Javier likes his smoke breaks. He doesn't like the actual smoking. He feels like an asshole, a failure, every time he puts a cigarette between his lips, remembering his promise to her that he'd quit.

I had a smoke today. Hands on her body, caressing the smooth skin up and down her sides, the only tonic that exists. It was a confession he'd wanted to smother until he suppressed the urge again and quit, for real this time. But he knows what happens when he keeps things from her: he knows the self-hatred that festers, black flesh in a wound, when he lets the silence stretch between them. He knows how it feels to push her away. He never wants to feel that shit again.

I don't know if you know this about yourself, she said, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him in the darkness, but your job is stressful. And you've always been a smoker.

I tried, baby. It was an excuse. A shitty one. But he wanted her to know. He really did try.

She lifted her hand to his face and traced his lips with her fingers. I know you did. Do you think that makes me love you any less? She lowered her fingers only to grip his chin. Because you'd be real estúpido to think something like that.

Jesus, he doesn't know how she does it. How she loves him the way she does.

His fifteen-minute smoke break is the time he carves out for being alone. It's the bright, languid sky as the clouds roll across it. It's the whorls of smoke lifting to join them. It's the bustling of suits between buildings and the sheer lack of anyone approaching to pester him. He's found the perfect spot behind the wall to sequester himself. He manages to get half his cigarette smoked down before someone decides to fuck over his plan to be alone for a fraction of his day.

“Agente Peña. ¿Puedo decir algo? (May I have a word?)”

Javier glances over at the man who's intruded on his mandated fifteen minutes. Obviously a reporter, carrying a tiny tape recorder with a belt clip. Javier lifts a brow—does he carry that thing on his jeans in the off-chance he can ambush a DEA agent for a story?

“You can have two,” he grunts. “Smoke break.”

The reporter doesn't give up, which doesn't surprise Javier. “I’m from The Bogotá Post. Would you care to comment on the DEA’s failed raid in search of Miguel Rodríguez?”

He certainly would not fucking prefer to reminisce on that.

“No comment.”

“And the sicarios who planted the bomb in the attack against President Gomez? Have they been apprehended?”

Apprehended? No. They've done an impressive amount of guesswork into who's involved, sure, but Alvaro Diaz has fled the country, for all they know. As for Cali’s involvement… They haven't spoken a word about it, nor will they. They'll let some other small, hopeful cartel take the credit. It's not their way of doing things: planting bombs and killing civilians. But if their rivals in North Valley were involved, they may have thought it worth it just to fuck them over a little, send a message to potential allies.

Either way, someone planted a bomb at a school. And nearly killed Javier’s pregnant wife.

He takes his time puffing at his cigarette. “No comment.”

The reporter clears his throat. “Agent Peña, can you confirm the rumours of escalating rivalry between the Cali Cartel and North Valley?”

Javier taps out some ash. “No comment.”

“Your wife was a victim in the bombing, isn't that right?”

Javier grinds his teeth and almost bites through his cigarette. His wife isn't a fucking victim. She's alive. She's healthy and safe and he's going to break this asshole’s jaw if he keeps trying to toe his way into Javier’s personal life.

“I hear your wife is pregnant, Agent Peña.”

One… two… three…

“Did the incident harm the baby?”

The smoke stops curling from Javier’s cigarette. He plucks it from his mouth, turns slowly toward the reporter, and presses the butt of the smouldering cigarette to his chest.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The reporter backs away until his spine slams against the wall, smacking away the ash on his shirt. “I…”

Javier can't clear the red mist. “Ask me again,” he says, stalking toward the man and sizing him up. “You want an answer, right? So ask me again.”

“I won't print it,” he says frantically.

“No, you won’t.” Javier looks down his nose at the reporter. “You don’t ask questions about my life. You don't ask or say or print a fucking word about my wife. If you want a story, ask the guys in the mail room. They’ll pick something out of the trash for you.”

He turns and heads back inside, nostrils flaring, slamming doors and drawing worried glances. More than glances, he figures, when the whispers. What's angered the boss so much? That's just him. No, someone definitely pissed him off.

“Don't you all have work to do,” he grumbles under his breath, charging through the bullpen. “Where’s Ramirez?”

“On lunch, sir,” says Cindy.

“Tell him nobody in the fuckin’ building talks to a single reporter who wants to target my family for their stories.” Javier shuts the door behind him, locking himself inside his office before anyone else can make the choice to bother him. He loosens his tie and picks up his phone.

In the bullpen, Cindy and the others exchange brief, knowing glances.

He’s rushing up the stairs to their apartment, fumbling for the keys, nearly falling over himself to burst through the door, and searching for his wife through the tunnel that suffocates the edges of his vision.

There she is, in the bedroom, shrugging out of her blouse and exposing her beautiful, soft, swelling belly to him. “Hi, baby,” she says, beaming up at him. “Sara drove me home. I hope things weren't too—mmmph!”

Javier cups her face in his hands and kisses her. She stumbles backward with the force of it, but he guides her toward the wall and gently balances her against it. He needs her. He needs this. Her blouse hangs off her shoulders, her swollen tits heavy against his chest, her body emanating hormones and jasmine and the perfume he bought for her birthday.

Javier presses closer, crowding her, her rounded belly an ever-present reminder against his abdomen. He gave her that. She's pregnant with his baby. Javier groans into her mouth, sliding his tongue across the seam of her lips for permission. She grants it, letting his tongue enter her mouth, letting him devour her the way he needs to. His hand slips down to her open shirt and squeezes her tits, then slides underneath the fabric, fingers splaying over her lower back.

She tastes so good, so sweet. There's citrus on her tongue from an orange she ate earlier. He tastes like smoke and wood fire. “You never… told me… what happened at… mmm, work,” she manages to gasp through his assault, winding her arms up around his neck.

“Need you,” he rasps. If he disconnects from her body now, if he loses the warmth of her skin, he'll die. He knows it.

“You have me. You have me.” She breathes it into him, telegraphs it onto his skin as her fingers fall to his chest, shoving off his jacket and trembling in their effort to unbutton his shirt. She pouts and it's so cute, so impatient, that he takes pity, trapping her hands in his and helping her shed his shirt.

“You next,” he says once he's shirtless, sliding the blouse off her shoulders and unclasping her bra. He growls at the sight of her tits and hoists her up onto his hips, lowering her gently onto the bed. She giggles at his overzealous attitude, but it pitches up into a whine when he lies over her and takes a nipple into his mouth, shucking down her skirt at the same time.

“Javi!” she gasps, her hand flying to his hair, fingers curling at the crown of his head. “Insaciable. What's gotten into you?”

He grunts, lavishing her nipple with his tongue, tugging it between his teeth and sucking hard. She moans, her head falling back against the mattress. He alternates between each nipple as his hand snakes between their bodies, dipping beneath the waistband of her panties to wet his fingers in her slit.

His eyes flicker up to meet hers, black pools that eclipse the sweet, rich brown, his lips still attached to her nipple. She whimpers at the sight: her husband so hungry for her, his tongue flicking and tasting her swollen tits like he’s the one that will be feeding from them. “Fuck,” she croaks, sparks of arousal crackling up and down her spine, a closed circuit.

He’s gone nonverbal, devoting all his body and mind to worshipping her body, sensitive and needy in her altered state. Javier wets her sternum with his tongue, her belly, pressing kisses to the little life growing in there, at last reaching her panties. He hums in satisfaction when he finds them soaked with arousal, peeling them away from her glistening cunt. His wife whimpers his name. “Please… Please, my love.”

He knows. He’s halfway to pleading, too. Javier flattens his tongue between her folds and grunts at the taste of her, bucking his hips into the mattress. He’s leaking into his fucking pants, looking up at her face, scrunched in pleasure, over the bump on her belly.

He laps at her clit, drenching his chin in her wetness as he buries his face deeper, licking and sucking at her clit, her hole, her entire fucking pussy until he’s making out with it. The sounds of his ministrations echo throughout the bedroom, mingled with the slick noises of her cunt and her soft moans.

Eating his wife out may be his favourite activity. The cacophony in his head quiets to a dull roar as he devours her, the hairs of his moustache creating the perfect friction against her clit, his groans of pleasure drowned by her cry as she bursts on his tongue.

He doesn’t relent while she rides out her high. If anything, he’s spurred on by it, swallowing down everything she gives him and spreading her cum around her pussy, lathering her clit with his soaking tongue.

“I… I can’t… papi…” She’s wrecked, her mascara dribbling down her cheeks in black tears. Javier moans at the nickname, his cock relentlessly twitching and beading precum into his briefs. He delves deeper, pressing his tongue into her hole. She screams his name but it comes out raw and used. “¡Papi! No puedo, no puedo—gonna come… gonna come again!”

And she does. Fuck, she soaks him, her thighs quivering around his head and her cunt pulsating around his tongue as she spills onto his tongue. Javier grunts, holding onto her thighs to keep her grounded, taking every drop she gives him and swallowing. For the first time since he got her naked, he speaks. “That’s it, bonita,” he coos, licking through her slit one last time and watching her twitch.

“Fuck.” She covers her face with her hands. “Fuck, Javi.”

Javier kisses his way back up her body until his clothed cock rests on her hip. “‘M sorry, baby,” he mumbles into her neck.

“For what?” she sighs, scratching her nails along his scalp. His cock twitches. He wonders if there’s anything she could do that wouldn’t make him horny. “For making me come twice? Malo.” She clicks her tongue. “You know that’s not allowed.”

She giggles when his pleading eyes meet hers, her handsome puppy dog, nipping at her jaw. “Can I fuck you?” he asks.

She pulls his face toward him and kisses him. “You’d better.”

Her eyes transcribe the meaning of her words. Fuck me until you can breathe again. Javier shuffles off the bed and almost trips over himself in his rush to get his pants off. His cock slaps up against his stomach, already dripping precum into his pubic hair, and he crawls over her body again. Keeping a hand on her bump, he slides inside her and bottoms out in one deep stroke.

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to come like a fucking teenager, settling inside her even as she huffs and puffs like the hormonal, impatient siren she is. “I know, baby,” he says gruffly. “I need you, too. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Then fuck me,” she pleads, rolling her hips.

Javier bares his teeth when he picks up his rhythm, the one that gets her gushing around him. “Spoiled,” he groans. “You want my dick real bad, huh, honey?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, nodding frantically. “I'm spoiled, I love you too much, love your big cock.”

The praise makes him double over, twitching inside her. His thighs nudge hers until they're sitting up against his hips and his free hand locks around the crook of her knee. He keeps her spread open for him as he fucks her, giving it to his spoiled little wife exactly how she wants it.

She knows it, too: that he'll give her everything she wants even if he tells her to beg for it through a façade that he won't. Sometimes, though, he knows it's okay to beg himself.

“Say it like you mean it,” he grits out, thrusting deep and hard and making her eyes roll back in her skull. “Mírame,” he demands. Eyes glassy and ringed with black, she tries to focus on his face and mostly succeeds. “Say it for me, baby. Fuck, wanna hear you. Please.”

She knows exactly what he needs. Her hands slip around her thighs and pull them toward her chest as best as she can with the bump in her belly, opening herself up wider so Javier can watch his cock disappear repeatedly inside the tight seal of her cunt. It makes him a little more wild, his head spinning with desire, her slick clinging to his length and his thighs. Every slap of his hips against her thighs, every wet suck of her pussy, make obscene noises that echo throughout their bedroom.

“Fuck!” she moans. “You fuck me so good, Javi. You're so big. Baby, it feels so go—od!”

He moulds his hands to her hips and lifts them slightly, deepening the angle and making her sob with pleasure. Javier hisses, his cock twitching inside her. “Yeah? Like that?” he manages to say between breaths. “Taking me so well. Good fuckin’ girl. You close?”

She cries out when his thumb presses into her clit. “Ohhhhh, Jav, honey, I need to come. Wanna come on your cock.”

But he's not quite done yet. He pulls out of her and urges her gently onto her side, sidling up behind her as he plants sloppy kisses up her spine. Tasting her skin at her shoulder, Javier grasps his cock and slides it through her folds. He shudders at how soaking wet she is. “Muy hermosa,” he whispers into her body. “Too pretty for me. Gonna kill me someday.”

“I will if you don't put your dick inside me,” she huffs.

“Shh, bonita,” he coos, notching his leaking head at her hole. “Be patient.”

“Fuck patience,” she gasps, pushing her ass back against him. “Take me. Take me, Javi. I’m yours.”

He slips in easily, her walls sucking him in and squeezing his length without abandon. He grunts into her neck, and she gasps at the first short thrust, her hand flying backward to grab a handful of his hair. His hand snakes around to warm her belly while he nudges his leg between her thighs and keeps her spread wide. He can't reach her mouth like this, and he doesn't want to make her expend any more effort, so he sucks bruising kisses into her neck.

“Oh, shit,” she gasps. Her nails are scratching at his scalp, but it only makes him groan, and she knows it. He likes the delicious sparks of pain.

He fucks her hard but slow in this position, his cock pressing up against her front wall and making her lips part, her head collapsing into the pillow and foregoing her mission to kiss him. He guides her through it, nudging his nose against her cheek as he kisses her jawline, her throat, the corner of her mouth.

His fingers find her clit again, teasing the oversensitive bundle. She jerks in his grasp, pushing out soft whimpers. “Can’t… Can’t come again…”

“Please.” His voice sounds pathetic, his thrusts growing sloppy as his hips and stomach begin to pinch with his imminent orgasm. “Need to feel you come, baby. Please.”

“Javi, fuck, I can’t… need—” Her head turns, seeking his mouth, and he leans over her farther to slant his lips over hers. He slips his tongue along hers, tasting her, groaning into her mouth when he feels his balls pull up.

“C’mon, mamá. Give it to me.” He keeps rubbing her clit until he feels her body stiffen underneath him, losing control of her own movements, a telltale gush of warmth soaking his cock and thighs.

“Mmmm.” She keeps kissing him, getting messier, their noses bumping and his moustache tickling her upper lip. He fucks her hard, his cock throbbing with the need to fill her up with everything he has. “Dámelo, papi,” she whispers.

His grunts pitch up when he comes until they become whines. “Fuck. Fuck.” His mouth slips from hers, so he puts it on her shoulder instead, biting down. He pumps hot cum into her cunt with every twitch of his cock, puffing air over her skin and shuddering from his spine to his feet. He's pretty sure he whimpered a couple times when he came, but he doesn't care.

He keeps himself tucked inside her for longer than he should, her sweet body so warm, her scent so enticing. He rests his head next to hers and messily ties up her hair so he won't lie on it. She's immobile but smiling, her eyes fluttering shut as sleep pulls at her. Since her pregnancy, she's liable to fall asleep at any given moment—especially after three orgasms.

Still, she tangles her fingers with his, resting over her baby bump. “Tell me,” she says softly.

“What, baby?” He’s a little distracted by the soft skin of her throat, nosing his way to her ear and nibbling.

“What happened at work?”

He grunts unhappily. “Fucking reporter. Asking me questions.”

She giggles. “That's their job, Jav.”

“He was asking questions about you, mi amor.” He rubs their joined hands over her abdomen. “About our baby.”

That gets her attention. “What the fuck business does he think he has asking questions about our baby?”

Javier’s blood is thrilled by the beautiful, terrifying tone in the voice of the woman curled up in his arms. “Tranquila, mamá bear. I told him to fuck off. Nobody touches our baby.”

In fact, the thought alone is enough to summon the beast that lives in his bloodstream. It has claws and teeth and it dwarfs the sun. Nobody touches her. Nobody touches the baby inside her. He and the monster will ensure it.

“Javi. Javi, wake up.”

He's become a light sleeper since her pregnancy began, finely-tuned to any sounds of distress that come from her side of the bed. She's sitting up in bed, one hand on her belly and another grasping his wrist.

Panic strikes him like the chime of midnight. He sits bolt upright and places his hand over hers. “Baby, what's wrong?”

But her eyes are soft and buttery, still half-asleep. He feels wide awake, terror-stricken at the thought that something’s gone awry. “Feel,” she whispers, slipping her hand out from beneath his so his palm is flush with her belly.

He waits, watching her stomach with a frown, until the jolt happens. It's small, concentrated, the minuscule undulating movement that makes him blink up at her through the darkness. “Holy shit.”

She begins to laugh, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “Holy shit,” she sniffles.

Javier crawls up next to her, his hand still firm on her belly, feeling the flip and turn of his baby inside her. “Mi amor,” he whispers, pressing his lips to the salty tears on her face.

Their hands remain there well into the morning.

MONTH 6

They're both late for work today because Javier wanted to fuck his wife before breakfast.

It's not that he's any more insatiable than he was before her pregnancy: it just seems he likes to take his time with it, take his time with her. Kiss every square inch of her body and admire it from above or below as they connect, puzzle pieces in the darkness or the morning glow. Hold onto her afterward and soothe her. Make her feel worshipped. By the time he's through with the worship, though, it usually means they're scrambling not to get chewed out by their respective bosses. Thankfully, hers is a lot more forgiving.

He drives her to work and kisses her good-bye on the steps. He makes sure she gets inside safely and drives to the Embassy. He buries his nose in paperwork and wants to shred it all to scraps. He catches air of the word Stechner and sincerely hopes he isn't in the building. He takes a smoke break in his usual spot, thanks to Ramirez sending word to the reporters that like to linger around the Embassy about Agent Peña’s nasty attitude. It's nice and quiet.

He calls her at lunch and listens peacefully as she talks about her day, her coworkers, the excitable kicking of the baby inside her. She puts the phone to her belly and Javier whispers into the receiver.

“Te amo, pequeño. Take it easy on mamá. She's keeping you safe in there.”

She laughs. “Don't scold our baby before it’s born, gruñón. How's work?”

“A miracle I haven't gone blind.”

“Are you wearing your glasses?” she asks sweetly.

He isn't. “Are you?”

She clicks her tongue. “Answering a question with another question is an admission of guilt, my love.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“You,” she says. “And I’m not the one who spends all day reading files in the dark. Put on your glasses, vaquero, and I’ll be real nice to you tonight.”

Javier scrambles to tuck the phone between his ear and shoulder, digging around in his jacket pocket. He slips his glasses onto his face.

“That's my boy,” she says teasingly. “Now take a look in your wallet. You’ll need your glasses to examine it properly.”

Javier frowns. “You put something in my wallet?”

“Just look, sweetheart.”

He flips open his wallet and finds the edge of a Polaroid picture peeking out. He plucks it out and nearly slips off his chair.

His eyes flick upward to make sure his door is locked before he fixes his eyes back on the image. Nobody else gets to see this: his wife, scantily-dressed in his favourite baby blue lace, taking the picture of herself from above as she displays her body on their bed. One leg is bent and the other stretching out, a hand resting just beneath the curve of the bump on her belly, her tits spilling out of the lacy bra. She's got that wicked smile on her face, and Javier drops the picture abruptly on the desk to frantically adjust his hardening cock in his trousers. The phone tips off his shoulder, and he has to scramble to pick it up.

“Jesus Christ, baby. Jesus.” He can hear her laughing as he fixes the phone back to his ear. “When did you take this?”

“You were working late a couple nights ago. Thought I’d make the next time a bit more enjoyable.”

There's rustling outside his door, and he swipes the picture off the desk. “Holy shit. You expect me to get back to work now? Fuckin’ fox.”

“Just think of it like motivation,” she says, oh-so innocently. He pictures her twirling the telephone cord around her finger, and it doesn't help his new erection. “It’ll make you want to come home that much faster.”

“Yeah. Got that right.” He winces as he squeezes his shaft over his pants again. “Playing with fire, bonita. I’ll have to shoot anyone who tries to take my wallet in the fucking head.”

“Aw, honey.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “You can take one next time.”

He huffs. She's trying to kill him. “Of me or you?”

“Why not both?”

“Sir, we've got a likely location for Alvaro Diaz.”

Javier’s head shoots up and his neck twinges. Feistl stands in his doorway. Apparently, Javier forgot to lock it. “Jesus, Feistl. Knock.”

He seems to recognise that he's intruded on what the bullpen has dubbed Agent Peña’s wife time and cringes. “Sorry, sir.”

He shakes his head and says into the phone: “I gotta go, baby.”

“Don't work too hard,” she purrs. “Say hi to Chris for me.”

Javier’s mood turns sour the second he hangs up. “Where’s Diaz?”

Feistl is smart not to apologise again or linger. “Safe house outside Cali. There aren't phones in the house, but he made a call to his girlfriend from a pay phone down the street. It was the only house nearby registered as abandoned, but satellite confirms they've been keeping up with the gardening.”

The news is thrilling. “Shit. Your informant was right.”

Feistl shakes his head. “That's the thing,” he says. “My informant is a male escort who Pacho paid pretty handsomely. They were seeing each other regularly, but apparently North Valley was paying him a lot more to approach a DEA agent and pin the bombing on Cali.”

Javier doesn't know if he can frown any deeper. His wife would probably insist that he's capable of anything.

“North Valley wanted the school president dead? What, because his kid fucked up the coke delivery?”

“They've been known to get violent when people don't pay their dues. It checks out.” Javier has to admit he agrees. Cali’s involvement in the bombing makes little sense given their dedication to politics for getting what they want. Feistl continues, “Seems likely they also paid Diaz to plant the bomb so it would look convincing.”

