#i did put it on my lips too... not to worry... i truly have the SoftLips...

[steviewashere]

Summer Bug

Rating: Explicit CW: Omegaverse, MPreg, Minor Vomiting Tags: Post-Canon, Established Steddie, Mild Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mostly Comfort, Domestic Steddie, Fluff, Parents Steddie, Intersex Omegas, Omega Eddie Munson, Alpha Steve Harrington, Scenting, Food During Sex, Kitchen Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Scent Kink, Mentions of Masturbating, Dialogue Heavy Also on AO3 (Full Tag List on AO3)

💕—————💕 First Trimester

It starts with his scent.

Eddie likes to believe that, typically, he puts out crackling firewood and freshly ground cinnamon; something warm and comfortable. And, yeah, Steve usually assures that he does. That their scents blend perfectly—Steve’s being something akin to cedar wood smoked fresh with an undertone of herbals; as if he’s gearing to make a great, savory dinner for the two of them.

Though, in the middle of October, 1994, it all just…shifts. For one, they’re no longer in the dangers and thralls of Hawkins. Having moved into their own two bedroom apartment in Chicago. Things are different and new. And, suddenly, things with him are new, too.

They’re cozied on the couch, watching their endless freebie horror movies from Family Video, Eddie leaning into Steve’s side, Steve’s arm thrown over the couch. And then his alpha sniffs, and sniffs, and sniffs.

“Did you get some kind of patch for your gland, Eds?”

He scrunches his eyebrows at the question. “No,” Eddie responds slowly, narrowing his eyes at Steve. “Am I smelling weird?”

Steve shrugs minutely. “I don’t know…not really, I guess. Just…different.” He sniffs again. Big and deep and sharp through his nostrils. There’s a flicker in his eyes like a newborn flame. Pupils dilating, but then resting. “Whatever it is,” he murmurs, “I really like it.”

Eddie quirks his left brow. Playfully, “Didn’t like my scent before?”

Affronted, “No! I mean”—Steve squeaks. His eyes are large on his face, wide and nervous. That deep pouty frown of his coming out to match. “No, I didn’t say that! You just—It’s sweet! Like…like you got into some sort of vanilla perfume or something. It, uh, it works, though. With the whole…whole campfire thing you already have?” Awkwardly, Steve leans into Eddie’s space, jutting his face directly against the scent gland on his neck. Inhaling—deeply.

“Will you quit it?” Eddie chuckles. Flippantly, “It’s probably almost my heat or something. You know that they’ve got kind of a mind of their own.”

Against Eddie’s skin, Steve garbles, “You don’t smell like this when it’s time.” He abruptly pulls away, sits back up, and makes firm, uncomfortable eye contact. “It’s milky, too,” Steve remarks, “like formula kind of milky.”

Dumbly, though Eddie can’t really smell his true scent—only his alpha can manage that—he brings the collar of his t-shirt up to his nose, where his scent gland has been rubbing against it all day. And he tries to pick up whatever Steve is putting down. But at the scent of lavender, something only their laundry detergent puts out, Eddie shakes his head and huffs. Comments, “Maybe you’regetting close to your rut.”

Steve chuffs at him and rolls his eyes. “Don’t treat me like I’m a dumb mutt, Eds. I know what I’m smelling.”

“Hey,” Eddie coos sweetly. “I didn’t say you’re dumb and I’m not trying to brush off what you’re noticing. But, baby, my hormones may just be out of whack, okay? Happens all the time right before my heat.” He strokes a hand down the back of Steve’s neck, nestling his fingers between the bumps of spine, relishing in the shiver that rattles against his skin. “When I was in high school, like start of my presentation, Wayne used to say that I’d start smelling like marshmallows. It just…this stuff happens. Don’t be worried, sweetheart.”

“But”—Steve pouts, truly pouts—“you don’t smell like marshmallows for me before your heat.”

Eddie chuckles deep and rumbly. Swipes his hand away from Steve’s neck, only to bring it up and caress the jut of his bottom lip. “No, I guess I don’t. But maybe it’s just coming back or something. Nothing is wrong. I’m not wearing a patch. No new perfumes. Not doing anything different, swear on my life.”

