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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

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The Long Way Home I Chapter Seven

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Warnings — Teenage love, growing up together, falling in love, teen pregnancy, no explicit scenes when the characters are underaged (obviously??), strong language, manipulative parents, past death of a parent, dyscalculia, hardly any angst, slice-of-life basically!

Notes — Surprise update! Yes, it's 1am and this is the longest chapter so far. Shhh. I'm craving porridge (is it the boarding school nostalgia? Probably)!

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

They lay side by side in Oscar's narrow bed, Harper curled into his chest like she was trying to disappear into him. The radiator in the corner clicked every few minutes, rattling weakly like it was barely holding the heat hostage.

Sam was snoring softly in the other bed, back turned, face half-buried in his pillow. He hadn't asked many questions when Harper had climbed through the window earlier in her socks and school jumper. Just lifted his head, blinked once, and mumbled, "She staying?"

Oscar had nodded. Sam had grunted and rolled over.

Now, in the dark, the room felt small. Still. Safe, in that oddly teenage, temporary way — like nothing outside of it could reach them for a little while.

Harper's breath warmed the space between them. She shifted, tugging the scratchy blanket higher over her shoulders.

"I think I'm going to start showing soon," she whispered, voice barely there.

Oscar didn't say anything right away. His hand rested against the small of her back, thumb moving slow, calming circles just under the hem of her sweatshirt. He could feel the warmth of her skin and the tension still coiled beneath it.

"Maybe," he said eventually. "Dunno. Maybe not for a few more weeks."

"I'll need a new uniform skirt soon. Mine's tight."

"Headmaster said you could wear leggings if you wanted."

"I know." She exhaled sharply. "But I like wearing a skirt. And leggings'll just make people stare more than they already do."

Oscar winced slightly. "Yeah. Didn't take long for everyone to find out, did it?"

No. No, it hadn't.

It was late January now. They'd known about the baby for just over three weeks — and the school had known for at least two. She wasn't even sure how. Maybe someone overheard a call. Maybe someone read her expression too closely one morning in chapel. Or maybe it had just been Sam.

"Pretty sure it was your roommate," she murmured. "Can't keep a secret to save his life."

Oscar snorted under his breath. "Yeah. I love him, but he's hopeless."

She hummed. "I hate being stared at."

Oscar glanced down. Her voice had gone quiet again.

"I always hated it," she said. "Even before all this. The way people would look at me like I was some painting they want to own. It happened a lot when I was little. With my dad."

Oscar leaned in and kissed her forehead, slow and soft. "Then they don't get to look at you anymore," he said. "Just me."

She raised an eyebrow. "Possessive."

"Protective," he corrected, then blushed awkwardly.

That made her smile. She buried her face against his chest again.

Outside, snow tapped gently at the dorm window. The radiator clicked again.

After a long moment, she whispered, "I'm so relieved, you know. That you were okay with me... wanting to go through with this." Her voice wobbled. "I know it's mad. I know we're fifteen, and scared and it's going to make everything ten times harder than normal. But I think—" Her throat caught. "I think I already love it. The baby."

Oscar didn't move. For a second, she worried maybe he'd frozen. Maybe he'd changed his mind.

Then he nodded. Just once.

"Okay," he said.

She blinked up at him, eyes glossy. "Okay?"

"We'll make it work," he said. "Whatever you want, Harp. That's what we do. Already told you that, didn't I?"

She wiped her cheek with her sleeve, her breathing hitching. "You did."

For a while, they were quiet. Just the soft rise and fall of two bodies pressed together, trying to be brave.

Then, like a pebble dropped into still water, she asked, "What was it like? Growing up?"

Oscar looked at her. "Me?"

"No," she said, deadpan. "The other guy in this bed."

He laughed. "Alright. Cheeky." Then he shrugged. "I dunno. Normal? Mum made me packed lunches. Dad travelled a lot for work. I've had a hardcore obsession with cars since I was about two."

Harper smiled. "That's endearing."

"You?"

She made a soft, ambiguous noise in the back of her throat.

"Different," she said eventually. "My childhood didn't look like the ones on TV. There wasn't the little house on the end of the street with the dad in the driveway and the golden retriever named Biscuit. My dad... he was who he was. And my mum—her parents were rich, but Dad was something else."

"What was his title again?" Oscar asked gently.

"Officially? Duke of Northamptonshire."

Oscar hummed. "Like... an actual duke?"

"Mm-hmm." She didn't sound smug about it. She sounded tired. "Land, estates, racehorses. It was old money. Generational. My mum always wanted the fashion thing to stand on its own. But she married into the aristocracy and she'll never let anyone forget it."

Oscar was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, "What was he like? Your dad?"

She went still. Not tense. Just... still.

"He was kind," she said softly. "That's the word that sticks. Kind, and a bit soft around the edges. He never seemed like the aristocrat they wrote about in Tatler. He used to sing really badly when he made breakfast. Always wore old jumpers that smelled like stale coffee and barn hay. He taught me how to play chess. Bought me this ridiculous rocking horse when I was six because one of my friends had one in her nursery and I liked it."

Oscar didn't speak. Just kept tracing soft lines against her back.

"I don't think he really fit in with all of it," she said after a moment. "With the world he came from. He was born into it, but he didn't play the part very well. He cared more about people than image, and she my mum... She loved him, but she hated that: Said he was wasting his pedigree. Whatever that means."

"What happened?" Oscar asked. "I mean... after the crash. To you two. You and your mum."

Harper swallowed. "We inherited it all from him. The land and the estates and the horses. But it just... didn't feel right anymore. Maybe it never did. But my mum was in so much pain after losing him — I think I reminded her too much of him, you know? I was his kid in all the ways that mattered — and that didn't fit the mould she wanted for me."

Oscar was quiet for a long time.

Finally, he said, "I think he'd be proud of you. For standing up for yourself."

Harper blinked hard. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. He sounds like someone who would appreciate that."

She let out a shaky breath and tucked her face against his collarbone.

The radiator clicked again.

They didn't say much after that.

—

The common room had that early-evening stink to it — heat trapped under polyester, Lynx Africa, and the vague aftersmell of instant noodles someone had overcooked in the microwave.

Harper sat curled up in the corner armchair, legs tucked under her. Oscar was on the floor beside her, stretched out, one knee bouncing, thumb skimming idly along the edge of her sock. She was pretending to revise for maths. Mostly just staring at the page, eyes glazed. Sam lay on the rug like a chalk outline, feet shoved under the coffee table. Alfie and Matt were slouched on the opposite sofa, playing some game on Matt's phone with the sound off. Jane was painting her nails with Tippex and a biro.

It was quiet in the way that only a room full of teenagers rooms could be — full of shifting bodies and chewing and low muttering and the occasional sigh, like the air itself was tired.

Across the room, near the vending machines, three Year Thirteen girls were clustered in a semicircle of swishy ponytails, fake eyelashes, and aggressively rolled-up skirts. They had that perpetual stink of Clinique Happy and entitlement.

"Bet she thinks she's some sort of martyr or summat," one of them said, too loud to be an accident. "Proper bitch, if you ask me."

"It was bound to happen, wasn't it? The Aussie's here for what, five minutes? And she's got her claws in him. Investment, innit."

One of them made a clucking noise. "Mad, really. Her mum's some fashion type but she still dresses like she shops in M&S. Thinks she's posh just 'cos of her dad's name; but he's just dust in a crypt somewhere."

"Fancy name, fancy voice, still just a fucking slag."

Oscar stilled like someone had pulled the handbrake on him mid-thought. Sam sat up with the kind of speed he usually reserved for food or FIFA.

Jane didn't even look away from her nails. "Fuck off."

The girls blinked.

"What?"

"You heard me," Jane said, standing now, holding the little brush like a weapon. "Shut the fuck up. And fuck off."

One of them gave a mocking little laugh. "Bit aggressive, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well," Jane said sweetly, "maybe if you weren't so fucking clapped, you'd be capable of getting laid. Then you wouldn't be so obsessed with the people who are."

Sam hauled himself to his feet and pointed a Dorito at them like it was a wand. "Cunts."

"Sam," Matt muttered, horrified.

"I said what I said," Sam declared, unfazed. "Cunts. Both of 'em."

Alfie barely looked up. "Don't stir it, mate. Let 'em chat shit. You know what they're like. They're just fucking jealous."

Oscar rose to his feet slowly. His face was blank, eyes fixed on the girls — no shouting, no swearing, but there was steel in his silence.

The ringleader rolled her eyes. "Didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure," Jane said, arms folded. "You just woke up and decided to be a bunch of silly cunts. Congrats."

The girls left in a huff of swished ponytails, gum-snapping, and muttered slurs.

Silence settled over the room again, heavy and a little awkward.

Sam flopped back down onto the rug like nothing had happened. "Well that was fun. Anyone wanna order a pizza to the gates?"

Harper hadn't said a word the whole time.

Oscar looked up at her. "You alright?"

She nodded, but it was the kind of nod that looked more like bracing herself than answering a question. "Girls being girls. Was bound to happen."

Jane plonked back onto the armrest beside her and sighed. "I'm gonna put Nair in their shampoo. Watch me."

Harper snorted.

"I don't need you guys to fight my battles for me," she said after a beat, voice low but steady.

"Nah," said Alfie, not looking up. "We know. But you're our mate, yeah? And mates have each other's backs."

Harper blinked. She hadn't expected that from Alfie. He looked mildly horrified that he'd said something sincere, and immediately buried himself back in the game on Matt's phone.

Oscar leaned into her leg again, grounding her.

"Are they like that a lot?" He asked.

Harper gave a tired little shrug. "Some of them. It's just—That's how it is, Osc. Rich girls aren't taught how to make friends. We're taught to win rooms. Be the most valued person in it. At whatever cost."

Oscar frowned, then rested his chin against her knee. "You're the most valued person in this room."

"Only 'cause Jane hasn't finished her nails yet."

"Whatever you say, Lady Harper." He teased, lightly.

Harper huffed and let her eyes fall closed for a second. The warmth of him against her leg. Jane's foot gently nudging hers. Sam's fake-sleep breathing. The way Alfie kept pretending not to look up, like he'd jump in again if needed.

It didn't make everything okay.

But it made right now a little easier to bear.

—

The radiators were rattling again. They did that now — made a sort of mechanical clunk every ten minutes, like they were choking on their own ancient pipes. Sam had taken to kicking it every time it made a noise. So far, that hadn't fixed it. But it seemed to make him feel better.

Harper sat cross-legged at the foot of Oscar's bed, a Biology workbook open across her lap, biro tucked behind one ear, hair tied up with the bobble she'd stolen from Jane last week. Her blazer was somewhere on the floor in a heap, beside a half-eaten KitKat, an empty Ribena carton, and a pair of socks that definitely didn't belong to her.

Oscar was leaning against the wall, legs stretched out, a notebook in his lap. He was chewing the end of his pen like it had personally wronged him. His hair was a disaster — slightly flattened on one side, sticking up on the other. He hadn't shaved in three days and still couldn't grow a real moustache.

Sam was draped across his own bed, limbs splayed like he'd been dropped from a great height, chemistry flashcards held above his head like he was trying to burn the knowledge into his retinas.

"Is it February?" Sam asked suddenly.

Oscar blinked. "Yeah. It's the sixth."

"Oh. Happy February."

Harper let out a tired breath of a laugh. "Valentine's Day soon. You got a crush on anyone, Sammy?"

"Nah," he muttered. "Fuck love."

"Romantic," she said, eyebrows raised.

Oscar snorted. "That's our Sam."

"Better than what I said last year," Sam mumbled. "Told Miss Patel I hoped she got some on Valentine's and nearly got kicked out of school."

Harper snorted. "Jesus."

Oscar chuckled. "Still remember the look on her face."

"Yeah, well. You try doing triple science with raging hormones and Miss Patel reading Of Mice and Men in that voice."

"She's literally almost fifty."

"Doesn't matter," Sam muttered. "Voice like silk. Made me believe in the American Dream."

Harper groaned and flopped backwards. "I hate this room."

"You're in here more than your own."

"No I'm not." She argued.

Sam pointed a crisp at her. "You've basically moved in."

"I have not."

"You have a toothbrush in our bathroom."

Harper looked mildly indignant. "So? Doesn't mean I live here."

"You've got socks in Oscar's drawer."

"I have socks in lots of places."

Oscar smirked, eyes still on his notebook. "Do you?"

"Shut up."

Harper shifted slightly, wincing as she adjusted the waistband of her skirt. It was new — a size bigger than her old one, but it didn't feel like it. Everything felt tighter lately. Her jumper was clinging weirdly at the chest too. She tugged it forward and stared down at the buttons on her shirt.

"My boobs are massive," she muttered.

Oscar looked up. Then down. Then immediately went bright red. "No comment."

"Pervert."

"I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to." She narrowed her eyes at him.

Sam made a strangled noise. "Please. I'm trying to focus. I cannot be thinking about Harper's tits right now."

"Fuck you!" Harper shrieked. She grabbed one of Oscar's pillows and hurled it across the room. It hit Sam square in the face.

"Assault!" he yelped, throwing his arms up dramatically. "I've been attacked in my own home."

Oscar snorted, folding his notes shut. "You're lucky that's all she threw."

"You're both annoying," Harper muttered, trying not to smile.

Sam peeked at her from behind the pillow. "You alright though? You've been making that... face."

"What face?"

"The 'everything hurts and I hate everyone' face."

Harper made a face. "That's just my face."

Oscar glanced over at her, more seriously now. "Anything feel off?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm just... heavy. Tired. I don't know. Apparently the baby's the size of a raspberry this week."

Sam perked up. "You're growing fruit in there?"

"Metaphorical, you idiot."

Oscar leaned over and brushed a bit of lint off her shoulder. "You want to lie down?"

"I'm alright." She smiled, faintly. "I like sitting and pretending to revise with you two."

"Oi," Sam said, wounded. "I'm absorbing this information with sheer force of will."

"You're absorbing crisps. That's it."

Oscar gave a low laugh, then glanced at Harper. "Remember, my mum's coming this weekend."

Harper looked up. "Right. Yeah. I know."

She went still for a second — just a flicker, like something locking up behind her eyes — then flipped a page in her workbook, trying to look casual about it. But her voice had gone a little too careful.

Oscar noticed. Of course he did.

"She really wants to meet you," he said, softer now. "She's been asking since... well, since last September when we started going out. I know you've spoken to her on FaceTime but it's not, like, the same, is it."

Harper gave a small, lopsided smile. "She's not fuming, then?"

"What?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Osc." She sighed. Gave him a look. "About the baby. About the fact that I might be ruining your life?"

Oscar dropped his pen and sat up straighter, frowning. "Harps. You're not ruining anything."

Sam chimed in from his bed. "Nicole's literally a saint. She's lovely."

"She's not mad." Oscar said quietly. Leaned in and touched Harper's lips with his thumb, like he was trying to physically wipe the frown off of her face. "She was... shocked, at first. But she's doing better with it now. She's been knitting."

Harper blinked. "She knits?"

"Badly."

"I'm scared," Harper admitted, very quietly. "Like... really scared. What if she hates me?"

Oscar leaned forward, nudging her foot with his. "She won't. I promise. My mum's not like that. She already calls you 'little love' in texts."

Harper let out a shaky laugh. "Does she?"

"Yeah. Wants to take you out for tea. Thinks you need feeding up."

"I agree," Sam muttered. "She's had half a KitKat and one of my crisps."

"I'm nervous," Harper said, then glanced at Oscar. "Not about her being mean. Just... I want her to like me. She's your mum."

Oscar smiled gently. "She will."

"I'm not used to nice mums." She whispered.

He leaned in. Kissed her softly. "I'm sorry."

Sam gagged. "Can you two fucking stop? I'm trying to eat."

—

The gravel drive outside the school crunched under the tyres of a silver Volvo as it rolled to a stop near the visitor bays.

Oscar spotted it first from the common room window. "She's here."

Harper immediately stood up, then sat back down. "Okay. I feel sick."

Sam didn't look up from his flashcards. "Don't puke on her. First impressions and all that."

Oscar gave her hand a squeeze. "She's excited. Honestly, she keeps texting me pictures of tiny socks."

"I don't know how to talk to mums," Harper muttered. "Mine doesn't count for obvious reasons."

"You've FaceTimed with her."

"FaceTime is different. That's like... TV. This is real life. What if she doesn't like me in real life?"

Oscar stood and tugged gently at her sleeve. "Come on. You'll be fine. She's got biscuits."

"...what kind?"

"Don't know. Probably the ones she always buys that no one actually likes but we all pretend we do because they're posh."

Harper followed him out across the courtyard, heart rattling inside her chest like a loose marble. It was cold — the kind of sharp, bright February cold that made your breath cloud up instantly. Her school coat was unzipped and flapping around her knees. She hadn't even checked her hair. Christ.

Nicole stepped out of the car wearing a giant woollen scarf and sunglasses too big for her face, carrying a tote bag that looked like it had seen every grocery store in Hertfordshire. She was taller than Harper expected — tall in that mum way, where it was all good posture and sensible boots. Her hair was curly and dyed dark at the roots with stubborn greys she hadn't bothered to cover. And she had the exact same laugh as Oscar, Harper realised — loud and too delighted.

"There's my boy," Nicole said, pulling Oscar into a proper, swaying hug that lifted him slightly off the ground. "God, look at your hair. Have you been brushing it with a fork?"

Oscar muffled something into her shoulder, cheeks pink. "Mum."

"And you must be Harper."

Harper froze for a split second — then managed a small smile. "Hi."

Nicole took one look at her and pulled her straight into a hug.

Warm. Solid. Smelling of fabric softener and mint gum.

It knocked the air right out of her.

"I feel like I already know you," Nicole said when she pulled back. "You're even prettier in person. Not that you aren't gorgeous on FaceTime. But I always think those calls make everyone look like they've been filmed on a potato."

Harper blinked. "Oh. Um. Thanks?"

"I brought biscuits," Nicole added, digging around in her tote. "And a scarf. You don't own a decent one, apparently."

She held it out — it was knitted. Badly. Yellow and lumpy and soft.

Harper stared at it. Then at her. "You made this?"

"Well, I had help. There's a very patient woman on YouTube called Marion who saved my life." She grinned. "Go on, take it. It's hideous but it'll keep you warm."

Harper took the scarf. Her fingers tingled. It was the first homemade thing anyone had ever given her.

"Thanks," she said, voice barely above a whisper.

Nicole just smiled and tucked a stray curl behind Harper's ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You doing alright, love?"

Harper nodded. She wasn't, really. Not completely. But for the first time in weeks, the knot in her chest eased just slightly.

Oscar slipped his hand into hers. "Told you," he murmured.

And Harper — still clutching the scarf, still blinking like she wasn't sure what just happened — smiled. "Yeah," she whispered back. "You did."

—

The library windows were sweating — misted over from the inside, the radiator below doing its very best to boil Harper's ankles.

She sat cross-legged on the floor between the Philosophy and Biology sections, highlighters scattered across her lap, a mechanical pencil in her hair like a knitting needle. Her bump — barely visible unless you were looking for it — had finally made zipping up her skirt an Olympic event. She'd given up and worn leggings today, after Oscar talked her out of rage-quitting school entirely at 8:07 that morning.

Oscar was lying beside her, flipping through flashcards with the glazed look of someone being slowly crushed by the weight of the AQA specification.

"So," he said, tapping one against her knee. "Harper Whiatt. Mother of child. Knows what meiosis is. Who knew?"

"Shut up."

"Proud of you."

"You're not even revising that subject."

"Still proud."

She rolled her eyes. "You're annoying."

"Admit it," he said, leaning his head against her shoulder. "You'd miss me if I died in the corridor during your chemistry mock."

She snorted. "Only because you're the one who carries all my pens."

A few steps away, Sam sat at a table doing absolutely no work whatsoever. He had one wired earbud in, a can of Monster open, and a singular page of notes he'd spent forty-five minutes underlining in different colours.

"Oi," he said suddenly. "Osc. Your mum messaged me on Facebook earlier."

Harper looked up. "She what?"

"She sent me a meme of a baby wearing sunglasses and a fake moustache. Told me to show you. Said you'd been ignoring her messages again."

Oscar groaned. "She's unbelievable."

Harper glanced at him. "You're ignoring her messages?" She asked.

"Only the annoying ones." He winced.

There was a pause. It started to rain outside.

Harper let out a breath and pressed a hand lightly to her belly, almost without thinking.

Oscar watched her.

"You okay?" He asked softly.

She nodded. "Just... feel a bit sick. And I'm thinking."

"About?"

"Mock exams. Labour. Stretch marks. My mum. My future. What I want to do with my life."

He reached over and squeezed her knee. "I'll fail chemistry with you, if it helps."

She smiled faintly. "That's nice of you."

"It is," he said. "We'll be dumb together."

Sam looked up from his Monster. "Can't wait for the baby shower. Gonna bring a banner that says 'Congratulations on your accidental offspring.'"

"I'm not having a baby shower," Harper muttered, cheeks pink.

Sam grinned. "Tell Jane that."

Oscar groaned. "God, don't let Jane plan any kind of party. Please. Not after the last time."

Somewhere behind them, Miss Patel coughed loudly and glared.

They lowered their voices after that.

Sort of.