“Explains why he's on the run.”

“Bingo.” Feistl folds his arms over his chest and says, “My guy’s got a lot riding on my promise to get him out of the country.”

“So why come to you with the truth?” Javier points out. “He could run away with North Valley’s money.”

“Not if Herrera finds out. Cali’s not publicly violent, but that doesn't stop them from avenging betrayal in private.” Feistl shrugs. “He knows we're the only ones that can get him out—safely.”

Javier pins Feistl with a glare. “You gotta be sure about this, Chris. Dead fucking sure. Especially if you want to apply for a visa.”

“I’m sure,” he replies. “This guy’s scared for his life. He wants no more part of their money. He just wants to get out.”

Javier rubs his jaw. “Okay. Good.”

Feistl pats the doorframe. “Team’s setting up to raid Diaz’s safe house. He won't see it coming. If he's there, we’ll get him.”

“Feistl.” The agent turns around in the doorway, and Javier sets his jaw. “By the book.”

“You got it, sir.”

Javier looks down at the picture on his desk. It’s a rare occasion he allows a photograph of himself, but he's happy to get behind the camera to document his wife’s beauty. This one is a memory from their honeymoon. The sun makes her squint and there's sand in her wind-blown hair, and she's laughing at something he said, though he doesn't remember what it was. She's wearing a flowing dress and carrying a pair of sandals in one hand, the other shielding her face from the sunlight. It's his favourite picture of her.

Second favourite.

“One more thing.”

He's doing things by the book this time around. He won't get entangled in the spidery webs of conspiracy again. He's got a family to stay alive and healthy for… as healthy as one can be in a life like this. But he stops Feistl anyway.

“When you bring in Alvaro Diaz,” says Javier, “I want to be the first to talk to him.”

Feistl’s brows shoot up. “Just talk, sir?”

He remembers the terror of that day: the brief seconds he thought his wife was gone forever.

“What else?” says Javier.

Feistl leaves without another word.

When she slides into the passenger’s seat, Javier leans in, grabs her chin, and kisses her like usual. But she doesn't relent once he begins to drive. Her mouth travels from his lips to his jaw to his ear, where she sucks and nibbles. Javier grunts, his hand flying to her thigh.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Fuck. Más despacio.”

“Javi,” she whines into his ear, her hand on his chest, indulging in the strong body of her husband as she traces his pecs, his stomach, the hardness in his lap. “Wanna suck your cock. Want to make you feel good. Let me? Please?”

He inhales sharply. He wants to. So badly it makes his throbbing cock twitch in his pants. She sees it, fondly squeezing his length with a hum. But he blinks hard and focuses on driving. “We can't, baby,” he says, swallowing the pang of self-loathing in his chest for refusing her, even for something so small. “Too crowded in here. Don't want you to get hurt.”

“You never used to care about that,” she teases, licking a stripe up his throat.

“This—shit, this fuckin’ truck,” he grunts, hips bucking up into her hand. “Too small. You gotta be comfortable.”

“You'll take good care of me.” She caresses his thighs and nuzzles her face into his neck. “I'll take care of you, too, Javier. You know I will. Please let me, honey.”

She really is spoiled. And Javier is nothing if not accommodating to his girl. He pulls into their driveway after a short but agonising drive and swiftly parks in the garage between two empty cars. She sidles up next to him on the bench and pulls him toward her for a kiss.

He cradles the back of her head and she cups his cheek. It's slow to begin, bending to his own whims as he takes his time tasting her. Her mouth opens for him and he plunders her mouth with his tongue. “Did you… like my… mmm, present?” she asks when he gives her room to breathe.

“Are you kidding me?” He pushes his hips up into her wandering hand to let her feel his aching erection. “Been hard all fucking day.”

She grins wickedly. “Want to know something?” she says, pulling back and perching with her legs folded underneath her. Her fingers slip buttons out of each hole on her blouse, slowly revealing her blue lace bra to him. “I changed before we left for work. Thought you'd like it.”

Javier lurches toward her and places his hands on her swollen tits. “Love these,” he murmurs, tracing his fingertips over the lace at the swell of her breasts. “My beautiful girl. Take it off.”

She slips the blouse off her shoulders and he can see her protruding belly, her blue panties peeking out from the waistband of her skirt. She's a picture. Prettier than even the little thing he keeps in his wallet. “Are you going to stare,” she says, “or will you take those stupid pants off?”

He unzips his dress pants and she yanks them down to his thighs, taking his briefs with them. Her mouth waters at the sight of his leaking head tapping against the hairs on his stomach. She shuffles backward until she has enough room to bend over him, pressing a flutter of kisses down his belly, up his twitching length, to its tip.

Javier’s head thunks against the driver’s window. His wife is on her knees in the fucking parking garage, on the bench of his truck, her ass arching up in the air as she wraps her lips around the head of his cock. He chokes on his own tongue. “Jesus… fuck.” His hand finds the crown of her head, resting comfortably, grounding himself in her soft hair. She suckles on the tip for a while, taking her time with him, hungry and hormonal and fucking dripping for him. “Fuck. That’s it. Doing so well. Fucking love you.”

He speaks in broken sentences, but it’s all right, because she can only moan around him as she begins to take him deeper. The hand that isn’t supporting her own weight shifts to fondle his balls, and he goes blind, bucking up into her throat without warning. She gags, and he’s ready to pull out, already muttering apologies, but the gaze she pins on him tells him she’s okay. She wants this. They’ve known each other for so long that even a fleeting glance will tell a story.

She sinks down until her nose is buried in his pubic hair, tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. Javier reaches out and swipes them away with his thumb.

When she swallows around him, he thinks he goes cross-eyed. Then she begins a rhythm, bobbing her head up and down, and it’s so overwhelming that he forgets to breathe for a moment, schooling himself to relax his tense muscles and just feel.

And he feels. Every slow drag of his length along the walls of her hot, wet throat shakes loose his very soul and makes all of him tremble. The song of it is filthy and obscene, and its melody clings to the ceiling of his brain. It’s a clawing, high feeling he cannot rein in. It’s cloying and hazy. The window fogs with his breath when his head lolls, unable to remember his fucking name. Where is he, what is he, it’s her on her knees and it’s all he knows—

He can't even speak when he comes, when her mouth seals tight around him and her tongue wiggles along the vein on his shaft and her hand squeezes his balls. He just feels his face screw up, his brows pinching, and he unleashes a vaguely pitchy grunt, only half of which is clear through the rasp in his voice. He can’t even remember a curse word.

When she slides off his cock and swipes a drop of cum off his length, bringing it to her lips, he’s still recovering his vision. “Told you I’d be extra nice to you,” she says with a grin, tucking him back inside his pants and kissing him so sweetly that he’s dizzy with the shift.

“Come here,” he croaks, tugging her gently onto his lap. His hand rests on her belly like it usually does. Her lips are swollen, her makeup smeared, and he tucks her into his chest, folding her precious heart up inside his ribs so nobody will ever touch it again.

“Javi.”

“Mmm.”

“I think it’s a girl.”

MONTH 7

She's been staring at the little picture in her hand since they got home. Actually, she stared at it throughout the whole drive back, too. When he closes the door behind them and sits with her at the kitchen table, he looks at the picture, too.

They’re both so busy fawning over the little square image that they forget to make dinner until ten o’clock. As they lounge on the couch, a record crackling out Vicente Fernández, Javier plays with her fingers as he rests his head on her lap, humming along to the music into her growing belly.

“She’s gonna need a name,” he murmurs.

She hums, using her free fingers to toy with his hair. She’s exhausted, slipping in and out of dreamland, their daughter having kicked up a storm inside her today. “Our little butterfly. Little star. I’m fresh out of ideas, Javi,” she says groggily.

“We’ll figure it out, amor.” Javier presses his lips to the bump peeking out from beneath his button-up. It’s all she’s wearing, so his head is nice and warm on her thighs.

She giggles, her head falling back against the sofa. “I’m gonna have a little baby girl. Is it bad that I can’t wait?”

“I wanna hold her so bad it’s killing me,” says Javier. “But I still get to hold you.” He squeezes her hand.

“Casanova,” she mumbles, her eyes fluttering. Sleep is pulling at her.

“C’mon,” he urges softly, standing up so he can help her off the couch. “Gotta get you to bed, cariño.”

She protests with her mouth only, but her body is pliant and willing to go. Once they’re in bed, it’s minutes before her breathing slows and her lips part in blissful sleep. He watches her for a moment. His best friend. He used to pine over her like a puppy and wish he was the one who got to marry her over her shitty ex-husband. Here she is, his ring on her finger, and here they both are. Older, maybe wiser, but happier than they both were the first day he slipped into that nondescript little café and befriended the pretty girl behind the counter.

The pretty girl who’s carrying his little star.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, placing his hand atop the bump on his wife’s belly. She remains asleep, content and warm in his arms. He's falling asleep, too, his eyelids dragging. But he feels compelled to say this. “Soy tu papá. You're inside your mamá right now, but we're gonna meet you soon.”

His eyes close, but he still faintly hears himself speak. “I'm gonna keep you safe, mi mariposa.”

On the bedside table lies the picture of the sonogram.

They round up Alvaro Diaz at the safe house, and he confesses to every crime. When Feistl and Van Ness escort him to the van, Javier is already inside it.

The kid is short, mousy, and won't meet Javier’s eye. “Alvaro Diaz,” he says. “You've got a real fuckin’ set on you, I’ll give you that. How much did they pay you, huh?”

“I…” Diaz shakes his head. “They didn't give me a choice. They threatened my girl.”

How very funny. Javier doesn't have a scrap of sympathy. The beast inside him is rearing up with its teeth snapping. “Yeah? Your girlfriend? She get away unscathed?”

Diaz nods meekly.

“How much did they pay you?”

“I… want a l—lawyer.”

Javier lifts a brow. “Did you enjoy it?”

“What?”

“Did you like it? Putting that bomb together and blowing up the president?”

Diaz’s hands are white-knuckling his own knees. “It wasn't personal,” he squeaks.

Even fucking funnier.

Javier leans forward and drowns Diaz in his black gaze. “You made it personal when your bomb almost killed my wife. You're lucky you're still alive to get a goddamn lawyer.”

“I'm resigning,” he tells her one night.

She lifts her head and frowns at him. “What? You're sure?”

“I’m sure.” He caresses her spine with his fingers. “I’m done, baby. I’m tired, I’m smoking, and I want to go home. Real home. I want to raise our baby somewhere safe and quiet, and I want you to be safe. I could never guarantee that here, and you still came with me.”

“You should know by now that I’ll follow you anywhere, Javier.” She smiles, kissing him deep and slow. And that's it. The end of it.

Next week, on a random Tuesday, a reporter presses a button on a tape recorder, and Javier throws his entire career away.

Crosby is furious, of course. On Javier’s desk sits an already-packed box of effects, a picture of her on top.

“Any aspirations you had for your career just got dragged behind the barn and shot.”

Javier thinks of his wife and the baby girl he gets to meet oh-so soon. This world, this building, and the people inside it seem so small in comparison.

“My aspirations have changed,” he tells Crosby. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

They're a little worried about getting to the airport only to get told she can't fly in her condition. But when the airline lets her on with no questions, Javier is a little worried about the lax security in this place. What kind of company lets a seven-month-pregnant woman fly cross-continent without so much as a medical once-over? She kisses his cheek as they settle in their seats and holds his hand. “I’m okay,” she tells him, because of course she knows what he's thinking.

When they touch down in Texas, Javier pulls along all the luggage until he notices her stop dead in her tracks. He's by her side immediately; he's been monitoring her Braxton Hicks contractions, they've both been counting the flutters and kicks to her belly, and nothing has been out of place. They see their doctor every two weeks, although now they'll need to consult a new physician in Laredo. If there's something wrong, he should be prepared to note it, take care of it. It doesn’t help the terror that strikes him.

But she's looking at a television inside the duty-free shop. BREAKING NEWS, it emblazons in red across the screen. He's seen so much breaking news in the past ten years that it hardly fazes him.

Then he reads it.

Universidad Nacional de Colombia bomber found dead in cell, suspected suicide.

Her hand flies to her belly and she sways a little on her feet. Javier steadies her, a hand steadfast on her back, guiding her to a nearby chair. “Baby,” he says softly, brushing her hair behind her ear and kneeling in front of her.

There are tears in her eyes. “I’m here,” she whispers. His hand covers hers: two thumbs rub circles on her belly, soothing the excitable baby inside. “We're here.”

He senses the conflict inside her. She's a loving soul, and a soul like that often aches for others more than herself. Sometimes she gets afraid to feel too happy. But they're home, together, so close to bringing their little butterfly into the world.

“I know, sweetheart.” Javier kisses her cheek. “I know.”

She smiles at him through her tears and brushes a knuckle across his chin. “Let's go home, Javi.”

MONTH 8

Javier has a problem.

It's two o’clock in the morning. They've left the window open for the past week because she complains about overheating in the night. Javier, who runs hot in his sleep, doesn't mind. That isn't his problem.

As his wife lies sleeping next to him, Javier stares up at the ceiling and tries to soothe his deep, thrumming arousal. It comes from the hormonal scent of her, belly round and lips parted in serenity, that banks off every wall in Javier’s head and rattles his brain against his skull. The hard line of his cock is visible, tenting the sheets, and he can't seem to conjure a single thought, no matter how dark or abhorrent, that will ease the ache of desire.

He can't wake her up. He won't. She's so peaceful in her sleep, the moon brushing her cheeks with silvery light, her lashes fluttering in the small movements of her eyes behind their lids. Her round belly peeks out beneath his button-up, which she insists on wearing to bed because it smells like him.

He wants to bury his body inside hers until they become one. He wants to possess her. He wants to sidle up right next to her and support her bump under his hands, breathe in the scent of her hair and the taste of her skin. He wants to slide his leaking cock inside her and fuck her deep, drawing those sleepy, buttery noises from her throat. But she's soft and still and he is certain he will become the world’s shittiest husband if he wakes his pregnant wife to take care of him.

He tries to shift slowly off the bed, but a little whine puffs out of her mouth. She's got one leg hitched up over one of his, her hand over his chest, and her calf flexes to keep him close. Javier’s heart is pounding wildly to keep pace with the love he has, the need he has. “I’m here,” he whispers to her, though he’s almost sure she’s still asleep. “I’m not leaving, baby. Just going to the bathroom.”

Her nose traces a lazy path from his collarbone to his jawline. “Can I go with you?” she mumbles. Her sleepy words ignite a candle in his chest, one that melts the wax of his sensibilities.

Is it possible to fall in love a million times with one person?

He puts his forehead to hers. Her eyes haven’t opened once. “You need to sleep, vaquera.”

“‘M pregnant,” is her nonsensical reply.

“That’s right, baby. Gotta get your sleep.”

“Mmm-mmm,” she protests. “Means I get what I want.”

Oh, she has him there. Javier chuckles, and her eyes finally peel open. Her sleepy grin makes him lean down and attack her lips for a kiss. She barely reciprocates, merely humming happily, but he doesn’t mind. She lets him slip out of bed and follows him, a little waddle in her step with her belly in the way. Her back has been aching so badly for the past month, and he can see her weary face pinch a little in pain when she first stands up. Since he sleeps naked, she spots his aggressive hardness instantly, tapping his stomach and leaking into his pubic hair. She bites her lip. “Oh, honey.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbles.

When he guides her to the bathroom, he crowds her up against the vanity and laces his fingers underneath her belly. When he lifts the weight of the bump, she audibly moans, her head falling back onto his shoulder. He nips her earlobe, certain she feels the hardness of him at her ass.

“Thought you had to pee,” she sighs, a little giggle slipping out from the sheer relief of him taking the weight of her baby in his arms.

He’s so busy burying his face in her neck and inhaling her scent that he forgets to respond for a moment. “Need to jerk off,” he groans. “Didn’t want to wake you up.”

She hums. Every little noise she makes sends sparks crackling down his spine. “Thinking about me?” she asks, gazing at him in the mirror through her heavy-lidded eyes.

“Mmm. So soft.” He kisses her neck, her shoulders, toying with the collar of his shirt draped over her. “So beautiful. You smell so fucking good. Carrying my baby.”

“Don’t have to jerk off,” she says, turning her head and seeking his lips. He slots his mouth over hers and traps her in a soft kiss. He’s leaking onto the back of the shirt she wears, and she reaches backward to grasp his shaft. Her hands are warm and soft and so much gentler than he would be. He grits his teeth against her cheek. “Let me do it, Javi.”

He huffs. “You shouldn’t… fuck, shouldn’t have to—”

“I want to.” She squeezes the head of his cock and his chin falls onto her shoulder.

“Fuck. I love you. I love you.” He whispers it like a prayer into her ear as she swipes her thumb through the precum at his tip and begins to slowly jerk him off.

It’s slightly awkward in this position: his arms around her, holding up her belly, one of her hands twisted and tucked between their bodies. But it feels so fucking good to have some relief—for both of them. His mouth falls open and his brow furrows when she establishes a quick rhythm, his nose crushed in the crook of her neck. He needs to breathe air that's touched with her scent or he’ll suffocate and drop dead.

She rests her head against his, the tension in her back loosening, the coils that tighten between the knobs of her spine untying as her husband holds her swollen belly.

Even half-conscious, she knows she's making him feel good. His precum lubes him up enough that she can stroke him easily, and she whispers things into the darkness of the bathroom as his breathing warms her throat and his heaving chest pushes against her back.

So hard. Breathe, Javi, I’ve got you. You always take good care of me. Let me make you feel good.

She likes when he whines. It makes her feel strong, capable, sexy. Her mere touch sucks the breath out of him in fast, punching groans—ones that pitch upward into whimpering croaks of her name.

She coos at him through the din, the thick hazy air that tugs at her senses with the desire to sleep. It doesn’t take long for him to come. He really does huff out a whine when the pleasure racks his body, jerking his hips up into her hand and spilling hot cum all over her back, her ass, his own stomach. It’s a mess, and it isn’t the most earth-shattering orgasm he’s ever had—it certainly doesn’t compare to being inside her—but she’s oh-so tired, and sex with Javier is more often than not a doubly exertive sport. Besides, coming by her hand is infinitely more pleasurable than his own. He winds down by breathing into her skin, kissing her jaw and her cheek and her shoulders and murmuring soft thank-yous.

He cleans her up and brings her back to bed after they both use the bathroom, and Javier can sleep better. When he wakes up, his fingers are entangled with hers, and his mouth has somehow found his favourite spot on her back. Their wedding rings glimmer in the golden Texas sun.

She loves the barn cats.

Because she knows Javier won't let her lift a finger, not even to help carry a bucket of slop for the pigs, she's settled into a chair near the haylofts where the stray cats love to roll and lounge. She has a parenting book in her hand, but there's one particular calico who's taken a liking to her and keeps bumping his nose into the novel. She coos at the old, one-eyed feline and abandons her book to gather him up in her arms.

He settles in happily, nudging his furry forehead against her baby bump and curling on her lap. She introduces herself to the cat as if he can understand her, and Javier watches her with a surprising jolt of jealousy. Jealous of a goddamn cat. He huffs to himself and continues to saddle up the brown-and-white paint horse Cowboy.

“I wish I could ride,” she tells him while the calico licks her fingertips.

“You will, baby.” Javier saunters over once he’s got Cowboy in his saddle and she tips her head down to look at him over her sunglasses. He’s a different man in Texas. She rarely saw him out of a suit in Colombia, which was fine and dandy, but here, he wears those tight fucking jeans and those boots and those flannel button-ups. He keeps his moustache trimmed as usual, and he’s the same Javier she’s always been in love with, but there’s something about the way he carries himself here.

It makes her beam a little. Sometimes, she gets overwhelmed by the sheer joy she feels at having him in her life. Joy that he’s alive, safe, and healthy. Joy that she gets to wake up married to her best friend every day.

Javier lifts his eyebrows suggestively. “Just gonna have to ride a different cowboy in the meantime.”

She snorts. “My very own poet.”

They’ve taken up residence in the guest house on the ranch to make sure they don’t impede on Chucho’s territory, even though he’s repeatedly told them he’s overjoyed to have them back in Laredo. She loves Javier’s father, and he loves her like a daughter, but it’s nice not to share guilty looks when Chucho teases them about their late-night activities over breakfast.

He was ecstatic when they told him she was having a girl. I can’t wait to meet my first-ever nieta, he gushed. When they touched down in Texas, Chucho was waiting to pick them up at the airport with a surprise in the backseat: a tiny pink onesie. She burst into tears and wouldn’t release Chucho from their embrace, but he didn’t mind. Javier had to discreetly wipe a tear aside under his sunglasses.

The calico hops dutifully off her lap when she pats his bum to signal she needs to stand up. “He’s beautiful,” she remarks, accepting Javier’s hand. He holds onto it as they greet Cowboy once again. She lets him sniff her hand and he nuzzles into her palm. She grins up at him. “Hey, stud. You’re the one carrying my husband around here, huh?”

Cowboy snorts in accordance. Javier pats his snout. “C’mon, old man. Let’s round up those sheep before it gets dark.”

“Two real vaqueros,” she muses. “You gotta wear your hat, baby. Please.”