Draping his arm across Eddie’s back, Steve pulls them together to cuddle. Tight and warm. Grumbly purring at the base of his chest, reverberating through the both of them. Softly, “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right? Just in case this could be related to something from ’86?”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie murmurs, resting his right hand against Steve’s chest. He pets at it, massaging his fingers into where purrs are emanating. “I promise I’m as healthy as I can be right now. But thank you for being concerned, alpha. You’re so sweet on me.”

That gets him a happy sigh, which he soaks in.

Though, his mind has started to jog.

Steve is a very, very perceptive alpha. He has a secret sixth sense for those closest to him. If something has shifted, or somebody has changed, or the feel of a room is just off—leave it to Steve to clue it out. He came to Eddie when his ears—sharp and focused—picked up on the distant, curdling cries from Dustin, and he carried even faster when his nose flared with the sharp, sour scent of distressed pup. If it weren’t for Steve’s observances, Eddie probably wouldn’t be sitting on this couch right now.

He supposes he’ll just have to pay closer attention to himself for the next little while. Unless Steve finds something first—though maybe he already has.

——— Steve makes scrambled eggs for breakfast three mornings later.

“What’s that face for?” Is the first thing out of his mouth when he hands Eddie his plate.

Eddie swallows hard—it tastes like bitter bile. “Don’t know,” he mutters, “just not hungry for this, I guess.” Even though the smell is throwing him in the wrong direction, Eddie still picks up his fork, jabs at a few rubbery pieces of egg, and brings it up to his lips. And then he smells them again. Physically, he harshly recoils, dropping the fork to his plate. “Eugh,” he chokes out, “yuck.”

“Hey!” Steve snaps lightly. The offense doesn’t mean too much, though. There’s a teasing, soft smile playing at his lips. “You usually like my cooking, what gives?”

“We don’t have anything else that I can eat?” Eddie asks. “These smell like…like feet to me right now. I don’t…I don’t…”—he has to swallow around more bile and grimaces at the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth—“…I don’t think I’m gonna be able to stomach this.”

Frowning, Steve takes the plate back towards the kitchen. When he returns, it’s with buttered bread and a banana. His voice is tender and gentle when he checks in. “Is this better?”

Well, neither smell like feet or garbage or sewage, so Eddie just nods. Something is better than nothing, he supposes.

“Okay,” Steve murmurs. He finally sits down across from Eddie at their dining table. There’s concern etched harshly into his features—creasing his eyebrows, frown hard on his face. “You think maybe you picked up the flu? Do’ya’think that’d make you smell different?”

Eddie sighs. He begins to peel his banana—the thing that looks the most appetizing. Around a mushy bite, he says, “If I had the flu, trust me, I’d be way worse.”

Steve gives him a flat look. “Y’think I don’t know how bad you get when you’re sick? It’s like trying to get a dog to take a pill,” he deadpans.

“Look—Babe, I appreciate your concern—even though you’re jabbing at my poor, poor sick self”—he astutely ignores the eye roll that Steve throws his way—“but I would definitely know if I had the flu. Could just be that my appetite is shot or somethin’. Sometimes that happens when I eat in the morning.”

“What—Eddie, why didn’t you tell me that?”

He shrugs. “Didn’t seem important. Guess I made the wrong assumption that everybody gets nauseous in the morning.”

“Jeez,” Steve sighs. “Well, tell me if the nausea gets worse, okay? If anything else weird pops up, I’m gonna drag you to the doctor.”

“Alpha, you’re worrying over nothing, I promise. I’ve just got some weird non-omega quirks, purely just Eddie Munson being the freak”—At the last little bit of his banana, he squirms in his seat. The mushy, brown-black spotted end is staring up at him as if it were beating, bloody, raw meat. Alive and ugly. He makes a face at it and promptly pushes away the rest of the food Steve gave him.