—

The waiting room smelled like antiseptic and lemon floor cleaner. The chairs were plastic and uncomfortable. The kind of place where the ceiling tiles always looked slightly damp and the magazines were six months out of date.

Harper sat with her coat bunched up around her, school uniform replaced by a pair of leggings and one of Oscar's hoodies. Her hands were clasped tight in her lap. She hadn't spoken much in the car.

Oscar sat next to her, elbows on his knees, trainers scuffed from too many track walks. He kept glancing at the wall-mounted TV, where an animated diagram of a growing foetus looped every five minutes.

Chris was across from them, flicking through the appointment letter on his phone again, as if it might change.

"You alright?" Oscar asked, his voice quiet.

Harper nodded without looking at him. "Yeah."

"You don't have to be brave."

"I know." She paused. "I'm scared."

He leaned over, shoulder bumping hers. "Me too."

The door opened. A midwife popped her head around. "Harper Whiatt?"

Harper stood, legs stiff. Oscar got up with her.

The midwife smiled warmly. "You can both come in. You're her... partner?"

Oscar flushed. "Um. Yeah."

Chris made a small movement to stand but Harper looked back. "Can you wait here?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "Course, kid. Whatever you prefer."

Inside, the room was small but warm. The ultrasound machine beeped quietly. A little cot of sterile supplies sat in the corner. It was more clinical than cosy.

"Alright, pop yourself up there," she said gently, gesturing to the bed.

Harper lay back, pulling her top up and the waistband of her leggings down just enough to expose her bump. She could feel Oscar's eyes on her — not gawking, just wide. Soft.

"This'll be a little cold," she warned, squeezing the gel onto Harper's belly.

Harper flinched. "Yup. Still gross."

The midwife smiled. "Won't last long. Let's see if this little one's cooperating today..."

She moved the probe over Harper's stomach, eyes fixed on the monitor. For a moment there was just static and shadows, and then — there it was. The unmistakable curve of a head. A little nose. Limbs.

Harper blinked.

Oscar made a sound like he'd just been punched in the chest. "Holy shit."

"Language," the midwife said mildly.

"Sorry. Just—" He reached for Harper's hand, gripped it. "That's... that's an actual baby."

She nodded slowly, her throat tight. "It is."

"Everything's measuring just right," the midwife said. "Spine's looking good. Heartbeat's strong. Want to hear it?"

Harper nodded.

The sound filled the room like drums underwater — a galloping, fast rhythm that didn't feel real.

Oscar was squeezing her hand hard.

She turned her head slightly to look at him. He looked stunned. Teary. And smiling.

The midwife chuckled. "That's the usual reaction."

They finished the scan. She wiped off the gel. Harper sat up, dazed. The midwife printed a few black-and-white images and handed them over.

"Here's your baby," she said softly. "You're around 18 weeks and five days, give or take. You'll be starting to feel more movement soon; those flutters you're feeling? That's your baby."

Harper stared at the picture. The tiny hand. The shape of a face that she somehow already recognised.

"Do you want to know the sex?" The midwife asked. "I can tell you now."

They glanced at each other. Harper opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Not yet," she said finally. "I don't want it to be... no. Just — not yet."

The midwife nodded, as if she understood exactly what she meant. "Alright. We'll leave it a surprise then."

When they left the room, Oscar still had the photo clutched between his fingers like it might disappear if he let go.

Chris stood. "How'd it go?"

Harper handed him one of the pictures.

His expression softened in a way she wasn't used to seeing. "Wow," he said quietly. "That's a baby."

She smiled faintly. "It is."

Chris handed the photo back and opened the car door for her. For once, she didn't protest.

Oscar waited until they were pulling out of the hospital car park to whisper, "I can't believe it, Harp." He said, his finger touching the baby's head on the photo. "I can't — It's so real."

"Yeah." She whispered. She pressed close to him and stared at the picture too.

—

The karting circuit smelled like oil, petrol and old toast — someone had clearly burned something in the staff kitchenette again. Engines buzzed constantly in the background, a low, waspish hum that made Harper's teeth itch.

She was sat on a plastic folding chair just behind the pit barrier, wrapped in hoodie and the scarf Nicole had made for her. Her coat was slung over the back of the chair, long forgotten. It had been cold when they'd arrived, but the sun was out now — faint, watery, but warm enough that she'd started to regret the extra layers.

Oscar had been out on track for nearly an hour. Mark stood nearby with a stopwatch, watching his lines, only occasionally muttering into the walkie-talkie clipped to his jacket.

It was oddly peaceful, in a sensory-overload sort of way. The scent, the noise, the blur of Oscar's kart skimming the corners — all of it had become familiar, almost comforting. Harper liked watching him like this. He looked free out there. Focused.

She shifted slightly in her seat, one hand dropping to rest on the small swell of her stomach. She wasn't huge yet — barely showing in a coat, but it was obvious now in anything fitted. She'd ordered a new school skirt again.

She yawned, stretching a little, fingers absently rubbing across her bump.

And then — something.

Not gas. Not indigestion. Not a cramp.

Something fluttered, just under her palm. Light and strange and soft — like a goldfish brushing against her from the inside. She froze.

There it was again. A nudge, low and quick. Almost like... a hello.

Her breath caught. She stared down at her belly.

Oscar zipped past again — then pulled into the pit lane, helmet tucked under one arm, flushed from the cold and the speed. He'd spotted her smile before he even reached her.

"What?" He asked, dropping down in front of her, a little breathless. "What's that face?"

She blinked at him. Then her hand moved instinctively back to her stomach.

"I think..." she said, eyes wide, voice soft with disbelief, "I think it just moved."

Oscar's eyebrows shot up. "What, really?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Like... it was tiny. Like someone flicked me from the inside. It was weird."

His grin was immediate and ridiculous. "That's so cool."

Harper laughed, still a bit stunned. "It's a bit freaky, actually."

"Freaky in a good way?"

"I dunno. I'll tell you when it does it again."

He reached up, gently pressing his hand beside hers. "That's insane," he whispered, like the baby might hear him.

Harper leaned forward. "It feels like there's an alien inside me, Osc."

He snickered. "Alien invasion?"

"Yeah." She giggled. It was ridiculous, but it was true.

Nearby, Mark pretended not to be eavesdropping. But Harper saw the way he smiled slightly to himself before turning back to his stopwatch.

NEXT CHAPTER

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peachesofteal · 3 months ago

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Simple Math / Part Twenty One

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 CW: 18+ mdni, discussion of kidnapping, sedation. Angst.

“Da?” Penny points at the guest room. “Bunny?”

“Aye lamb, Bunny.” He tries not to look at the door, tries to push away the avalanche of despair. If he could dig it free it from his brain, he would. He’d take it away from everyone, you, Si, himself. He’d rewind time, take it all back, start from the beginning and fix it all.

The memories burn like fire. They’re ash in the back of his throat.

“We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

What a lie. Who were they kidding, doing this? Pretending they were some knights in shining armor, coming to rescue you?

They became everything you feared.

Pen nestles into his neck, gripping his shirt as she wiggles. “Story?”

“Jus’ one alright?” She signs okay, and sighs.

“Gus?” He grits his teeth. Penny's love for Gus has been a tiny bright spot in an abysmal expanse of misery, but her obsession just reminds him of everything else.

“Gus is downstairs, it’s nap time.” He can feel the tumultuous slope of a tantrum, Penny’s mood ratcheting up and up until it explodes. She’s tired, and stressed, too much like her Dad, reading the emotions in the house like its second nature. She knows something is wrong.

“Gus Gus,” her lower lip trembles, legs kicking. “Wan’ Gus Gus.”

“Ye’ll see Gus later.” She doesn’t understand anything that’s happened, and the guilt eats at him, at what they’ve done to their family, what they’ve brought into their home.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He holds her tight, kisses her forehead. “I love ye, Penny.” She sniffles.

“Luh you.”

“Not at all?”

“No idea mate. Looked at me like she’s never seen me a day in her life. A bit bizarre if you ask me.” Simon rubs a hand over his face. “But she also pointedly avoided looking at me. Tried to make herself smaller.” Johnny grimaces. They've moved as fast as they could, but you didn't make it easy.

In a weird way, Johnny is proud of you.

“How does she seem?” He knows this answer. To not recognize Kyle you must be tired beyond belief, operating on autopilot, frozen stiff with fear.

“Skittish. Exhausted. Scared.” His shoulders slump, entire body sinking into the cushions of the couch. Your frightened face haunts his dreams, a little rabbit running for her life. He can't imagine how you must feel, believing you were betrayed by them, running away with their babe in your belly.

In another life, maybe they’d stay in Scotland with you. He’d show you all the things he loves about it, all the things he still calls home, the same things he showed Pen. Maybe it would be different.

“Did you get it done?” Simon interrupts his spiral, redirects their focus.

“Yeah, managed to slip it into the little pocket at the top, she had no idea. It’s online and I sent you guys the link; you should be able to see the ping. I’ll stay on her until you get here.”

“From a distance.” Simon reiterates, and Kyle scoffs.

“Do you think I’m an amateur?”

Penny isn’t in her room after her nap.

She gets up at the same time everyday without fail, dependable clockwork that they work their lives around.

Johnny’s heart jumps into his throat. Logical thinking starts to fade away into panic, fear, his fumbling fingers swiping at his phone just as her little giggle echoes from down the hall, and relief rushes through his bones.

She's in your room. Curled up in your side, feet in your lap, little palm on your belly, staring up at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

“And then the cow said-”

“Moooo!” He’s sick at the sight, another tidal wave of grief pulling him out to sea, reminding him of things they’ll probably never have now, your love, your trust, a family with you.

But you haven't left, a desperate voice in his head reminds him, you've had plenty of opportunities, but stays here. Why?

Maybe all hope isn't lost.

“That’s right,” you brush her wispy curls back from her face and smile, “you’re such a smart girl Pen.” She pats the curve of your stomach, and then signs.

“Baby?” Your hand folds over hers, and Johnny’s throat is so tight he can barely breathe. “My baby.” You laugh, and she giggles as you hug her close, kissing the top of her head.

“This is your baby brother or sister Pen. What do you think? Boy? Or girl?” Penny shrugs, giving you a sheepish look.

“Gus?”

“Didn’t you see Gus earlier? Did you feed him breakfast?” There’s some shuffling, and she wiggles down to the floor, waiting patiently as you groan and swing your legs over the bed. “Alright, he could probably use some more fish flakes anyway.” You look tired, weary, but still your smile is soft for Penny, gentle and encouraging.

It fades when you catch him in the doorway.

“Hey.” You nod, the small spark in your eyes dying immediately as you watch him cautiously. Like he’s a threat.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Er, not long.” What’s another lie in the long list of transgressions at this point?

“Pen wants to see Gus so… I thought I’d take her downstairs.” You shift uneasily, and he steps aside. Penny’s hand is tucked in yours, and a vision of one of you falling, tripping, and taking the other down flashes in his mind.

“Be careful on the stairs Pen.” She goes down on her knees now, backward, sliding her stomach across each step in a slow but methodical process. One that could trip you up. “I can take ye down-”

“No,” she vehemently refuses, “I do it.”

“She can do it on her own.” You back her up immediately, both of his girls united in solid opposition against him. Bleedin’ Christ. Penny points downstairs.

“Da. Gus.” She signs for both, for once oblivious to your agitation, and he winces when you shoot him an annoyed look.

“I’ve got her Johnny.”

“Okay,” Penny’s already started on her descent, and you hold onto the banister, still glaring at him. He gulps. “Ye be careful too.” For a second, the storm breaks, the thunder rolls over the hill into the distance, torrential downpour turning a drizzle, and the sun tries to peek through the clouds. Sadness and longing, flickers in your eyes, so clearly displayed that it urges him forward, a step too close. You back away.

The sun is gone, and the storm rages.

The prefilled syringe glints in the sunlight where it sits on the table. Johnny tries not to look at it.

“Are ye sure-”

“No,” Simon snaps, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, I’m not. But I don’t see what our choices are. We can’t leave her on her own with Graves at large. I promised… I promised she’d be safe. That I’d take care of her.”

“We both did.”

“Well we did a shit job.” He pales when he looks back at the needle. “We’re one hundred percent sure? It’s not going to harm them?”

“Aye, triple checked. Safe for mum and baby.” They sit across from one another in silence. Simon is far away, somewhere even Johnny can’t reach him, and when he speaks next, his voice cracks.

“She’s going to be so scared. She won’t understand what’s happening.” He covers his face, heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. “She already thinks… she thinks we’re a threat. She’s not going to listen to anything we say.”

“I know.”

“We have to do it this way.” He’s whispering, locked in an endless battle of wills with himself, and Johnny reaches for his hand. He doesn’t know what else to do. Sick with dread twisting his heart, he knows the options are limited. He knows this is a good course of action, possibly the safest, the most rational.

Even if it will turn them into your monsters.

“I know, Si. I know.”

You’re on the patio.

He’s found you there a few times, curled up on the outdoor couch, sun on your face as you read or scroll on your phone.

He wants to go to you, encouraged by the sliver of something he saw in your eyes earlier, but he knows he can’t. If he pushes too hard, it will only make you retreat.

“She’s been out there for an hour.” Simon stands at his side, and if you look up, you’ll see both of them staring. Watching.

“Did ye talk to her?”

“Tried. She ignored me.”

“Did ye actually?” His patience is thin today, a fine thread threatening to fray. “Try?” Johnny knows what it truly is, this avoidance of you. Simon brings you meals, checks in, but keeps away, holds his position at a firm distance.

He can’t live with himself.

“Johnny,” it’s a warning shot, but he chooses not to pay it any attention.

“Did ye? Try at all? Because I haven’t seen ye try since we got home, since that day she woke up.” Simon stiffens.

“She doesn’t want me.”

“She doesnae want either o’ us Si. What did ye think would happen? That everything would be fine and she would forgive us? She would trust us automatically?” He’s on the verge of yelling now, and instead of trying to soothe him as usual, Simon scowls and turns away. Johnny snaps. “We said it’d take time an’ work but ye’re jus’ runnin’ away now, every chance ye get, an’ leavin’ everything to me!”

“I…” He’s never seen his husband so lost. These past two weeks, every day he’s slipped further and further away, and nothing Johnny says or does brings him back. “I can’t, Johnny.”

“Ye have to try.” For her. For me. For your family. Simon shakes his head.

“I can’t.”

“Jesus.” The heel of your palm goes to your temple, and he holds his breath. “What-” You trail off as you look up, take them in, guilty as sin.

If only his Ma could see him now. See what he’s done.

You shoot upward, scrambling towards the head of the bed, eyes wide and frozen with fear.

Shaking and terrified. A little rabbit caught in a snare. Their snare.

You watch them like they're executioners leading you to the block.

“Wh-what…”

“Listen to us sweetheart, just listen,” Simon soothes, voice low and cautious but fast because he knows they’ve got to get it out, establish the truth right away. “You’re safe, everything’s okay, you and the baby, you’re safe here.” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“You… b-brought me back?” Your voice cracks. “You brought me back and n-now he’s…” you break apart on a sob.

“He’s never going to touch ye ever again, bunny. We swear it. I know,” you try to scoot off the bed, but Simon holds you still by your shoulders. They have to get this out, have to get through this part no matter how difficult it is, no matter how much you don't want to listen. You have to hear the truth, the reasoning.

“I know you don’t believe us, but we can prove it.” Johnny pulls out his phone and clicks open the secure email attachment. It’s the mission report from when Graves betrayed them outside the Mexican Special Forces base, and it’s only partially redacted thanks to Kate.

It’s a risk.

It will confirm your fears and dissolve them. It will tell you who they truly are, what they truly do, while proving they’re telling the truth.

It’s a gamble.

“Read this,” Simon pushes it into your hand and you recoil. It doesn’t stop him, he wraps your brittle fingers around it and then stands, Johnny right behind him. “Take as long as you need. We’ll be here.”

“Did ye like it?” You refuse to look at him, half of a pot pie eaten and sitting at your side on the tray. No answer.

You blink at the ceiling.

“Wanted to check in, see if ye needed anything?” Please, say something. Say anything. “Somethin’ else to eat, maybe? Si said ye didnae eat much of yer lunch. Are ye feeling sick again?” You’ve been having bouts of nausea, which you’ve told them is normal. You said you brought it up with your midwife at your appointment last week, she wasn’t concerned, and left it that. He knows you only supplied the information because they were badgering you about it, and as you told them the other day-

“I’d do anything to get you to leave me the fuck alone.”

When you turn to look at him, he almost wishes you hadn’t.

There’s a lifetime of pain in your eyes. Anger. Distrust. Hurt. All of it caused by their hand, their decisions.

He tries anyway. He has to.

“Did ye know goldfish can grow up to ten inches? Researched it when we…” he swallows the lump in his throat, “when we got home.” Still nothing. Your fingers twitch on the edge of your kindle, and he’s overcome with the urge to place his hand there, to hold yours. “Ye know, Si an’ I were talking, it might be good for you to come down for a meal? Maybe ye could come downstairs for breakfast tomorrow? Pen asked.” Using Penny is wrong, he knows that, but he’s drowning and he doesn’t know how much farther they can sink at this point.

But it all falls on deaf ears.

You give him one last long look, another glare overflowing with malice, more rage, more despair, everything twisted up into a complicated knot.

He's well practiced with bombs, confident, rarely makes a mistake-

but this is one he's terrified to defuse.

“Johnny… just... leave me alone. Please.” No, he wants to tell you, no, I'd rather have you scream at me for hours on end, I'd rather have you throw another mug at my head, over all of this... this agonizing silence.

“Okay,” he whispers, “I’ll… leave ye be.”

“Upset?!” You cover your heart with your palms. “Upset…”

“Sweetheart-” Simon hangs back behind Johnny, allowing him to take the lead, again, but still trying to coax you to calm, and you look at one then the other, shaking your head, tossing the phone on the bed.

“You… you hid all of this from me. I knew you were military but this…” You’re angry, but beneath it, fighting for freedom, is pain. Pain caused by them, by this betrayal. “Phillip aside, you kidnapped me!”

“We had no choice,” Johnny’s voice wavers and he scrambles for control. “We couldnae leave ye alone and unprotected, an’ we knew ye wouldnae listen to us if we just… showed up.”

“I wish I had better aim,” you spit, staring daggers at where Simon’s arm sports a fresh bandage, covering the stitches. He flinches.

“We would never hurt ye-” A bitter laugh cuts him off, and you throw your hands up, gesturing around the room.

“What do you call this then, Johnny? What would you call drugging me and hauling me away from my home?”

"That wasnae yer home! Yer home is wit' us, bun." You stare at him in disbelief.

"You're out of your fucking mind if you think this... this could be my home now."

“I promise-” Simon starts again but you glare at him.

“Your promises mean fuck all, Simon Riley.”

“We’ve never lied to ye, bunny, an’ if we had known from the beginning, we could have protected ye, made sure he never came near ye again.” It’s low to use your own evasion against you, your own survival instincts, but he’s grasping at straws. He’s not sure it’s possible to tell you how sorry they are anymore, they’ve said it a thousand times. You snort.

“You’re unbelievable. Both of you. And you’re no better than him.”

“That’s not true.” Simon cuts, sharp edge slicing through your declaration. “We would never, ever hurt you. We love you.” Your swallow is audible, and for a second, you falter. A tear falls. Johnny steps forward.

“Bun-“

“I want you to go.”

“Ye have every right-”

“Get out!” You scream it, pointing at the door with a shaking finger. “Get the fuck out.” Simon doesn’t take a single second before turning his back and disappearing, leaving Johnny alone with you.

Defeated.

“I love ye.” He murmurs softly, and you scoff.

“Fuck your love, Johnny. It means nothing.”

The scream wakes them both at zero two hundred.

It’s blood curdling, could shatter the windows, shake the house down to the studs.

Simon’s faster than him lately, gets the drop-

But he bypasses your room.

“I’ll take care of Penny.” Of course. She’d be awake. That would’ve woke anyone.

The door creaks when it flings wide, and then he’s sitting at your hip on the mattress, holding you, calling your name. The whites of your eyes shine in the dark, pupils slowly adjusting as he flicks the light on next to the bed.

He braces for a fight, shores his defenses, readies himself for the venom, but the only thing you give him is the trembling of your lower lip, and your tears, your hand stretching for his. “Shhh, ye’re okay, it’s okay. Was jus’ a dream bunny, jus’ a dream.” Your chest heaves.

“I… Phillip...”

“He’s no’ here, it’s just ye and me. Simon and Pen down the hall.” He’d be lying to himself if he said this isn’t making a sick part of him happy, this need you seem to have for him, for comfort, even if it may be fleeting. “Ye’re safe, pretty girl.” A moan escapes you, working its way into a sob, and you curl forward.

Into him.

In this darkness, the early hour of the morning, the two of you are suspended in time, alone in this world where nothing bad ever happened and you’re safe in his arms. Like the man he sees in the mirror doesn’t disgust him, like his remorse isn’t a living, breathing thing, a reaper waiting to take him away.

And when your nose presses to his chest and you wet his shirt with tears as he rocks you, promises you’re safe, that they’ll take care of you, that he loves you, all the words they’ve said since the day they met you, the guilt threatens to drown him-

And his own tears drip from his face.