Javier reaches around a post and plucks a cowboy hat off a hook. She practically squeals in excitement, but he sets it on top of her head first. He assesses her, that cute little maternity dress underneath one of his flannel shirts, complete with his hat that dips down over her brows. “Yeah. Looks a hell of a lot better on you.”

She schools her face to look somewhat stern. “Stick ‘em up, partner.”

Javier pats her ass. He decides to make her wear that the next time she rides him. For now, he finds another hat and secures it on his own head, guiding Cowboy out of his pen and toward the sheep pens. Out in the sunshine, the horse bends his head and gently brushes his snout against her swollen belly, his ears flicking with curiosity. Javier clicks his tongue with a warning of, “Careful, boy,” but she smiles and rubs Cowboy’s snout.

“My baby girl is in here,” she tells the horse. “Can you feel her?”

Javier grins, and he looks good enough to eat in that hat, his moustache and his crooked smile and his dimples striking her deep in her gut. She hopes their little girl will get that smile, those dimples, those eyes. “He can. Animals are like that.”

“So many new friends.” She steps back and watches fondly as Javier swings himself up onto Cowboy’s back. “I like it here, Jav. I really do.”

Javier’s chest swells with a pride that fills him up all the way to his throat. He swallows. This is where he grew up. His childhood ranch. In the main house, Chucho cooks for their twice-weekly family dinner. The home runs over with memories, all the way from the front porch to the outskirts of the property where he would sneak out to watch the stars at night or drink beers with his friends. It’s where he watched his mother and father navigate their lives so deeply in love, and it’s where he now gets to live with the love of his life. The sun is beginning to set and he can’t help but wish his mother were here to meet the incredible woman next to him.

While he rounds up the sheep into their pens, his wife takes a walk around the property, never straying too far at his request. She greets the sheepdogs and bides her time cuddling up with another stray cat until Javier is hopping down from Cowboy’s back and heading across the field to join her.

A spark of panic rises in him when she turns toward the river.

Javier calls her name suddenly. “Don’t go near the water.”

She looks back over her shoulder with a frown. “Is it deep?”

There’s some tension in his jaw that he rubs away as he approaches her. “The boats,” he tells her.

She takes a step backward until she bumps into his chest. “Shit,” she mutters, reaching for his hand. “I’m sorry, Javi. Let’s go back.”

His gaze lingers a little on the river, void of a soul even as he pictures the motor churning up the water, and shakes his head. She squeezes his hand. “Whatever you’re about to say,” she says softly, “don’t. They’re still here, and they always will be. But you…” Her fingers at his temple, brushing aside stray hairs, soothe the erratic heartbeat in his chest. “… saved so many lives. Stopped so much evil. Don’t you dare say a word about it being for nothing. Those people that didn’t die because of you would disagree. Me included.”

Javier places his hand on her belly. “Mi mariposa,” he says, whisper-quiet. “Your mamá always knows what to say.”

There’s a little porch swing outside the Peña home. It’s a nice wraparound porch, the kind she wants when they find a place of their own. It’s long after dinnertime, and Chucho is in bed. Husband and wife swing idly on the bench.

“I can’t wait to look at her, Javi,” she tells him, resting her head on his shoulder.

He knows the feeling. He’s pictured her a hundred times: whether she’ll have her mother’s eyes or his, her nose or his. Nothing will compare to really knowing.

They stare up at the stars together. Of all the blinking lights in the galaxy and the planets that may or may not house life, he got to exist on this one, with the one person who erases that sensation of feeling so utterly small in such a big universe.

MONTH 9

She’s angry.

Javier senses it when he closes the door softly behind him. She’s sitting at the table with two plates of steaming food atop it. She meets his eye and stands up abruptly, despite the swaying she gets from the adjustment of her big belly. He rushes to steady her, but she smacks his hand away.

“You're late,” she says plainly, her eyes brimming with tears. It’s only five o’clock. An early finish on the ranch.

He knows his wife better than she does. She's his best friend. Her moods are like the lines on his palm, traceable and legible. It's how he knows what is wrong before he even says a word.

“Sit,” he says. “On the couch. Go on.”

She storms—well, waddles—toward the sofa without another word. When she settles slowly onto the cushions, her brow pinched with a permanent tension as she glares at him, Javier tilts his head to the side. “You got an attitude problem today, huh, baby?”

“Don’t call me sweet names,” she snaps. “I missed you.”

The vertigo from one statement to the next should be dizzying, but it’s been par for the course over the last few weeks. Javier pouts, sinking to his knees in front of her. “You don’t want me to be sweet?” he grunts, yanking down her panties and popping open all the buttons on the flannel she stole from his closet today. It’s rare he sees her in her own clothes nowadays. It awakens some sort of caveman inside him, prideful and beastly at the sight of his pregnant wife in his shirts.

She’s very, very pregnant. Pregnant and hormonal and so horny that it’s become an impediment in her day-to-day. She wants him all the time, more than he can keep up with, and she knows it no matter how much she pouts. Javier is right: she’s spoiled, but it isn’t her fault he gives her everything she wants.

“You gonna beg me for it, or are you gonna be mean?” Javier blows cool air straight onto her glistening cunt. She’s already wet and writhing; his poor girl must have been waiting for hours to get her fill of him.

“Fuck you,” she gasps.

It sends all his blood rushing to his cock. “Mean, then.” His fingers part her folds and his tongue flattens against her clit. She cries out, hand fisting in her hair. She’s not in the mood for sweet. She’s in pain from bearing the weight of her baby for so long, she’s slow and waddling and swollen, and she doesn’t want to think. She wants to feel, and she wants it rough.

Javier is eager to indulge, because he always is. Her commanding side thrills him, just as her whimpering, needy side does. It’s all her. His tongue wiggles against her clit before flicking at it, two fingers sinking into her hole until they’re knuckle-deep. One of her legs kicks out, so he wraps an arm around her thigh and spreads her open wider. If she wants to be demanding, so will he. He’ll take every drop of wetness he wants from her pussy and she’ll cry his name.

His fingers curl inside her and his mouth plunders her, his tongue lapping up her slick and his nose bumping against her clit. “Fuck,” she groans, “make me come. Please. Please.”

Javier smacks the thigh he’s holding onto and her head falls back against the couch. “Begging,” he says smugly.

“Cocky bastard—” When he takes her clit between his teeth, she does sob, letting her tension snap. “Fuck!”

He keeps suckling on her clit between his lips and his fingers inside her as she writhes under him, coming hard and fast. He doesn’t relent even as she pushes at his head, his tongue delving into her hole next to his fingers and tasting the slick she produces. It's fucking heaven. Sweet and tangy and just as warm as the rest of her. He will die buried inside her body, he decides.

He only allows one kiss to the bump on her belly before he pins her with a stare. “Hands and knees.”

Feeling defiant, she pouts down at him. Javier stands up and wraps his hand around a section of her hair. “You want to get fucked?” he asks.

“If you don't get inside me right now, I will—”

He clicks his tongue. “Kill me and you don't get fucked. Hands and knees, baby.”

She shifts, her swollen belly beneath her as she arches her ass up in the air and presses it back against his clothed cock once he’s positioned behind her. He hastily pulls himself from his jeans and slaps the head against her asscheek. “Gonna beg?”

“Fucking fuck me,” she huffs. “Fuck this baby out of me, Javier. Fuck me, please, just fuck me—”

It's easy to slip inside her with how wet she is. “Nngh, fuck,” she groans.

“You like me balls-deep,” he grunts, pulling out until only the tip throbs inside her, then thrusting hard and sure. It's what she needs: hard, rough, fast. “Don't you?”

“Mmmm.” Her lips part and drool clicks in her throat as he begins a punishing pace, his hips slapping against her ass. “Don't get fucking proud about it—shit, Javi, oh, shit!”

Christ, he likes to hear her get mad only to crumble when he fucks her this good. His hand fists her hair again, pulling her back up, flush against his chest, sitting back on his haunches so he can fuck her without mercy. She screams his name and he's never felt so fucking proud in his life.

“Such a fuckin’ slut for it.” His hand shifts from her belly to her clit. “So mean to the only man who can make you feel better.”

She mewls at the pressure of his fingers against her clit. “Javi… Fuck, it's so good, I—I need your cum. Please,” she whines. “I’ll be nice. I’ll be—”

“Say it.” He's grunting into her ear, unrestrained and wild. “Fucking say it. You want me so bad, then say it.”

“Papi,” she whines, her head falling back onto his shoulder.

He ruts into her harder, baring his teeth against her jaw. “Louder. Mean it, baby. Gotta mean it.”

A devastating thrust prods against her g-spot and she screams. “¡Papi! Fuck! Ohhhhh, my—”

She holds onto his wrist to ground herself as she gushes around him, moaning long and low and collapsing onto the cushions.

He does his best to make sure she doesn't hurt herself as her orgasm positively wrecks her, but it's difficult to see through the haze in eyes when he grinds deep and spills his cum inside her, puffing out her name and keeping her ass flush against his hips. He wants all of him to stay inside her and never drip out. It seems impossible with how much he seems to come whenever he's buried in her, but he makes a valiant effort.

He adjusts their positions so her back is nestled against his chest as they both catch their breath. “Javi,” she says weakly.

“Yeah, honey?”

“I'm sorry I’m so… pregnant.”

She sniffles, and it breaks his heart into halves. He hopes she can feel him give her the other piece when he shushes her, nudging her cheek with his nose. “Never,” he murmurs. “Never say that. Think I don’t like you mad as much as I like you happy? Mala.”

He can see the edges of a growing smile, and it makes him grin into her cheek. “I want another baby,” she tells him, toying with the ring on his left hand.

“Let's get this one out of you,” he says, “and I’ll give you all the babies you want.”

Her eyes flutter shut. “Okay.”

That's that.

“Javier.”

Her voice is a whisper in his ear, awakening him from a deep sleep, the kind he can only get when she's this close to him. It's a voice that's too soft, too restrained, to be anything but an attempt to keep him calm.

It doesn't work. The moment he hears, “My water just broke,” nothing will ease the terror, the excitement, the tremor in his fingers as he helps her out of bed.

From this moment, his life cleaves in two. Everything after this will change him.

He doesn't remember what he says to her. She doesn't remember her reply.

The nurses begin to urge her to push, push, push, and it occurs to them both that this eclipses any words language can give them.

Love like this isn't tangible. It flees from explanation and cowers behind the wall of reason. It's a love that erupts screaming and writhing into the world, unrestrained, beautiful.

It's all he can think when he takes her into his arms for the first time. She's beautiful.

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#kiwisbell's fics #siempre series #javier peña x you #javier peña fluff #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña x f!reader #narcos #narcos fic

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illdowhatiwantthanks · 1 month

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Take Me Out to the Ball Game

Casey Novak x autistic fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Graphic sex, oral, fingering, language, homophobia, homophobic slurs. Word count: 2,443 "Onions and relish!?" you observed, watching Casey scoop condiments onto a ballpark hot dog. Your face screwed up. "Gross."

"I've got highbrow taste," Casey retorted, glancing at yours. "And you shouldn't talk. Ketchup and mustard? Are you five?"

"It's a classic," you argued, both pushing your way through the crowded line of Yankees fans waiting for their own ballpark snacks.

You returned to your seats, up in the nosebleeds along with a scattering of other die-hard baseball fans, the humming of a summertime crowd and the buzzing of the lights wrapping around you like a blanket. You heard the crack of a bat, and both you and Casey froze, watching the field.

"Yes!" you yelled, pumping your fist in the air as your team–the Cardinals–drove in another run. "Fuckin' Redbirds!"

Normally, you'd be a lot more self-conscious about drawing attention to yourself in a crowd like this–almost exclusively Yankees fans, including your girlfriend. When the Yankees weren't playing the Cardinals, you wore some of Casey's Yankees gear and cheered them on with her. But the Cardinals? They'd been your family's team for generations. You'd grown up on Pujols and Molina and Wainwright, and you were nothing if not loyal. But in this crowd, you stood out amongst the black-and-white like a red thumb. Casey had looked embarrassed, and you'd worried for a moment that she really was bothered by your vocal support of the away team.

"Am I embarrassing you?" you'd asked.

"Yes."

"In a bad way?"

Casey looked at you and smiled at your serious expression. "No, honey. Like, embarrassing but it's endearing. Does that make sense?"

You thought about it for a moment. "I think so. You would tell me if I was bad embarrassing?"

"I would," she confirmed, patting your hand.

It was one of your favorite things about Casey that she was so patient when you misread or didn't understand social cues. She never made fun of you. She always explained, and she always reassured you when you were afraid you'd done something wrong.

But this time it was definitely Casey who had done something wrong. You watched her shove a bite of hot dog into her mouth, beautifully messy, as always when she wasn't at work.

"Your whole mouth is gonna taste like pickles for the rest of the night," you muttered, taking a bite of your own hot dog.

She looked at you, smirking. "And why are you so concerned about my mouth, huh?"

You blushed. "No reason..."

"Mmhm." She took another bite, smug, then grasped your chin, pulling you to her for a kiss. Her lips were salty with sweat, and she smelled like the ballpark dust and the leather of her glove. She was intoxicating, but then you always felt lightheaded when Casey kissed you. Something about the stadium lights and the summer heat just made you that much more dazed.

"That's fuckin' hot," you heard someone say behind you. You shrank and glanced back, Casey's hand squeezing yours protectively. Two men, unshaven, with beers to go with their beer bellies, leered at you from the row behind.

"Nobody asked you, asshole," Casey shot back, flipping him off. You avoided eye contact with them, trying to make yourself smaller. Having grown up in the south, you'd been in enough unsafe situations because of your sexuality that your go-to defense was to ignore and hide. Casey's was not. She was tall and strong, and she'd grown up with absolute confidence in who and what she was.

Your nostrils flared in disgust as one of the men licked his lips, raking his eyes up and down Casey's body.

"What's a hot piece like you doing with a dyke? You oughta let a real man take you for a spin."

Casey stood and pushed him–hard. The man reeled, sloshing his beer all over his front. "You better shut your fucking mouth or I'll shut it for you," she growled.

The man's arm shot out, grabbing Casey by the back of her head. He dug his fingers into her hair to pull her closer. "That's okay, honey," he said. "I like 'em feisty."

Any fear you had dissipated into white hot anger as you watched, as if in slow motion. You, however, were not stuck in slow motion. Without thinking, you lunged forward, grabbed the man's wrist, and wrenched it back until he squealed. You shoved Casey behind you.

"Get your fucking hands off her!" you spat, puffing yourself up as you stood between him and your girlfriend. Which, considering your diminutive height, probably didn't do a whole lot to deter him.

Your teeth clenched and your whole body buzzed with rage. It took a lot to make you angry, but you were spitting angry now. All you knew was that no one–no one–was going touch Casey on your watch.

The man laughed, knocking your cap off your head with a swipe of his finger. "And what are you gonna do about it, Tiny Tim? Or should I say Tiny Tina?"

Without warning and, for once, without considering the consequences, you slammed your first into his groin as hard as you could which, considering you played softball, was pretty damn hard. It was a perk of your height that you were at the optimal angle to punch someone in the dick.

The man doubled over, coughing, and spilled the rest of his beer. "Fuckin' dykes," he muttered. He motioned to his friend, cupping his balls, and they sidled off. Probably looking for another section to harass women in.

You let out a shaky breath and turned to face Casey, your heart beating rapidly as the adrenaline faded and the nerves returned.

"Are you okay?" you asked, frantically looking her over, placing a gentle hand at the back of her head where the man had grabbed her.

You hardly noticed Casey watching you, biting her lip. You were too concerned with making sure she was safe and unharmed. As you rambled, checking her hands and neck and hair and face for any signs of hurt, Casey stared.

Finally, she interrupted you. "Y/N."

You stopped and made yourself meet her eyes.

"I think we should go." She looked at you pointedly.

You face fell. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry. We can go home if it'll make you feel better."

"No, that's not why."

A look of confusion crossed your face.

"We should go home because we have things to do."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't understand what you're saying, Casey."

She stepped closer, placing your hat back on your head and her arms on your shoulders. Her expression was self-satisfied as she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath, and whispered into your ear.

"Y/N," she breathed. "I need to do things. To you. Now."

"Oh," you said, the realization hitting you. "Oh my god. Okay."

You started gathering your things, then stopped and glanced at her. "From this? Really?"

"Y/N," she said, cheeks already flushed. "Don't make me wait. I'm gonna have a hard enough time making it home."

You tried to hide the mixture of shock and excitement on your face as you left the stadium, walking by the now abandoned concession stands and into the quiet parking lot.

"What's the alternative?" you asked her as you climbed into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"To making it home. You said you were gonna have a hard time making it home. But, like, where else would we–"

You were cut off by Casey's lips on yours, her breath hot and desperate as she grabbed your collar. She slid her tongue into your mouth, her teeth clacking against yours as she surged toward you, pushing for more.

When you separated, you both breathed heavily. Casey's face was flushed with lust. "If it were up to me," she said, leaning back in the seat. "I would've fucked you in the ballpark bathroom. I'd take you right here in the car. But I know that's not your style, so for the love of god..." Her eyes bored into you. "Drive."

Usually a slow driver, you made it back to Casey's apartment in record time. And, true to her word, Casey did have a hard time making it to the apartment, stopping at every chance she got–stoplights, outside the car door, in the elevator, the hallway–to kiss your neck, your mouth, undoing buttons of your Cardinals jersey as you went. Her hands slipped inside your shirt whenever you stopped for so much as a second.

When she finally got you into her bedroom, she was ravenous, tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the side with a singular focus. Her eyes were glazed and her face red as she struggled with your bra clasps.

"Fucking hell," she muttered, her fingers fumbling.

"Jesus, Casey," you said, reaching back to do them for her. "Calm down."

She groaned, letting her eyes rove over your now nude body, pushing you gently but forcefully on your back. She pecked you on the lips, then took your bottom lip between her teeth. You gasped, filled with both pain and pleasure. When she let you go, she was grinning.

"I'm gonna make you feel so..." She kissed your neck. "Fucking." Your collarbone. "Good." She lowered herself over you and pressed her mouth into yours, breathing you in, letting her tongue roam freely.

You moaned, arching your back. "Don't hold back on me now," she growled, leaving bite marks down your neck and across your chest. Usually quiet, you gave yourself permission to make some noise. After all, it drove Casey crazy.

"Fuck, Casey," you whined as she swirled her tongue across your nipples, first one and then the other, her hands pressing just above your hips. You writhed into her, squirming for more, your center already sopping wet.

"Tell me what you want," Casey said, trailing her tongue from your chest down to your stomach.

You struggled against her hands, pressing you into the bed. "Come on," you complained, nearly begging.

"Tell me," Casey said again, more forcefully, her fingers grazing over your clit.

You saw stars. "Fuck me."

Casey chuckled, her low voice vibrating against your already swollen clit. "That's my girl."

You gasped as she sucked your clit between her lips, swishing her tongue back and forth, back and forth. Her arms pinned your thighs in place, holding your writhing body tight. You heaved and moaned as you pushed Casey's head into your center. Her hair was soft and damp with sweat under your fingers, and you felt desperate for her as you chased your high.

She waited until you were nearly bursting, your breath hitching and your back arched against her, then pulled quickly away, wiping her mouth.

You gasped frantically. "What the fuck, Casey!?"

"Shh," she commanded, crawling back up your body and grabbing your chin. She straddled your hips, her own soaked center resting over yours.

"Casey, please," you begged, your eyes fluttering shut, the need of her flooding you.

"Don't close your eyes, honey. Look at me."

You huffed but opened your eyes, staring defiantly into hers, green and hungry and lustful.

She held your face still with one hand, then crept back down your body with the other. You let out a moan, squirming.

"Now arch your back for me," she said, the heel of her palm pressing hard into your clit.

Your body nearly exploded with the sensation, and you thrust into her with everything you had. You grabbed at Casey, pulling her into you, elated to know that she was using you, too, unable to put off her own pleasure any longer.

Your breath came faster and faster, your body jerking into Casey as Casey thrust toward you. You watched each other, both on the brink of losing control. Casey moaned, shutting her eyes briefly before squeezing your chin and staring at you.

"Now," she said.

And that one word was all it took. Your body shook against Casey's, your hips riding into her again and again, desperate for the friction as you moaned. She did the same, her nails digging into the skin at the top of your throat as she rode out her own orgasm. It felt like the two of you were hurtling across space, starbursts and supernovas and whole galaxies flashing inside you as you held onto one another. You quivered against her as the fireworks dissipated, spent and sweaty and heaving.

Casey grinned and planted kisses across your collarbone, counting. "One. Two. Three..."

You laughed and groaned. "Casey," you protested.

She'd discovered early on that, if she timed it right, she could make you come indefinitely. The only thing that stopped her was you getting overstimulated.

"Twenty-two," she finished and, once again, pressed the heel of her hand into your clit, harder and harder until she had you ready again, your hands grasping the bedsheets.

Your orgasm washed over you again, like a wave this time, pouring over you from head to toe.

Casey started in again, this time with her lips at the back of your knees. "One. Two..."

By the fifth round, you were nearly delirious, and Casey was salivating.