“Ed, you need to”—

“Feel like ‘m gonna hurl,” he mutters, covering his lips with his left hand. His eyes are probably bugging out of his head, staring down their godawful floral table runner. The damn thing that Steve insisted on because it was so pretty. Eddie thinks he may be looking down one of those mind puzzle geometry fucks from those books at the library—swirling and melting and, once again, alive in a way it shouldn’t be. He shakes his head and closes his eyes. Sighs shortly through his nose. Muffled, “It’s gotta be my heat. Must be a bad one.”

“A bad one?” Steve incredulously questions, “what constitutes as a bad one, Eds?”

Eddie gags, swallows around too much saliva, and tightens his fingers around his mouth. His other hand drifts to his stomach, massaging at it when it gives a phantom cramp. “Steve,” he gasps, “fuck…I think…”—

Before he can even try to finish the sentence, Steve darts away from the table, a mess of clumsy limbs and half-thrown curses. He comes back shortly, however, with a garbage can scraping against the floor. There’s a hand at the back of Eddie’s head, hefting the weight of his stupidly long hair. And then—

There’s the banana. And the water from last night. And his popcorn from hours prior. Shit.

“You’re alright,” Steve shakily murmurs. His right hand is petting along Eddie’s spine. Up and down in slow, soothing strokes. “I’ll getcha water in a minute. Just gotta power through”—he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale and a pained groan. “Oh my—Eddie, your scent is”—

Must be overpowering, whatever it smells like.

He can’t really tell, though, not with the smell of the garbage can under his nose.

Steve staggers at it, though. Tightens his hand in Eddie’s hair. His own scent coming out in little micro-bursts of burnt, charred, choking wood. Distressed alpha.

When Eddie is finally able to sit back up, Steve wipes his face. Lets down his hair. Pushes the can to the side.

“I don’t know what happened,” Eddie mutters nasally—throwing up always makes him tear up, sometimes also full on sob. It’s a bad habit he probably won’t break out of. “Just overcame me.”

“Your scent was…was rotten,” Steve comments, horrified, “like curdled milk kind of rotten.”

Eddie sniffles. “Maybe I am sick? I wanna go back to bed.”

“Yeah…yeah, okay,” Steve whispers, “is there anything you need before laying back down?”

“Water. The can. Um…”—he blinks and, though he thought he lost them, fat tears come streaming down his face. Eddie hastily wipes at his cheeks, curling slightly into himself. God, he’s a mess. Small, “I want you to cuddle me?”

“You sure?”

“Mhm…mmm…yeah, please. Didn’t realize how shitty I felt until right now.” He shutters a breath. “I know my heat’s supposed to happen in a few days. If…if I get really, really bad, we’ll go to the doctor. ‘Cause I know you’re stressed, alpha. But, I dunno, maybe my next heat is gonna be stupidly bad? Like more cramping and sick than horny and insatiable.”

Carefully, Steve pulls him up from the chair. They have to hold onto each other as he stands back to his full height; Eddie staggers on his clumsy feet, knocking his forehead right into Steve’s. He lets go of Steve’s hands for a moment, instead wrapping his arms around his waist. Whining low under his breath when a cramp tries to work through him.

Steve pets his hands down Eddie’s back. Tries to pump out calming pheromones, but they seem to be at war with whatever sour scent is coming off of Eddie—distressed and sharp and curdling. “‘Mega, you’ve gotta come back down to me,” he murmurs, “I can’t reach you.”

“I can’t,” Eddie whispers, “I’m so fuckin’ nauseous.”

“Okay,” Steve mutters, “c’mon, baby, let’s get you to bed.” 

Even though it makes it more difficult to travel between rooms, they don’t let go of each other. There’s a charge buzzing and flittering and nervous between them. And the sounds shared between each other—whimpers and whines and panted huffs of fear—it doesn’t help. When Eddie’s reclined on their bed, Steve takes the time to find a rubber band and wrap Eddie’s hair into a ponytail. He dotes: setting out a package of wet wipes on Eddie’s nightstand, a tall glass of water, some mint chewing gum, and the garbage can perched. The bag’s been changed, too—which Eddie is ever grateful for.