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #simon riley #john mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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cinnxmxngxrl · 2 months ago

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Masterlist༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Full Masterlist About me AO3

All Joel fics linked on here, enjoy!!

Pre/No Outbreak!Joel Miller One Shots

•Stormy night: You’ve been babysitting for the Millers for months now, admiring Joel from afar. Until one stormy night everything changes. 🔞

Stormy Night Part 2: Joel’s mind is full of doubts after you two slept together for the first time, but you remind him of how much you want him in a heated phone call.🔞

•Halloween Party: You’re drunk and horny in a college halloween party and you want your dad’s best friend, Joel, to see the little devil costume you’re wearing.🔞

•Run Away: When your controlling and religious parents forbid you from being with Joel, he offers you to run away with him.🔞

•Sugar: You return to your hometown to care for your ailing father and your brother with special needs, leaving behind your bakery—and your dreams. Overwhelmed and alone, you find unexpected comfort in your neighbor, Joel Miller🔞

•Home Sweet Home: After losing your home, you have no choice but to move in with your college best friend Sarah… and her ridiculously attractive dad, Joel Miller🔞

•La Sirena: Life as a stripper at La Sirena is routine. Until Joel Miller walks in. Quiet. Lonely. Heavy with guilt. Night after night, he stays. And just like that—he becomes your regular.🔞

Jackson!Joel Miller One Shots

•Too old: Joel’s been denying himself from you for too long, trying to convince himself that he was too old, until one night he can’t control himself anymore. 🔞

Too old Part 2: It’s been days since Joel and you slept together for the first time, and now he’s pretending it never happened.🔞

•Silly Shirt: While out on patrol you stumble across a silly little shirt, and you can’t wait to have Joel try it on for you. 🔞

•Strong one: What if it had been you Abby tortured, instead of Joel?🔞

•Last Present: It’s your birthday and Joel saved the best gift for the end of the night.🔞

•Joel teaching you how to go down on him 🔞

•Joel taking your virginity 🔞

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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ang3lwritez · 2 months ago

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ᴀᴘᴘʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴇʏᴇ <3

Imagine Caleb as a dad....

AN: hiii gang sorry for being so inactive, but I have baby fever and a caleb hyperfixation so here!!! I mayyy make this a series hehehe

the eldest (10 y.o) : Caelus → the little pilot

♡ Carbon copy of his daddy. Charming, easygoing, extroverted, golden retriever type little boy.

♡ Sporty as hell..fastest runner in his class, takes karate and rough houses with Caleb and his school friends

♡ SUPER protective of his baby brother and sister. Will punch the lights outta anyone who says anything remotely bad about them.

♡ Possessive of his parents as well. If they don't give him some kind of attention, he will get POUTYYY

♡ Mama's boy, but loves Caleb SOOOO MUCH. Will pester his mom with “is daddy home yet” questions when Caleb is on missions

♡ Writes letters to Caleb before he gets dispatched, since he saw Caleb writing his final letters and didn't understand the actual weight those letters have. (Caleb keeps them in his uniform pocket. Cries anytime he reads them.)

♡ Has mostly female friends. Constantly has to deal with his friends crushing on his dad big time

♡ Not the smartest kid, but he's got the heart. Little boy won't understand everything you tell him, but the moment someone is sad, he will do everything to make them laugh.

♡ Neither parent can stay mad at him for that exact reason

♡ nicknames: Cay, Cay Cay, lili, buddy, champ, sweetheart, cutie pie

♡ Grows up to be a mechanic engineer

the middle ( 6 y.o ) Castor → little star

♡ Shy baby boy :(

♡ His big bro and daddy's opposite, yet just as kind and big hearted

♡ Daddy's boyy for sureeee

♡ Watches his brother and Dad rough house while he giggles from his playmat

♡ Loves+ looks up to his big bro so much :(

♡ When his baby sister was born, he was super excited to hold her, and even started walking around with her when she learned how to walk. Super protective over her as well

♡ Can read Caleb like a book. If his dad comes home drained from a mission, he will crawl into his lap and cup his face before smiling at him and softly telling him about his day in his cute little kid voice

♡ Oddly reminds Caleb of Zayne when they were kids, always reading, and smiling from afar, yet still a loner.

♡ Sleepy baby; his favorite nap spot is daddy's chest <3

♡ nicknames: Cas, Cee Cee, angel, kiddo, squirt, baby

♡ Grows up to be an astrophysicist

the youngest (1 y.o) Fiji → little apple :3

♡ The most spoiled little princess ever

♡ Is protected by not one but THREE versions of Caleb… I feel bad for whoever messes with her

♡ Is a mommy’s girl most of the time, but she will only fall asleep in daddy's arms (god so help when Caleb is dispatched.)

♡ Will imitate Caleb with MC and vice versa.

♡ while her brothers are on two opposing ends, Fiji is the middle ground

♡ Sadly not the most independent little one… dosnet know the difference between being put down for five minutes and being dropped at an orphanage. If she can't see her brothers or parents in her sight poor thing will cry.

♡ Loves watching the clouds outside. Will happily stare at that for hours over playing with any kind of toy.

♡ Nicknames : Fifi, Jiji, baby, sweetie, sugar, honey, little one, sweet thing, Munchkin

♡ Grows up to own a bakery

All of them are lovingly referred to as the fleet :)

Caleb is pestering Mc for a fourth one....

The cutest lil family :3

AN: Link to Caleus and Caleb fic I just made!!

#love and deepspace dads #love and deepspace #lads caleb #caleb x reader #caleb x mc #caleb imagine #love and deepspace imagine #fluff #love and deepspace headcannons

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notjustjavierpena · 1 year ago

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Routine

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hi everyone! I told you that I had a hubby-treat for you, and it is finally here. I’m very excited to share this one with you as it is something that I’ve gotten a ton of requests for. You love the simplicity of domestic life, so here’s the life of Los Peñas after you’ve begged to see what their routine looks like. Like always: A huge thanks to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for being a patient, sweet and talented beta-reader.

Summary: A day in the life of Javier Peña and his growing family.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, MDNI, hubby!javi’s POV and introspection, pregnant reader, pregnancy symptoms, family dynamics, domestic routines, tooth-rotting domestic bliss, siblings being siblings, married banter, heart-to-hearts, references to Reassess, family conflicts, casanova!javi turned oblivious!javi, javier with a baby needs a warning, handsy and inappropriate!javi, mention of javier’s mother, baby scan talk, hubby being a DAD!, couch cuddles (with and without kids), sex toys (not explicitly a rose but something along the lines, and while I know we are in the 00s, let’s pretend that sucking toys and cordless toys were a thing for the sake of the story), f masturbation, pregnancy sex, consent king javi, teasing, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, light verbal humiliation, nipple play, nipple orgasm, overstim, intense sex, multiple orgasms, m masturbation, wife is an insatiable brat and a screamer, slight dacryphilia, piv sex, rough sex, breeding kink, creampie, slight subdrop, lots of praises and aftercare, baths and hair washing,

Word count: 17.2k (sorry)

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56355349

Routine

Javier’s alarm goes off at 6:30 AM each morning. He breathes deeply in through his nose as he is woken by the beeping sounds of his alarm clock, pulls his arm out from under the covers where it is wrapped around your waist, and moves it to the button on top of the device. He fumbles to find it for a moment, ending up smacking his hand into the plastic with a grunt.

You stir beside him when he falls back down on his back. He rubs his eyes until he sees fireworks behind his lids, moving the hand down to smooth his thumb and forefinger along his mustache.

“It’s 6:30,” he then tells you, reaching for your shoulder to shake you gently until you whine a no and cover your face with your arms. He smiles as your half-asleep state makes you no better than his only daughter, “Come on, mi amor (my love). Another day.”

“Thank God, it’s Friday,” you mumble, “One more wake-up routine and I might leave to start a new life as an actually interesting person, maybe a psychic woman.”

“Telling fortunes?” He muses with a goofy smile even if you cannot see him. He reaches to pull your arms away, “C’mon now.”

“Yes, maybe,” you give in and sit up, resting your folded hands on top of your pregnant belly, “The spirits are telling me that you are waking up the queen of this household. I’ll take Seb later.”

You are still on leave after giving birth to Sebastian but after Javier has started his new job, the both of you have discussed the idea of you being a stay-at-home mother for some time after the twins have been born too. You do most of your work on your computer anyway, and if you quit your job, there’ll be plenty of opportunities to do some freelance stuff for extra income. Javier isn’t over the moon about you playing the part of the cherry-pie-making housewife but you reason that you only get to experience the kids as kids once which he can’t argue with (especially not when he chose a different job for the exact same reason).

“You sure have a gift, all-seeing wife,” Javier nods in agreement and kisses your lips even as you say you have a terrible case of morning breath. Then, resting on his hands, he bends down to kiss your stomach too, “Anything else Mamá wants?”

“Can you make breakfast?” You blink prettily, “I’ll do school lunches and coffee.”

“Sure,” he leans over you and smirks when your noses bump together, “How do you want your eggs? Except fertilized, obviously.”

“Javi,” you scold but giggle and initiate a kiss anyway. He kisses you longingly because he hasn’t for eight long hours of sleep. When he pulls back, heat has risen to your cheek, “Just scrambled.”

“You got it,” he moves and gets out of the bed. It is 6:36 AM now and he calculates the time he’ll have to wake up Inés as well as make breakfast if he needs to get in the shower before leaving too. He doesn’t have to stress.

“And Javi?” You call from the bed.

He turns around in the doorway to the master bathroom, “Yes?”

“Good morning,” you beam.

“Good morning, baby,” he smiles.

He takes a quick moment to wash his face, leaving the door open so you can run back and forth to pee the million times that you need to each morning. He doesn’t say anything, just listens to you moving around as you brush your hair and put on soft sweatpants. He tries to imagine what you’ll be wearing when he sees you later because you always shower after sending him and the children out of the door. He hopes that you will wear your blue sundress now that it's warmer than ever.

When he emerges from the bathroom to plan what he is going to wear for the day, you are already gone and he can hear the radio playing music in the kitchen. He revises his material for today’s lecture about criminal behavior as he takes a white shirt off its hanger and reaches for a pair of dress pants, but he can barely concentrate when he cannot wait to see you downstairs.

Finishing up his little routine, he walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway upstairs. He knocks once on Lucas’ door before peeking into the room, “Let’s go, muchacho (young man).”

Lucas passes him a moment later, fully dressed and with his school bag over his shoulder. He looks so grown that Javier wants to topple over, “Morning, mijo (my son).”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m up,” he smiles.

Javier raises a brow, “I can see that. Thanks for making my life easier. I’ll go wake up la monita (the little monkey) then.”

He continues to Inés’ room. She has not woken up yet, deep asleep with the covers half on the floor. She is lying on her stomach with her arms above her head, her mouth agape as she snores gently, her hair an unruly mess, and her pajama top askew on her back.

He crouches down by her bed and runs a hand over her back, speaking softly as he wakes her up with the intention of not accidentally startling her, “Inés, mi niña (my girl), it’s time to wake up.”

It takes a whole minute for her to escape the land of the sleeping and release the clutch on her pillow. She furrows her brow, yawns animatedly, and rubs her eyes with her tiny fists in the same way he does every day.

“There she is,” he smiles, “It’s almost seven, we gotta get up for school.”

“I don’t wanna,” she complains with a pout and earns a gentle hand running over her hair. She buries her face further into the pillow and looks like she’s already about to turn to her weapon consisting of crocodile tears.

“I don’t want to either but Mom is already packing your lunch. Don’t you want to see Ava and Jacob?” He helps her sit up, trying to distract her from her tantrum.

“Ava says her mom is sad,” Inés shakes her head but the accidental opportunity to talk about her troubles makes Javier able to undress her without much fuss. He gives her a sympathetic look. Mira, Ava’s mother, is still divorcing her husband Jonathan, and it is the first time that Inés has been confronted with the idea that not all parents stay together. He nods in understanding, “But Ava says that her mom is the one who didn’t want to be with her daddy anymore.”

“Sometimes you can be sad even if it’s a choice you make yourself,” Javier explains as he gets her out of bed, kneeling in front of her on the floor to help her into her underwear and bottoms. He pulls them up over her hips, “Maybe she thought it was nicer to leave so she could not make him sad again.”

Inés listens to his explanation but just as she is about to nod, she frowns and shakes her head instead, “That’s stupid. Mommy says that you stay and talk about things when you are sad.”

Javier pauses with the blouse you chose for her yesterday in his hands, trying to find the correct way to explain why adults act the way they do to his daughter. It’s so early in the morning and she had barely been awake two minutes ago. He takes a deep breath before speaking, "Well sometimes grown-ups have disagreements or feelings that are hard to understand, and when those feelings become too strong, they might decide that it's best to be apart instead of being sad together."

Inés furrows her brow even more but raises her arms up in the air to let him pull the blouse over her head, “Is Ava sad too?"

Javier pulls her arms out of the sleeves and brushes her hair out of her concerned and skeptical face, "Ava might be feeling sad right now too but she has her friends, you for example, and her family to cheer her up, just like you have me and Mamá.”

Inés falls into him and hugs him, giggling as he picks her up and purposely turns her the wrong way around in his arms until she tells him off with a squeal. She throws her arms around his neck when she finally sits on his hip and kisses his cheek, "I'm glad I have you, Papá. I love you!"

Javier vows that he won’t cry from emotion so early in the morning. He is worse than you sometimes when it comes to these things, chest constricting as tears well up in his throat, “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, mi amor (my love). Let’s go get breakfast before we do your hair. How do you want it?”

“Pigtails,” she decides loudly as they leave the room.

Downstairs, Lucas has chosen cereal for himself and is reading the comic he got last month at the dining table. Inés says hello to him from her seat on Javier’s hip, and he waves back at her until she giggles and hides her face against her father’s shoulder.

Javier carries her to you as you cut carrot and cucumber slices for her lunchbox. You turn to them.

“Morning, Mamá!” She chirps happily and you give her a kiss.

“Hi, baby,” you reply and notice the faint traces of tears in the corner of Javier’s eyes. You raise your brows, “Did you give your dad any trouble?”

“We had a little chat about Mira and Jonathan,” he explains quickly and stuffs a carrot in Inés’ mouth before walking to plop her down on a dining chair. Inés chews and immediately gets enchanted by her older brother, looking at the pictures of Spiderman on the pages in front of them while asking him to explain.

“Are you okay?” You put a hand on his arm, rubbing affectionately all the way up to the back of his neck. He reaches to put his hand on top of yours and smiles reassuringly.

“Just got a love declaration of the ages,” he explains before letting go. He moves to open the fridge and calculates the amount of eggs he’ll need.

“Ahh, sentiment,” you say with a knowing smile. Without a word, you get a pan out for him and place it on the stove, working with him in a symbiotic manner that he grows more and more fond of with each passing morning you spend together as a family.

He cracks the eggs out into a bowl to make sure there are no shells and then starts scrambling them whilst you click the button on the coffee machine. Soon, the delicious smell of fresh coffee and breakfast fills up the room and you open a window to let the sound of chirping birds join the music on the radio.

“Eat up, we’re leaving in 45 minutes,” he places the plate in front of Inés and kisses her hair. She takes the fork you bring a second after and stabs the eggs with determination.

She chatters excitedly about the plans for her day between bites of eggs and looks outraged when Lucas occasionally steals a piece from her plate. He makes a peace offering by moving his chair closer to hers so he can hold the comic in front of them both.

Javier goes to pour coffee into his favorite mug whilst you have tea and you eat the rest of the scrambled eggs directly from the pan together with him. He admires you whilst you rest against the kitchen table, having a conversation with your kids whilst nourishing your twin babies.

As the comfortable morning routine proceeds, he catches your eyes from across the room and you smile so tenderly each time. Rays of sunlight are coming in from the window, dancing over the fabric of your comfortable clothes and making your already glowing skin glow even brighter as you hold the mug of tea in both hands. He knows how lucky he is to have this life with you after the chaotic years of his youth. Who knew that life could start when one thought it was over?

He recalls the very first time he laid eyes on you and how he knew he wanted to marry you by the end of the night (you still don’t believe this). He remembers thinking that he didn’t deserve a life with you and all the love you brought with you, remembers how you said that the only thing that mattered was whether he wanted it or not. He has never once wavered from this want since you allowed him to kiss you for the first time.

Lost in thought, he almost doesn’t realize that you have started to move around the kitchen to clear the table and stuff the lunchboxes into each respective school bag. He takes a brief moment more to longingly gaze after you.

You are so graceful in your fourth pregnancy even if you deny it each time he compliments you, your stomach a bump so round and plenty visible already. The both of you are nearly four months into what has been the biggest shock of your lives. All the time, he thinks back to how difficult it was to conceive the first two of his kids and feels a tug in his chest of endless gratitude for being a father.

He could never describe the flood of pride that had erupted in his heart when he went from being a father of three to suddenly being a father of almost five in a matter of a single second you spent together in an ob-gyn's office on a regular Tuesday morning. He remembers seeing your overwhelmed and tear-stained face when you had thrown yourself back into the examination chair with simultaneous happiness and panic flashing in your eyes. The babble of words was barely comprehensible but they made him kiss your eyelids until you gave him a smile.

He had called you his very best girl when the doctor had left to give you both a moment of privacy, held your trembling hand, and told you that he would be right there with you every step of the way, which seemed to calm you instantly. He is grateful that he has that effect on you just as you have the very same effect on him. He knows he can never feel what it’s like to bear children but he knows that every fiber of his body tells him that he will never allow you to be scared if he can help it.

These days, he won’t even allow you to be exhausted either which is why he picks up Inés from her seat again and carries her upstairs to the bathroom. When pregnant, you always pack the car with Lucas instead of walking around with your preschooler on your hip.

“Right,” he hooks a foot around the leg of the stool underneath the sink and drags it out so Inés can stand on it. She grabs the edge of the sink and makes a face in the mirror now that she’s tall enough to admire herself, “Pigtails, wasn’t it?”

Inés nods eagerly when Javier gets out the box of hair ties from underneath the cabinet next to the sink, “I want the Minnie Mouse bows.”

“Excellent choice,” Javier praises as he reaches for her hairbrush too. He combs her hair, starting at the bottom and gradually going upwards just like you have taught him the second that he became a father to a little girl. You had even made a hair boot camp, sitting on the couch and nursing Inés whilst he practiced a few different hairstyles that you would rate on a scale of one to ten.

He parts Inés’ hair down the middle and starts with the right pigtail, gathering all the hair in his hand with the help of the brush. His daughter grimaces at the slight tug but then her face lights up as she remembers something.

“Daddy! Mommy says I have to do my daily affirmations before school!” She beams at him in the mirror, excited because complimenting herself clearly makes her feel good. Javier cannot believe how fantastic of a mother you are because it would have never even occurred to him that this was the simplest way of teaching his children to be kind to themselves.

“Alright, let’s hear them, mija (my daughter),” he says and finishes the second pigtail. He takes a step back, holding his daughter’s head in place like you have taught him to make sure the hairstyle is symmetrical. Satisfied, he looks at the digital clock on top of the cabinet. He figures they can spare the two minutes it takes.

Inés looks herself in the eye when he has let go of her again. She straightens her back like she has seen cartoon characters do, admiring her reflection, and starts reciting with a big smile on her little face.

“I am smart.”

Yes, she is. Sometimes too smart for her own good. Javier smiles. There’s a pause.

“I am brave.”

The bravest.

“I have good ideas—“ she halts, turning around to look at him with a frown as if it wouldn’t have the same effect if she had simply sent him the look through the bathroom mirror, “Daddy, you have to say it too.”

She watches him expectantly and he cannot bear to let her down even if he feels slightly embarrassed to talk so highly about himself out loud. He takes a deep breath, a weird feeling in his chest as he meets his own gaze, “I am smart. I am brave. I have good ideas.”

“Good, Daddy!” Inés radiates joy and sports a big toothy grin. She says another one, “I can say no.”

Javier doesn’t catch on to the fact that he has to keep going. Inés turns around to him again with her hands in her sides, “Now you say it, Daddy!”

“Inés…” He chuckles and feels slightly apprehensive. Vulnerability isn’t something he is insecure about but the act of openly saying such nice sentiments to himself hits a nerve somewhere in his chest, imitating a feeling of performance anxiety that he only recognizes from the times he has gone to an exam.

“Mommy says it makes us feel good inside,” Inés doesn’t let it go, dragging out the minute that he has put aside for this. He knows there’s no way around this and he knows that you would tell him to lead by example. He pretends to cough in an attempt to hide his hesitation, knowing that his confidence and self-love will only fuel his children’s. What more could he want as a father?

“I can say no,” he tells his reflection.

“I can do hard things,” Inés continues. Javier repeats it.

“I am a good friend,” she proudly voices and he hugs her from behind to parrot each word, tightening his arms around her more and more until eventually, he tickles her when she has said her last sentence, “I am loved. There’s no one I would rather be than myself.”

She squeals with delight and slight panic, laughing in his arms in the loud and free manner that only a child can. He gets filled up with warmth and baby fever, trying his hardest to compose himself since they have to leave soon even if he just wants to keep going.

“Time to brush your teeth and pee before we leave, monita (little monkey),” he tells her and she follows through without any protest.