"Casey," you groaned, your body still pressing into her hand, almost against your will. "It's too much."

"Come on, sweetheart," she said, kissing you roughly. "Give me one more."

She continued grinding her hand into you, meshing her lips with yours, her tongue roving. Your breath caught and you moaned into her mouth, your orgasm taking you over one final, quaking time.

Casey cradled your head in the crook of her arm as you continued to shake, finally letting you relax.

"Thank you," she whispered, peppering your face with kisses.

You scrunched your nose. "For what? Letting you beat your record?"

"Well, that, too." She chuckled, deep and throaty, then brushed your sweaty bangs out of your face. "For protecting me. From that asshole."

You turned to her and tucked her hair behind her ear, running your thumb across her eyebrow.

"I would die before I let someone hurt you." Your voice was so quiet that, had anyone else been in the room, even they wouldn't have been able to hear. But you did. And Casey did.

She looked at you for a moment, then leaned down and kissed your forehead, hard and purposeful.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

You lost yourself in her arms for a bit as she ran a hand absentmindedly through your hair.

"We should go to more baseball games," Casey mused after a while.

You laughed. "Only if there's no relish involved."

"Deal."

#casey novak #casey novak x reader #casey novak one shot #casey novak drabble #casey novak smut #law and order svu #svu #neurodivergent #autistic #casey novak x autistic reader #x autistic reader #casey novak fanfic

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arealphrooblem · 8 months

Text

Kidnapped by the Boss Part 6

Part one here

Synopsis: Civilian is a secretary to the Prime Minster. But when the political summit between the city states goes awry, she finds herself kidnapped by the very boss she tried to protect and nothing is what it seems.

CW: Hunger Strike, disordered eating *summary of chapter will be at the bottom for anyone who wants to skip it.*

Breakfast was delivered via servant a short while after he dropped her off. Her stomach roiled at the sight of all her favorites carefully arranged on the tray. It reminded her, quite forcefully, of how her grandmother used to wrap bitter pills in peanut butter balls or turkey for her ailing dog.

He wanted so badly to preserve the relationship they had before, as if he hadn’t completely obliterated it himself. He must have thought it would keep her complacent when her fear faded out.

He thought he knew her, but he had only ever seen her at her job. And sure, some days were hard and he caught a glimpse of her frustration or anxiety. As the years bled into each other, he learned little things about her, like her favorite foods or the TV shows that she rewatched obsessively.

But he never actually saw her. Even at the height of her newfound crush on him, Val kept a tight lid on any unprofessional slip ups and her personal life rarely leaked over into her job.

He thought patient, reliable, helpful Val was the only facet of her being. He knew nothing of the depths of her rage, her pig-headed stubbornness,

She took a slice of toast and threw the rest in the trash.

“Knock knock, Val. I hope you’re decent.”

The driver’s voice sounded about two seconds before the door opened. Of course, by the afternoon Val had already showered and dressed for the day. Still, it was a little unsettling how little time he’d give her if she wasn’t.

“Does it ever get old, coming here to irritate the shit out of me?” she demands, crossing her arms.

“Angel, it got old the first time.” He rolled his eyes. “Do you think it's my choice to be here?”

“Do you actually have free will or are you just a highly realistic robot?”

“Do you want a tour of the castle or do you want to stay stuck in this room?”

“ . . .What?”

“Apparently the rumor goes that your incredibly lavish and luxurious rooms are not good enough for you. So I’ve been tasked to show you around, let you stretch your legs or whatever.”

“Stretch my legs?” she repeated skeptically. “Where? Over the edge of the roof?”

“Or, you know, to the library. Or the zoo.”

“There’s a zoo here?”

The driver waved his hand dismissively. “Technically a rescue animal sanctuary. He calls it a menagerie because he’s pretentious as hell. But let’s be real — its a glorified petting zoo.”

A zoo and a library. Val had to admit both intrigued her greatly. Staying in this room did her no favors, mentally, with nothing to do but stew in her own fear and frustration.

She opened her mouth to comply and then promptly shut it closed.

Bitter pill. Peanut Butter.

Any kindness from him came with strings, no doubt, so he could yank her around like a little puppet.

“No,” she said instead. “I’m staying here.”

The driver’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t need to be afraid. I’m not going to kill you unless he asks me to — no matter how annoying you are. And if he does, I’ll snap your neck. Quick, efficient. Shoving you off the roof is cowardly and makes too big of a mess.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “That’s very thoughtful of you, but it has nothing to do with that. I just don’t want to go. You can tell your king to stick his zoo and his library up his ass.”

The driver gave her a long stare. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn fucking idiot?”

“Once or twice.”

He shook his head. “If you want to go slowly insane in this room, have at it, I guess.”

Lunch came. Her stomach growled at the sight of her favorite sandwich but she forced herself to throw that away too. (she ate the pickle spear though). He wanted something from her and he wasn’t going to get it just because he plied her with food and entertainment.

A cage was a cage.

She didn’t even bother to check what dinner was. The tray and lid sat untouched on the table for the servants to whisk away tomorrow.

Hunger woke up her up later that night, her mouth dry. Head dizzy. Her stomach cramped with it, a howling beast. It was so tempting to tear the lid of the dinner off and eat it with her hands that she went and locked herself in the bathroom for a while.

A few handfuls of water from the sink was all she allowed herself. When she felt strong enough, she set the tray in the bathroom floor and shut the door to block the temptation. Sleep claimed her for a long time.

“My lady. You need to wake up.”

A hand kept delicately patting her shoulder, chasing her out of another nightmare. She jerked awake, scrambling to sit up in the bed.

One of the servants, a woman old enough to be her mother with a calm but impassive face, stared down at her. Her uniform was immaculate.

“I’m sorry,” Val found herself saying. “What — what time is it? Has something happened?”

“It is nearly eleven, ma’am. His majesty will be here in roughly ten minutes with breakfast. I advise you to dress.”

“Ten minutes?” she squawked.

“Do you need any assistance?” the woman asked.

God her head was splitting now that sleep started to fall away. “Painkillers?” she asked weakly. “My head hurts.”

To her surprise, the woman gave her a stern look. “I’m sure it does,” she said with a bland tone that did not match the look in her eyes.

The woman swept off through the door without another look in Val’s direction.

What was that about? she wondered as she stumbled to the dresser. But the fogginess in her head lay too thick to figure it out. She felt like complete and utter shit and the last thing she felt ready to deal with was him.

The bed beckoned her with its feather pillows and down comforter and high thread count sheets. She stared longingly back for a moment, debating on how convincingly she could pretend to sleep when he showed up, before sighing and putting on a fresh change of clothes.

She had just tamed her hair into another pony tail when a knock came from the door.

“Rise and shine, princess,” said the driver’s voice.

Goddamn it. She had to deal with both of them.

“Can we reschedule?” she yelled out. “I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid not, love,” said the king’s voice. “I’d rather not wait.”

She did not like the sound of that. “Fine,” she growled. “Let’s get this over with.”

The door opened, the driver propping it open with his foot as the king stepped in with a large covered tray.

“I don’t know why you bother with knocking,” the driver muttered. “It’s not like her permission matters.”

“Because I have manners,” the king sniffed, setting the tray down on the table. “Unlike some people.”

He looked up and gave her a wink, as if sharing an inside joke.

“You don’t keep me around for manners.” The driver hopped up on her unmade bed, pulling a knife from his belt and setting it on the comforter.

“Make yourself at home,” Val said scathingly.

“How generous of you.” He bared his teeth in a dangerous smile. “I think I will.”

The king made himself busy setting out the spread. Toast and jams and sausage links and cubed cheese and a thermos of coffee with delicate china cups.

“Children, play nice. It’s not even noon. Val, please, heave a seat.”

Just looking at the food made her stomach rebel, even as the rest of her body desperately craved it. The smell invaded her nose, making her swallow back a gag. God, why couldn’t she just sleep all day? It’s not like she had anything else to do.

“Why are you here?” she asked. “What do you want now?”

“I have something for you.” The king lowered himself down in the chair opposite of her and gestured for her to do the same. “But first, we should eat.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll think differently when you see what it is. Now sit.”

He gave her a warning look, the danger of his true self slipping out from behind the mask. Val sat, feeling the presence of the assassin behind her with a knife like a prickle on the back of her neck.

“Which jam would you like on your toast?” he asked. “We have peach, strawberry, lemon chardonnay, and cherry.”

“No thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. Her stomach felt as if it were trying to eat itself.

“I insist you try the lemon chardonnay, it’s phenomenal. I have it every morning.”

He covered a triangle of toast in a thin layer of bright yellow jam before setting it on a tiny plate and handing it to her. The citrus smell washed over her, intoxicating. Any other time she would have devoured it. She loved lemon flavored pastries and he knew it. Which was why it didn’t cost her much to set her plate down off to the side and ignore it.

The wave of twisted self satisfaction more than made up for her hunger.

Next he poured her a glass of clear water from another thermos and slid it over to her.

“Water?”

“I’m not thirsty.”

She wanted to drown herself in that glass of water, but she’d rather drop dead than give him that satisfaction. He wanted her to eat and drink so badly. He wanted her healthy enough to pretend that her life wasn’t in his hands. To forget how responsible he was for ruining it.

She wouldn’t let him.

“You are thirsty, though,” he said, his stare cutting her from across the table. “Because you haven’t eaten or drank anything in almost three days.”

“That’s not true.”

She had a pickle slice. And a piece of plain toast. And some water from the sink. His gaze narrowed, though, the previous warmth in his gaze clouding over.

“Oh but it is. The servants have found your food in the trash after every meal, save for last night’s dinner, which they found in the bathroom while you were sleeping.”

“I’m still figuring that one out,” muttered the driver from behind her.

“Why does it matter what I do with my food,” she retorted.

Silence answered her. Silence and that unnerving gaze pinning her down like a push pin in a cork board. She fought the urge to squirm under it, to feel like a student confronted by an angry principal. Though only a decade separated them, she felt like a child around him at times. A silly, clueless child.

But of course . . . He wasn’t actually a decade older. He was several decades older. Over a century older, at least in his mind.

“Val.”

He kept using her name like it meant something to him and it pissed her off.

“Eugene,” she said, his old name still feeling like sacrilege to the part of her brain still clinging to her previous professionalism.

If it bothered him, he showed no sign.

“I know what this is,” he said finally.

Her hackles raised.

“Breakfast” she said, raising a brow.

“Control,” he countered. “Rebellion. Whittling yourself down to spite me.”

She hated how easily he saw through her. How well he could guess what laid under her professional mask when she couldn’t get a read on him at all.

“Maybe I don’t like the food,” she said, purposefully obtuse.

“Nonsense,” he said dismissively. “I know everything you like.”

“You’re not going to get anywhere because of that,” she snapped. “I’m not a kid you can bribe with candy and a trip to the zoo.”

“So that’s what this is.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I’m not trying to bribe you, Val. I’m just trying to feed you.”

“Well I don’t want to eat it.”

“Would you rather I send you food that you hate? French onion soup and pork rinds and spicy curry? Would that make you feel better?”

“I’m not eating anything that you give me.” She crossed her arms, fingers clenching tight at her sides, feeling as if she were digging and digging further into her own grave.

She would rather die than give him any kind of satisfaction and it scared her that that thought could be literal. But she didn’t know how to back down yet she couldn’t stomach the thought of giving him the one thing she could deny him when he had taken everything else.

“For how long? Because I’m not sure if you noticed, Val, but the only food available to you comes from me.”

She shrugged, not having an answer. It’s not like she planned a hunger strike. But refusing to eat fueled the rage simmering inside her and that felt so much better than the fear. It felt like she could do something, even if it only hurt herself.

His gaze flickered over her shoulder for a moment before returning to hers.

“It stops today. I am not leaving this room until you eat something.”

“You’ll be waiting a long time,” she retorted with bravado she didn’t feel.

Especially with the hands that dropped suddenly onto her shoulders. She launched forward, even when she had nowhere to run, but the hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms back behind the chair. Tugging only brought sharp pain in her shoulders, the driver’s hands a shackle around her own.

The king stood up and stepped towards her. “You will eat today, by your hand or by mine. The choice is yours. And if you make either impossible I will chain you to a hospital bed and an IV drip. To be fair you might be close to that already with your dehydration. So we will start with that glass of water.”

He plopped a glass straw into the cup and held it out for her.

“Why does this matter so much that I live?” she demanded. “That I’m healthy? What does it matter to you what I do to myself?”

For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he set the glass back down on the table and knelt down on one knee beside her chair, hand resting lightly on the arm. It brought him a few inches under her gaze so he had to look up, dark eyes fathomless. She couldn’t tell what emotion shone out of them, but it burned unfiltered.

“I must admit, when I pulled you into the car and onto the plane I didn’t know what I was going to do with you,” he said quietly. “ But I never considered torture or punishment — you’ve done nothing wrong. And yet, it didn’t matter, because you have done nothing but torment yourself since you got here.”

She broke away from his gaze, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, but he didn’t stop.

“You don’t sleep and then you stop eating. You live in constant fear despite our reassurances that you’re safe. I try to give you comforts, things to make you happy and you reject it all. It’s not meant as a bribe to lull you into complacency or servitude. The reason why you’re here is because you cared about me enough to risk your safety and I refuse to have you punished for it but that’s exactly what will happen when you go back home.”

Fingers nudged her chin until their gaze met again.

“I’m trying to give you a life here. Bit by bit. Will you let me?”

He looked so beseeching, so soft. It hurt. She wanted to believe it so bad.

“You tell me I’m safe but you’ve threatened my life multiple times since I got in that car,” she pointed out. “You both have. He especially loves to point out how I live on borrowed time and borrowed favor,” she added, jerking her chin back towards the driver.

Ice settled in those dark eyes as he flickered them over her shoulder. Immediately the driver released her arms, relief following immediately afterwards. She shook them out, then cradled them to her chest.

“Rook has a penchant for practicality that borders on the sociopathic,” the king said. “And I haven’t threatened you so much as warned.” He took one of her hands in his. “I’ve been building up to this moment for three lifetimes and I cannot allow anyone to stand in my way. Not even you. So long as you don’t actively impede me, you have nothing to fear from me.”

She swallowed. “You’re a very terrifying person for someone who wants my trust.”

He smiled then, a soft rueful thing. “I was not always so. Will you trust me, anyway, Val?”

And this was why he was elected, she thought with a mental shake of her head, despite his vague past and unknown status.

“I will . . .consider it,” she said slowly.

“And will you eat with me? . . . .Please?”

Val sighed deeply, knowing she lost this round. “Yes.”

His smile spread, slow and bright, like the sun coming up over the ridge and butterflies rioted in her chest to meet it. Goddamn it. If kidnapping and captivity and threat of potential murder wouldn't kill this stupid crush, did she have any hope at all of ever being rid of it?

Tag list:

@rivalriotrenegade @sunyside-world @fishtale88 @those-damn-snippets @suspiciousmuffin @thats-alittle-gay @girl-of-the-sea-and-stars @tobeornottobeateacher @burningkittypoet @kurai-hono-blog @clover-sage

Summary: Val goes on a spontaneous hunger strike, not really intending it to be one but because she sees serving her favorite foods as a bribe to get her to comply. She compares it to the peanut butter her grandmother wraps medicine in for her dog.

After three days of very little to eat and drink, the king and the driver visit with breakfast. The king tries to force her to eat, Val and the King have a confrontation when she refuses, and he admits that he isn't trying to bribe her, but to help her make a life here since she will be punished if she ever went back home. He doesn't want her punished just because she cared enough about him to look for him in the parking lot. Eventually Val agrees to eat again and she says she will consider trusting his word when he told her he didn't want to hurt or kill her.

#hero x villain #villain x civilian #heroes and villains #writeblr #original fiction #kidnapped by the boss #named characters #enemies to lovers #fantasci tumblr #my writing

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littlexscarletxwitch · 1 year

Text

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝘁

paring: mum!florence pugh x fem!reader

tag(s): fluff, short blurb, flo being a mum, kinda comfort fic

warning(s): grammatical errors, nor proofread, unedited

word count: 0.9k

note: I feel like this could be better, but I literally tried like 4 different ideas and this one is the one that I liked the most. I'm not a native english speaker, so please let me know about any sort of mistake. Hope you all enjoy <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

You and Florence had been seeing each other for six months now.

The two of you met when she took Billie out for a walk. You were so immersed in reading your book that you didn’t realise the ball of fur heading toward you until it barked right beside you, startling you. And right behind it, Florence came running, shouting at Billie to just stop.

You were completely mesmerised by her the second you looked at her. She was a sight for sore eyes, you swore you could get lost in her pickle green eyes and all you wanted to do was run your finger through her short soft golden hair.

The second time you met her at the same park, you took it as a sign and asked her out. You were nervous, you could also tell she was nervous, even Billie was uneasily moving around. But once you asked her a smile form on her face and immediately said yes.

The more time you would spend with her, the more you found yourself falling for her. What was odd, though, was the fact that she would never let you come to her home. You would always meet her at a bar or some fancy restaurant. Someday she would stay at your place but leave before the clock hits 11 pm.

You didn’t think much about it, decided to give her space. But then one night, you wanted to surprise her. So you decided to swing by her place, and that was why you were now knockin on her front door.

Once she opened the door and met your eyes, a smile formed on her face. But then a second later, the smile just dropped and she closed the door behind her. You were taken aback by the action, not expecting that cold welcoming.

“Did I forget we had a date?” you could tell she sounded both nervous and worried.

“No, no, it’s not it. I just wanted to see you. But I guess it is wrong timing. I should probably go…” you trailed off, wanting more than anything for her to tell you otherwise.

“No, Y/n. I just,” she held you by your wrist, forcing you to stay. Her soft skin against your sent shiver up your spine. “It’s just—,” a sweet soft voice cut her off.

“Mummy, who is it?”

Your eyes winded the second you took in the words, a little girl opening the door behind Florence. The first thing you noticed was her long blonde hair and her round bottom nose, exactly the same as Florence’s features.

“Mummy will be right there, baby,” she tried to push her inside, but the kid was fighting back.

“Who are you?” even though the question was meant for you, it took you a whole minute to answer it.

You looked at Florence, not sure what to tell the little girl in front of you. You didn’t even know what Florence and you were exactly. You cleared your throat, shaking your thoughts out of your head.

“I, um,” you looked at the little girl. “I’m a friend of your mum,” you smiled at her.

“Does that mean you are my friend too?”

“Ophelia…” Florence chimed in, but you stopped her.

“Yeah, as long as that’s what you want,” you kneeled down to be the same height as her. “Would you like to be my friend?” you asked sweetly.

“Only if you come in and play with me, my barbies and I are having a tea party, will you please join us?” she looked at you, the same doe eyes as her mother, except they were bright blue.

“I love tea parties,” you smiled at her.

She grabbed your wrist and quickly dragged you to her bedroom. Florence leaned against the door frame, watching you and Ophelia play, and could only chuckled at the sight before her eyes.

After a few good minutes of an intense tea party, Ophelia decided to watch the telly, giving you the opportunity to finally talk to Florence about this whole thing.

“I know. I should have told you,” she started before you could even bring up the topic, you could tell she felt guilty about keeping Ophelia from you. “It’s just, I wanted to make sure. I don’t want to bring people into Ophelia’s life if they are just going to leave. I’m sorry Y/n. I really am, it wasn’t fair and I—”

“Hey,” you stopped her, resting your hands on her cheeks so she could look at you. “It’s okay. I get it, you were just protecting her, I can’t blame you for that. I just wished you would have given me a heads up, you know?” you chuckled, but your little joke didn’t make her feel better.

“Yes, of course, I should have told you. I understand if you want to leave and—”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s just, a kid is too much, I would understand if you just want to pretend like nothing happen and—”

“Are you kidding me? This is great, Ophelia is great. She is amazing, Flo. You are doing a really good job raising her on your own. I would love nothing more than to get to know her better. I mean, we are friends now,” you smiled at her, caressing her cheek trying to reassure her.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah! I want you to tell me everything about her,” you kissed her forehead as an unspoken promise that you were going to be the support she needed.

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

#florence pugh #mum florence pugh #florence pugh x fem reader #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh x you #florence pugh x y/n #mum florence pugh x reader #florence pugh fluff #littlexscarletxwitch's fic #your fav florence pugh blog <3

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hamsterclaw · 1 year

Note

I've been rereading The Vows so many times I can actually see it play out like a movie in my head. That is how much I love it! But I was wondering will you ever be up to write from Yoongi's POV during the time OC ran off to Geneva? A glimpse of his feelings during the time she's gone with a heartfelt but comical interference by Jin? 😬

what is this prompt and why do i love it so much?

here goes:

A Vows drabble, featuring chaebol! Seokjin

Yoongi watches as Mrs Gye sets the vegetables in the middle of the table, followed by the rice, the beef, the steamed fish. It's somewhere around the pickles that he finally breaks.

'Where's Mrs Min?' he asks.

Mrs Gye arranges the pickles for a maddening half minute before she answers.

'Mrs Min went out this morning and hasn't come back.'

It's only a lifetime of deference to his elders that stops Yoongi from snapping. He's also got the sense that he's on thin ice with Mrs Gye right now. Perhaps it's the way she's been glaring daggers at him since she walked into the dining room.