Eddie watches Steve climb back into bed with tired, hazy eyes. “Don’t you have work?” he croaks.

“I’m gonna call out,” he responds, tucking himself under the blanket, pushing himself close to Eddie’s side. “You’ve never been sick like this before. I’m just—My, like, inner-alpha is panicking. I can’t just leave you by yourself.”

Cautiously, Eddie turns over to face Steve. It’d probably be better if he weren’t facing the inside of the bed—considering his designated puke bucket for the day is standing behind him—but the sheen in Steve’s eyes makes him settle in his decision. He pets a hand through Steve’s hair, tenderly holding him at the back of his head. “You wanna do your checklist? Would that help if I told you exactly how I’m feeling?”

Steve, eagerly, nods. Begins with, “Does your head hurt?”

“No, but I’m a little lightheaded. Still collecting my bearings from puking.” He gets a kiss to the center of his forehead—a quick, firm, panicked smack.

And as Steve asks him about every part of his body, Eddie earns a little kiss to each one. At his stomach, Steve runs a warm hand over the expanse of it, rubbing with little airy circles to try and coax it into being rested and at ease. He helps Eddie turn over when there’s more puke to come up. Wipes his mouth and his chin, caresses his cheeks and rubs away tears, checks for a fever and inspects every last little pore as if something could be revealed from all the nitpicking. Nothing changes in this. Not their sour scents, molding the very air around them. The pained stomach cramps don’t let up. And Eddie keeps vomiting whatever little traces of food and drink he still has in his body.

“Electrolytes,” Steve suddenly says. There’s a deep, cutting edge to his voice now. His breathing is going erratic between the two of them. Hands nervous in their pursuit, flapping out in front of him, patting Eddie down where Steve believes is needed. “Remind me to call…call…call—fuck, I don’t know. We need somebody to bring by some Gatorade. That should…that should help, right? If we keep you hydrated? Maybe you’re dehydrated? Maybe you’re blood sugar is low? That can happen, right? And it can make you puke? We should get one of the glucose meters and the…the glucose tablets, yeah? Have somebody bring it all over—I can pay them back. I can”—

“Alpha,” Eddie huffs tiredly. He tries to put something firm in the way he says it. A command to quiet. It’s weak, but it works. “Steve, I need you to take a deep breath.”

“Do you think it’s a med”—

“Deep breath,” he lightly demands. At the first, grand seven seconds of inhale—“Good, there we go,” Eddie praises. “The Gatorade could be good, but Pedialyte might be better. I’ve had three glasses of water since I woke up this morning—that was three hours ago. That banana I had should be enough to keep my blood sugar up and afloat for right now. I promise you, Steve, if something is seriously wrong, you would know about”—

“But something is,” Steve stresses, “there’s something wrong now, Eddie!” He’s kneeled down on the ground at Eddie’s feet. Hair wild from pulling and pushing at it. Fists tight on his thighs, squeezing impossibly tighter. “In all my years of knowing and loving you, you have never been sick like this. It’s scaring me,” he admits in a hushed voice. He angles his head down, eyes darted away from Eddie’s face. “I’m trying my best here, okay? I know the rambling isn’t helpful. I just—Eddie, I don’t know what to do.”

Eddie sighs, deflating into himself once again. He unfurls his left hand from the lip of the garbage can, pushing it straight into Steve’s hair. Fingers scratching against scalp. There’s a weak, kicking purr that pulls from the center of Steve’s chest, but it’s crackly and croaky and sad. “You’re doing great at taking care of me,” Eddie says, no trace of malice in his tone. “Alpha, you are being so considerate and you are being so sweet and you are putting yourself right where you need to. I know that this is freaking you out, I’m sorry. If I’m still throwing up tonight, unable to keep anything down, then you can take me to the hospital. Even if you have to drag me kicking and screaming—we will go, understood?”

“Y-yeah,” Steve rasps. “Are you—Is there anything”—frustrated, he huffs—“how are you right now?”

“Think I’m ready to lay back down,” he answers, “I really want to be cuddled right now.”