When he has told her to help you finish packing her bag, he gets his clothes from the bedroom and gets in for a quick shower. He washes his hair and body, scrubbing his beard with his fingers while revising his material one last time.

At last, he stands in front of the mirror, putting on his watch, buckling his belt, and fixing the collar of his crisp white shirt. He finishes with his cologne, shaking his sleeve upward on his arm after brushing his teeth to check the time. 7:37 AM.

“Do you have everything?” You ask when everyone is back in the kitchen again.

“I hate leaving you alone all day,” Javier mumbles as you hand over his bag along with Inés’ school bag. Despite Javier’s hands being full, you still place your palms on his chest and kiss him on the mouth.

“Then stop getting me pregnant,” you whisper against his mouth.

“But it’s just so fun,” he notes and kisses you a few times more when you try to pull away, “They should stop making it so fun. You should stop making me feel so good.”

“Dad,” Lucas interrupts you with a grimace, “We’re gonna be late.”

“Alright, out the door, all of you,” you scratch Javier’s chest briefly before walking out of the room to the front door. You hold it open and watch the three of them scuttling out of the house. Javier wants to count the hours before he gets to see you again.

“And remember, Daddy’s picking you up after school today!” You yell from the door and he turns to walk backwards to the car with a grin on his face. He hears Inés cheer at this fact and secretly, he wants to cheer himself because he never gets to do it. You have an appointment with your ob-gyn doctor later to check if everything is alright with the babies, something they have insisted on since they found out there were two. He’ll have to leave work early but it’ll give him more time with his children in the afternoon.

He checks each of their seat belts to make sure they’re secure, hesitating for just a second as he gets ready to close the car door, “Hands inside the car, c’mon.”

Inés throws her palms up and he pushes the car door shut with a smile before walking around the front, tapping the hood with his knuckles and waving at you one last time. You smile widely and mouth that you love him. You close the door, and he only starts the car when he sees you in the kitchen window.

—

The car ride to school is fairly short but it consists of Javier listening to a lot of happy chatter about nothing from Inés in the way only a four-year-old can do. In the ten minutes it takes, he manages to answer questions about why the sky is blue, why there’s no such thing as dragons in Texas, if there are twin ladybugs just like there are twins in your tummy, and if she can try driving the car later.

Lucas only joins in when she asks whether they can get a dog. He grabs at the back of his father’s seat and lifts himself as far forward as the seat belt will allow only to get told to sit back down.

“A dog is a big responsibility, you know,” Javier swings the car into a parking spot. He looks back over the seat after turning off the engine, “Mommy and I have you and Seb to take care of, and the twins eventually too.”

“Nunca vamos a tener un perro (we’re never gonna get a dog),” Lucas grumbles and throws himself back into the seat. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks out the window.

“Never?” Inés’ eyes widen.

“Oye, eso no es lo que dije (hey, that’s not what I said),” Javier replies, pocketing the car keys, “I’m just saying that we’ll have our hands full soon.”

“That’s not my fault and I didn’t even want more siblings,” Lucas says under his breath and Inés squirms in her seat at the tension in the tiny space.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I don’t want you saying things like that,” Javier says firmly.

Lucas huffs. For once, Inés is quiet.

“Look at me,” Javier tells him and his son reluctantly finds his gaze again, “We don’t talk about each other like that and we especially don’t make each other feel unwanted.”

There’s a painful mixture of shame, vulnerability, and frustration on the eight-year-old’s face, “I know, Dad, I’m sorry… it’s just that sometimes it feels like I’m the one who has to always give up what I want.”

Javier knows the irony of his previous statement as soon as he hears those words. Accompanied by the look he receives from his son, it’s enough to make him swallow thickly, “I’m sorry, mijo (my son). I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

There’s a pause. Lucas starts to open the door, “It’s okay. I know that you’re right and a dog won’t be happy if we don’t have time for it. That’s what Mom says anyway.”

He gets out and Inés finally pipes up when they’re alone. She frowns and looks out the window to watch Lucas stand with his hands clutching the straps of his bag, “Can’t we just have a little dog?”

“I have to talk to Mom about it,” he sighs, “Let’s get through this day first.”

The two of them finally get out of the car to join Lucas. Javier locks the car. He starts to lean down over his son, wants to press an affectionate kiss to his hair that’s so much like his own it hurts, but Lucas shakes him off.

“Dad,” the eight-year-old bites at him, his tone full of embarrassment. He suppresses a scowl even if it’s only a half-hearted one and instead looks around to see if anyone saw him.

Javier straightens again, trying to pretend the slight rejection didn’t sting too much. Lucas is turning nine soon but he hadn’t guessed that he’d be so much of a preteen already. He has no clue if he is doing okay with him but he vows to get a smile out of him before they part for the day.

“I’ll talk to Mom about it,” Javier eventually promises. It’s not untrue.

“Whatever, it’s fine,” Lucas replies with a fake smile and looks away.

“Lucas, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” he drops Inés’ bag and thinks fuck it. He crouches down to hold both his arms, rubbing them soothingly, and feels relief at not being rejected again, “I know you really want a dog but you gotta cut your Mom and me some slack here, okay? We’ve never had three kiddos at the same time. Just like you’ve never had two siblings before.”

“Four,” his son mutters.

“It’ll be okay,” he tells him with a smile. He is steadfast as he continues, “And I mean it, I will talk to Mom but her verdict is final. She’s the pregnant one.”

“Okay,” Lucas says with uncertainty.

“Okaaay,” he parrots to him in a silly voice with a gentle squeeze.

“Okay,” Lucas says with a little laugh.

“Okay,” Inés chimes in with excitement.

Lucas laughs genuinely this time and Javier feels his heart leap. He picks up the bag from the ground and stands once more, only to bend down and kiss his son’s hair, “School waits. Inés and I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad, bye, Inés,” he nods, “I love you.”

“I love you too!!!” Inés yells loudly and Javier takes her hand with the one not carrying her bag.

“Love you, mijo (my son).”

—

The next stop is Inés’ classroom. She runs a few meters in front of him the whole way there but because of her little legs, he never gets too far behind her. He feels so relieved that she’s always this excited for school but with the way that you tell him that she’s so much like him, he also knows that it’s just a matter of time before she grows tired of school during her teen years. Teen years. He shouldn’t think about that already since the thought of her growing is unbearable.

“Inés, slow down,” he says despite not needing to, wanting a bit of control, “I don’t want you falling and scraping your knees, mi amor (my love).”

When she doesn’t immediately follow orders, he holds out his hand for her to take, “Inés.”

She turns her head toward him as she runs down the hall, so close to her goal which is her classroom, and tumbles into a woman coming out of the room. Javier puts a hand on his head in shock, dropping his daughter’s bag and walking straight to them whilst apologizing profusely.

“It’s alright,” the woman says with a sweet smile in his direction and then in Inés’ direction. She’s tall and blonde, wearing a coat in this boiling weather which must mean she’s not used to Texas, “We’re both alright, aren’t we?”

“Sorry,” Inés says genuinely.

“Well, aren’t you well-behaved?” She is grinning now.

“Daddy, can I go inside and play with Ava?” Inés looks longingly towards the door.

He goes to pick up her bag, “Sí (yes), but take your backpack and I’ll talk to the nice lady.”

Inés does as she is told, standing perfectly still whilst he helps the bag onto her shoulders. He kisses the top of her head, “Ves a jugar (Go and play). I’ll pick you up later today.”

“They’re great at that age,” the woman says with a dreamy smile after Inés bounds into the classroom, “I dropped mine off a moment ago.”

“They in the same class?” He asks.

“As of last week. Oh, and it’s Emily, actually, not ‘nice lady’,” the stranger reveals, holding out her hand for a shake, “And you’re Javier, right?”

“That’s right,” he shakes her hand. Great, even she knows who he is and he prepares himself for the usual speech about him being known all over Laredo, doing everything in his power to not make his mouth a straight line.

However, she nods towards the door and surprises him by saying nothing of the sort. Instead, she makes it about herself which shouldn’t be nice but it is, “Inés’ father? My daughter has mentioned her a few times. We’re new here, moved from Upstate New York. Work. You know.”

“That explains the coat,” he says with a little smirk.

She reacts by putting her hand on her cheek and then her forehead, feeling a blush that’s not there. He is too oblivious to know that she’s fishing for a compliment on her appearance, “That obvious, huh? I probably look like a red crab. I’m boiling.”

“You look fine,” he reassures, “But hit up the AC in your car or at least take that thing off. Survival mode, you know, do it for the kids.”

Emily giggles. He smiles.

“We should arrange a playdate sometime. My daughter could use some friends. I think we both could. We could get some coffee if you know a place,” she suggests in an attempt at a flirtation but even if it’s so glaringly obvious, he just doesn’t pick up on it.

Instead, his mind circles back to you in the kitchen he built for you, “I’m busy most days but I’m sure my wife would be thrilled to set something up. Inés can’t just be playing with our friends’ daughter all the time.”

“Oh,” there’s a slight change in Emily’s demeanor after that. Her smile falters ever so slightly, and there's a fleeting look of disappointment in her eyes but he can't quite pinpoint the cause of her sudden change in mood. He brushes it off, "Well, I should probably let you get back to your day. I suppose your name and number are on the class’ contact list?”

He tries to keep up the upbeat tone of their conversation but she just smiles awkwardly, "Yes. Of course, Javier. I'll look forward to it."

As he turns to leave, he catches a glimpse of Emily's expression, and he can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. He furrows his brow, wondering all the way to the car what he did wrong and doesn’t know that if you had been there, you would have been laughing your ass off the second Emily had left.

He brushes it off the second the radio comes on in the car and heads to work afterward. The day feels easy; he gets to come home, gets to watch his kids grow up in front of his eyes and in the evening he will make love to his beautiful wife. Such a fact makes days at work pass like seconds, and he smiles all the way from his car when the bell rings for his first lesson.

—

Around two in the afternoon on the same day, Javier enters his house with his kids following right behind him. He comes home to you feeding Sebastian mashed avocado in his high chair, and in the meantime cutely imitating his babbling about nothing right back at the little green monster that used to be his son. He walks up to you after putting his bag down on a dining chair.

“Hey,” you say with avocado on your forehead.

Javier reaches up to rub it off, sucking it off his finger before pecking your lips, “Hola, mi amor (hello, my love). How’s your day been? Scan go okay?”

He kisses Sebastian’s head too before turning his attention to you. You’re scraping the last bits of avocado onto the baby spoon before feeding it to your son.

“I’ll tell you about the scan later. I need to talk to you about it… but Seb and I have had such a good day, ain’t that right, baby?” You tickle Sebastian’s cheeks, not caring about being covered in green too. Sebastian giggles and clenches his fist around some of the avocado he has had in his hand for a while. Javier decides not to press any further since you don’t look worried, especially not as you watch Sebastian slam his fist into the plate in front of him afterward, “We tried sweet potatoes today, didn’t we? Y probamos fresas del mercado, pasta con un poco de queso (And we tried strawberries from the market, pasta with a bit of cheese)."

Javier grins at your excitement, watching you reach for a piece of paper towel to wipe off all the excess food from your child now that he has been allowed to eat more independently with just a bit of help, "Mi hijo es un foodie, ¿eh? (my son is a foodie, huh?)"

Lucas pops his head in through the kitchen door with Inés loyally following right behind, “Mom, did you say strawberries?”

You walk to the kitchen table and grab the cardboard basket of strawberries, holding it out for your eldest son. You shake it a little, “They’re really good.”

He takes one and hands it to Inés before he grabs one for himself afterward. He smiles contentedly after biting into it, happily chewing the sweet berry and looking down at his sister to see her reaction as well, “Good?”

You offer Javier a strawberry too. He eats a whole one, doesn’t even bother to pick off the green part, and earns a little crinkle of your nose. He winks at your reaction and the expression of disapproval turns into a smile that sets his heart into overdrive.

Inés lights up after finishing the berry, “Can I have one more?”

“Consider it your afternoon snack,” you say. You pull out a chair around the dining table, placing the basket of strawberries on the table, “Do you want a PB&J sandwich too?”

“Yes!” She runs across the room to crawl onto the seat, waiting patiently with her hands flat on the table until she cannot resist nearly smothering herself with another strawberry.

“Do you want one too, Luke?” You ask.

“Yes, please. Thank you, Mom,” he says politely and goes to sit down too. He taps a rhythm on the table that Inés fails at replicating. From his high chair, Sebastian joins in by slamming his palms into the table and the luckily empty baby platter.

“Javi, can you take Seb for his nap?” You ask while reaching for the jar of peanut butter in the cupboard. You cannot find it, frowning at the realization that you must have placed it somewhere else. Javier hears you mutter to yourself about your damn pregnancy brain.

He walks up behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he leans over you. You freeze but then relax into his touch. He reaches into the far back of the cupboard, feeling for the jar, and fetches it, “You told me to hide it, baby. You eat too much of it with just the lid off and a spoon.”

“I should stop denying the babies it if that’s what they want,” you giggle to hide your embarrassment at having forgotten and pat your pregnant belly. You look so pretty in your dress, the one he had hoped that you would wear; blue as the sky above with tiny yellow bees flying around on it.

He hands you the jar of peanut butter and cannot help but admire the gentle curve of your stomach, that certain glow making you radiant in the mundane setting of his kitchen. He can never help ogling you when you care for his children and it’s even worse when you carry them as well.

“You look so gorgeous right now, mi vida (my life),” he rubs the small of your back and slides his palm around you to your belly, breathing against your ear as he talks. You turn your head just a little to smile playfully at him and thank him in a soft whisper.

Javier looks back to see his kids chatting with each other, so he presses into you a little more.

“I got a bed with your name on it later,” he continues quietly as he still stands right behind you, letting his hand drop to your hip. You shove a little at him but it’s nowhere near enough to actually mean that you want him to stop. He lets his warm breath ghost over the soft shell of your ear until you let out a sigh that you only reserve for him. He continues until he can look at your neck and see your pulse throbbing under your skin, “I could just eat you up. Take you to our bedroom, lock the door… throw you on the bed, and take your clothes off with my teeth.”

“Pórtate bien (Behave),” you scold him with a bit more mischief than what he assumes is intended, “I have sandwiches to make and we’ll be sorry later if Seb misses his nap.”

He adds a finishing touch to his attempt at a flirtation by shielding you from his kids’ line of sight. The broad hand that has been resting on your hip slips further down. and Javier allows himself a grope to your backside. He jiggles the fleshiest part of it and you finally have enough, turning around quickly with a look of mock outrage.

“Thin ice, baby, thin ice,” you chide but he simply pecks you on the lips and turns towards his children again.

“Vamos, pequeño (let’s go, little one),” he says to Sebastian as he approaches him, lifting him out of his high chair and placing him on his hip. He feels your disapproving eyes as he walks out of the kitchen but just smirks to himself, heading for the stairs to go to the nursery.

In the room, he places Sebastian on the changing table and checks his diaper. He also removes as much clothing as possible, making sure he won’t overheat in the bassinet. His son grins up at him, not seeming tired at first but then starts blinking slowly as the nap ritual proceeds.

“Oh, you are tired, mijo (my son),” he whispers softly as he cradles him towards his chest afterward. He feels Sebastian resting his chubby cheek against his shoulder, breathing slowly as he starts falling asleep from being bounced in his father’s arms.

Javier hums, savoring the moment that he knows is fleeting with his son. He is reminded of needing to ask you about the doctor’s appointment again, excitement in his body as he thinks about two sets of tiny feet running across his living room floor at the same time. As a child, he never really understood why he couldn’t get a sibling but his understanding of what was happening to his mother only came a little later until he stopped asking altogether. He loves that his house is so full now.

When Sebastian is fully asleep, he lays him down on his back on the tiny mattress that belonged to Inés before. He runs his palm over the fine hairs on his head for a few moments, just staring down at his baby to commit it to memory. He tucks the blanket around him, turns on the baby monitor, grabs the other, and flicks off the lights.

When he returns to the kitchen ten minutes later, he finds you sitting by the dining table with a sandwich of your own. Lucas holds a pencil in his hand, your grocery list lying in front of him and his empty plate has been pushed away.

“I hate broccoli,” Inés says from her own seat, nose scrunched up. The jelly part of her sandwich seems more around her mouth than in her belly. She tries to look over at what her older brother is writing but he is hesitant in his spelling of the word.

“I hate it because I can’t spell it,” Lucas grumbles with concentration on his face, “B-R-O…”

“C-C-O-L-I,” Javier finishes, announcing his presence to them. You look up at him as he stops between Lucas’ and your chair, setting down the baby monitor on the table.

“Hey, he’s supposed to learn how to spell it by himself,” you tut gently but without any anger or annoyance. Javier kisses your jelly-tasting lips. You tap the list, “Lettuce.”

Lucas groans in complaint, “Mooom, all these words are hard.”

Inés giggles from her seat, “Lucas is bad at spelling!”

Lucas furrows his brow, looking to you for saving, “No, I’m not!”

You send your daughter a look, knowing you have the right thing to say to bring some justice into the world, “I don’t know why you’re laughing, Inés Peña. You have to practice your counting skills with Daddy.”

Javier snorts at the look of disgust on his daughter’s face. She comically throws herself back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. He kisses her hair, “No angry faces, Princesa (princess). You’ll have plenty of time to play afterward.”

“Maybe I am bad at spelling,” Lucas says in defeat, heaving a big sigh.

“You’re doing great, sweetie. It’s all about practice,” you reassure and reach out to rub the back of his neck affectionately, “And I really appreciate you helping me with the grocery list. It’s a big job.”

“How about an easier word?” Javier suggests, silently eyeing your sandwich as he speaks, “Like tomatoes.”

Lucas smiles down at the paper, brightening at the praise you offer as consolation for his struggles. He writes down the newly suggested word with newfound confidence, “T-O-M-A-T-O-E-S.”

“Perfect,” you continue your praise.

Finally, Javier pulls out a chair to sit down with his family. He chooses the seat next to you but opposite Inés to keep her in line if she decides to have a tantrum. However, she just watches her brother scribble down word after word.

“What about ice cream?” She asks suddenly with her best pleading expression. She is more hesitant than usual, knowing full well that she overstepped the rules a moment ago.

“If Lucas can spell it,” you challenge with a sweet smile, raising a brow at your son.

Inés grabs at the edge of the dining table, moving to stand on her knees instead of sitting. She leans over the table to get a closer look, “You can do it, Lucas!”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, nearly breaking the tip of the pencil in his eagerness, especially now that his sister is cheering for him, “I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M.”

Both of them look to you expectantly, awaiting your verdict that’ll make or break the oncoming weekend. You nod, “That’s indeed how you spell ice cream.”

The both of them cheer. You laugh along with them, and Javier feels his knees go weak even as he sits down. He leans back in his seat with his shoulders completely relaxed, briefly recalling a time when his body being this calm was only a possibility when alcohol was in his bloodstream.

“What’s next on the list, muchacho (young man)?” He asks as the laughter dies down once again, casually reaching out for half of your sandwich. He earns a look of mock outrage from you, your hand reaching out to swat his arm.

“Get your own, Peña,” you scold playfully. He pulls away quickly and bites down into the corner. You roll your eyes, “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

“And you love it,” he says around a mouthful of food.

“Mom, what’s ‘insatiable’ mean?” Inés asks curiously.

You look at him with a smirk as you reply, “It means Daddy always wants more.”

“More what? More food?” Inés furrows her brow in confusion.

“Something like that,” Javier says with his heart beating loudly in his chest at the mere thought of you. He leans closer to you, lowering his voice just enough, “And more of Mommy, too.”

“And I think that’s it for snack time!” You announce quickly after, heat in your cheeks as you push yourself to stand. Javier is pleased with himself as you walk around in a flustered state, “Lucas, do you have any homework?”

“I finished math homework in school,” he announces proudly, “Is the grocery list finished?”

“Can you add chicken too? Then I think we’re done,” you walk back to the table to gather the plates, not letting Javier put down his sandwich again. He feels triumphant at having caused you to feel like this, a sucker for watching your warm face.

“C-H-I-K—“ Lucas spells out loud.

“C-K,” you correct as you put the dirty plates into the dishwasher.

“Oh,” he turns the pencil around and erases his mistake, “C-H-I-C-K-E-N.”

“There you go, baby, good job,” you praise.

Lucas beams.

—

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. Lucas goes to his room to play on his Game Boy, its faint beeps echoing through the house from the open door, Inés, after getting her face thoroughly wiped down, falls asleep on the couch after refusing an afternoon nap, and you and Javier begin the usual ritual of preparing for dinner while Sebastian sleeps undisturbed in his bed.

“You wanted to talk to me about the scan today?” Javier starts a conversation as he chops vegetables alongside you, your hip occasionally bumping into his as you mix a dressing.

“Yeah, and before you start to worry; yes, the babies are fine,” you reply and absentmindedly run your palm across your belly.

“But?” Javier puts the knife down to look at you.

“But nothing. I just wanted to tell you that they know what we’re having and they want us to discuss if we wanna know,” you smile excitedly. You mirror him by putting down the spoon and stepping closer to let him embrace you.

“They can tell already?” He asks as he places his hands on your hips, rubbing up and down soothingly. He pecks your lips, heart feeling too big for his chest.

You nod and lean into another kiss, “And they said everything looks great too. Nothing to worry about, and the due date is so far down the road that we can’t wonder about the delivery yet.”