'Do you have any idea where she might be?' he asks, softening his voice.

Mrs Gye doesn't snort, she's too ladylike for that, but the look she gives him conveys her discontent effectively enough.

She stares him down until he's adequately chastened.

Then she says, 'I knew Y/N's mother. She was impulsive and hot-tempered, but she was a good sort.'

Yoongi's thinking back to the events of today. 'She came to my office today,' he says. He's thinking of you, of your bright face and windswept hair as you'd popped up in his secretary's office this afternoon, clutching a bucket of popcorn and a stuffed bear.

Mrs Gye's ladling soup into a bowl. 'Miss Kim Nara hasn't been around lately,' she murmurs.

Yoongi grimaces at the mention of your fiercely protective best friend.

'Nara doesn't like me,' he says.

Mrs Gye gives him another look that makes his balls retract. 'She's a loyal friend.' She pauses. 'Like Kim Seokjin is to you.'

'You've always liked Seokjin more than me,' Yoongi grumbles, annoyed with himself for letting petulance creep into his tone.

Mrs Gye pats his arm. 'Seokjin is an easy person to love,' she says. 'Not like you.'

She sets the bowl in front of him. 'But for some reason, Y/N seems to be fond of you.'

Yoongi gazes up at her in surprise.

Mrs Gye isn't smiling, but there's kindness in her eyes.

'I have no idea why.'

'Me either,' Yoongi says, honestly.

***

Yoongi's perfectly capable of not letting his emotions cloud his judgement. His cool head serves him well, and he's just as good at not letting his emotions show on his face. Compared to your best friend Kim Nara, though, he's an amateur.

It's been a few weeks since you left his office, and all he's managed to get out of the sphinx that is Kim Nara is that you're safe.

'Mr Min?'

The irritatingly nasal voice of his legal advisor draws him out of his thoughts.

Before he can answer, Kim Seokjin rolls his eyes and stands. 'I believe that settles it,' he says. 'Mr Min's agreed to sign over his entire company to me for the token sum of 1000 won. In the next meeting we can discuss his marriage contract, which I am also after.'

Seokjin waits with barely concealed impatience as the room empties out.

'What kind of man comes to a non-urgent meeting when his wife is missing?' he asks.

Yoongi shuffles through his list of possible responses to Seokjin and settles on a curt, 'Fuck you.'

Seokjin's looking out at the view from the floor-to-ceiling windows. It's a gloriously sunny day, and on any other occasion Yoongi would be giving himself a moment to enjoy the view of downtown Seoul bustling underfoot, the Hangang river in the distance.

'Is that the tone of voice you took with Kim Nara?' Seokjin asks. He turns back to look at Yoongi. 'Is that why she won't tell you where the brat is?'

Yoongi's eye twitches at the use of the word 'brat' coming out of Seokjin's mouth in reference to his wife.

Seokjin blinks at him, like butter wouldn't melt, like he can't sense how close Yoongi is to lunging out of his seat.

Or maybe he can, because he takes a step back.

'Kim Nara's company has been after a property in Itaewon for the last year. It's owned by the Kim conglomerate.'

Yoongi's sitting up.

'This Kim conglomerate,' Seokjin clarifies.

'I'll give you mates' rates if you want,' Seokjin offers. 'But if I were you, Yoongi, I'd just throw yourself at her mercy.'

Yoongi's frowning, reeling at the information.

Seokjin sighs. 'If Y/N came to me asking about you, she could offer me Cheongdam-dong and I wouldn't blink. But if she just told me how she loves you so much she couldn't function without you, I'd tell her everything she needed to know.'

He pauses, looks out at the view again. 'Maybe after I tried my damnedest to lure her into my bed and convince her one chaebol son is as good as another.'

Yoongi jumps up, and Seokjin turns back to him.

'If you're going to hit me, avoid my face, please,' Seokjin drawls.

He keeps his arms down, though, as Yoongi pulls him into a hard, quick, hug that's over almost as quickly as it's begun.

Then he's off, heading for the door.

***

Seokjin was right. Kim Nara folded the instant Yoongi turned up at her office.

He'd prepared a speech, with all the reasons why he needed to find you, but in the end all it had taken was a word.

'Please,' Yoongi had said. 'I want to make sure she's all right. I won't push her into anything. I just ---'

His voice had cracked on the word but he'd persevered. 'Please.'

And now Yoongi's stepping off the plane in Geneva, getting into the car that'll take him to your maisonette.

He steps out into the bright sunshine, the crispness of the early spring day.

There's a window box of red geraniums next to your door, and as Yoongi rings the bell, all he can think is that he's looking forward to seeing your face.

He can't wait.

©hamsterclaw 2023

#story: vows #vows au #yoongi drabble

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 7 months

Text

A Night To Remember

The term-end ball reveals a few new facts. For one, Aesop Sharp is a delightful dancer, and for two, he's in for the long run.

I would be desperately lost without my amazing consultant and partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread who gave me several wonderful ideas to use in this work 💕

A Night To Remember (11.3k words)

tw: suggestive themes (heavily implied), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult)

Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black was disliked by a large number of students and staff alike for many reasons. However, his end-of-term balls weren’t one of them.

Not that the headmaster held them out of the goodness of his heart. For him, they were a way to show off in front of the Board of Governors and important people he managed to silver-tongue into attending, and therefore the rest of wizarding Britain, that Hogwarts was a place of high class and culture. Despite the mud- despite there being students from less prestigious families.

Of course, he couldn't concern himself with such trivial matters as planning, he had his important headmaster duties! Therefore, this responsibility fell, once more, at the deputy Headmistress' feet. Matilda Weasley took it in her stride however, gathered a number of the more creative and sensible students, and went to town on the planning.

And, of course, once the esteemed guests of Headmaster Black arrived, the man himsef gladly accepted all of the praise as if it was he who decorated the entire Great Hall all by himself.

Despite their idiotic Headmaster, however, everyone involved in actually making the ball a reality was looking forward to the evening. Seventh years in particular were very emotional about it, as only a few days after the ball, they'd board the Hogwarts Express for the very last time.

Well, almost all of them. You were planning no such thing as getting aboard the train.

—

“I see you’ve been busy,” said Aesop quietly behind you as you hung another flashy garland of little golden snitches that were quietly buzzing and flying around an invisible orbit in various directions upon one of the beams of the Great Hall. You smiled when you felt his presence, resisting the urge to immediately turn around and kiss him hello - after all, you weren’t alone in the large room, some of your friends and other classmates were currently doing their best to transform it into a perfect space for a ball as well.

Truth be told, a lot of people knew by now, and those who didn’t know explicitly absolutely heard the rumours about their potions master and a seventh-year Ravenclaw keeping a secret relationship. Some even referred to it as ‘Hogwarts’ worst kept secret’. The only person whom neither of you wanted to find out was Black, as he’d surely be an arse about it, worrying about you ‘tarnishing the image of the school, and therefore HIM as well’. Luckily, Black was about as perceptive as a patch of moss, so you were quite safe, really.

One time he nearly caught the two of you. You were in Aesop’s office, playing your favourite little game of seduction, trying to see which one of you would crack first under the relentless flirting and teasing. Well, Aesop was currently leaning against the shelf behind you, so close you felt the heat radiating off his tall body as it cornered you, so close you felt his hot breath on your face as he made promises about what he was going to do to you once the door of his chambers closed behind you two when you heard the sound of the door opening. Ever the quick thinker, Aesop took hold of a jar of ingredients next to your head before swiftly moving back into an acceptable distance.

“I do not do this often, Miss (L/N), you best be ready in your next class with me. I will want the-” he quickly actually checked the contents of the jar, “those pickled shrivelfig fruits back.” He then turned around to face whoever he was going to hex into next week for disturbing him like this without showing the basic human decency of knocking before entering. Headmaster Black. Aesop momentarily entertained the fantasy of casting a jelly-leg jinx on the pretentious prick and wiping his memory afterwards but managed to hold himself back.

The Headmaster looked like he didn’t just see one of his employees and the student ‘who caused him so much trouble since the day she entered the castle’ pressed almost body to body and a second away from a ferocious kiss, buying Aesop’s ruse instantly.

“Sharp! I need to speak to you about a few potions I need you to brew,” Black said in his pompous accent, puffing his chest out and standing with all the straightness of a man with a broomstick up his rear. Neither of you moved, but you could hear the tiniest of sighs leaving Aesop’s lips.

“Of course, sir,” he said, his voice much more pleasant than the storm inside of his eyes. If looks could set someone’s beard on fire, the Headmaster would be in dire need of Aguamenti. There were several seconds of pregnant silence before Black spoke again: “Are you positively daft, girl? I want to speak to your professor in private, you’ve got the ingredient you were too dull to get yourself, you may be gone now. Have you not your studies to attend to?”

“Of course, professor,” you spoke, your voice completely unbothered, almost bored, as if he didn’t just attempt to insult you, and you walked to the door, head held high. Before you closed the door behind yourself, however, you caught Aesop’s eyes. Black had his back to you, so you stuck your tongue out at him and grinned. Aesop did not react outwardly, but you could see the amused little glint in his dark eyes.

“A knut for your thoughts,” said a melodic baritone behind you, automatically making your face spread into a smile. “Thinking about Black,” you admitted and watched in amusement as Aesop walked into your field of view to give you a slightly concerned expression. “Imagining him falling into a cart of dragon dung I hope, else I cannot explain you smiling.” The smile turned into a full grin: “Something like that.”

He watched you work for a bit, lending a helping hand once or twice. “Hope I have not forgotten how to dance entirely… It's been a few years,” he said casually, leaning against a wall and watching your classmates go about their tasks with mild interest. Feeling cheeky, you decided to toy with him a little.

“Oh, will you be dancing? With whom?” you asked in a cheery conversational tone. Instantly, you could very nearly hear the gears and cogs in his head begin to turn, trying to figure out just what you were playing at. Your back was turned to him, so you could grin mischievously to your heart's content. After a few moments, he finally spoke: “Whom will you be dancing with?”

You turned around and put your forefinger to your chin. With a slightly tilted head, pursed lips, and eyes turned towards the ceiling, you were the perfect exaggeration of a person lost in thought. “Hmm,” you murmured, “oh, I don’t know. No one’s asked me to be their date for the ball.”

It dawned on Aesop then, that despite the two of you being in a romantic relationship for half a year now, spending a lot of time with one another and sharing a bed more often than not these days, he never actually asked you to accompany him to the ball.

He did ask Dinah whether she thought a teacher could even accompany a student as a date to the ball, as he wasn’t able to gather enough nerve to actually ask Matilda who was sure to know. Well, Dinah’s ‘Who cares? She’s an adult, she’s done with exams, and besides everyone will be too busy trying to sneak in booze, or trying to sneak away with their date.’ was as good an answer as any. So Aesop let it be, automatically presuming they’d be going together. A bit of a shortcoming on his part, that he could admit.

“Oh my,” he said in a low voice filled with amusement, “rather a cad, aren’t I? Making you wait so long for an invitation. Shall I take an example out of your classmates, and serenade my invitation to you in the Transfiguration courtyard? Or perhaps leave a rhymed note and a dozen roses at your usual place at the Ravenclaw table?” Resisting an urge to chuckle, you thought some more. “Now, those are very tempting indeed, however, I think I’d prefer you to carry me off the Astronomy tower on a Hippogriff's back,” you said then, a cheeky smile on your face.

“Astronomy tower you say? Hmm… Quite an interesting suggestion, I give you that. Well, I think I’ll take a chance and ask you like a normal human being now and hope for the best. Will you accompany me to this silly little night-do?”

After a few seconds of silence, during which you appeared to be very deep in thought, complete with occasional murmuring, you decided to quit teasing him. For now. “How could I ever say no to the esteemed potions master of Hogwarts?” The look you gave him then was one of devotion. It was the essence of a kiss, of a lingering embrace, disguised as a tilt of the head, a slow blink of your eyes, and a content smile. And what do you get in return? That rare grin of his, the impish curl of his lips that your classmates got to see only a few times during their years as his students. It was so familiar to you now, and still, every time you saw it felt like the first.

“(F/N)! A little help here please?” came Samantha Dale’s voice from somewhere near the High table. You gave your lover one last smile before turning around to go to your housemate's aid, but a large hand grabbed at your bicep gently and you stopped in your tracks.

“Come see me after dinner? We could take a bath, maybe have some fun…” asked Aesop quietly, a brilliant sparkle to his large dark eyes.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ace.”

—

The day of the ball passed in a flurry of robes and gowns. Students were nearly buzzing in anticipation since early morning, many of them not talking about anything other than the upcoming event. Some ate barely any breakfast and lunch, simply because they wanted to have space in their bellies for the fantastic food that was bound to be on the ball. Well, that, and many were simply too anxious to stomach anything. Funnily, a few individuals seemed to be in a worse state than they were before the end-of-term exams, OWLs and even NEWTs. Amit, in particular, looked paler than he looked after your little goblin mine adventure when Adelaide told him the 7th years were to lead the opening dance of the evening. Poor lad.

To be entirely honest, you weren’t completely calm yourself. While you weren’t bowing before the toilet bowl or having a mental breakdown because a pimple chose to appear on your forehead at such inopportune time, there was a fluttering in your belly whenever you imagined yourself in a few hours, holding onto your sweetheart in front of the whole school, swaying with him to the music. Goodness…

You’ve never danced with him before. Come to think of it, you haven’t danced since Professor Fig came to announce to you and your parents that you were a witch… You weren’t exactly worried about having forgotten the moves - after all, your parents made your dancing instructor make sure you’d be able to perform flawless waltz right after being woken up at three in the morning but… what if wizards danced differently?

Merlin’s beard!

You didn’t think about that at all! Stupid, stupid! What if you embarrass yourself in front of Aesop… heavens, what if you embarrass him in front of everyone? The thought filled you with dread.

It was so strange - you only ever enjoyed the dance lessons when you were younger as they allowed you to have at least some fun among the otherwise dull lessons in etiquette and mildly interesting classes taught in a way more boring than those of Professor Binns. Back then you wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about embarrassing either yourself or your parents when it finally came to your dreaded debutante ball, but this… This felt different. It was different. You weren’t getting dragged among the snobs of England’s high society to show potential suitors that you were fair game now.

No… This was an evening you were going to spend celebrating your studies, the friendships you’ve made, and the adventures you had while studying at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you were going to do so not being displayed as a pretty little plaything available for the highest bidder, but by the side of a man to whom you already belonged. Whom you loved. Who knew that you were a living breathing woman and not a decoration for his home or his family tree. So of course you didn’t want to embarrass him…

However, the more you thought about it, the more the idea of Aesop resenting you for embarrassing him on the dancefloor seemed ridiculous to you.

After all, It was Aesop Sharp.

You were observing your reflection anxiously. You made an honest effort to look your absolute best - your hair was done elegantly and fashionably, your eyebrows were neat and tidy, there was a blush to your cheeks and you put some light lip rouge on your mouth. Your features were only slightly enhanced but still looked gentle and natural. You chose a dark blue gown with dark lace and silver details. Not too huge, not too frilly, short-sleeved, and surprisingly quite comfortable. Your earrings went well with the dress and your shoes were enchanted with a cushioning charm, making them feel like plush slippers.

All in all, you thought you looked quite beautiful… You only hoped your sweetheart would be of a similar opinion.

You were to meet him at the very bottom of the Ravenclaw tower, which was to walk to the Great Hall via the Viaduct bridge, as opposed to using the Moving staircase and risking breaking your leg on one of the disappearing steps. They were quite easy to jump over when you were wearing your uniform, but your current ensemble wasn’t really made for skipping over gaps in a staircase.

You met Amit just as he seemed to consider whether to open the door of the Ravenclaw common room or rather run to his dorm. You gently laid your hand on his shoulder, prompting him to startle and turn around to face you. “(F-F/N)!” he stuttered as his eyes took you in. “Y-you look… very beautiful.” You gave your classmate a smile: “You look quite handsome yourself.” It was the truth, the Head Boy looked very smart and charming in his dress robes, his soft features making him look like some sort of foreign prince. Though he’d look even better if he wasn’t constantly pulling at his sleeves or obsessively fixing his bowtie, making it even more askew each time. “Adelaide will think so too. I’m sure she’s very excited about the evening.”

Your two friends bonded over his fascination with goblins, and Adelaide becoming her uncle’s right hand in his metal trading business, therefore inevitably coming into contact with them. At the sound of her name, Amit froze momentarily.

“I-... I’m not sure if I should… What if I embarrass myself out there? Or, Merlin forbid, what if I embarrass her? What if I forget the moves, or step on her toes?”

And at that moment, it hit you. Everyone was worried about the same thing as you. And this knowledge, surprisingly, brought you peace. “Oh, come now, Amit,” you gave his shoulder a light pat, before stepping directly in front of him to fix his robes for him. “It’ll be alright. Really. You won’t forget the steps, because in the years I have known you, I’ve never once witnessed you forget something. And, well, if you do step on her toes, you’ll apologise and try not to do so again. You will hardly be the only person to do so… Poor Natty, her feet are going to hurt like the devil from how Sebastian will trample over them. People will only look at us for a little while, and then everyone will start dancing too, and it’ll be only Addie looking at you.”

Amit seemed to be taking in your words, not knowing that they brought you the same comfort as they did to him. He took several deep breaths. “Alright,” he said at last, “I… Thank you, (F/N). You’re right, it will be fine. After all… it is just a student ball and not a goblin mine filled with Ranrok’s loyalists, right?” His eyes twinkled in good humour as he spoke, a careful smile seeping into his expression. You grinned in reply: “Exactly! The thing you have to watch out for is neither a crossbow nor an axe, but rather Garreth attempting to spike the punch, or Everett throwing a Dungbomb to, heh, ‘lighten the atmosphere’.”

Amit chuckled: “You’re right… I should go meet Adelaide then, shouldn’t I?”

You walked a bit behind him after wishing him good luck, but unlike Amit who took off in the direction of Hufflepuff common room upon reaching the mezzanine floor, you walked further down the stairs, the Viaduct entrance slowly coming into view.

And there he was.

Your eyes instantly found him among the small crowd of students, a few couples, and several boys also waiting for their partners. Aesop stood to the side, looking slightly awkward, his expression unreadable as he waited. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. You stopped in your tracks momentarily, swallowing heavily.

Aesop looked breathtaking. He always looked handsome, neat, and well put together with a roguish kind of aura, but this evening he was simply magnificent. His robes were obviously brand new and tailored to fit him perfectly. They hug his large, lean body perfectly, his considerable height even more obvious in the long black overcoat. His high leather boots were replaced with polished ballroom shoes and his tie with a dark green bowtie. His hair was neater and shinier, his stubble groomed to perfection.

Taking a deep breath to calm your wildly beating heart, you continued your descent down the stairs, your heels clicking against the stone steps softly. A few people noticed you, some stared for a bit, but you didn’t pay them any mind, your eyes boring into the single person there who mattered.

And then your gazes connected.

You saw his dark eyes widen and mouth open slightly as he took in a sudden breath. Feeling a flush enter your cheeks, you smiled and dropped your head for a second before looking up again. Aesop was walking towards you as if he was in a trance, his eyes not leaving you, barely even blinking. Closer now, you saw his awe in them, the astonishment, and your face got even warmer under his intense look.

You stopped three feet away from one another, neither of you speaking for a while, too busy committing this moment to your memory. “Hello,” you said finally, your voice slightly breathy, but your lips spreading into a smile. “Hello,” he repeated, his own voice low and raspy, his eyes still drinking you up thirstily. “Oh, sweetheart…” he said then, finally connecting your gaze again, “ you look… otherworldly stunning. Like a dream.” “So do you,” you whispered in reply.

“I… I’m having a lot of trouble resisting kissing you right now…” he admitted quietly, but instead of closing the distance and kissing your lips, he gently took hold of your hand and lifted it, bending himself in the waist to bring it to his lips. They felt deliciously soft and scorching against the tender skin of your knuckles. He pressed kiss after kiss onto your hand with utmost reverence, holding it with both of his now, like it was a precious fragile treasure. Finally, he straightened up again, his eyes positively shining in the viaduct entrance’s dull lighting. He then brought your hand to his right arm and began leading you to the heavy doors leading to the bridge, standing taller than you’ve ever seen him, his steps sure and his limp nowhere to be seen. It hit you then that he was feeling proud to walk with you by his side, holding onto him, and this knowledge was what made you feel weak in the knees, glad to be able to lean into him, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

“Aesop?” you said softly as you unhurriedly made your way over the bridge. “What is it, my love?” he replied in that completely content tone you only ever heard at night as you were lying, spent and comfortable in each other’s embrace. “Do wizards… do wizards dance the same as muggles?” The professor thought for a while, the fingers of his left hand stroking along your own where they were curled around his arm.

“Oh. I entirely forgot that this is your first time attending…”

The ball was cancelled during your fifth year, as the school was recovering from Ranrok’s attack, not to mention grieving professor Fig. And last year, well… Last year the headmaster fell victim to a rather ill-tempered Chinese chomping cabbage on one of his rare visits to the Greenhouses. Actually, you were there to witness it, along with your classmates. You could see the majority of them balling their hands into fists and breathing deeply to keep themselves from bursting into laughter. The ever-collected Phineas Nigellus Black squealed like a little girl as the magical vegetable closed its fangs around his ankle. You were having very a hard time keeping your chuckles in as well.