“Alright, yes. Okay,” he nods in return, an overwhelmed smile on his lips. He releases a small sigh, “But do we want to know? We’ve tried both but I think it’s up to you.”

“I mean,” you think out loud while Javier takes the opportunity to rub your stomach, “I like surprises but with the stress the delivery will probably bring, it might be nice to know. Just to appreciate it more than when I’m a mess. I don’t know.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide now. We have five or so months, have a think,” he reassures you and presses a soft kiss to your neck. He can feel and hear you draw in a deep breath.

You are interrupted by Sebastian’s soft noises through the baby monitor, tiny sounds of complaint indicating that he is just about to cry. Javier releases you from his grasp, “You get him and I’ll finish up here. Dinner in twenty, don’t you think?”

“Sure, baby,” you say with a final peck to his lips. You leave the kitchen, ascending the stairs with a little noise, and when Javier glances out into the entry hall, he sees you walk upstairs with a hand on the small of your back. Sebastian has started to cry but you reassure him all the way through the house, “I’m coming, mijo (my son).”

Javier finishes up dinner. He faintly hears you tell Lucas to go set the table, and when your son starts taking plates out of the drawer, Inés enters the kitchen while rubbing her eyes, awakened by the noise.

“Hola, mi niña cansada (hello, my tired girl),” Javier says as she leans into his side. He turns the pan on the hob so that the handle doesn’t stick out from over the edge, then runs his hand over his daughter’s hair.

“No estoy cansada, papá (I’m not tired, Daddy),” she protests while fighting a yawn.

“¿Entonces tienes hambre (Are you hungry then)?” He asks with a hidden, amused smile.

“Sí (yes),” she wraps her arms around his waist.

"Si tienes hambre, ayuda a tu hermano a poner la mesa (If you’re hungry, help your brother with setting the table),” he runs his hand over her back, caressing her gently while stirring the chicken and vegetables.

“Okay, papá,” she says, her stomach probably growling since she’s not protesting hard labor.

Lucas has finished carrying plates, glasses, and cutlery to the dining table. He pulls out a chair for Inés to stand on, directing her thoroughly on where everything goes until you enter the kitchen again with Sebastian on your hip.

“It looks so good!” You praise with a big grin, genuinely proud to see both of your eldest kids cooperating so well, “And the cutlery on the right sides!”

Javier turns back to have a look, holding a hand up to give them both a high five. You send him a smile only reserved for him, walking to put Sebastian into his high chair afterward. You go to the living room to find a few toys he can play with until dinner is ready.

“Can I watch Nanalan after dinner?” Inés asks during dinner, mouth full of food.

“If you practice your counting first,” you compromise.

Without hesitation, Inés starts saying numbers out loud, “One, two, three, four, five, six…”

“Inés,” you say, a crease on your forehead.

“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Peña,” Javier teases, “But I think you walked right into that one.”

“Shush, you,” you tut and, out of spite, listen closely after any errors in your daughter’s count.

After dinner, you take on the job of clearing the table and filling up the dishwasher. Lucas gets a free pass from helping so he can go pop the Nanalan VHS tape into the TV, setting it up for you all to enjoy in just a moment.

Sebastian plays with a few toy cars as he sits in his high chair. He coos softly, making noises to match the tiny red vehicle.

Inés, still full of energy, practices counting backward with Javier while you wash up the pan in the sink. He can see you listening to them even with your back turned, knows that you are smiling without looking at your face.

“C’mon, baby. What comes after six?” He asks, having pulled her chair out to stand in front of her.

“Seven!” She answers confidently and it is technically not wrong.

He smiles with amusement, “We’re counting backward. Down from ten. Try again. Teeeen…”

“Ten… nine… eight…” she says loudly.

Javier waits patiently. He holds up the number of fingers equal to the numbers she is saying. She furrows her brows in concentration and continues, “Seven… six… five…”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he encourages.

Inés grips the seat of her chair in excitement, “Three!”

“Are you sure?” He stops her briefly.

She looks up at him, hesitating for a moment and seeking reassurance, “Four.”

He nods, “You got this.”

She smiles brightly, “Three! Two! One!”

“Bien hecho, Princesa (well done, princess)!” He praises loudly and leans down over her to kiss the top of her head repeatedly, “Eres mi chica lista (you’re my clever girl).”

She stretches up her arms to which he responds by lifting her up from the chair with a groan. She is getting so big, he thinks as he places her on his hip, or maybe he is just getting old. He gets an idea, even if it’ll hurt the muscles in his back, “You know, baby, counting backward is very important. That’s what they do when they launch rockets into space. Try again, see what happens.”

Inés’ eyes light up as she starts counting again. She rushes through it, seeming to do well when something unknown comes afterward. When she gets to one, Javier lifts her high into the air and spins in the kitchen.

“Liftoff!” He announces, moving around in figure eights to imitate her flying and she squeals with laughter. The sound is one of those that bubble up in her chest, completely unrestrained and pure in its entirety, and Javier’s heart goes into overdrive when he knows that he is the one causing it. There’s nothing that can hurt him in these moments, nothing that can bring him down from the pride he takes in making his kids feel safe and happy.

“Oh no!” He continues his part, “Inés Peña, well-renowned astronaut, is attacked by aliens from el planeta rojo (the red planet)!”

“¡Papá, no (Daddy, no)!” She giggles and wiggles in his arms as he buries his nose in her cheek, “¡No permitas que me atrapen los alienígenas (Don’t let the aliens catch me)!”

“Too late!” He tells her before pretending to sink his teeth into her round cheek. He growls like only an alien attacker would and his daughter shrieks with laughter.

He stops to let her breathe, her little form shaking as she tries to regain her composure. She throws her arms around his neck, looking over at you in secret and lowering her voice to a whisper that’s way too loud.

“Do it to Mommy!” She demands.

You perk up at hearing your nickname and turn around with your hands covered in dish soap and water. You watch, like a deer in the headlights, as Javier places Inés down on her feet. He smirks like a devil and you step backwards but only bump into the kitchen counter. Your wet arms come up to screen your face as he approaches you, looking devilish with his arms out in front of him. He makes grabby hands in the air.

“You are not doing that to me!” You squeak. He leans into you, and the look behind your arms tells him that you know it is a fight that you have already lost. Still, you try to sidestep him but he just cages you with a quick sweep of his arms.

“I got you now. No hay manera de escapar, mi amor (there is no escaping, my love),” he moves your arms away without caring about getting wet himself and pulls you into a tight embrace. He bites into your cheek a mere moment later, growling like a dog whilst Inés laughs so loudly that your look says that you might let him give you five more children if he wants. The nibbles turn into several silly kisses, eventually turning into a long, deep kiss too. God, he is going to make love to you tonight.

Behind the two of you, Inés makes a noise of disgust, “Ew! Mushy Daddy!”

Javier pulls away from you and wipes his hands in his shirt. He ruffles Inés’ hair, “Well, you better run to your brother if you don’t want to see Mommy get another big kiss from Daddy.”

Inés dashes off towards the living room with uncontrollable giggles. Once she’s out of sight, Javier turns to see you drying your hands in a kitchen towel. He seeks you out and you meet his embrace by throwing your arms around his neck.

“Do you think I missed my calling as an alien invader?” He asks with his lips resting against your ear as you hug.

He can feel you shaking your head, “No, husband, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

“Mhm, wife,” he pulls back to kiss you again, and again and again and again.

“They’re waiting in the living room,” you stop him, a hand on his chest to reluctantly push him away, “I’ll take Seb.”

The five of you watch a few episodes together in a pile on the couch. Sebastian sits in your lap while Inés cuddles up into Javier’s side. Lucas mutes his video game but chooses it over the children’s show, repeatedly pressing buttons and trying not to make too loud noises when he wins or loses.

It ends with the usual bedtime routines an hour later. Teeth are brushed, all three children have no complaints during bathtime, bedtime stories are told and forehead kisses are given even if Inés is already out cold. Javier loves this the most, at least when it goes smoothly.

Eventually, the evening leaves your pile on the couch to only consist of the two of you.

“We put Inés to bed thirty minutes ago and we’re still watching Nanalan,” you note from your side of the couch, looking at Javier out of the corner of your eye and snickering before you reach the end of your sentence.

Javier tears his eyes from the screen, his body slumped into the corner of the couch and with the blanket draped over his body. He hides a smile, knowing he has the upper hand in this situation, “Well, get the remote then.”

You have your legs pulled up with them crossed underneath you. You grimace and pat your stomach, “Never gonna happen with this belly.”

He cracks a smile, tone serious in a joking manner which he knows always gets you, “Well then you sit there and keep quiet. I’m missing my show. I haven’t seen if Mona learns a lesson yet.”

With that, he fixes his gaze on the TV again. You throw your head back to laugh at his silliness and accidentally snort. You squirm and he knows you’re trying your best not to pee a little from the giggling. You cover your mouth but Javier’s head still whips around to stare at you again, looking like he should be a cartoon character with hearts in their eyes.

He starts moving, crawls further toward you, and drags the blanket with him to cover both of your bodies. You shove at him, “Get the remote, Peña.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” He scoffs, cuddling up next to you, halfway lying down and crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not switching channels here. I like Nana. She’s wise.”

“She your favorite?” You smirk down at him, teasing him still.

“No, you’re my favorite, mi amor (my love),” he wiggles his brows, staring up at you with every intention of making you laugh, “Stop asking stupid questions.”

“Smooth,” you smile with a shake of your head. You purse your lips and he groans dramatically when he moves up to kiss you, pecking your mouth gently. You reach to ruffle his hair until it is untidy.

“You know, baby, my hair takes all night to style,” he sighs and starts to flatten the stray locks again, “You could be a little more considerate.”

“I’m pregnant,” you argue, “You try being considerate.”

“You’ve been pregnant for nearly two years straight,” his eyes wander back to Nana and Mona.

“And whose fault is that?” You start to watch too.

“Shut up.”

“I rest my case.”

The both of you watch Nanalan for a while. With a foot, Javier pulls the coffee table closer for you so you can stretch your legs and rest your feet on it. You seem less invested in whether Mona will learn how to take care of the baby bird in Nana’s garden than he is but it doesn’t matter because during the episode, your positions shift and suddenly you are resting against him instead. He feels like a teenager each time this happens, heart racing at having a pretty girl in close proximity, but unlike 16-year-old Javier Peña, he has already gotten the girl and is therefore without clammy hands.

He drapes his arm around your back until his hand rests on your waist, pulling your pregnant body against himself until you automatically lean your head on his shoulder. In the end, you doze off, having gotten into a habit of falling asleep in front of the television.

When the credits roll over the screen, he nudges you, “Let’s get you to bed.”

You whine so adorably and scoot further into his side, “I don’t want to go all the way upstairs.”

“If you don’t get up, I’ll do it again,” he says, intending to confuse you.

You pull back to look at him with furrowed brows, “Do what?”

Javier pokes the tip of his nose into your cheek and then imitates a series of bites to your face just like earlier. He makes the noise of a dinosaur this time, growling close to your ear and making you squeal from the tickling sensation it gives.

“No!” You shriek, “I’ll get up! I swear!”

“Are you sure?” Javier doesn’t stop, only nuzzles further into you and bites the flesh of your cheek for real this time. His whole body fills up with butterflies as you laugh at his torment.

When eventually showing you mercy, he throws the blanket to the side and pushes himself to stand up. You put your feet on the floor and take his hands when he holds them out for you. He hauls you to your feet.

After a quick shared shower, you moisturize your belly in the bedroom and pick out your sleepwear whilst he dresses in a new pair of briefs. It is a quiet and relaxing ritual where none of you speak a word, moving around each other in synchronous harmony.

It’s when you go to pee and change that he notices the little device on the nightstand, plugged in to charge, and he furrows his brow in confusion. The door is closed to the bathroom and he can hear the sound of your toothbrushing, so you won’t be barging in on him as he satisfies his curiosity.

With quick fingers, he pulls the cord out of the bottom and holds it closer to his face to examine the little pink thing. He hasn’t seen one of these before; staring down into the hole at the top and trying to make sense of what will happen when he presses the button.

The little thing whirs to life when he does and he can see the way the tip pulses erratically, sparking his interest and triggering the instinct to hold it against the palm of his hand. His brows nearly rise into his hair as he feels the way the vibrator suckles on his skin, so he taps his hand a few times to feel it let go and attach again. It’s when he realizes what it’s meant to do for you that he feels his cock move in his briefs. It happens again when he knows it means that you have used it today whilst being home alone.

He presses the button on the side again and feels the vibrations become more intense and he nearly throws the cute thing across the room when he tries to turn it off by pressing the button again and the buzzing only gets louder and louder and more and more intense.

“You two need a moment alone?” You ask from the doorway to the bathroom, smirking as he sheepishly finds your gaze. You have changed into a pair of way too tiny sleep shorts and one of his gray t-shirts, and it looks so naturally stunning on you that he nearly drops the toy. Why is he hard? Christ, he is possibly aching. He wants to throw you on the bed and pull those tiny shorts off and—

“Did you two already have a moment alone?” He asks when he has regained his composure.

“Maybe, and maybe it was pretty great,” you tease and make your way to him. When you stand in front of him on your side of the bed, your eyes wander downward until you stare at the bulge on the front of his briefs. Your tone is triumphant and sing-songy, “You’re hard.”

“You’re wearing my t-shirt,” he notes as if it’s the most logical explanation in the world. His gaze drops to the way the soft cotton fabric drapes over your tits, leaving just enough up to the imagination but clearly showing off the way your nipples have hardened at the conversation. He twirls the little sucking toy in his hands, wants to make you come with it attached to your nipple until he can see heat rising in your cheeks and then he’ll let the device do its job between your legs.

“Horndog,” you roll your eyes affectionately, “I can’t even wear clothes? I thought it would be not wearing any clothes that would get you.”

“Can I try this on you?” He decides to be straightforward and just asks while holding the vibrator up between the two of you, “You can guide me.”

“Now?” You raise a brow.

“Yes, now,” he huffs out a dark, little laugh and takes a step further toward you as if he is a predator caging his pretty prey. You don’t seem affected by it but your nipples might soon poke holes in your shirt, “I mean, I’m a little curious here, so if you’re up for it. I was gonna try to get laid anyway…”

“Charming,” you let yourself fall down into bed, sitting on the edge. Javier places the toy on the nightstand to grab underneath your knees, lifting your legs to help you scoot back onto the mattress.

“Is that a yes?” He awaits your green light.

“Yes. Don’t go overboard with it though. It’s pretty intense,” you reply and hook your fingers into the waistband of your shorts. You start to shimmy out of them and he helps you completely out of them when they sit around your knees. Then he bends your legs and spreads them apart.

“Tell me what to do,” he goes to grab the toy again, kneels between your legs, and awaits orders. He clicks the button and the little thing comes alive once again. You’re just about to reply when he cannot help but ask, “Does it work on your tits?”

“I thought you wanted me to guide you,” you retort but in response to his question, you reach for the hem of your t-shirt and start to pull it up over your pregnant body. He stops you when it sits just above your tits, coming closer to you by spreading his thighs until you drape your own thighs over them.

“Shut it… and listen to this. It’s pretty loud,” he notes as he feels the little sucker on his palm again, tapping the heel of his hand with it.

“It’s quieter when it’s in place,” you say with heat in your cheeks, anticipation evident on your face, “So don’t worry about switching up the intensity when I get close.”

“Ah… but no going overboard,” he nods, grinning down at you. Sure. He drags out the testing on his palm to get you worked up even more, knowing it will only increase the pulse in your whole body until you might cuss him out when he actually goes to work on you. He loves your body when it is pregnant and sensitive, and while he would never let anyone in on what the two of you do behind closed doors, there’s a part of him that wants to brag to Steve about how you cream yourself from getting your breasts played with whenever you have a baby - this time babies - in your belly or your body is raging with postpartum hormones. Oh, he thinks to himself, what a privilege it is to get to see you like he will in just a moment.

“Javi,” you complain beneath him.

“Yeah yeah, chica impaciente (impatient girl),” he tuts and finally places the toy against the skin of your cleavage. You suck in a breath, reacting already more intensely than he thought you would. He supposes that it’s due to knowing how it’s going to feel, and he elicits a little moan from you as he drags the head of the toy across your chest.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble, squeezing your thighs around his waist. When he looks down between your legs, he can see the way it makes your cunt clench too. You’re trying to stimulate yourself untouched.

“Christ, you’re a dirty little girl for this thing. What magic does it do for you?” He raises his brows and inches the toy closer to your right breast. He dances around the swell and you bite your lower lip.

“You don’t understand,” you say breathlessly.

“Humor me,” he demands.

“It feels… like when your teeth nip at my skin,” you explain with eyes that are already glazed over with desire, “It feels like when your mouth is just about to get where I wa— Fuck.”

Javier has covered your right nipple with the toy and between your legs, a damp spot has marked the white sheets. He moves the head of the little sucker around your gorgeous, perky nipple and your moan only increases in volume.

“Shh, los niños están dormidos (the children are asleep),” he whispers above you, removing the toy to lean down over you and get closer to your face, “Keep your little mouth shut or I’ll need to stop.”

You look desperately at him, shake your head, and whimper at the threat. He pecks your lips with a pleased smirk before you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It gets even harder for you when he descends on you, gathering spit in his mouth before letting it drip down onto your played-with nipple in an obscene manner.

“Waterproof, I’m guessing?” He awaits your answer.

“Mhm,” you nod and then writhe as he covers the peak of your breast again. You let your hand push down into the mattress, making a noise in the back of your throat as he presses the button to turn up the intensity. You fight between throwing your head back and keeping your eyes fixed on what he is doing to you.

“Eyes on me,” he decides for you.

“Baby,” you whine and follow through, thighs tightening around his waist as you stare at him. You start thrusting against nothing, lifting your pelvis to squeeze your pussy in time with the still somewhat slow pulses to your chest.

Javier straightens fully again and your gaze follows obediently. He lifts his left hand to his mouth, sticking two fingers past his lips to wet them with his spit, and then he finds your other nipple. He rubs in soft circles for just a moment before he pinches it between the two digits, tugging at it slightly until he sees slick drip from your aching slit. He cannot help the soft noise he lets out as he watches the drip of your come hit the bed. He is so hard it hurts from just thinking about being inside of you as you continue flexing your pelvis like that.

How the fuck are you going to come from just this? Has he really spent so much time in bed with you that this is something he can force out of you? He is struck by fascination at your trembling body, letting you breathe, even if it’s just barely, by swirling the toy around your nipple.

“More,” you pant in frustration, swallowing down a frustrated moan to not piss him off, “Turn it up.”

“Hey, that’s not how we ask for things in this family. What’s the magic word?” He teases, finger hovering over the button. He pinches your nipple with the fingers on his other hand, forcing a cry past your lips. You don’t even get to the please.

Instead, your hand flies to your mouth but you manage to calm your noises again, sliding your fingers into your hair instead. Javier decides then to press the button twice before putting it back on you, watching those fingers yank at your own follicles. You nod and your hips are practically gyrating by now.

“Javi, fu— fuck,” you gasp out, “I—“

“I know, baby. I can see it on you,” he says, making a noise low in his throat at the way your head falls back into the mattress. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your bottom lip getting caught between your teeth again as you teeter on the edge of your first orgasm. He cannot believe your clit is still untouched because when he dares look down, it peeks out from underneath its hood as if he’s been giving it attention.

“I’m gonna come,” you announce with a strained voice, still very aware of your noise levels. Quickly, you reach down to cover your mouth with the whole of your palm and then, with furrowed brows, you’re off into ecstasy. It hits you like a shot of adrenaline, your body going rigid before writhing on the sheets. The hand on your mouth turns your moans into desperate whines that stir Javier’s desire even more. His heart races at the sight, his eyes watching hungrily as you come undone the first time of many.

“Jesus Christ, Mamá,” he removes his hands and turns off the toy when you go from enjoying the tingling of pleasure to shaking at the oversensitivity of your breasts.

The hand falls from your satisfied smile to lay beside your head. You giggle as excitement is flowing through your veins, “Gimme a second and you can go again.”

“Is it better than me?” He smiles at your cute laughter and wiggles his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you roll your eyes, “Not even close but it’s nice if you’re not available.”

“You know… I would come home during my break if you needed me,” he leaves the toy next to you so he can crawl over you and dip down for a long kiss.

“I’m sure you would,” you nod at his words, slipping your tongue past his lips.

He holds himself up with a forearm above you so he can use his free hand to push your shirt further up and over your head. You stretch your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely, only breaking the kiss for the moment it takes.

“I’m ready for one more,” you say after a few minutes of just making out with him, arms slung around his neck in a desperate embrace and lips kissing him until they’re swollen. When he sits up on his knees again, he notices the way that his mustache has scratched you slightly and makes a mental note to trim it sometime tomorrow.

You look so radiant when you’re in a haze of post-orgasmic bliss, and while he gets his pillow to place it underneath your hips, he admires the beauty of you underneath him like this. You have your hair tousled, your eyes are half-lidded, barely open from the way remnants of pleasure still hasn’t been washed away from them, and your velvety skin glistens with a sheen of sweat that’ll make you shiver if he doesn’t heat you up again. Javier wants to lick it off, wants to eat you up until he has devoured you. You’re beyond softer and sexier than any other time he gets to witness you.

“Javi,” you murmur softly when he’s too slow.

“What, mi amor (my love)?” He pretends not to hear your demanding voice hidden beneath your tired one.

“I wanna do it again,” you have a playful glint in your eye.

“Again?” He teases but his cock pulses, heavy between his legs at the knowledge that he will see you come undone once more in just a moment. He chooses the word moment because the little sucker knows what it is doing and if you respond so well to getting your nipples played with, a part of him is afraid that it’ll be over the second it touches your clit.

“Javi,” you drag out his name in further frustration.

Javier rubs your thigh soothingly, “You’re obsessed with this thing. How long have you had it?”

“Uhh, not long,” you reply, visibly clenching at just hearing the toy start buzzing again. You scoot further towards him, presenting your pussy for him.

“So directly? Or?” He reaches down between your legs, the toy hovering over your mound for a moment before he decides to let it suckle on the skin of your inner thigh where he has just touched you. You breathe deeply in through your nose, wanting to look down at what he is doing but your pregnant belly is already shielding it from view.

“Yes but the lowest setting,” you instruct. Your hand dips down between your thighs to spread your lips, giving him access to your hard clit, “I’m still sensitive.”

“And wet, ¡Dios mío (my God)!” He marvels with suppressed excitement and moves the toy inwards, trailing its tip until it sits right by your hand. You sigh at the attention, dripping even more from your slit in anticipation.

Your hips hitch up when he finally covers your clit with the hole of the toy, a quiet moan slipping from your mouth as it falls open. Your face goes slack in contrast to the tension in your pelvis, your body subconsciously moving around to seek the most sensation.

He guides it steadily up and down, barely rocking it but still moving it enough to create just a bit of a tug on your swollen nub. He sees you lose yourself in it and stares down at you while cupping the bulge on the front of his briefs to relieve some of the desperate pain. He moans low in his throat, “Mi chica bonita (my beautiful girl).”

You respond with a little louder noise, an orgasm already creeping up on you. He shushes you gently, “No noise, baby. Try breathing through your nose or I’ll have to cover your mouth.”

You clamp your mouth shut and make a muffled sound.

“Look at that pussy flutter for me,” he looks between your legs then smiles up at you, pleased with what he is doing to you. He turns up the power on the toy. Your head falls back against the bed. He sees your brows knit together and then he knows, “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

Your orgasm hits you like a lightning bolt. Javier watches with his hand gripping firmly around the outline of his cock and the toy held firmly against your core. You do a fantastic job of making as little noise as possible but the desire to make a racket is there beneath the surface, especially when your high peaks and there’s a moment where you hold your breath just before shivering with the pleasure in your cunt.

He gives you another break but you shake your head. He looks curiously down at you, uncertain if you mean it, “No? Again?”

“Make it hurt, please, Javi,” you beg and he thinks he might come untouched from those words. It’s so rare to have you like this when the house is still full. He doesn’t doubt whether it is a good idea though, just turns up the heat and sends you hurtling towards another orgasm.

You gasp towards the ceiling and slam your legs closed while you grab at the sheets. You look like you are possessed, eyes rolling back into your skull as you come a third time. It must be painful because you are whimpering like a wounded animal, nearly ripping the fabric underneath you and begging silently by only mouthing the words in a worse manner than he has ever experienced as a father of three - soon five - children.

“Keep going,” you demand almost angrily, concentration on your face as he presses the button to the next level of pulses.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers, “You’re about to levitate into the air, aren’t you?”

“I’m gonna come,” you inform him breathlessly.

“Already?” Javier’s brows are nearly in his hair. He is stroking himself on top of his underwear now, itching to feel something when you are lying in a pool of tears, sweat, and your come. Seeing you like this, he has no idea how he is ever going to get anything practical done this weekend; he’ll be doing you every chance he gets until you can’t walk. So hard that he’ll have an excuse to stay home with you on Monday just so he can spear you on his aching cock over and over. Even if you scream, even if you drool, and even if you sob.

When your fourth orgasm of the night starts to gain up on you, he observes the way your legs start to twitch. He holds the toy steady, pushing it against your clit as you nearly go cross-eyed with pleasure. His eyes are wide, the concentration lost for just a second too long when your legs start shaking as you near your end. The toy slips just half an inch, losing its grip on your clit and the accident turns you feral. You reach for his hand, yanking the toy out of his palm, and settle it back into place.

And then you come. So hard that he has no idea what to say or do, watching a steady trickle of pearly white mess gush out of you as your pussy jumps along with your heartbeat. You try so desperately to keep quiet but the sensation seems to be so intense that you might draw blood from your lip if you don’t get to cry.

“One loud one, no, no, look at me. One,” he tells you calmly, knowing you are probably seeing spots, “Let me hear.”

You don’t hesitate, face scrunched up in ecstasy while you let out a wreaking sob that’s so close to you screaming that he almost (but not really) regrets allowing you to be noisy. You pant, kick, and scream, tears running down your face as you are lost to the world, leaving him with nothing to do but stare hungrily as he thanks the heavens that you have found a toy that makes you look so happy and beautiful. He’d be its lead promoter if someone wanted him to.

When it becomes too much, you don’t even turn off the thing. You simply just let it fall from your hands and slump into the bed, your thighs sticky with sweat and slick against Javier’s own. He listens for the sound of tiny footsteps down the hallway for a moment but there’s nothing, not even a squeak from the baby monitor.

“Get inside of me,” you half-beg, half-order with barely any breath in your chest. Javier doesn’t hesitate to step off the bed, slipping his briefs off, and stepping out of them when they pool around his feet. Your eyes watch, huge and wet, filled with desperation for being stretched out after only having your clit played with. He will never dream of denying you when you look like that. You nearly hiccup, “Please.”

“Shh, you’ll get it, mi vida (my life), you’ll get whatever you want,” he soothes softly but then continues the rough streak. He curls his hands around the back of your knees and yanks you off the pillow towards the edge of the bed, sliding your body through the mess you have created.

You are like a siren with the eyes you are sending him, making his cock stand in the air and at level with your empty cunt. He grabs at the base of his length, guiding the thick head through your folds for a few seconds to slick himself up. However, the need to be inside of you, to pound into you, is too much and he pushes into you not long after.

The feeling of filling you up has Javier’s heart pounding against his ribs, endorphins running through his system as his mind quiets down completely when he has you like this. Your warm and familiar walls engulf his touch-starved cock and the both of you breathe shakily in relief as you melt together. You even manage a mix between a breathless laugh and a quiet moan, a sound that makes him twitch inside of you as he regains his composure. When he starts fucking you, dragging you by your legs down onto his cock over and over again, he realizes that he doesn’t even need to be careful, your walls so wet and soft from how much you’ve been touched.

He repeatedly snaps his hips forward to cause an obscene smacking noise that bounces off the walls. You nod frantically at the way he moves inside of you, nose scrunching up with concentration on the sensation of his dick slamming into your front wall. Yet it seems as if you’ve become nearly impossible to please from coming so many times; your hands are placed on top of his, frustration evident on your face, “Harder.”

“Nena (baby girl),” he pants whilst fucking you, “I’m already going hard.”

“I need it harder,” you whine, writhing slightly, “Please.”

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” He asks playfully and earns a glare that you only seem to perfect when you are pregnant and not getting your way. He smooths his palms up and down your sweaty thighs, thrusts coming to a complete halt, “Crawl back.”

He pulls out his cock with a grunt, letting you gaze hungrily at it when you’ve seen it glistening with your wetness. He is the one getting impatient now, snapping his fingers to keep up the part he is playing for you, his role as the man in charge even if it’s hardly true, “Go on then. Back.”

You move with shaky limbs, your body exhausted from its continuous stimulus. You end up lying flat on your back with your legs wide open for him, holding out your arms with a tiny dissatisfied complaint of a whimper, “Javi.”

Javier finally kneels on the bed and moves forward until he is hovering above you. He grabs the still buzzing toy on the bed and reaches for your hand. He places the toy in your palm and closes your fingers around it, knowing what he wants, “I just need you to promise me that you’ll choke my dick when I fuck you with this joining the fun.”

You nod repeatedly and that’s good enough for him to go crazy for you, even wreck the bed if that’s what you want to do. Thank God that there’s no school tomorrow because you’d be hobbling around with how sore he is going to make - and has already made - you. He leans down and cages you underneath him, buries his face in your neck as he bottoms out inside you in one hard thrust. His pelvis touches yours, his chest, your sensitive tits, his body unable to get close enough.

When he rocks his hips this time, he starts really putting his back into it. You slide your free hand up his bicep to cling to his shoulder, saving yourself from being pushed across the mattress with how forcefully he drives his cock into your heat.

He breathes hard as he exhausts his body to give you what you need, knowing that you can take it even if it aches. He can feel drops of sweat slide down the length of his spine, gathering at the small of his back as he switches to harsh rolls of his hips.

The switch gives you room. He doesn’t have to actively listen for the muffling of the sucking toy’s buzz to know that you have started to hold it against your clit because your whole cunt jumps at the attention.

You press your mouth into his bare shoulder to muffle your screams, bravely taking on another round of obscene pleasure as his lower belly burns with the desire to come.

His head swims with the overtaxing use of his muscles, the strain on his thighs that has started to ache from how much he wants to make your head spin. He feels a tear fall from your eye and drop down on his skin, your whimpering voice trying to encourage him not to stop the torture of your cunt.

“Fuck,” he gasps as the sensations are becoming increasingly more intense. He turns his head to breathe heavily against your ear, breathing damp against the shell of it when he tries to speak while his lungs empty as small puffs of air. He wants to tell you how good it feels, and concentrates on whispering filthy things in your ear, “That’s it, you can— oh God, you can take it, baby.”

You sound like you’re trying to overcome your own body, fluctuating between whines and groans. He goes on, “No wonder you’re always carrying my babies. You take it so fucking well each time, amor (love). Made for it. Made for getting knocked up.”

You lock your legs around his ankles, clinging to him as he crashes into you repeatedly. He hears you desperately move the sucking toy back and forth, hears the intensity being turned up to a higher level than he has even dared. You sound pornographic even in your quietness - like one of those videos where they don’t want to get caught but just cannot keep all noise at bay - as you get fucked by him whilst it sends you through the gates of pleasure heaven simultaneously.

“Please,” you whisper.

“And if you weren’t made for it, I’d be sure to mold that little pussy into shape,” he growls quietly. You start to have that dazed look in your eye, have a grip around his cock that tells him exactly what is going to happen, “Oh, baby. You gonna come on my cock, huh?”

“Yeah,” you squeak.

“Yeah?” He mocks.

Javier enters the final sprint, fucking you open in a frantic rush that almost borders on being gross, greedy and animalistic. You mewl pathetically from the intensity, biting into his skin as he makes you come with pleasure slamming through your body roughly enough to make you start crying.

To soothe you, he pulls back his head to kiss you longingly even if it becomes nothing more than a messy crash of your mouths together. He does it to quieten down himself too, finding that his stomach is tightening and his balls are drawing up from being so close. You’ve tightened around him too because whereas you should remove the sucker from your clit, once again, you don’t, and the questionable choice has your walls clamping down on him in overstimulation, squeezing his dick so heavenly that his hips stutter. He comes inside of you when the smaller fit has him seeing stars, groaning into your mouth as he pulses into you.

The buzz of the toy becomes louder again but only because it slips from your hand, your body trembling with overwhelming excitement as you come down from your millionth orgasm in a fairly short period of time. You sob without being sad, curling in on yourself as soon as he pulls out of the dripping mess between your legs. He is on you instantaneously, pushing your hair out of your face, turning off the toy, and cooing gently.

“Oh, Nena (baby girl), you’re okay,” he tuts while you cry quietly, several teardrops rolling down your nose as your body tries to escape itself. He kisses your shoulder, blows a raspberry on it, “You did so good for me. You’re okay. We just went a little overboard.”

Javier rolls off of you but instead of following the instinct to rest his exhausted body by lying down, he sits up in your shared bed. He scoots close to you until he can coax you to drag yourself into his lap with a feeble whimper, wrapping his arms around you and rocking you back and forth like a newborn. He supposes you must feel rebirthed. You sob into his chest, cheek pressed into where his heart hammers, and still overwhelmed with the painful pleasure that you have just experienced.

“Shh,” he whispers with his lips pressed to the crown of your head. He kisses your hair, rubbing soothing circles into your sweaty back until your cries turn into tiny hiccups instead, “It’s alright. You’re alright.”

The way you cling to him tells him that you feel safe with him. He dares lift your chin, looking into your puffy, red eyes and rubbing a tear-streak away from your face. His voice is raspy from sex, “Are you okay, baby?”

“I’m okay,” you croak with a tired and tiny smile, shivering as the sweat starts to cool down. He holds you a little tighter. You relax in his arms even despite getting a bit of control back, “Scatterbrained.”

“Lo sé (I know),” he huffs out a chuckle with another kiss to your head. He cups your jaw and dips down for a kiss on the lips too, thumb rubbing affectionately along your cheekbone, “Pero eres tan hermosa (but you’re so pretty).”

“Thank you,” you cover his hand on your face with your own, “I’m ready to conk out.”

“Shower?” He asks and suggests at the same time.

“I won’t be able to stand upright for that long,” you run your hand over your forehead instead, laughing quietly.

“Alright, bath it is then,” he gently runs his fingers through your hair, “Ready?”

“You’re going to carry me?” You ask with a raised brow as he starts moving towards the edge of the bed with you, “I weigh a ton with this pregnant belly.”

“I do lifts with our daughter on the daily, you know,” he jokes, “Best workout method in years. Even if she talks a lot.”

You yelp with a laugh as he picks you up effortlessly and carries you through the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor with you in his arms bridal style, and sets you carefully on the edge of the bathtub. As he turns on the tap and lets the tub fill, he imagines the cool porcelain is nice against your sore thighs and cunt.

After testing the water, he gently helps you into the tub with a comfortable silence between you. The content look on your face is a reward in itself, even moreso the sigh that you let out as the water envelops you and turns your tired muscles to putty.

Javier washes your hair, leaning your head back and scooping water into his hand to rinse out the shampoo. He runs his fingers across your back and shoulders too, relieving some of the tension he has caused tonight.

“What about dinner tomorrow?” You ask out of the blue and he nearly wants to laugh because, of course, you’re already back to being a mother.

He puts conditioner in your hair, “I was just inside of you.”

“And that means that I can’t start planning your kids’ best lives?” You tease.

He rolls his eyes affectionately, “Fine. I think we should just do something easy.”

“Actually,” you say. Here we go, he thinks. You turn your head to look up at him, “The kids have been talking about a picnic in the backyard, and Lucas really wants to try out the new tent we bought.”

“Mhm,” he hums, not protesting. It does sound fun.

“And I checked the weather forecast earlier,” you add then clarify, “It won’t rain.”

“Baby,” he says with an affectionate smile as he rinses out the conditioner too, “You need to shut down that brain of yours. You do plenty enough to keep us happy.”

“It does shut down sometimes,” you reassure him with a little smile, rubbing your nose in a manner that he always finds adorable. You lean back to simply soak in the warm water, belly just poking out above the surface, “When you touch me.”

Javier lays a hand on your stomach, caressing you in slow circles. He feels playful when he knows you’re getting back into your normal self again, “Guess I’ll just have to keep touching you then.”

“I guess so,” you reply simply, eyes closed and a lazy smile on your face. Jesus Christ, he loves you and everything you have given him.

“I’ll let you sit here for a few more minutes, really let you cook,” he tells you, bending down to kiss your hair. He pushes himself to stand, “I’m gonna go plug your new friend in all over. I think we drained the battery.”

“Don’t pass out,” you say in a sing-song voice, “Love you.”

“Te amo tanto, mi amor (I love you so much, my love),” he replies and leaves you alone with a hand on your belly. He hears you talk to his unborn children, and it’s almost sad that the time it takes for him to wash the toy gently in the sink, plug it in, and head back to you isn’t long.

Finally, with his help, you finish the bath. He helps you to the seat of the toilet, hands you a towel, and drains water from the tub.

“I had the same old question today,” he small-talks while you are on the toilet to dry yourself. He steps over the edge of the newly-drained tub to stand in it, pulling the shower head off the wall to wash himself down from the remnants of what you have just done in bed. He’ll hurry up to finish before you so you don’t start changing the sheets in your pregnant condition.

“Yeah?” You decide against what you are doing and go, albeit shakily, to find a flannel. You soak it in lukewarm water and instantly sigh as you place it between your legs.

“Lucas wants that damn dog so badly,” he continues as he washes himself, “I told him it was a bad idea. He got pretty upset.”

“Is it? A bad idea, I mean?” You wash the flannel clean after using it and wring out the excess water before hanging it on the side of the laundry basket.

“I said yes but I also said it was you who had the final say in it. I’m not carrying a litter,” he huffs a small laugh and steps out onto the bath mat. He dries himself, “Two babies, a toddler, and a puppy seems like pushing it, baby, no matter how well-behaved.”

“I had a dog growing up. It was pretty great and made me feel less alone,” you muse. You turn around to lean against the bathroom counter to steady yourself, watching him with a smile in your naked state, “We could find one in a shelter. A grown one.”

God, you are pretty. He hangs up his towel and draws nearer, stopping only when he has you caged between the sink and himself. He leans in for a kiss and you cup his face whilst he talks, “You’re so good.”

“We could surprise him for his birthday. I don’t like those puppies spending time in those cages during August. It’s too hot. They should be running in the grass,” you scratch his cheeks with your nails, pouting slightly.

He kisses the pout off your face and puts a hand on your protruding belly, “You’ll look so beautiful during August.”

“This isn’t about me,” you note with a grin and pat his hand, “Focus on your son for a second.”

“We’ll never be able to top that birthday present,” he says with his eyes glazed over by love, “Just saying.”

“But he’ll remember it for the rest of his life,” you argue.

“Guess we’ll have to browse the local places then,” he gives in, sliding his hand around your waist.

“You’re a great dad,” you return the caress by laying your palm on his bare chest. His pulse is high when you look at him like that, saying those things.

“Don’t or I’ll have you right here again,” he threatens playfully.

Despite your previous state, you respond cockily by turning around so your ass is level with his dick. You lean forward slightly but only to grab your toothbrush for the second time tonight and disappoint him.

“Anything else happen today?” You ask as if nothing has happened whilst putting toothpaste on your brush. It matches his. You look at him through the mirror and he takes a moment to think, collecting his thoughts instead of getting hard again.

“Oh, right, uh,” he gives up and takes a step to the side, reaching for his own toothbrush. You hand over the tube of toothpaste to him. He puts it back in its holder when he is done using it, “Well, there’s a new kid in Inés’ class. I ran into her mom or rather… Inés ran into her.”

You raise a brow in the mirror.

“Anyway, she was real friendly,” he recalls the moment earlier and speaks around his toothbrush, “They’re new in town and she wanted someone to show her around. She actually invited us for coffee.”

You turn to him now, having stopped brushing your teeth. It looks like you are trying not to laugh at him, “Javi…”

“Yeah?” He turns to meet your gaze and furrows his brow. Oblivious.

“I’m sure she was super excited to invite you and your wife for coffee,” you chuckle, and a bit of toothpaste dribbles down your chin. You reach to wipe it off, “You’re so stupid.”

“Hey,” he clicks his tongue at you.

“Did you give her your number?” You ask casually.

“No… I told her that I would find her contact info on the class sheet,” he tells you and you laugh for real this time.

“Ever the romantic,” you snicker, “Oh, you broke her heart with that.”

“Fuck, do you think she was trying to come onto me?” Javier realizes the true meaning behind the interaction.

“Well, duh,” you start to brush your teeth again but cannot help giggling throughout the rest of cleaning them, “I bet she was batting her lashes at you.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. I thought she was just being friendly,” he continues his own brushing.

This happens more and more often. You are so deeply ingrained in his mind that his time as a casanova is so far behind him that he sometimes cannot pick up on these things anymore. He wants to say that it’s a conscious choice to be oblivious but it honestly is not. There’s just no one else but you.

“So are you gonna call her? Is it serious?” You taunt him after rinsing your toothbrushes together.

“You’re in for a smack to your ass if you continue,” Javier rolls his eyes in an attempt to hide the color of embarrassment in his cheeks. He hurries to go change the sheets before you start doing it.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you blink at him as you pass him to get your clothes from the bed before he has crumpled them up into the dirty sheets.

He smiles and gets dressed with you afterward, standing on each of your respective sides of the bed without saying much.

In bed, you kiss and say your ‘I love yous’. He falls asleep after a few minutes of listening to your slowed breathing. Just like he has done thousands of times before. It never gets old.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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yourfatherlucifer · 7 months ago

Text

| 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 | Chapter One

Mafia!Ot8!Ateez x Female!Reader

Summary: After losing everything through gambling, your father's debts to the Ateez Mafia have resulted in you becoming their property. With no other family left, you are now at the mercy of these dangerous criminals due to your father's reckless actions.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight Parental Abuse, kidnapping, mental breakdown, MDNI

My Thankful Help: @potatomountain @kitten4sannie @rems-writing

WC: 1.7k

AU: Mafia

Nets: @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AN: This chapter is under 2k because as I said, the first chapter would be short.