Black kept trying to shake and kick it off, cursing loudly the whole time, but it was only Professor Garlick who finally managed to get the cabbage to loosen its grip on the man’s leg. There was a bit of blood, and the Headmaster had to be led to the Hospital wing, but you had no doubts the greatest injury was the one done to his pride. Black ended up with a two-week limp, and it was enough to get the ball cancelled.

That is, the official reason was that ‘The school simply doesn't have the resources this year, new books were bought, so were new chairs and desks for this and that classroom, not to mention the cost of Golden Snitches for the Quidditch matches. Simply enough, not a knut can be spared this year, condolences’, but everyone knew Black was simply too vain to be seen by his esteemed guests in anything else than perfect condition.

This was later confirmed by Aesop himself, during one of your back-then platonic meetings over tea. The potions master seemed to be fuming when you came in, and you immediately offered to come by later, but to your surprise, he asked you to stay and tell him about your day. As you did, you saw the tension in his shoulders slowly disappearing and saw him stop clenching his teeth. “Do you want to talk about what happened, sir?” you asked back then. “It’s nothing of importance, really,” he said, “just… Headmaster Black probably never heard the word ‘tact’ in his life.” The ex-auror proceeded to tell you that he was present in the room when Black told Professor Weasley about his intention to cancel the term-end ball. ‘Can you imagine the Board of Governors, not to mention former minister McPhail, witnessing me with a limp? How utmostly disgraceful and embarrassing!’ was basically what the Headmaster said.

“To be entirely honest, I felt a strong urge to hex our dear Headmaster. I surely hope you’ll keep this information to yourself,” Aesop finished by saying.

“I hope you’ll do the same, sir, upon me stating that I’d like to find the cabbage that took a bite out of him and put it into his bed.”

A little smile played on the potions master’s lips at your words.

In the end, there wasn’t a ball, but rather a little gathering of seventh years, sixth years, and a few teachers, over at The Three Broomsticks. Despite it not being the grand ball some older students kept going on and on about, it turned out to be a very pleasant and fun evening. There was no dancing, not sober ballroom one at least, but there was food, there were drinks, and there was the company of your friends. A pleasant and fun evening indeed.

Now, however, dancing was one of the key ingredients.

“Yes… It’s a shortcoming on my part, I spent all this time helping prepare for the ball that I didn’t for one second think the dancing may be different…”

“Hm… Do you know how to dance waltz?” Aesop asked after a while, just as you reached the viaduct courtyard, lit by quaint lanterns of various shapes and sizes. “Yes, of course!” you replied immediately, prompting your lover to chuckle shortly.

“You’ll be absolutely fine then. It’s quite similar, and you are a quick learner. And besides, I may have… practised a bit beforehand, just to sort of refresh the skill, and I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to lead you.” While your heart was still pounding, your nerves slightly lessened, and you found yourself leaning into him a little closer. Soon, the two of you entered the Great Hall, and while you were there for the vast majority of its preparation, your breath was still taken away by the sight which awaited you.

You've seen some nice-looking banquets and dinner parties, but a single second in the grand room managed to put all of them to utmost shame. The Great Hall appeared even greater than ever before, there were smaller tables set by the walls instead of the large tables for the four Hogwarts houses, and one larger, but not nearly as large as the High table that usually stood in its place. All throughout the hall were banquet tables with various nibbles and drinks, and it was there many of your classmates fluttered about the most currently.

The beauty of the room was nearly overwhelming. Yes, your fellow students and you did a fair bit of work, but it seemed many of the teachers then secretly contributed as well. You recognised Professor Ronen's handiwork within the sparks of various colours above all of your heads in intricate patterns, and of course, the floral decorations upon the tables were courtesy of Professor Garlick, not a single one of them the same as another. The enchanted ceiling seemed even more full of stars, and every few seconds, a constellation formed out of nothing, glimmering brightly.

"Everything looks so beautiful," you said just loud enough for Aesop to hear, "Everybody looks so beautiful…" You truly meant it. Everyone seemed to have done their best to appear neat and put together, the girls and women were dressed in beautiful gowns of all cuts and colours, and the gents looked so very smart and elegant. But none of them could hold a candle to Aesop. And by the way he was looking at you… "And you most of all," he said.

"So, do tell, are teachers required to attend?" You asked as you took the scenic route through the room, with you eagerly eyeing and admiring everything, and Aesop merely seeming glad to be able to walk with you and hold you. "It's greatly encouraged. That is, despite me being grumpier than a hungry wolf," you giggled softly, "I don't think I ever decided not to attend. The house elves outdo themselves when it comes to food on these balls, and it's after all one of the last chances to talk with the graduating students. And, if nothing else, I just kept an eye on them, chatting with my colleagues."

"So these little… amuse-bouches are just available throughout the evening, but there's also dinner?"

"Precisely. A variety of items to choose from, cooked to perfection."

"And then?"

"Then? Dancing. Mingling… after the younger students, fifth years and younger to be precise, leave, the rest can indulge in a little alcohol. That is, once the Headmaster and his esteemed guests have left as well."

Aesop pointed towards the larger table at the far end of the hall and, sure enough, Phineas Nigellus Black was currently sitting there, caught in a discussion with an older, pompous-looking gentleman, whose face you recognised from some picture in the Daily Prophet. "That's the chief of the Department of Magical Games and Sports," clarified Aesop, "no doubt the Headmaster's feeding him stories about how every faculty member except him insisted on Quidditch being cancelled two years ago."

You scoffed, but tore your eyes away, choosing instead to focus on more joyous matters at hand: "So. Shall we sit somewhere?" Aesop looked around the room: "Well… it would seem there are no free tables. We could always sit somewhere that has only first years and hope that I'll scare them away, or…?" You followed his gaze. It fell onto a table not far to your right. Only two spaces remained, as the others were filled by Professor Hecat, Professor Ronen with a beautiful plump older lady you presumed to be his wife, Professor Onai, and rather uncomfortable-looking Natty and Sebastian.

"Outnumbered," you pointed out with a cheeky grin, but nevertheless began walking towards the table.

"Good evening," you greeted politely, giving the company a smile. Natty and Sebastian looked unsure whether you were their salvation, or if the awkwardness was just about to get worse, but you still shortly squeezed each of their hands. The teachers, however, seemed to be in rather good spirits, welcoming the two of you warmly.

Aesop gentlemanly pulled out your chair, one next to Natty, and helped push it back after you've sat down, sitting down himself afterwards. There was a moment of quiet before Sebastian blurted out: "Y-you look… good. Your dress is nice." After your exchange before this very room half a year ago, things were a little awkward for a while, and they stayed that way until you let Sebast know just why it wasn't him for whom your heart beat. Surprisingly, he took the news quite well, and your friendship healed, piece by piece.

The look Natty gave you was one that made you blush, and you were very glad when a glass of wine materialised in front of you. But then - "Wait, didn't you say that alcohol was only, well, permitted, after the younger students left?" Instead of Aesop, however, it was Dinah who answered you: "Indeed. However, seeing as we've got you outnumbered, this is considered a teachers' table. And, as teachers, we've got a few advantages… or do you think we'd patiently wait through the Headmaster's speech and the following three hours of the young ones being all over the place without a single drop?"

You had to nod your head and chuckle. Looking to your left, you saw both of your friends also took the opportunity to taste their wine and possibly make an undoubtedly unorthodox situation feel more natural. You covered your mouth to hide your smile when Sebastian struggled to not stick out his tongue in distaste once he tasted the beverage.

It got a little easier after that - the company chose their dinner and you did so as well, pheasant breast with roasted potatoes and fresh vegetables. Delicious, but not overly heavy, the wine went with the meal amazingly.

After everyone was done with their dinner, and the Great Hall was once more overtaken by its usual noise of students and faculty alike talking amongst themselves, you were happy to find the atmosphere at your table much lighter than it was an hour ago. You even engaged in several conversations with your professors, their demeanour so much more relaxed than you've ever witnessed during classes. That is, except for Professor Ronen, as he was already very laid back and jovial even in settings much more professional than this one. What's more, he and Professor Hecat both knew of your and Aesop's romance quite early on and, if at all possible, were treating you even more warmly since then.

Then, Phineas Nigellus Black's voice cut through the air. "Your attention, please," he said. The Great Hall got progressively quieter and quieter until one could hear a pin drop. "Time has come to wrap up another successful year at Hogwarts. I am very glad that after two years, we were able to once more make this little celebration of ours a reality. Dear graduates, please accept my congratulations on your successful finish of your education here at Hogwarts, and my sincere gratitude to the staff for making it possible. I raise my goblet to you all, graduates, teachers, and students alike, and I wish you all a pleasant holiday, and of course, to you, seventh years, a successful start into your new lives."

The Headmaster's speech was not bad at all, but it was not nearly enough to erase your distaste for the man. "Written by Matilda, word for word," Aesop whispered into your ear helpfully. "However," the Headmaster continued, "this is, after all, a ball. Let us not embarrass ourselves in the company of our esteemed guests. So, whenever you're ready…"

"I think that's our cue," said Aesop, gently pulling you out of your seat.

You felt anxiety slowly creeping back into your gut as Aesop led you over to a spot on the dance floor he deemed acceptable for the two of you. Your legs suddenly felt like they were made out of lead, and you were panicking somewhat, looking around the room at your classmates. “Sweetheart, right here,” Aesop said, and though the room wasn’t quiet by any means, you heard his voice clearly over the white noise of people murmuring between themselves, the rustling of robes and gowns, the occasional squeak of shoes against the floor.

You raised your eyes to meet his, impossibly dark. “Just look me in the eyes, and let me lead you. It’ll be lovely, I promise.” You nodded and offered a little smile. “Alright. Just like a regular waltz, your left hand right … here, your right… There we go.” His right hand rested on your waist securely, the left one holding yours. You took a deep breath.

“Ehm! Well, let’s start, shall we? Music!” Headmaster Black’s shrill voice rang through the large room, and a few seconds later, dulcet tones of the orchestra began reverberating through the Great hall. You didn't even have time to ask where to step first when Aesop started moving, his hold on you so strong and steady, that you couldn't help but follow. "Two, three, four…" he counted just loud enough for you to hear, and you immediately found yourself connecting his words with the movements he was doing and making you do. "One, two, three, four, now change hands," you switched the positions of your hands, so he was now holding onto your left one.

With a few more changes like this, you began feeling more confident - it really was like a slightly extended version of waltz. While you were more than comfortable letting him lead, feeling all kinds of warm as he effortlessly made your body do his bidding, all the while looking majestic and elegant. "Now brace yourself," and with that, he grabbed onto your waist and lifted you into the air, spinning with you. You could faintly see the other girls being spun in the air, but just barely - Aesop had all of your attention. "See, you've got it, you're doing wonderfully," he said with a smile, never once ceasing your dance.

Before long, you span with him gladly, your feet synchronised with his flawlessly, your movements copying the rhythm of the music. Aesop swept you off your feet, and you loved it, you wanted to be swept away by him, swept, rocked, and spun. He was a mighty tidal wave and you were there to enjoy the ride. Soon, way too soon, you heard the song coming to an end, and Aesop finished your dance by elegantly returning to the starting position, settling just as the last note rang through the air.

Applause broke out around the Great Hall. "Very good, very good. Nice job seventh years … and their partners…" said Black from behind his podium, "the music will resume shortly."

"See, I told you it's going to be lovely," your sweetheart said with a pleased grin, "wasn't it?"

"It was, Merlin, it was amazing. But now that I know how amazingly you dance, I think I'll want to do that often…" you admitted letting your hands stroke his strong shoulders subconsciously.

"Hm, we've got the entire night. And the night after that. And the following one too."

And just like that, something inside of you snapped and you couldn't stop yourself anymore. Absolutely uncaring, you stood up on your tiptoes and captured his lips in a kiss.

It wasn't a long kiss, nor one too passionate, but it was thunderous nonetheless. You couldn't care less who could be watching, or what they would think. You loved this man with all of your heart, and you were done with being quiet about it. You looked into his eyes right after you pulled back to find them wide and dark, his mouth still slightly open. "Is that alright?" You asked carefully. Your reply was his arms around your waist and his hot lips on yours once more.

"It's more than alright."

A few hours, some more nibbles, and two butterbeers later, it was time for the younger students to retire to their common rooms, and only the seventh years and adult sixth years were allowed to remain. It was when teachers turned a blind eye to the consumption of alcohol, a few of them even sharing a drink with some of their soon-to-be former students. Aesop too was one of those who were sought out for this very reason. It was not at all surprising to see Garreth Weasley offering a tumbler of golden honey-coloured liquor to the potions master, the professor sniffing at it suspiciously.

“Come on, Professor Sharp,” Garreth laughed jovially, "I promise, it’s just good old Firewhisky, I have not done anything to it.”

“Then you won’t mind if I ask for the other glass you’re holding, will you?”

“Ever the Auror, eh? Heh, absolutely, there you go sir.”

Aesop clinked his glass against Garreth’s and took a careful sip. He rolled the liquid on his tongue for a bit, trying to catch a taste of anything other than the rich-smelling alcohol, but after he swallowed and felt no immediate consequences, he allowed himself to relax. Garreth meanwhile continued to chuckle as he threw back his own drink in a single gulp, hissing at the burn.

“Only a few more days to go, I’m not as dumb as to risk losing that E you gave me on my NEWTs essay.”

“You’re not stupid and never have been. Reckless and a thorn in my side, yes, but never stupid. You’ve got potential. Try not to blow yourself up into pieces before you can reach it, alright?”

Garreth looked like he was ready to punch the air in euphoria as the professor extended his right hand towards him, but instead, the ginger lad just gripped it tightly and shook it. “That was quite lovely,” you said with a smile once Garreth left you two alone once more, his mouth spread into a victorious grin. “Well, I do have my moments,” replied Aesop with a little smile of his own before taking a gentle hold of your own hand, “come on, let’s dance some more.”

And that was that.

You danced, you talked, you drank. You tried Firewhisky again, a different brand this time. It was sweeter than the one you tried on Christmas Eve, but still not something you could see yourself actively seeking out. Unless it was drunk off Aesop’s lips, of course. Then it was an entirely different story.

It was around Midnight when you started becoming quite tipsy. The party was in full swing around you, your classmates’ inhibitions were loosened under the influence of alcohol, and even the normally quiet ones were frivolously hoofing it off on the dance floor, laughing and talking excitedly among themselves. Even the often sullen Ominis Gaunt was chuckling as he, a little clumsily, spun Poppy Sweeting around, the alcoholic flush combined with the warmth of the room clearly evident upon his pale cheeks. Poppy didn’t seem to mind they were entirely out of rhythm, having the time of her life having fun with her human friends, instead of just the animal ones.

Amit was caught in an amicable discussion with Sebastian, obviously having had a bit too much, if the hiccoughs interrupting his impassioned monologue about Goblins and his consequent giggling was of any proof, but Sebastian still listened with interest, his view of Goblinkind having shifted considerably since his fifth year.

It was when you accidentally stepped on Aesop’s foot for the third time in the span of ten minutes, that you decided it was high time to take a little break and sober up a bit. You took several gulps of cold water before Aesop carefully led you away from the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall. Soon you found yourselves at the Quad courtyard. The air of the early summer night felt fresh and crisp, and a sweet flowery aroma was wafting through it gently.

The alcohol haze dissipated somewhat thanks to the water you drank and the cool air against your warmed skin, yet you remained feeling buzzed and giddy, hanging onto Aesop’s arm and happily engaging in cheeky conversation, letting him tease you and enjoying every minute of it. “Feeling better?” he asked as you once more entered the castle, taking a corridor that would slowly lead you back to the Great Hall. “Very much so,” you agreed with a smile, “although I wasn’t feeling really bad to begin with. Maybe a bit lightheaded at most, and that I blame on the dancer who spun me around again and again.

The professor’s dark chuckle was your only answer, the sound echoing off the stony walls. It felt nearly surreal how quiet the castle got at night. Hogwarts never got this quiet during the day, not even in the library, because of the omnipresence of its inhabitants, both living and not. This evening, however, it seemed like a powerful silencing charm was placed upon the large corridors, not even the sound of the ball nearby could be heard. In the still and the quiet, it felt like it was just the two of you, the sound of your hearts beating the only thing unafraid to penetrate the silence.

You startled a bit as your lover suddenly stopped walking, causing you to collide with him slightly. Raising your eyes, you observed him questioningly but found him not looking at you, but rather to your left. You turned your head.

Next to you on the wall was a full-body mirror, just large enough to capture the two of you in its reflection. Fully turned towards it now, you slowly pulled at his arm which you were still holding, motioning for it to curl around your waist, which it did. His other arm joined in, and soon you had Aesop’s strong chest pressed against your back, his chin and jaw gently brushing over the right side of your head.

To an untrained eye perhaps, the two of you could look like something of an odd couple. Despite all of Aesop’s handsomeness and rugged charm, it was very obvious he was considerably older than you. His face bore the lines of time, life lived before you were born, the scar on his cheek a testament to many adventures and dangers, during which you weren’t present, while the smooth, flushed apples of your cheeks stood in absolute contrast against it. As did your hands, which came to rest upon his own, the skin on them weathered and calloused. These hands held unimaginable strength, both physical and magical.

An odd couple? To some, perhaps.

But you knew better.

While Aesop was every bit as strong and tough as he looked, you knew that behind that roughened face and calloused hands was a gentle man, a kind soul, and an artistic spirit. Someone who dared to dream when he was younger, and someone who was just rediscovering his courage to do so again. And you? You weren’t pristine. You saw too much death and suffering in your young life, so much more than any person should ever see. You were put through challenges and dangers that would keep even wizards older and more experienced than yourself up at night.

And yet, here you were, two decidedly flawed odd birds standing in a heartfelt embrace, your connection one built upon mutual trust, respect, and an overwhelming amount of love.

You let your head fall back slightly to rest against his shoulder, revelling in his warmth. “I think we’re a rather charming couple,” you said at last. Odd? Maybe at first. But after a while, anyone would see your eyes, they would see that each other’s arms is exactly where the two of you belong.

“You know what… I’m rather inclined to agree. Although you're the one who brings about 95% of charm into the relationship,” he whispered against your ear, prompting you to grin. “I suppose we cannot agree on everything all the time,” you sighed, “and this is one of the instances.” His chuckle made you lightly shiver as his hot breath tickled the soft skin of your ear and neck: “Be that as it may, there was actually something else I wanted to do, and this mirror is just perfect for it.”

Slowly, his right hand slipped from your hold and disappeared into his dress robes’ inner breast pocket. When it reappeared, you saw something glisten brightly in it, but before you could question what it was, his other hand also left your waist and came up to grip the other end of it. You hissed when the cold metal touched your neck.

Aesop was delicately securing a beautiful necklace around your neck, and you felt like you forgot to breathe for a while. It was beautiful in its design, elegant, yet simple and light, adorned with a few vine-like twirls and several small opal stones. You couldn’t be certain, but you thought the material was goblin silver. It went beautifully with your earrings, and that’s when it truly hit. Aesop Sharp had this gorgeous piece of jewellery made specifically for you.

“A-Aesop!” you stammered, your cheeks burning and your eyes slowly watering, “I- I can’t possibly accept this, i-it’s way too valuable!” Your sweetheart finished fastening the necklace before leaning down to press a kiss against the nape of your neck. “Please,” he said in a voice so quiet, you almost couldn’t hear it, “I want you to have it… Do you like it?” You touched it delicately, slowly running your fingers over the cool material. “Oh, Aesop, it’s-... it’s the finest, most beautiful piece of jewellery I’ve ever seen, but you really shouldn't have spent what must’ve been quite a sum of money on me!”

His chapped lips made contact with the hot skin of your neck again, and again in a series of soft, tender kisses, his breath tickling at the peach fuzz there. “Trust me,” he spoke again, “when I say this is barely a fraction of what you deserve. You met me a half-broken man, who nearly made peace with the fact that love, health, and hope for the future is a thing of the past for him. You came into my life and shook it to its core. If anyone told me two years ago that tonight I’d be dancing with the most beautiful woman in the entire Wizarding world, completely in love, my leg cured and my dreams slowly being restored, I would’ve called them completely insane. And yet here we are. Believe me when I say you deserve this, and so much more. (F/N) (L/N), you deserve the world.”

Slowly dropping your eyes from the necklace, you turned around in his arms. A tear finally rolled over your eyelid and ran down your cheek as you looked deep into his eyes. You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, your fingers caressing the weathered, stubbled skin.

“I just want you,” you whispered, more tears falling from your eyes.

His much bigger hands came to enclose your own again.

“You’ve got me,” Aesop finally said with the faintest hint of a smile. In the next second, your arms were thrown around his neck, and your lips moulding with his in a passionate, earth-shattering kiss, one into which you attempted to pour all of your love and devotion for this wonderful man. “Thank you,” you sighed between kisses, the moisture of your tears staining his cheeks. His strong arms wrapped around your body securely, as if unwilling to let you go, which was something you didn’t mind at all.