Tags: @xomakara @jedi-dreea @beabatiny @ateezaddict24 @spenceatiny18 @18fernanda @prodsh00ky @evercodeee @yizhou-time @smally97 @eshia-16 @daniela-f-uwu @peachyy-joonie @butterfliesinthenightsky @dassmyname @unlikelysublimekryptonite @dollinno @stay-tiny-things @joongscheese @misskarynie @monstacheol @yeosangcutie0615 @mariaa @pinuspot @amphiroxx

@hyukssunflower @witchbxtch0701 If I cannot tag you, please fix your settings.

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“Dad, please, this is all I have left!” Y/N’s dad didn’t care, he snatched the few bills she clenched in her palms, then shoved her to the floor.

“I don’t care. I need it more, you brat.”

Her father left her on the cold hard floor without another thought as he exited her home.

This all started five years ago, when her mother died and her father became a huge gambling addict. Every bit of death insurance money that was left for their daughter was stolen by the father for excessive spending.

Whatever, his ass can forget it.

Y/N had to return to work if she wanted to keep her home, rent and bills were definitely no joke. With a sigh and groan, she grabbed her apron and hat. As much as she hated her customers, she had a good job. It paid well and gave her a nice home: small, but nice. The best part is that it’s away from her fathers run down house.

Oh the family home..it used to be so beautiful. Y/N’s mother always kept it so extravagant and beautiful, her father actually built it for her mother. Alas, once she died, Y/N’s dad let it fall into disrepair. Holes in the floor, broken windows, no working appliances. It truly was just, not hospitable in any way shape or form.

The walk to the car was miserable, with her pockets robbed of the last cash she had, her bank account stripped clean of its currency. Y/N hated her father in these final minutes to her car, “Piece of shit, hate his ass.”

Her car struggled to start, pissing her off even more. Her hands smacked against the steering wheel and she let out an agonizing scream. Tears streamed down her face that signified her further frustration. Why? Why not was her life like this? Y/N stepped out of her car with a slam of the door. Bus transposition it is. She could only count on the money she made tonight to make it back home. Her bus card only had enough for one ride.

Y/N grabbed her coat before heading back outside to the bus station, it better not be packed. Her day was already shitty and she didn’t need to be jostled around by people on the way to work.

The moment she stepped onto the bus and scanned her card, only then could she breathe a sigh of relief. There was no one on the bus which gave her momentary tranquility. A peaceful silence if you must.

After the jostling bus ride and arriving to work, Y/N prepared for a long day ahead of her. Hopefully having no shitty customers and ending the day with a good pay.

She needs it.

About six hours later, she was clocked out of work with some cash in her pocket, she had made about one hundred and twenty four dollars. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get her home and maybe something ordered to eat. Tomorrow's payment would have to go to rent no matter what. She absolutely cannot afford to be homeless.

It had turned dark outside on the way home which she didn’t mind but alas, men. She never had to worry about that but she still worried regardless.

With her home in sight, she let out another sigh of relief and stepped inside. Why was it so dark? She knows she left the lights on. She was sure she left them on. Y/N was about to bolt when hands grabbed her and the lights turned on.

Three men resided in her home entrance and she panicked, “Who the hell are you people and why are you in my home?” She tried her hardest to break away from the man’s hold, she couldn’t see what they looked like and that scared her.

A short one with orange hair pushed himself off the couch with a frown, “You’re not Mark..” His face grew cold, “Might I ask who you are instead?”

Y/N could only scowl before giving in, “I’m his daughter. What do you want with my father?”

“Well, you see, he owes us a hefty bit of money. He listed this place as his home but he’s not here. Do you know where he is?” He came face to face with the girl as he scanned her body up and down. Quite the specimen indeed, he thought.

Y/N shook her head, “Why the hell would I know where that deadbeat is? He’s nothing but trouble and continues to steal my money.”

This made the man laugh, the others stiffening.

“Oh, yeah, sounds just like him.” He thought for a moment before nodding to himself, “Well, guess we’re gonna have to take you instead! Maybe we can lure him out with you.”

Before she could protest and scream for help, something was bashed against her head and she fell to the floor in a blackout.

Time flew by quickly.

The moment she woke up, she realized she was in a cell, her body wrapped in a tight rope and her legs barred together tightly.

Y/N began to cry, of course her father would get her in this situation. What a dickweed.

A light quickly flashed into the dark room, someone stepped in.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” The voice was monotone, “Captain wants to see you.” The sounds of keys jingling rattled her ears, swearing she had a concussion.

She was quickly yanked up and taken outside of the cell, “Do not attempt to flee, I will just shove you back in there with nothing to eat.”

Y/N gave in and let him take her upstairs. She was astonished by his beauty once they reached the light. No, no, do not think that way, she thought to herself. She was kidnapped.

She was taken to a room that was secluded from the rest, chandeliers lining the hallway as she walked, well, was forced down. Still, a beautiful place that astonished her.

Once she was shoved into the room and the door slammed behind her, only then could she look up from where she fell.

The other man stood up from his seat and helped her stand up, “I told you to be gentle, Jongho. Follow my orders next time or you know damn well what happens.”

“Yes, Hongjoong, sir, I’m sorry.” The voice spoke from behind the girl.

This guy was the boss?

“I’m Hongjoong, I’m the leader of ateez and you’re in our home. You can thank your father for that.” Hongjoong gently brought Y/N to a seat and sat her down, sending shivers down her spine.

“What do I have to do with my father? He’s not going to rescue me. He only cares about his money.” He didn’t like those words but quickly gathered his cool.

“No matter, fathers always come back if they want to escape our wrath.” Hongjoong cleared his throat before he stood up once more, “You’ll be staying with us until he makes an appearance or pays us back.”

She knew neither was going to happen. She’d be stuck here forever until the day she died.

Tears lined her eyes as she tried to fight them back, “Then you should just kill me.”

Hongjoong laughed in such a maniacal way that it scared Y/N, “I won’t be doing that either, you’re too pretty to kill. I like you.” He wasn’t sending any red flags but still, he scared Y/N.

“Fine.”

“Good girl. Jongho, take her to the room I had prepared and have the maids clean her up and feed her.” With a wave of his hand, Y/N was back to being yanked around, “Be gentle, dammit!” His fist smacked against the desk and Jongho was frightened once more, being more careful than he had before.

When the two of them were out of sight, Jongho was harsh once again, “I don’t like you. I don’t see why Captain has such an interest in you, I would’ve just killed you if I was in his position.”

Y/N couldn’t say anything, she was too scared, too afraid to die in all honesty. She could only wonder what would happen to her home, her job, everything she had. Would she just be reported as missing? What would happen? Would anyone even care?

“You’ll be staying in here.” She was shoved into a room once again but maids rushed to her this time, helping her to the bed, almost as if they were also afraid of Hongjoong.

She didn’t blame them.

Y/N didn’t even fight back, she let them undress her, too hollow of shell at the moment. They led her to a prepared bath, it was..big. Too big.

They helped her inside and began washing her body before she shouted, “I can do it myself, thank you.” The maids didn’t scamper off unfortunately.

“We’re so sorry, but Mr Kim wants us doing this. We have to.” They spoke with such a frightening tone, almost as if they were gonna get their heads chopped off on a stand.

They scrubbed her body with such ease and care, not wanting to hurt the girl. Too scared to do so. Then again, they haven’t had another girl in the house in so long. It was nice.

Once they were done, they had her step out, drying and dressing her in a gown. Something she normally would never wear, alas she has no choice unfortunately. If this is what the man wanted her to wear then so be it.

The several maids took their leave for a moment and Y/N took that as her chance to escape. She bolted out of the bathroom, out of the room, then into the hallway. Her heavy breaths carried her in a panic, but what she didn’t expect was to run in a hard chest.

Y/N screamed in defeat as they grabbed her tight. She recognized the hold as the person who captured her home.

“Just where do you think you’re going?” The voice snickered in such a mimicking tone, “Mm, captain is gonna love to hear about this.”

Y/N stared up into his eyes, yet another beautiful man and this one was definitely tall.

“You do look delicious.” However, he shrugged and dragged her back into the room, “I’m Mingi, though, next time you try to escape, I won’t be so lenient.” The door was slammed as Mingi left her in the cold and dark room once more.

Y/N could only cry as she came to the conclusion she was never leaving this place.

Ever.

#ateez x reader #ateez ot8 x reader #ateez imagines #x reader #selfish love ateez #ateez ot8 smut #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #ateez fanfiction

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springismss · 6 months ago

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ᱬ ࣪𖤐 thoughts of girl dad! suguru meeting reader and possibly wanting to be boy dad! suguru after overhearing his girls talking one night. because why not?

ageless/minors dni. 18+ content on the final few parts including multiple positions, p in v with one intention - mention of breeding kink if you squint. generalised NSFW content. f! reader.

as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy ᱬ ࣪𖤐

word count: 1k

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist

girl dad! suguru who always manages to lose the twins one way or another at the local market only for them to be brought back by a random young woman every time.

girl dad! suguru who knows the twins are up to something but he can’t quite figure out what as he watches them look around, giggling and whispering to each other.

girl dad! suguru who goes through all the emotions until one day the girls drag back another poor young woman, giggling when they shout out for their daddy only to see your bewildered face looking between him and the twins.

girl dad! suguru who kneels down to scold the two of them only for mimiko to jump onto him, smiling when she proudly announces that she and nanako have found who they want to be their momma as they point to you, bigger smiles on their faces.

girl dad! suguru who almost chokes on air at what he’s just heard, looking up at you from his knelt position as you blink in confusion, girls squealing in delight, shouting out he’s going to do it.

girl dad! suguru who lets go of the breath he's been holding when he sees you smile, letting out your own laugh at the outbursts from the young girls in the middle of the market, drawing the attention of passers-by.

girl dad! suguru who stands up and apologises for the way his girls had behaved only for you to shake you head, dismissing his apology as you explained you found them just standing alone.

girl dad! suguru who watches you bend down and and ask the girls if they would like a sweet treat from a stall you know, adding on “that’s if it’s okay with your daddy”. smiling with a nod as the girls squeal in joy, dragging him as they follow behind you.

girl dad! suguru who, when you all reach the stall, goes to pay for the treats only for you to stop him. “they’re on the house, for these two angels”. who’s worried the stall owner will notice but is shocked when you tell him you’re the owner and you don’t mind at all.

girl dad! suguru who spends a good while watching you interact with not only his girls but with the public, offering sweet smiles and giggles as you engage with each person you see.

girl dad! suguru who finds himself spending more time at the market when you're there, making the excuse that the girls love your treats but who can’t help but find himself falling in love with you each second he spends with you. managing to get your number so he can order stuff from you and totally not to spend more time talking to you.

girl dad! suguru who, after quite a while, bites the bullet and asks you out on a date, half expecting you to turn him down as he has kids, only for you to accept because you see him for him, and not as a dad with baggage like most others had called the twins.

girl dad! suguru who not only spoils his girls but you as well, everything seemed to click perfectly when you entered their lives and he didn’t want this to end. taking you out on cinema dates, romantic meals, and stay-at-home dates where the girls would be involved in things like helping you brush and braid his hair - you loved every moment, and so did he and the twins.

girl dad! suguru who eventually asks you to marry him with help from the twins. you couldn’t help but cry at everything you saw, from the homemade banners to the meal to the dark purple ring nestled snugly in an open box in the hand of the man you loved.

girl dad! suguru who, along with your help, makes sure the girls are involved in every single bit of wedding planning and ultimately, your big day when you both become husband and wife.

girl dad! suguru who loves how you throw yourself headfirst into being a momma for the twins, taking them shopping, dropping them at school, parent's evenings, the works all while keeping your baking business running.

girl dad! suguru who one night, overhears you, nanako and mimiko talking about things while you put them to bed after a story, mainly how the girls wanted to have a baby brother because they wanted to be big sisters. hearing you say they’d “need to see what daddy thinks of the idea first”, making sure to step away from the open door the second you turn and walk through, closing it softly.

girl dad! suguru who smirks at the look of shock on your face from not expecting him to be there, before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, laughing at the squeak you make as you grip onto the back of his t-shirt, making sure to keep a loving grip on your waist.

girl dad! suguru who places you gently on your shared bed before hovering over you, peppering your face with kisses until he stops at your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as he mutters words of love and adoration.

girl dad! suguru who smirks when you suck in a breath when you hear him mutter “i heard what the girls said to you princess, so let’s get to work on giving them that baby brother, yeah?”.

girl dad! suguru who wastes no time ridding you both of your clothes before pushing himself between your legs, groaning out at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him tightly, not wanting to let go.

girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in a variety of positions with the desire of pumping you full of his cum, until you can’t take no more. until you're stuffed so full while being a blabbering mess beneath him.

girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in the nastiest mating press you’ve ever felt with the sole intention of breeding you, making your figure rounder and breasts full with milk as you carry his child, a child that’s half you and half him.

girl dad! suguru who has every intention of becoming boy dad! suguru as well that he’ll always fuck another child into you should your first one together be a girl - not that you, or your puffy pussy mind one bit.

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vanteguccir · 11 months ago

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⁺ ♱ .ᐟㅤㅤ──────── 𝓣𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, matt sturniolo.

⠀★　𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗇 !

ㅤㅤ❝ ㅤ 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆, 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖾⠀𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍　.

(⠀links⠀) ─── main masterlist && matt masterlist

‹ 𝓜𝖠𝖳𝖳'𝖲 𝓑𝖫𝖴𝖱𝖡𝖲 › : : : enjoy !

01. belly bulge　─　matt seeing his dick form a belly bulge in yn

02. virgin　─　matt realizing yn is a virgin when they're about to have sex

03. boob obsession　─　where matt has an extreme obsession with Y/N's boobs

04. migraine　─　where Matt helps Y/N through her migraine cycle

05. changing　─　Matt walking in on Y/N changing clothes

06. gamer x bookworm　─　an afternoon with gamer!Matt and bookworm!Y/N

07. pretty boy　─　Matt's reaction to yn calling him pretty boy for the first time

08. grumpy x sunshine　─　a day in the life of grumpy Matt and sunshine Y/N

09. stuffed animal　─　Matt with a gf who only sleeps with stuffed bear

10. perfume　─　where Matt asks Y/N to spray her perfume on his suitcase before Vegas

11. bikini's and boner's　─　where Matt gets flustered and turned on after seeing Y/N in a bikini

12. too tight　─　Matt's cock keeps slipping out of Y/N after he was away for too long

13. riding　─　Y/N ride sub!Matt until he's a babbling mess

14. ketchup　─　where Y/N is pregnant and craving ketchup in the middle of the night

15. wet kisses　─　Matt devouring Y/N’s lips while fucking her slowly

16. changing trend　─　where Y/N asks Matt to get out of the room so she can change to see his reaction

17. sick　─　Matt has to force Y/N to stay in bed because she can't accept that she's still sick

18. 21st birthday　─　Y/N makes a small appearance on the car video on the triplets 21st birthday

19. making him hard　─　where Y/N accidentally makes Matt hard for the first time

20. taking control　─　where Y/N takes control over Matt for a split second before he puts her in her place again

21. pacifier　─　where Y/N and Matt's daughter try to ask for her favorite snack, but her pacifier gets in the way

22. sunday morning　─　where Y/N and Matt’s daughter decide it's a good idea to wake them up on a saturday morning

23. furniture　─　where Y/N loves to buy new furniture for her home, and Matt is the one she always goes to to ask to put it together

24. sneaky link　─　where Y/N and fwb!Matt reunite again after some weeks, and the back home vlog caught their state after fucking

25. panties in my mouth　─　where Chris had had enough of Y/N's loud moans with his brother and shut her up with her panties... and she's a exhibitionist little shit

26. coloring date　─　where the triplets and Y/N have a small 'coloring drawings date' back in Boston

27. christmas home　─　Y/N and Matt set up the house on christmas eve after their daughter goes to bed

28. protective dad　─　matt is protective over your daughter when a creep guy keeps staring at her at target

29. calling him by his name　─　where Y/N decides to make the tiktok trend 'call your boyfriend by his name to see his reaction' with Matt

30. hands between my thighs　─　where Matt left his hands between Y/N's legs to warm them up for too long.

31. valentine's day　─　where Matt gives his wife and daughter the softest Valentine's Day surprise

32. stay with me while I shower?　─　where Y/N can't take a shower alone after watching supernatural videos, and now Matt has to stay with her in the bathroom.

33. our kids are gonna be cute　─　where Y/N mentions her thoughts about their future children to Matt for the first time, and he absolutely lose it.

34. surprise party tour: period cramps　─　where Y/N is on her period during the Philadelphia show, but don't want to let her cramps pain take her off of the show, until Matt intervenes.

#⋆౨ৎ˚ 𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒆 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 #chris sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo masterlist #masterlist

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satinritual · 2 months ago

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TETHERED

Ao3 link.

Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you return to your hometown, craving a fresh start. But when Joel, your dad's friend of five years, enters your life, he upends everything you thought you knew about yourself. Caught between a past that haunts you and an undeniable connection with Joel, you face a choice: open your heart to the unknown or risk losing the fragile new life you're building.

Pairings: Dbf!Joel x Reader.

Tags/Warnings: Joel x Reader, soft!Joel, age gap (mid-40s/early 20s), dad!Joel, mild slow burn, angst, miscommunication, fluff, pining, reader has anxiety from ex toxic relationship, (flashbacks to domestic violence, gaslighting, manipulation), insecurity, mentions of (Sarah’s) death, daddy issues, canon divergence. Mature Content: fingering, oral sex, handjob, unprotected sex, dirty talk.

WC: 126K.

INDEX:

Chapter 1: Home Again.

Chapter 2: Ghosts in the Walls.

Chapter 3: Fix it.

Chapter 4: The Second Cup.

Chapter 5: Worn Denim & Calloused Hands.

Chapter 6: Spill.

Chapter 7: Only Ones Awake.

Chapter 8: Better Than This.

Chapter 9: Town Day.

Chapter 10: The Smell of Cedar.

Chapter 11: Stay.

Chapter 12: Her laugh.

Chapter 13: Tethering On The Line.

Chapter 14: Fractured.

Chapter 15: Crystal Clear.

Chapter 16: Do It, or Go.

Chapter 17: Truth.

Chapter 18: Small Town, Big Mouths.

Chapter 19: No Hiding.

Chapter 20: Bad Guest.

Chapter 21: Dust Settles.

Chapter 22: Sit Down, Old Man.

Chapter 23: Four-Letter Words.

Chapter 24: Belonging.

Chapter 25: The Ghost That Stays.

Chapter 26: Of Course, It’s You.

Chapter 27: The Big Screen.

Chapter 29: Raw Honesty.

Chapter 30: The Things You Don’t See.

Chapter 31: Blood In The Water.

Chapter 32: The Devil You Know.

Chapter 33: Retribution.

Chapter 34: Bloom.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #dbf!joel #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #the last of us #pedro pascal #joel #dad’s best friend! joel miller #by satinritual

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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

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The Long Way Home I Chapter Three

Oscar Piastri x Harper Grace (OFC)

Summary — When Harper, a kind girl with a guarded heart, meets rising karting star Oscar Piastri at their English boarding school, sparks fly.

It only takes one silly moment of teenaged love for their lives to change forever.

Notes — Are you ready? Because I'm not ready.

Wattpad Link | Series Masterlist

Harper regretted everything the minute they hit the incline.

"This was your idea," Oscar said, not even out of breath.

"I hate that you're actually good at this," she wheezed.

He grinned and reached for her wrist mid-stride. "We can stop."

"No." She panted. "If I stop now, I'll never start again. They'll have to airlift me out."

They were deep in the woods behind the school, the quiet part where no one really went except Oscar when he was doing his trainer-mandated endurance runs three times a week. It smelled like wet moss and pine needles and early autumn.

He slowed to a walk, just enough for her to match pace, then slung an arm lazily around her shoulders. She leaned into it, grateful and exhausted and warm in a way that had nothing to do with her temperature.

They didn't say anything for a while. Just breathed. Let the trees hush them.

Then, softly, "This is where I come when I need to think," he said.

Harper glanced up at him. "Or avoid people?"

"Same thing."

She smiled and nudged him. "You've been doing that more lately."

He shrugged. "It's been... a lot. Winning the British championship. Leading the WSK. Talking to teams. My dad's getting anxious about sponsors."

"And Mark?"

"Always calm. But I can tell he's pushing a bit harder now. It's all getting a bit more serious."

She nodded, quietly. "Yeah."

They walked until they hit a small clearing; soft grass, dappled light, the faint hum of wind through the trees.

Oscar dropped to the ground first, tugging her with him, and Harper let herself fall beside him. Their fingers tangled without thought. Her heartbeat still hadn't slowed.

"You really hate running, huh?" He teased.

She turned her head toward him. "I don't hate it."

He raised a brow.

"Okay, fine. I hate it. But I like being with you," she said, eyes soft.

Oscar looked at her for a long moment. His gaze dropped to her lips, then back to her eyes. "That's a good enough reason to torture yourself?"

She nodded.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against herself and she giggled breathily against him, shifting to her knees and pressing close to him.

And when she whispered, "Can we... just stay here a while?" He nodded, no questions, no pressure, just a gentle hand on the curve of her back.

They didn't... plan it.