Once you pulled slightly apart to catch your breaths, Aesop chuckled noiselessly, his breath cool on your hot damp lips. He lifted his hand to wipe away your tears and caress your face, his thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek, your jowl, your chin, finally stroking your lips, tracing their edge. “I must say, a half-drunken snog in the corridors during a term-end ball is also something I thought was a thing of the past,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

You couldn’t resist the small fit of giggles that overcame you then as you hid your burning face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, heady scent, a mix of the sandalwood from his cologne, the faintest hint of Firewhisky, the soap he used, and underneath that the natural smell of his skin, warm and comforting with the smallest trace of sweat.

“Doesn’t need to be the only time, though,” he added, prompting you to murmur questioningly against his skin. “Professors can bring partners with them…”

“Are you inviting me to the term-end ball all the way next year?”

“Hm, too soon?”

“No… no, it’s alright, I gladly accept. I’m just so very happy.”

You didn’t have to say it for Aesop to understand - that you were happy he readily saw himself with you a year from now.

“Shall we head to your chambers then?” you asked after a short while, raising your head slightly to look at him. “If you’d like, of course,” he answered, his clever thumbs drawing circles onto your hips, “But I was thinking maybe one last dance? It is a special occasion, after all, it’d be a shame to waste it.” You couldn’t disagree with that.

On your way back to the Great Hall, you didn’t hold onto Aesop’s arm, as it was instead draped around your shoulders, tightly pressing you into his side as you walked. It was only when you arrived at the foreroom of the Great Hall that you began to hear the noise from inside. “Silencing charm - wouldn’t want to disturb the castle's various inhabitants, would we?” your sweetheart said, most likely noticing your curious expression.

Entering the room, now bathed in an intimately dim light, you noticed that a number of people had already left. Quite a few sixth years seemed to have retired for the night, same as professors. There was Professor Ronen sitting at one of the tables with his wife, while Professor Howin and Madam Kogava were sort of just lingering about, watching the progression of the evening, no doubt keeping an eye on potential trouble. Your classmates seemed to be in various stages of intoxication. Natty seemed like she only had a glass or two, seeing as she most likely waited for her mother to leave before finally allowing herself to party a little, while Sebastian, who was (unsuccessfully) trying to woo her seemed about a single butterbeer from being ready to leave lest he made a fool of himself.

Poor Amit’s fallen asleep already, but Adelaide didn’t seem to mind, her head resting on his shoulder and her eyes closing as well. Hopefully, someone from their respective houses will wake them up when the time comes to truly wrap up. You let Aesop lead you through the room and towards one of the walls to a slightly more remote spot, the song that was playing until now coming to its close.

Just like you did throughout the whole evening, you took your stance and waited for the next song to begin. And then, when it did, you let Aesop glide the two of you across the dancefloor, your movements slow and well-measured. The whole time you were looking into each other’s eyes, having a little conversation about absolutely everything and nothing, all without uttering a single word. Each time Aesop spun you, you ended a little closer to him, inch after inch, until your bodies were flush against each other in a display quite intimate, and possibly very inappropriate in public. Luckily, nobody seemed to either notice or care.

Both of Aesop’s arms wrapped around your waist as he swayed with you slowly, his head lowering until your foreheads connected, resting against each other. You closed your eyes, just letting the reality of the moment wash over you. You felt his every move before he made it, felt the subtle way his hips swayed with yours, and the two of you sharing a single breath was getting you more drunk than alcohol ever could. And despite the two of you not being alone in the room, it did feel like you were, shrouded in your little world, clinging onto each other ardently.

And when he unabashedly kissed you once more, you lost yourself completely. Your feet stopped their movements, and you simply stood there in your passionate embrace, drinking from each other’s lips. When his lips left yours and instead travelled over your cheek and to your ear, you readily responded to his movements, your fingers combing into his hair like they always did, and your mouth unconsciously releasing little gasps and sighs. The potions master dipped his head slightly, and soon his hot tongue began circling your pulse point.

Not a second later, the sensation was gone and your head began clearing up again. It would seem Aesop suddenly realised where he was, and how many people were still around you. He leaned closer again to whisper into your ear: “I think now is the time for us to retire. As much as I find your gown beautiful, I’d much rather see you without it now.” You chuckled in reply, your close proximity to your lover allowing you to feel just how much he meant what he said: “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

You extracted yourselves from one another, and Aesop led you towards the exit, slightly behind you so as not to draw too much attention to his little problem, despite the dim light surely preventing so. Once you were out of sight, you turned to make your way to the Viaduct courtyard once again, but Aesop instead gripped your shoulders and motioned for you to take the route up the Grand Staircase. “Wait,” you protested mildly, “I avoided the Grand Staircase on purpose, you know. I don’t want to fall or break my leg, especially now that I’ve had a few drinks!” Your sweetheart chuckled, still leading you: “Don’t you worry, I’ll be behind you every step of the way and will catch or support you if need be. Besides it’s the shortest way to my rooms…” He made his point by stopping momentarily to deliver another kiss to your neck, making you almost melt under his touch.

“Oh… oh, alright then…” you relented, “but Aesop Sharp, I swear on Merlin’s name, if I break my leg three days before graduation-”

“Then Noreen will fix you up with a quick spell and some Skele-Gro, and both you and she will have my guts for garters.”

“Precisely.”

“Come on, then,” Aesop said in a teasing voice, his hand coming to lightly slap at your behind, making you giggle. You gathered your gown in your hands and carefully walked up the first flight of stairs, Aesop right behind you.

But then: “Ah, good evening you two!” You stopped in your tracks like a deer in headlights. “Dinah…” you heard Aesop say behind you, his tone one of exasperation and mild annoyance. “So, have you enjoyed this fine evening? I must say, it was quite dull without it last year.” You were blushing like mad, not meeting the DADA teacher’s eyes. However, you could see that she was quite obviously having fun grilling the two of you. “Yes, yes, very lovely and very dull,” said Aesop impatiently, his hand moving to close around your own, “was there anything particular you needed?”

While the older woman’s face was as neutral as always, you could see her eyes positively sparkle with mischief: “Oh? Are you in a hurry?” Aesop groaned quietly next to you: “Rather yes.”

“What could be so urgent on such a fine evening?”

This time, Aesop did not answer, but his hand squeezed yours harder. After a few seconds of utter silence, Dinah broke out into a little chuckle: “I’m sorry Aesop, dear. Can’t blame an old woman for wanting to have some fun as well, and you, you are so very fun to tease.”

“You know, you could tease Abraham now and then as well?”

“About what? Abe makes fun of himself most of the time, there’s no challenge in that. But I’ll leave you to it now. Have a nice evening you two. Oh, and the staircase seems quite agreeable today, but you should still be careful.”

“Thank you, Di. Goodnight,” Aesop said then, his tone much softer now, and he once again began to lead you away. “Goodnight, professor,” you said quietly, still a little embarrassed from the encounter, but at the same time strangely amused by it.

The potions master did as he promised, his hand as if glued to your lower back supporting you as you carefully ascended the steps of the Grand Staircase. “Disappearing one over there,” he’d warn every now and then. Some time later, the two of you finally entered the Faculty tower, and you all but began a half-jog towards your lover's chambers while still trying to remain silent so as not to disturb anyone who might already be asleep in their rooms. The moment the door closed behind you, your back was pressed against it, and Aesop’s mouth latched itself onto your own in a hot messy kiss. His hands were everywhere at once, caressing and groping your body as his lips slowly slid to your neck.

The former auror pulled back somewhat, looking at the jewellery he placed around your neck earlier, before he dipped his head right back, placing tender kisses over the sensitive skin of your throat along the necklace. Your fingers went right back into his hair, nowhere near as neat as it was when you met him at the viaduct entrance hours ago. When his arms wrapped around your middle and he lifted you off the ground you attempted to curl your legs around his waist, but was soon stopped by the fabric of your gown.

“Don’t you worry, my sweet, I’ll get you out of this thing soon enough,” he said, a smug grin clear as day in his sultry voice.

Aesop carried you over to his bedroom, however, before he could as much as sit you on the bed, you grabbed onto his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait,” you chuckled, and he immediately set you back on your feet. He distangled himself from you and gently grabbed your face in his large calloused hands. “Are you alright? Too fast?” he asked, and you could melt right on the spot. Even after all this time, he was ready to stop at the tiniest hint of you not being alright with what he was doing. “No, no, it’s wonderful,” you reassured him, kissing his lips slowly, “it’s just… Hah, if you want to get me out of this dress, it’s better if we’re standing. Trust me.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Aesop’s lips: “Oh, alright.” He extended a hand towards you, and you immediately took it without thinking. He gently spun you, just like he spun you the entire evening across the dance floor, except this time he stopped when your back was facing him. “Dear Miss,” he spoke, his tone teasing and playful, “prepare to be disrobed.”

However, disrobing you was easier said than done, and Aesop hadn’t anticipated the intricacies the unfastening on your ball gown would pose. At first, he tried to work methodically, but it was for nothing and he was soon tangled in the many strings, getting progressively frustrated. It took a lot of your willpower not to giggle.

“How in Merlin’s medieval buttocks did you even get into this thing?!” he asked after a while, fingers furiously trying to get the gown to open up, or loosen at the very least so that he could peel it off your form. “There are laces and ties, more laces, strings, even more laces, how do I even-... hold on, I think I’ve got it,” Aesop fiddled with the fastenings for several seconds, before groaning in irritation, “Damn it!” And that was it, you began giggling softly, covering your mouth with your hand. “Oi, don’t you laugh! Did you use your magic on this? Is that why I can’t untie it?”

“I didn’t,” you said between chuckles, “though Natty may have gone slightly overboard with making sure it’s all holding up nicely.”

“Holding up nicely, she says,” grumbled Aesop, still trying to pull at the strings and laces in vain, “I’d have better chances breaking into bloody Gringotts!

You just kept chuckling. The dress felt slightly looser, but not loose enough for you to wiggle out of it: “I say, love, we’ll both be so exhausted after you finish untying it, the only thing we’ll be doing in those sheets is sleeping!” The former Auror stopped his frustrated movements, and then his strong hands left your back entirely: “Oh, for Merlin’s saggy-”

However, before you had the chance to say anything:

“Diffindo!”

You yelped as you heard the fabric being swiftly cut in half, soon falling down from your body and pooling around your ankles.

“Oi!” you turned around to face him, a bewildered expression on your face.

“Sorry about that,” Aesop said then, his voice anything but remorseful. “I’ll have you know I thought that dress was really beautiful,” you replied with the tiniest hint of indignation in your voice. However, your amusement at him losing his temper with the garment greatly outweighed any hard feelings towards him effectively destroying it. “So do I.” he insisted, “Mind stepping out of them, dear?” You did as he asked and stepped out from the circle of crumpled fabric. With a wave of his wand, the gown rose from the floor and floated towards his wardrobe, fixing itself seamlessly along the way. Soon, it was neatly hanged and perfect once more.

“I think Miss Onai truly should pursue a career in Gringotts, she’d make the vaults completely impregnable…” Aesop commented dryly while you crossed your arms across your chest. “Are we going to talk about Natty and her talents for securing things, or…?”

Aesop once more turned his entire attention towards you, looking at you appreciatively. Now that your gown was finally dealt with, you remained there standing in just your chemise and petticoat. You saw the fire returning to Aesop’s gorgeous dark eyes, and a wolfish grin to his face. “I should be able to take these off without wasting any precious energy, “he murmured lowly before stepping closer. His nose glided along your cheek and your jaw as he effortlessly unfastened the petticoat and let it slide down your legs, leaving you in your beautiful, silken underwear. “So… do we still have to stand up, or shall we get a little more comfortable?” the potions master asked slyly.

You fixed him with a mock offended look: “You have your fun undressing me and now you think I’ll settle with you just tearing your own clothes off in a frenzied flurry? That just won’t do, sir…” Due to a stupid amount of luck, you were in a perfect position to gently shove against his chest. Was this any other situation and were you anyone else, Aesop wouldn’t even flinch at the movement. However, he only grinned more and obediently let himself fall down upon the bed, conveniently right behind him, waiting patiently for you to undoubtedly climb atop him.

And you didn’t plan to keep him waiting long.

—

The first birds began singing outside the window as the dark sky of the night outside slowly bled into shades of purple and pink, the summer sun shyly peeking from below the horizon signalling the arrival of a brand new day. For you and your lover, however, the previous day was only just ending now in a haze of heavy breaths and wildly beating hearts, bodies sated and satisfied, limbs still trembling under the weight of shared pleasures.

You were beautifully exhausted, brushing your fingers through your hair, slightly damp from perspiration. You and Aesop gave yourselves to one another completely tonight, unashamedly indulging in your hunger, your scorching passion, opening yourselves up for new things and new sensations, experimenting with new positions and ways to bring the other to the breaking point.

Your hair became once more dry and soft within your fingers as your sweetheart used the last of his strength to cast a cleaning charm on the two of you and the bed before weakly tossing the wand onto the chair standing next to his bed. He found his resting place on top of your body, his now positively shaggy hair spreading on your skin and tickling it tenderly as he laid his head upon your chest, his ear directly over your heart. You were completely trapped underneath him, his weight evenly distributed on your body making you feel comfortable and safe, his arms bore the promise of not letting you go. The skin on his back was slightly uneven and a little bruised from your fingernails digging into it, and the potions master replied in kind on your hips and legs.

Thank goodness seventh years were not expected to turn up for breakfast today (and lunch neither in many cases), as you knew you wouldn’t be able to get up from this bed for many hours. Not that you’d want to.

Waves of comfort and love were slowly rocking you to much-needed slumber.

However, Aesop’s voice brought you back a little. “Are you going to wear it?” he asked, voice soft and quiet, slightly raspy after your long night. His long digit stroked at your necklace delicately, occasionally moving to trace a path along your throat. “I might never take it off,” you replied honestly, looking down and seeking to connect your gazes. The potions master smiled, sincerely and genuinely, dark eyelashes fluttering softly in the dim light of coming morning and dying embers. He pulled himself up to connect your kiss-bruised lips once again, this time gently and tenderly, merely letting them brush, whispering soft ‘I love you’s in-between.

There in the early morning spent in the potions master’s comfortable bed, drinking his words of adoration, you were ready to face whatever the future may bring. As long as Aesop Sharp’s arms enfolded you in their embrace, you were ready for anything.

Hello, thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story. As always, you can find this work and all of my other works over on AO3. I'll be very grateful for your feedback! 💖

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trivialbob · 1 day

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This afternoon I used some PTO. Work has been a little stressful lately, so it was nice to start the weekend early. Financially I'm in a position where if I got fired or laid off I could say, "Okay, cool. Nice knowin' ya. No take backs." I don't hate work or my coworkers, but I'm a little weary of all of it at the moment.

Sheila and I started the afternoon playing pickle ball at a newish club in downtown Minneapolis. I like the place. The building used to house a data center. There's a large old photo on one wall, showing people working at terminals in front of large computers. Thanks for making me think of work! But I quickly got over that.

Sheila plays fairly often there; I just go with her on a guest pass from time to time. She said the intermediate leagues have some Karens. Today we played in the rec league. The people were wonderful. I liked the other players enough that I got to know (and even remember!) their names. Sixteen of us took turns rotating through three courts for almost two hours. I'm going to do this more often.

After that we drove over to Hopkins to use a page from our Hop Passport. It's a buy one/get one at a large number of Minnesota Breweries. This little book is a great incentive to try new places.

We were not disappointed in today's brewery. At 2:30 PM on a Friday afternoon the place wasn't yet busy. The manager took some time to chat with us, which we liked. The beer selection (pour your own) was extensive. I tried two small servings and thoroughly enjoyed each. One was a stout made with baker's chocolate, caramel and dried fruits then infused with bourbon infused oak. Would definitely get it again. Sheila had a pear cider she really liked.

The kitchen was (figuratively) on fire. We split a piadina sandwich. Often we share at restaurants, so we don't get overly full. This flatbread sandwich with burrata, pesto, prosciutto, salami, artichoke and olive relish, and arugula was so good I came close to ordering a second one -- just for myself. We watched some pizzas come out of the huge oven. I thought about getting one to go. But I avoided gluttonous tendencies and arrived home not feeling gross from eating too much.

Today it's cold, damp and gray outside. For me this is terrific napping weather. Even better after drinking beer at lunch. Seeing these three lined up confirmed for me that a nap was going to happen. (Only one of them stayed on the bed for the nap.)

#Ella Oliver and Sulley

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spicyclover · 1 year

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Just get out!

Summary: You are ninth months pregnant, and it’s only a matter of days before you give birth to your first child with Max. Let’s just say you are done being pregnant.

Friends references :)

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

PS: Max and Kelly aren’t a couple because it won’t make sense otherwise ;)

PSS: Sorry for the short parts; I had to go to the hospital today :( Everything is fine, though. No worries!

You left for your fifth ride of the day. This baby’s due date has been out for three days, and he still hasn’t shown the tip of his nose. Obviously, you are very frustrated and pregnant, and you are hot, extremely hot. At the same time, it takes forty degrees these days in Monaco.

The doctor told you to take some walks to help start the contractions, but nothing worked. That damn baby won’t come out. He wants to stay in his cocoon.

You eat spicy food, pickles. You dance, you walk, and you make a jumping ball. You tried everything to get him out.

So, when you come back sweating after this walk under the oppressive heat of the Monegasque sun, you only want to lay down on your couch, air-conditioned, with a good cold drink. Except for that unpleasant surprise, a bunch of pilots and their girlfriends are seated on the sofa.

You come to them, and you make yourself heard.

“That’s right, still no baby! Come on, people! Please make some room!” You tell them by making big gestures so that they squeeze.

“Uh, sweetie, maybe you’d be more comfortable here?” Says Max when he gets up from his chair to give you the room.

You sight loudly.

“You. Like you haven’t done enough.”

“Look, I-I know how miserable you are. I wish there was something I could do. I mean, I wish I were a seashore.”

You look at him, confused and frustrated at the same time. You didn’t really know how to react yet.

“Because with seahorses, it’s the male who carries the babies. And then also, I’d be far away in the sea.” He ends up shaving when you don’t want to hear that. Smiles are formed on the faces of Daniel, Lando and Charles, but they disappear immediately when they see the black look you give them.

You look at the others sitting on the couch. They crash into the back of the sofa, and you swoon into the place they made. You sigh.

“I have never been so uncomfortable in my entire life!”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been there. I remember toward the end...”

“Oh, Kelly, that’s a great story. Can you say it to me when you’re getting me some iced tea?” You interrupt her by pointing at the kitchen. She took a few seconds before reacting, but she got up to get it for you.

You dance several times to find the best possible position, but nothing to do. Everything is uncomfortable.

“Oh God, get out! Get out! Get out! Ge out! Get out!” You scream at your huge belly.

“Let’s.” Daniel pointed towards the door, and all the guests got up simultaneously to leave.

You look at them surprised but don’t add anything because you feel a trickle of water running down your legs.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 x reader #f1 #imagines #fanfiction #friends #daniel ricciardo

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gennyanydots · 1 year

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One Year Old Wingman

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x f!reader

Part of the Spitfire Universe

Christmas was your favorite holiday. You loved finding the perfect presents for people. You loved seeing all the lights people put up. You loved all the decorations everywhere. Your whole apartment was decorated. You were so excited once everyone else started to celebrate too. (You started the day after Halloween)

You’re especially excited for the Dagger Christmas party. This was your second year coming to the Dagger Squad Christmas party with Bob. Last year even though you had known everyone for almost a year you still felt a little weird going to the Christmas party. It was a new experience so you were ever so slightly uncomfortable. Bob said it was a white elephant but so many people did them differently.

This year however you were sooooo excited. You knew what you were getting into. You understood how their white elephant exchange worked. Plus you had the best gifts.

The gift exchange rules were that everyone brings three presents. The more random the better. Then everyone picks out one gift from the pile and opens it. You can trade presents but each present can only be traded three times. Once it’s been traded three times whoever ends up with it keeps it. Then it starts again. Sometimes the presents were bought with certain people in mind and sometimes they weren’t. There was a $20 limit on the presents. It was also decided that kids were excluded so they could get all the presents imaginable from their adopted extended family. Which meant Eli was about to be in heaven. Plus you heard that Grandpa Mav got him an entire platter of chicken nuggets just for him.

Last year had been pretty funny. You’re pretty sure you remember Rooster ending up with a lacy nightie and Payback going home with a Christmas cat sweater.

When Bobby picked you up you skipped to his truck with your gifts in a bag and a tray of cookies and homemade chocolates in your hand. You made a ton of fudge, Oreo balls, and so many Buckeyes since everyone had loved them last year. Nobody had heard of them before you brought them and now they were everyone’s favorite because who wouldn’t want a sweet peanut butter ball dipped in chocolate to look like a Buckeye? They’re the best Christmas time treat and a long standing tradition in your family.

On the drive to Maverick’s hanger Bob tried to swipe something off your tray at least five times like he hadn’t had at least one of each of the things last night when you made everything. He was your official taste tester, something he took very seriously. Every time he tried though you smacked his hand and glared at him. The whole tray has to at least make it in the door.

And it did. However the second you walked in Bob took it from you and the whole dagger squad was on it in an instant. You just rolled your eyes. It wasn’t like you didn’t have whole containers at home filled with more treats. Bobby knew about the containers but he didn’t care. It was more fun this way.