They didn't even really speak about it as it happened.

They moved the way they always did — with instinct and quiet understanding, with laughter in the middle and too many nerves and awkward fumbling that quickly gave way to something softer.

They were teenagers, yes. But more than that — in that pretty little clearing, they became each other's firsts. And it wasn't perfect. It was fumbled and awkward and probably a bit out of order — but it felt right.

It felt like theirs.

Afterwards, they lay tangled in the grass and the quiet, Oscar drawing invisible lines on her shoulder, Harper tucked into his side like she belonged there and nowhere else.

"I don't think anything has ever felt that perfect," she whispered.

He kissed her again. But her lip. Made her giggle as he said, "You made it perfect."

—

Harper tiptoed into their bedroom just past curfew, hair messy, hoodie zipped up to her chin, and a dazed sort of softness clinging to her features like afterglow.

Jane was already in bed, face masked, glasses on, reading some dystopian paperback with a wildly dramatic title. She didn't look up.

"I know what you did," she sung.

Harper froze halfway across the room. "What?"

Jane turned a page. "Please. You've got pine needles in your hair and your skirt is on backwards.'"

Harper flushed. "Oh my God."

Jane finally looked at her. "Was it good?"

"...Yeah," Harper whispered, and then suddenly grinned, wide and a little overwhelmed. "Yeah, it was."

Jane set her book down and patted the edge of her bed. "Come here and tell me everything, you naughty, terrible girl."

Harper crossed the room in two steps, crawled under Jane's blanket like they were twelve again, and for the first time in a long time, let herself glow.

—

Monday morning, Harper's phone buzzed with a new message. She glanced down to see the sender: Viard Admissions.

Opening it felt like swallowing a stone.

The email was clinical, polite — an official acceptance letter to the elite boarding school in Switzerland her mother had threatened. Lines about curriculum, dates, and fees, but beneath every word, Harper could feel the cold weight of control.

She stared at the screen, heart sinking.

The rest of the day was a blur. Her smiles felt forced. Her laughs, hollow.

At lunch, she barely touched her food. During math tutoring, her mind floated, distracted by the looming exile.

Oscar noticed.

He cornered her between classes, hands stuffed in his pockets, brows furrowed.

"Hey," he said gently, "you've been off all day. What's wrong?"

Harper shook her head, trying to hide the tightness in her throat.

Oscar stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You can tell me."

She hesitated, then finally exhaled. "My mum." she admitted, voice cracking. "She emailed my mu acceptance letter. To that school in Switzerland she was threatening me with the other week."

Oscar's jaw tightened. "That's shit," he said.

"Yeah," Harper whispered. "I feel like I've found somewhere I belong, and now she's trying to take it away."

Oscar reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You do belong," he said firmly. "Here. With me. And with our friends. People who care about you."

Harper blinked back tears, the knot inside her loosening just a little. "Thanks, Osc," she said softly.

He smiled, squeezing her hand. "We'll figure it out, yeah? Together."

—

Saturday evening, their bedroom was buzzing with whispered giggles and the fresh scent of cucumber.

Harper and Jane lounged on the floor, wrapped in fluffy blankets, their faces slick with a honey-avocado facemask as they binge-watched Mean Girls for the third time that week on Jane's laptop.

"Oi, we're coming in!" Matt's voice boomed from outside their door.

The door swung open to reveal Matt, Sam, and Alfie — each armed with their own packets of face masks and towels, looking both sheepish and excited.

"Um, what the hell are you guys doing here?" Jane asked, raising an eyebrow at them.

"We're your new beauty consultants," Sam grinned, holding up a jar of what looked like expensive aloe mask (which he'd definitely stolen from whichever girl he was currently dating).

Alfie was already spreading a pink goo over his cheeks, looking hilariously out of place in the girls' soft dorm lighting.

Harper laughed despite herself.

"Fine. Whatever. But only if you promise not to mess up the blankets," Jane bargained.

Matt plopped down on the floor, slapping a bit of mask on his nose and grinning. "Deal."

The night unfolded with half-serious skincare advice, sarcastic commentary on Mean Girls, and a lot of laughter.

At one point, Alfie tried to reenact the "You can't sit with us" line — but with a face mask so thick it practically obscured his words.

Harper messages Oscar a sneaky picture she'd taken of them.

Oscar: I asked them to keep an eye on you. Sry if they were annoying lol. Wish I was there x

Harper stared at the message and pulled her knees up to her chest with a hitched smile.

Harper: Thank you. Love you

She held her breath as he typed.

Oscar: Love you too.

And it was that easy.

—

Jane's birthday was always celebrated in style.

The music thrummed through the room, warm and electric. Harper spotted Oscar across the room, his eyes locking onto hers with something intense — a mix of nerves and something more.

He moved toward her, hand reaching out gently to take hers. She didn't hesitate.

They stepped onto the dance floor, bodies close but careful, hearts pounding louder than the beat.

Oscar's hand found her waist, steady and reassuring. Harper's fingers curled lightly around his neck, breath catching in her throat.

They swayed together, the world narrowing to just the two of them — the noise, the lights, the rest all fading away.

His gaze dropped to her lips, and Harper's pulse quickened. When their lips met, it was soft at first — tentative, like testing the water.

But the kiss deepened, filled with all the restless energy and longing they'd been holding back.

They pulled apart slowly, foreheads resting together, breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

"Happy birthday, Jane," Harper whispered, smiling shyly.

Oscar grinned, his fingers brushing a stray hair behind her ear. "Best party ever."

—

The door clicked softly behind them as Oscar guided Harper inside his bedroom, a quiet grin tugging at his lips.

She pointedly ignored the insane amount of mess.

"If you get caught here, we're both fucked," he whispered, pulling her close.

"I won't get caught," Harper replied, snuggling into his side as they settled onto the rumpled bed.

Oscar wrapped an arm around her and tugged her flush against him.

Then Harper shifted, her voice soft but animated. "I started this new coding camp online. It's... complicated, but kind of awesome."

Oscar tilted his head, interested. "Yeah? What's it teaching you?"

"How to build games. It's a bit elementary, but I'm learning how to work with CSS more efficiently."

Oscar smiled, fingers tracing slow circles on her arm. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "That's pretty cool."

Harper hummed. "I know. I'll show you the video game when it's done. Won't be anything special, but it'll still be cool."

Oscar pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm glad you're here."

Harper nodded, resting her head against his chest. "Me too."

—

Harper's stomach churned as she made her way through the quiet halls toward the headmaster's office. Her mind raced with possibilities — had her mum found out about the late-night escapades? Had somebody seen her sneaking out of the boys dorm? Was she in trouble?

She knocked lightly, then stepped inside.

The headmaster looked up, a warm smile on his face. "Harper, come in. Have a seat."

Her heart pounded, but she took the chair offered.

"I wanted to talk to you because I've been hearing some very good things," he said. "Your math level has improved significantly over the course of the term — and I understand that with dyscalculia, this is something to be very proud of."

Harper blinked, surprised.

"I understand that there's been some study sessions with a few of your classmates during your free time in the common rooms. A few teachers found the pinned-up schedules amusing. But that kind of initiative is impressive."

She let out a relieved breath, a smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you, sir."

"It really is a fantastic turn around, Harper. Keep it up."

As she left the office, the tension eased from her shoulders.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

—

Oscar sat on the sofa in the common room, phone balanced on his knee, his parents' faces bright on the screen.

"It's been great to hear from you, mate," his dad said, smiling.

Oscar grinned. "Yeah. You too."

The door opened softly, and Harper stepped inside, still catching her breath from P.E., cheeks flushed.

She paused, then eased herself down next to Oscar, curling up against his side.

Oscar glanced at the screen and said, "Harper's here."

Oscar's mum smiled warmly. "Hello, Harper, sweetheart."

"Hi," Harper murmured, closing her eyes and resting her head on Oscar's shoulder.

Oscar slipped an arm around her, fingers gently brushing her hair.

The conversation continued quietly, but Harper drifted off, the soft rhythm of Oscar's voice and the warmth of the room lulling her into a calm nap.

—

The cafeteria was quiet, soft morning light filtering through the windows. Harper sat at their small table, pushing her usual bowl of Weetabix aside.

"I'm not really feeling up for that," she said softly. "Just some toast, yeah?"

Oscar looked up from his cereal, eyebrows knitting together in quiet concern but not pressing. "Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said, sliding a plate across to her. "Whatever you want."

Harper nibbled at the edges, her stomach twisting uncomfortably, but she shrugged it off.

"Just feel a bit gross, probably nothing," she muttered, a bit frustrated. "Maybe it was that chilli we had last night. It tasted weird."

Oscar reached over, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. "If you want, I can find you some ginger tea? My mum always made me drink it when I got sick."

She smiled faintly, grateful for the thought. "I'll be fine. Thanks, though."

She shuffled closer to him throughout breakfast, until she was practically on his lap as the ready of the sleepy students came pouring in.

Jane slammed her tray down on the table and said, "Can you believe that the prom theme is going to be 'Pirates'. I mean — who the hell came up with that?"

Harper giggled against Oscar's shoulder.

—

The bell had just rung, and students spilled into the hallway. Harper was making her way slowly toward the common room when she spotted Oscar waiting near the door.

He caught her eye immediately and fell into step beside her.

"You feeling okay?" He asked quietly, voice low enough that no one else could hear.

Harper shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Better. Still a bit off, but it's nothing."

Oscar studied her for a moment, concern softening his features. "Want me to walk you back to your dorm? Or maybe grab some fresh air?"

She nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that'd be good."

They walked together, the afternoon sun warm on their backs, and Harper leaned just a little closer to him.

—

The last weeks of the school year felt heavier somehow — classes wrapped up, corridors buzzing with end-of-year chatter, but Harper's thoughts kept drifting.

She sat beside Oscar on the astroturf, the chill in the air making them both pull their jackets tighter.

"Four weeks," she murmured, voice soft. "That's how long you'll be gone."

Oscar nodded, eyes tracing the frost on the pitch. "I know. It'll feel like forever."

Harper looked down at her hands, twisting the little rope bracelet Oscar had given her. It was black and white; the colours of a chequered flag. The finish line.

"I'm going to miss you," she admitted, the words tasting strange but true.

Oscar reached over, fingers brushing hers. "I'll miss you too. But it's not forever. We've got FaceTime, texts..."

She smiled faintly, though the lump in her throat didn't go away. "Promise you won't forget about me," she said, voice barely above a whisper. It was ridiculous, but she was feeling just a tiny bit delicate.

"I promise, babe," Oscar said, squeezing her hand.

She took a deep breath and let his words settle something in her chest.

—

The snow had started falling just before dusk, blanketing the city in soft white as Harper and her mother walked briskly up Fifth Avenue. The holiday lights sparkled across shop windows, casting golden reflections against the ice-slicked pavement. It should have felt magical — it usually did — but this year, everything felt off.

Her mother was walking a few steps ahead, as always. Perfect posture, sleek gloves, eyes forward like she was leading a press conference instead of walking to her parents' townhouse.

"Straighten your scarf," she said without looking back. "You're not ten."

Harper didn't answer. She just adjusted the scarf, more out of habit than compliance.

Her grandparents' house was beautiful in that cold, museum-like way — all polished marble and antique chandeliers. They were kind enough, but Harper always felt like a stranger to them.

Dinner was stiff. Conversation danced around neutral topics — school, future plans, the weather in London — but never quite landed. Harper could feel her mother's eyes on her every time she spoke, like she was a sentence away from saying something inappropriate.

When dessert was served, Harper quietly excused herself and climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom, her phone already in hand.

She laid across the bedspread, scrolling through old photos of her and Oscar — blurry selfies after he'd climbed out of his kart, the one where he'd fallen asleep during a maths session, the video of him trying orange marmalade for the first time and gagging like it was poison.

Her chest ached.

There was a message waiting for her.

Oscar: Made it to the beach before Mum could shove a Santa hat on me. Send help. Miss you.

She smiled, blinking hard.

Harper: You'd better FaceTime me tomorrow. Or I swear I'll swim to Australia just to see you.

—

Harper sat cross-legged on the guest bed, the soft hum of New York traffic muffled by snow and distance. Laughter floated up faintly from the living room downstairs — the clink of glasses, her grandfather's booming voice, her mother's delicate laugh, like porcelain.

She stared at her phone until it buzzed, the screen lighting up with one name.

FaceTime Incoming: Oscar

She answered immediately.

Oscar's face appeared, backlit by sunshine. He was sitting outside, shirtless and tanned, with the ocean glinting behind him.

"Merry Christmas," he said, grinning.

Harper smiled, the tightness in her chest easing a little just at the sound of his voice. "Merry Christmas, beach boy."

"Snow yet?"

"Everything's white. Including the tablecloth. And every single guest."

He huffed out a dry laugh. "You okay?"

Harper nodded, though it wasn't entirely true. "Better now."

He looked at her through the screen, really looked. "It's been weird not seeing you almost every day."

"It's horrible," she admitted, flopping back on the bed and bringing the phone with her. "She made me wear this velvet dress that itches like hell. I would sell my soul for a hoodie and one of your perfect plates of breakfast toast."

Oscar chuckled, lying back on a sun chair, mirroring her position. "We had a barbecue. Dad burned the sausages. Classic."

There was a pause — not awkward, but full.

"I miss you," Harper said softly, picking at a fraying thread on the sleeve of her dress.

"I miss you too," Oscar replied, quieter this time.

Neither of them said it, but it hung in the space between them: I love you — unspoken, but understood.

"We'll be back home soon," she said, more to herself than to him.

"Ten days."

"Not like I'm counting."

Oscar smiled. "I'll call you tonight. Properly. When the house is quiet."

"Okay."

"Go be elegant and miserable," he teased.

"And you go burn in the sun."

"I'm wearing SPF."

She smiled again, softer now, the ache still there, but bearable.

"Bye, Osc."

"Bye, Harps."

—

The train ride had been long. The platform cold. And Harper's suitcase wheel had started squeaking halfway across campus.

But none of that mattered the second she saw him.

He was already there — leaning against the gate near the common room, hoodie half-zipped, hair sun-lightened from two weeks under the Australian sky. He looked taller. Or maybe she just missed him that much.

Oscar straightened the second their eyes met.

Neither of them said anything at first. He just stepped forward and took her suitcase handle from her hand like it was second nature, like she hadn't been gone for 28 days, 16 FaceTimes, and countless messages.

Harper looked up at him, trying to smile but it wobbled. "Hey."

"Hi," he said, and his voice caught on it.

She opened her arms before she could think better of it, and he pulled her into him like he'd been holding his breath since December.

His nose tucked against her temple. "You're freezing," he murmured.

"You're warm," she whispered back.

They stood there for a while, unmoving, while students bustled past with post-holiday energy and distant laughter filled the air. None of it touched them.

Finally, Harper leaned back just enough to look up at him. "You got taller."

"You got sadder," he said gently. "But you're back now."

She nodded, eyes stinging. "I missed this."

"I missed you."

They didn't kiss — not here, not in-front of everyone — but his hand found hers and didn't let go as they walked the familiar path toward the dorms.

Back to routine. Back to toast and maths study and Astro nights and quiet, stolen moments.

Back to where they belonged.

—

Harper was half-draped across Jane's bed, a leftover Quality Street melting on her tongue, while Jane rooted through her suitcase with dramatic flair.

"I forgot how depressing the lighting is in this room," Jane muttered. "It's like they want us to slowly wilt."

"You're very tan though," Harper said through a yawn. "So it looks fine."

Jane straightened up triumphantly, holding up a pink silk scrunchie like it was a crown jewel. "There it is."

Harper blinked. "That's what you were hunting for?"

"Excuse you — this scrunchie survived the Atlantic Ocean." Jane dropped it on her desk and flopped beside Harper. "I swam on Christmas Day. It was freezing. I highly recommend getting your period before beach season. It was the first year I didn't have to stress about leaking in the Mediterranean and attracting sharks."

Harper smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

A beat.

And then another.

And then—

Her face drained of colour.

"Oh."

Jane tilted her head. "What?"

Harper sat up, very suddenly, like the air had gone too tight. "I haven't... I haven't had mine."

Jane blinked. "Like—"

"I didn't think about it, I just—" Harper's voice trailed off as she stared at the wall. "I've felt sick. Tired. I haven't wanted my Weetabix."

Jane was still for a beat, then reached out and put a steadying hand on Harper's knee. "Okay. Breathe. It could be stress. Travel. Life."

Harper nodded slowly, but her brain was moving a million miles an hour. "Yeah. Yeah. Totally. Stress."

But Jane could see it in her eyes.

That switch had flipped.

Something inside Harper knew — whether or not she was ready to say it out loud.

—

She didn't knock.

She didn't even hesitate.

Harper shoved open the door to the boys' dorm common room, heart in her throat, fingers trembling, her mind screaming in spirals. Oscar was on the floor with Alfie and Matt, half-focused on a Mario Kart match, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, looking so calm it almost made her dizzy.

He looked up immediately.

And stood up faster than she'd ever seen him move.

"Hey— Harps?"

She just stared at him for a second, trying to speak, trying to make the words form. She couldn't do this with anyone else. Only him.

"I—" Her voice broke. "Can we talk? Please?"

"Yeah. Of course." He was already crossing the room, grabbing her hand, guiding her down the hallway toward his room without another word. The door closed behind them with a soft click.

Oscar turned to her, brows knit with concern. "What happened? What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then forced the words out before she could second guess them.

"I think I might be pregnant."

Silence.

Not judgment, not panic — just... stillness. The way Oscar always went quiet before a race, centring himself.

Harper blinked fast. "I haven't had my period. I've been nauseous, tired, my brain's a mess. And I didn't notice— I didn't think—" Her voice cracked. "I'm not saying I am. But I might be. And I don't know what to do."

Oscar stepped forward and gently took her hands in his, grounding her.

"Okay," he said simply, his voice steady. "Fuck. Okay. We'll figure this out."

Harper let out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. "I didn't know what to do. I just panicked."

Oscar's eyes softened. "Yeah but you did the right thing. You came to me."

She nodded, chest tight, and leaned into him. His arms wrapped around her without hesitation, warm and sure.

"Whatever happens," he murmured, "we'll handle it."

Harper sniffled. "I'm fifteen, Oscar. Fifteen."

He closer his eyes. "Shit, yeah. I know. Me too." He laughed.

Nothing about this situation was funny.

She couldn't help but laugh too, a warped, wet kind of sound.

—

The chemist in the village was almost empty. Harper kept her head down, winter hat pulled low, scarf wrapped high. Oscar stood beside her, tall and quiet, his hoodie sleeves tugged nervously over his hands. He didn't say much — didn't need to — just waited beside her.

They didn't look at the packaging too long. Just grabbed the one that looked familiar, Oscar paid in cash, and they left without a word.

—

Back at school, they slipped into the small student toilet block behind the science building — the one Oscar had jimmied the lock on once during a thunderstorm. It was quiet. Private. The only place that didn't feel like it had ears and eyes everywhere.

Harper set the box down on the sink with trembling hands.

"You don't have to stay," she whispered.

Oscar shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

She nodded. "Okay."

She went in, closed the door, and a moment later, came back out holding the test in shaking fingers. He didn't look at it. He just held her free hand and guided her to sit on the windowsill.

They set it down on the ledge between them.

A timer on Oscar's phone started counting down.

Two minutes.

Neither of them spoke.

Oscar's thumb stroked the inside of her palm, rhythmic and slow.

Harper stared at the test, as if watching it would make it kinder.

Her voice was barely a breath. "I'm scared."

"I know," Oscar said. "Me too."

Thirty seconds left.

The world outside the window was silver-grey, students scattered across the grass in the distance, oblivious. Everything felt fragile.

Fifteen seconds.

Ten.

Five.

Harper's grip tightened.

"Do we look?" She asked.

Oscar nodded once. "Together."

She reached for the test with trembling fingers.

—

The rain had started again. A soft pattering against the windows that filled the silence like a lullaby.

Oscar lay behind her on her narrow dorm bed, one arm around her waist, the other tucked beneath his head. Harper was curled into herself, facing the wall, her fingers gripping the edge of the duvet like it might keep her from floating away.

He hadn't said much when she showed him the test. Just took one look at her face, reached out, and pulled her into him.

Now he was just holding her.

Breathing with her.

Letting her be silent.

Her cheek was damp against the pillow, but she wasn't crying anymore. She felt wrung out, like all the air had been squeezed from her lungs, like her bones were vibrating with too many thoughts that had nowhere to go.

Oscar pressed his nose into the back of her shoulder. His voice was a whisper. "It's going to be okay."

She didn't answer. Just nodded once.

He didn't say it to convince her. He said it because it was the only thing he could offer — his calm. His presence. His belief in her, in them, in the idea that they'd somehow survive this.

His hand slid down to rest gently over hers.

She swallowed hard. "I don't know how far along I am."

"We'll figure it out."

She turned in his arms then, finally facing him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired. "I don't feel like a real person right now."

Oscar blinked slowly, brushing her hair back from her forehead. "Yeah. I feel a bit out of it too."

She let out a small, watery laugh.

And then she tucked her head into his chest, and he held her tighter, as if he could anchor her to something solid.

Outside, the rain kept falling.

Inside, it was quiet.

NEXT CHAPTER

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