The party was fun. Lots of yummy food. Lots of singing along to Christmas songs old and new.

Soon it was time for the present exchange. Jake ended up with one of your gifts, a photo frame with a bunch of scratch lottery tickets. He guarded that with his life. His wife rolled her eyes at him. Fanboy ended up with another one of your presents, a candle you found that came in a tin that says “I love you for your personality but that dick is a huge bonus.” Payback got your third gift, a Snuggie. He immediately got it out and wrapped himself up in it. Someone had put in pregnancy tests, you’re pretty sure it was Jake’s wife, and Mav ended up with them. Poor guy just looked confused. Rooster ended up with a swear word coloring book with crayons. He almost missed the third round because he was coloring. Bob got a yodeling pickle. You ended up with a ugly Christmas sweater skirt. All in all it was a really fun time.

You all watched as Jake and his wife helped little Eli open his presents. He was so excited to get so many new toys. You and Bob got him a piano floor mat which you have a sneaking suspicion that Rooster is going to steal it from Eli one day and see if he can play ‘Great Balls of Fire’ on it. You saw him eyeing it when Eli opened it. Coyote got Eli a pair of aviator sunglasses. Eli hadn’t taken them off yet, clearly wanting to be cool like his dada.

After all the presents were opened everyone was just hanging around and spending time together before everyone parted ways for leave to visit family and friends. You were chatting with Jake’s wife and Phoenix. Eli came toddling over to the three of you. All three of you started to coo over him telling him how cute he is. It didn’t occur to you that he had changed onesies until Jake’s wife picked him up and turned to you.

“I think Eli has a question for you, babe,” She says and hands Eli to you.

You look at her confused and take Eli.

“Read his shirt,” She says winking at you.

You hold Eli out a little bit in front of you to get a better view of it, “‘Will you marry my Uncle Bobby?’ Huh?”

Jake’s wife smirks at you and takes Eli from your hands while Phoenix turns you around to see Bobby down on one knee holding out a velvet box. Both of your hands immediately cover your mouth as you stare at Bob.

“Eli is cuter than I am. He makes a good wingman,” Bob says with a chuckle. “So baby, will you? Please?”

You start nodding your head afraid to say anything because you’re pretty sure you’ll start sobbing.

Everyone cheers as Bob stands up. You practically throw yourself into Bob’s arms who catches you easily.

You kiss all over his face repeating “yes” over and over again while a few tears leak from your eyes.

Bob grins and holds you close before pulling away to grab your left hand to put the ring on your finger.

You knew Christmas was your favorite holiday for a reason.

#bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #bob x reader #spitfire universe #bob x female reader

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buffetlicious · 2 months

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I have shown you the Reunion Dinner (团圆饭) we had two weeks earlier due to my brother having to go oversea for his company’s training trip. Behold, here is another of our reunion dinner, albeit the home-cooked version. You saw the char siu, roasted chicken and roasted pork mum bought for the prayer earlier in the day so naturally those appeared on the dinner table. As one of my brother and his family plus my sister’s friend will be coming over, mum added extra dishes to the menu. It is not as luscious as the feast we had at the restaurant but nonetheless, it is still a scrumptious and delectable meal.

A simple Cabbage Stir-Fry with premium ingredients of canned baby abalones and scallops. Sis-in-law was commenting on the cabbage being sweet tasting. Ended up this dish emptied of the food saved for a few pieces of the abalones.

Sis was saying mum sliced the Char Siu too thickly but I on the other hand found them just nice as it offered a better texture. Sweet, charred with a smoky taste and just fatty enough to make it a wonderful eat. The Roasted Chicken (deep-fried actually) was well seasoned and succulent to go with the steamed white rice.

These extra-large Steamed Tiger Prawns were bought in Batam and delivered to our house. As the prawns were fresh, mum just steamed it without any condiment. After deshelling, we added some minced ginger sauce before sending it straight into the mouth.

Another seafood that brother order for us from Batam is this large Red Snapper which is done in a spicy style. Mum only made used of the tail portion as the fish is too big to cook properly in the wok she is using. Fresh and sweet tasting with a little spiciness made this a good dish.

Mum also prepared one of her specialties, Braised Five-Spice Pork Belly with shiitake mushrooms and hardboiled eggs. For the soup, it is Pork Ribs Soup with fried pig tendons, fish balls, corn, lettuces and dried scallops to sweeten it.

The side dishes are Pickled Daikon and spicy Nyonya Achar which is a South Asian pickled food made from a variety of vegetables and fruits preserved in brine, vinegar, edible oils and various South Asian spices.

Even though I took a little of everything, I still ended up with a Full Plate. As I slowly tucked into my meal, are you also enjoying your reunion dinner?

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1dmonthlyficroundup · 10 months

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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for June 2023! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month in the order they were submitted to the blog. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ routine surveillance by @disgruntledkittenface [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry’s training period for the Bureau consists of routine surveillance. One night, it becomes a little less routine.

＊ you wanna be on top? by @disgruntledkittenface [NR, 6k, Zayn/Louis]

“This is going to be a challenge for me.”

“Why?” Mr. Jay asks. Zayn can picture him, crossing his arms over his chest, a challenging gleam in his eye, but probably with a glossy smile.

“It looks like she’s kind of boyish? And, like, dorky, you know what I mean?”

Niall pushes Zayn lightly as someone holds the curtain open and she has to plaster on a smile as she walks out into the room. The raspy voice belongs to a brunette standing next to Mr. Jay, and Zayn almost stumbles in her stupid ankle boots when she sees how beautiful she is. Her high cheekbones rival Zayn’s, she has piercing blue eyes, and her lips… Well, Zayn probably shouldn’t think too much about them while she’s on camera.

Zayn’s experience as a contestant on America’s Next Top Model left her more than a little traumatized. She thinks she knows what to expect when she lets herself be talked into making an appearance on the show a couple of years later.

Louis manages to surprise her.

＊ Livin' In A Daydream by @lululawrence [NR, 3k, Louis/Harry]

See, Harry had learned his lesson. In order to protect Louis’ clothing and ensure everything was able to be thoroughly washed the first time, Harry had to go through each item individually. He would never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t go through the basketful and then he accidentally destroyed a beloved band shirt or something.

One line from the song Harry had previously been humming was now stuck in his mind on repeat, but it wasn’t bothering him yet so he allowed it to stay for the moment. The words he knew flowed with the music, and he subconsciously tried to figure out the missing lyrics as he mindlessly went through Louis’ laundry, until it all came to a screeching halt.

Harry originally had thought that the sock he had pulled out was just another one of Louis’ sport socks he left balled up, but when Harry pulled the cuff out, he realized the actual sole of the sock felt… crusty.

＊ Quite the Pickle by @lululawrence [NR, 1k, Louis/Harry/Nick Grimshaw]

Nick hated pickles. It was an entire thing for him and he used to get into arguments all the time when his mum insisted he could just remove them and the sandwich would be fine without them.

She never seemed to understand. The flavor was still left behind because of the juices. The scent was still there. The pickle was never fully removed. Not successfully. And now one was sitting on the plate, almost touching his perfectly pickle free sandwich, all whilst leaking it’s flavor and scent all over his chips.

Good thing there happened to be a pregnant man with a craving nearby.

＊ A Cure for First Show Nerves by @haztobegood [E, 776 words, Louis/Harry]

Harry calls before Louis' first show.

＊ waving to the hard times by @beardyboyzx [NR, 80k, Harry/Louis]

“When you took power, you promised the people equality, freedom from any form of discrimination, and the peace we were severely lacking. Today, once again, you're proving yourself to be a fake, a clown who rose to power just to think about himself.” Louis turns to look at the General once again and finds himself staring at the way his face seems scrunched up in pure and unadulterated rage. “But we — the people, have had enough of you and your barbarity.” Taking a step forward, the person raises his carbine and points it at the balcony. The crowd gasps and Louis takes his gun out of its holder and points it right back at them. “We've had enough. We're not gonna ask you to stop anymore. We're gonna make you.”

Twenty-five years ago, a group of alpha soldiers led a revolution to dispose of the beta oppressive monarchy. Louis Tomlinson, the General’s alpha nephew, is set to follow in his footsteps and eventually lead the Country. When the arrest of a beta brings a silent resistance group to show themselves and threaten The General, Louis finds himself questioning the government's true nature and the equality of the law, in a quest that will change him for good.

＊ in my head we can love forever by @beardyboyzx [E, 1k, Louis/Harry]

It's official: this is creepy. She's creepy. It's not like anything is going to happen just because Louis is a lesbian too. Harry's got to stop touching herself while thinking about her roommate.

Except that she can't.

Or: Harry might be a bit in love with her roommate.

＊ See the Light by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter [E, 6k, Harry/Louis]

Luckily for him, Louis doesn’t seem to mind. “Tell you what, love,” he says. He gets the pen on the counter, scribbles some numbers on the back of his receipt. “Here’s my number, and we can talk more about the purposes of a leash.” He winks, and then saunters away, bag in hand. Harry looks at his arse the whole time.

AKA the filthiest thing I've ever written.

＊ Like a Fire Burning in Your Veins by Stria / @nooradeservedbetter [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

But first kinks are never forgotten, so to speak, and Harry can’t help but go back to them, alone and with Louis, over and over again. Can’t help but ask for bruises and pinches and slaps, can’t help but get on his knees in a bathroom stall, mouth full of dick while Louis bites on his fingers to avoid screaming.

(Or, the one with the pain.)

＊ Cool Kids Never Have The Time by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment [T, 6k, Zayn/Louis]

“Meet Zayn. He's here to fix our immaturity problem,” Louis says in a clearly mocking tone.

Or: Zayn auditions to join a band and makes a bad first impression on their bassist.

＊ Inner Crisis by @neondiamond [G, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Louis calls an LGBTQ+ crisis hotline after coming out as asexual to his friends and family doesn’t quite go as well as he’d hoped. Harry answers his call.

＊ Chasing Feelings by @neondiamond [M, 20k, Harry/Louis]

When homicide detective Louis Tomlinson first gets assigned to work with detective Harry Styles, the newest addition to the Doncaster police station, on the biggest case of his career, he’s less than enthused about it. There’s a serial killer on the loose, and Louis has no time to waste working with a newbie, despite how attracted his inner Alpha may be to Harry’s sweet scent. Along the way, he finds he may have been too quick to judge the Omega.

＊ Ahead in the Count by @kingsofeverything [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Louis’s been a catcher in the minor leagues for more than a decade and he’s never known a pitcher to touch his junk more often than he touches the baseball.

Harry Styles, however, threw 117 pitches tonight, and adjusted himself 228 times.

＊ Bitter Ends Turn Sweet by @allwaswell16 [E, 30k, Louis/Harry]

It had been four years since Harry first heard the song his ex wrote about him and far longer since they broke up. He forgave Louis long ago, and now his life was focused on his career, his family, and especially his son, Max. But Louis was back in Chicago, after all this time, and he’s not an easy man to ignore.

Or a songfic inspired by the song Chicago

＊ All This Time by @allwaswell16 [T, 1k, Louis/Harry]

Louis Tomlinson had been best friends with flower shop owner Gemma Styles for years. It wasn't until she suggested he date her alpha brother that he ever thought of Harry that way. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea...

＊ the embers are new by @nouies [NR, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Louis is a dragon vet whose life is changed after a long trip.

＊ Fingertips Putting on a Show by cherrylarry / @beelou [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry just wants a relaxing self love session in the bathtub when she gets interrupted by a knock on her door.

＊ let's get naked and explore (our inner secrets) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [E, 8k, Zayn/Louis]

Louis’ name flashes on his screen and Zayn frowns at the phone before accepting the call and putting it on speaker. “Lou?”

“Don’t you mean daddy?” Louis asks, and Zayn fumbles with his phone, quickly taking it off speaker and putting in his airpods even before he’s consciously registered what Louis has said.

“What?” he hisses, his cheeks red with embarrassment, but even when he takes out one airpod to listen he can’t hear anything in the hallway, no giggling sisters or horrified mothers indicating that he’s been overheard. “Jesus, Lou, give me a warning next time.” It’s not as though both of them haven't ever started conversations about kink at random before, but here? Now?

Louis doesn’t chuckle, the way Zayn expects him to. Instead he sounds a little confused, or at least careful. “You’re the one that started it?”

“I did not!” Zayn insists hotly, squirming a little bit in the bed because he knows that he hadn’t, but he can’t lie, there’s a part of him that is a little intrigued.

Or: Zayn and Louis figure out a new kink with the help of good ol' autocorrect.

＊ the missing piece that makes me fit by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 17k, Zayn/Louis/Liam]

Liam is exactly Zayn's type. And Zayn is exactly Liam's type.

So it makes perfect sense for Louis to set them up.

Unfortunately, he fails to take into account that they're both also exactly his type.

＊ we will get another day (to begin again) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 1k, Zayn/Liam]

“There’s a ton of health benefits to it, look.”

Zayn gives Liam an unimpressed stare. He doesn’t even acknowledge the phone in his hand. “I don’t care if it makes me immortal, Leeyum, I’m not going to take a freaking ice bath at six in the morning.”

＊ Voyeur Eyes Only by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 1k, Louis/OT5]

For Wankers Day, Louis offers his clients a glimpse through the glory hole. Look but don’t touch never felt so good.

＊ Some Records Turnin’ by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel [E, 49k, Louis/Harry]

“Harry, dear,” Niall said cheerily, his arms ladened down with more boxes they’d received from their shipment earlier that day. “I promise this isn’t a prank, but Louis Tomlinson is sitting in our office.”

“I know,” Harry replied, using his hip to close the drawer of the cash register. “I let him back there.”

“Wait,” Niall said as he sat the boxes in his arms down on the counter and then held up his hands with his palms facing out towards Harry. “You mean to tell me that this man who you have a massive crush on is in our store right now and you’re just letting him sit back there by himself and not trying to shoot your shot?”

Or, Harry is a soft alpha who owns a record store and Louis is a closeted singer omega masquerading as an alpha who randomly stumbles into Harry’s store.

＊ Pegging in Pain by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 4k, Louis/Harry]

Harry loves the creativity of his fans when it comes to the signs they bring to his shows, and he tries to react to as many of the ones he likes as he can. When Louis finds about one cheeky sign, though, Harry’s reaction comes back to bite him in the ass.

＊ Trapezing Secret by thinlines / @thinlinez [E, 10k, Harry/Louis]

This job was supposed to be his secret. No one was supposed to find out.

“Woah.”

Harry dropped the two rubbish bags in his hands. One of the bags must have contained some spilled juice or sauce because he could feel wetness seeping into his ballet flats.

Louis’ hand which had been stuffed into his windbreaker pocket revealed itself as the alpha held up his fist to knuckle at his eyes. He blinked rapidly before he rubbed at his eyes again and squinted.

“Harold?”

OR What will happen when your lazy coworker slash biggest knothead you know discovers your secret? Omega Harry doesn't get the time to ponder his answer.

＊ Write You A Song by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [G, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Harry’s new flat is great but the acoustics are even better. They’re so good in fact that his daily shower concerts start to entertain an audience besides his shampoo bottle.

＊ It's Written All Over Your Face - Say It by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Harry has been a brat all day, and Louis can’t seem to figure out why. When he does though, he delivers a punishment Harry won’t forget.

＊ Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t) by @hellolovers13 [E, 13k, Louis/Harry]

Falling in love with Louis is easy enough. Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not.

But she's not the only one making assumptions.

＊ The Pros and Cons of Breathing by @hellolovers13 [E, 81k, Harry/Louis]

Omega Harry has always known he'd be married off someday, so when he's betrothed to Prince Louis, he's anxious about having to leave his life behind, but hopeful for a happy marriage.

The hope doesn't last long, with his husband avoiding him at all costs and Harry being left to fend for himself.

Can he find happiness even in a broken marriage?

＊ Something Secret by @hellolovers13 [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

The Pros and Cons of Breathing - Companion

Eternity starts with a pink rose.

＊ Til the Afterglow by @hellolovers13 [E, 8k, Harry/Louis]

When Harry goes into heat in a random hotel room a thousand miles from home, there's more than one Alpha offering his help.

＊ It's Alright If It Makes You Feel Alive by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 13k, Louis/Zayn]

Louis has only ever been a dom when it comes to bedroom activities, but after seeing his boyfriend Harry get dominated by Zayn during their threesome, Louis asks Zayn to fulfill a secret wish of his.

＊ Teach Me Your Ways by elsi_bee / @elsi-bee [E, 34k, Louis/Harry]

Based on the following prompt: Omega Harry is the newly appointed sex ed teacher and uptight Alpha Louis does not approve of his very open methods. A rivalry ensues until Harry unravels him behind closed doors.

＊ Pageant Material by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 [G, 6k, Zayn/Louis]

Louis flicks a nearby switch, lighting the bulbs around his mirror in a soft glow. The buttery yellow catches on the edges of his cheekbones, sharpening the dip. He looks more grown up this year. Some of his baby fat has melted away, and he sucks in his cheeks to see what he might look like by twenty five if this pattern continues. Then he crosses his eyes and sticks out his tongue.

Or, the Zouis teen beauty pageant AU.

＊ The Way to My Heart by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 [T, 6k, Louis/Harry]

Louis' having a bit of a dry spell, until he bumps into an attractive alpha in the supermarket and leaves with his number. It was a hard bump. Very... muscular.

The only problem is, said alpha asks Louis to cook for him - which is not exactly his skill set.

＊ you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by @alwaysxlarrie [M, 98k, Harry/Louis]

Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it.

What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. A Cinderella AU.

＊ So Be Good For Goodness Sake by Kikiberoski16 / @larrysballetslippers [E, 3k, Louis/Harry]

Moving his fingers alongside the elastic, Louis’ eyes got darker again. “Did you like my dick down your throat?”

“Yes, daddy, I’m sorry.” A whimper escaped him, he wasn’t ready for a spanking at all, especially not in a broom closet.

Harry felt his pants go down his legs in one go. “That big new plug I got for you, did that feel good?”

Or, Louis picks Harry's outfit for their TV appearance and adds a little surprise.

＊ Lost In This Craze For You by Kikiberoski16 / @larrysballetslippers [E, 4k, Harry/Louis]

A frown formed on his face, he just wanted to talk. Zayn promised him Harry wasn’t mad, but reality seemed different. “Harry! Please!” Louis knocked hard on the door, it creaked and opened slightly.

Louis remembered Harry saying his door was broken, but Louis didn’t expect maintenance to take so long. The light from Harry’s room showed a white line on Louis’ black jeans. Louis couldn’t see inside but he just needed to.

Guilt swept through him as he slowly pushed the door open. As heavy as he felt, Louis took a step inside, and another. He did see Harry at his desk, or in the room, until he turned his head.

His mouth dropped but his heartbeat picked up. His boyfriend was jerking off, on his bed, with- “Harry?”

Or, Louis thinks he is incapable of making his boyfriend come, but Harry just needs a little more from him.

＊ On such breathless nights as these by @marchessa [E, 14k, Louis/Harry]

“Do you wish to become my mate, the pack omega?”

“I do.”

Louis kneeled down in front of him, and took the omega’s hands in his own, holding them over his chest.

“Then I will take you as my omega today,” Louis said with a firm voice. “I will keep you as my omega, my fated mate. From now on, you are mine to love. Mine to care for. Mine to pleasure,” he promised, leaning closer to the omega.

Harry’s whole body flushed after hearing his alpha’s vow, and tears gathered in his eyes.

As a newly presented omega, Harry has a hard time adjusting to his new life. Luckily he has the best alpha anyone could ask for on his side. The Moon had guided him to the most perfect mate in the world, and soon they will bond in the pale moonlight. He just has to survive the long road leading to the mating ritual.

Part 2 of In the middle of the night when the wolves come out

what's left of my halo's black by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [E, 22k, Louis/Harry]

As Harry sucks lovebites into Louis’ neck, Louis hopes that one day those marks will cover the way he can still feel Alex’s handprints burned into his flesh.

As Harry’s nails drag scratches along Louis’ back, Louis hopes that one day the scabs on his heart will heal and drop away just like the scabs on his skin.

As Harry fucks him down into the mattress, the bed shaking with every thrust, Louis hopes that one day his mouth will forget the shape of Alex’s name, won’t trace it over and over as the heat builds inside him, won’t want to scream it when he comes. Maybe one day he’ll open his eyes, as he slowly floats down from his post-orgasm haze, and won’t expect to see Alex’s face smiling back at him.

But today is not that day.

A year after a devastating breakup, Louis is still trying to put himself back together - but getting over a breakup is hard when you work as a wedding planner. Thankfully, his coworker Harry is the most supportive friend Louis could ask for. But Harry has some secrets of his own, and they send Louis' world spinning off its axis all over again.

Based on the song "Holding On To Heartache" by Louis Tomlinson

—Fic Fests—

＊ Wankfest [ masterpost / ao3 / @wankersday ]

＊ Zouis Fic Fest [ masterpost / ao3 / @zouisfics ]

#28th appreciation #trackinghappily #trackinghome #1dficvillage #tracksintheam #1dsource #hltracks #ficsfor4am #hlficlibrary

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