Eddie falls back asleep for the majority of their morning, head nestled in the space between Steve’s pecs. When he awakes, the nausea has cleared, his appetite has returned tenfold, and he’s ready for the rest of the day.

Steve drops it, for now. He returns to work the following morning. And Eddie makes a point to hide the nausea that swamps him over the days that come—Steve’s done enough worrying on his end, and if Eddie showed any signs of unrest and malaise, then something was going to be done about it. If they can afford to avoid a hospital visit, though, that’s excellent.

Even if he gets tired of the puke a week into it.

——— Eddie enters their bedroom in nothing but his underwear, fisting his jeans between his hands. “Did you run these through the dryer again? Steve, I thought I told you to ask me first.”

Sitting on their bed, fully clothed, ready to lace-up his sneakers, Steve startles and turns to face him. His eyes dart to the jeans, then the entirety of Eddie’s near-naked body. “I haven’t dried any of your clothes. Not since last time.”

He scoffs. Yeah, last time. When half of his band t-shirts came back wrinkled, some of them a size smaller than before—it took some time and constant rotations where he wore them, stretched them at the hem, and pointedly didn’t wash them, but they returned back to normal. The thing is, though, is that it took a godawful long time to get the shirts back to their previous state. He’d rather not do that again. And with jeans? Somebody might as well just peel his skin off—that’d be better torture.

“They’re tight on my stomach,” Eddie snippily comments, “you must’ve screwed something up. Had to have.”

Steve flares his nostrils and chuff-growls. “What crawled up your ass this morning?”

“Well, certainly not you.” He tosses the jeans onto their carpeted floor, stepping around them to get to the dresser. Through some wiggling, he frees one of the drawers, and begins rummaging for his tried and true sweatpants. Surely they’ll work. They have to. “Feels like you’ve been avoiding getting intimate with me like that since my scent got all sweet and weird.”

Bitterly, Steve asks, “You trying to accuse me of something, Eddie?”

“Does it sound like I am?”

There’s a sharp tongue click behind him. When he spots a glance, Steve’s rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you stop getting huffy at me? I didn’t do anythingto your precious eight year old jeans.”

He digs up his sweatpants right in that moment, hastily working to wriggle them up his legs. “I’ll stop getting huffy when you start touching”—Eddie cuts himself off with a grunt. The sweatpants are sitting over his stomach now. Drawstrings hang limp against his crotch. But—Jesus Christ. He pinches at the little pooch that spills over the waistband. “Have I gotten fat? I look—I’ve definitely gained some weight, right?”

Steve raises his eyebrows, rolls his lips against his teeth, and shrugs. “How do you want me to respond to that, Eddie? I feel like you’re trying to trap me here.”

“Will you just—oh my fucking god. Have I or have I not put on some weight? Be honest.”

Eyes rake him up and down. “Um…maybe, uh, a couple pounds?” Steve responds nervously. “Your appetite is healthy again, so…I don’t know, Eds, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“It’s something to worry about if I can’t fit into my pants, Steve,” he states bluntly. “Maybe if you didn’t bend to every single one of my cravings, then”—

“Oh, you are so not putting this all on me. I’m just trying to take care of my mate, that’s all I’m doing in this,” Steve spits. “I have done nothing wrong here”—

“You’ve been acting on your fuckin’ alpha instincts for weeks! Being all cagey and overprotective and so suffocatingly nurturing. Surely the way you’ve been doting has had some impact”—

Steve stands abruptly from their bed. Rising, looming, and leering. He points a straight, aggressive finger at Eddie. “I’ve just been taking care of you. If that’s wrong, then maybe I should just stop,” he growls. His voice goes tight and grinding. “When we started courting, I told myself that I’d be there for you no matter what. If that includes fulfilling those weird fucking cravings you’ve been getting, then so be it. I happen to think you look just fine with the added pounds—in fact, Eddie, I’ve barely noticed a difference. You want something done about it—screw my help, go on and do it yourself.” With a final chuff, Steve strides past Eddie and right out their bedroom door.

The distant sound of the front door slamming leaves Eddie shocked and frozen to the carpet.

Okay, yeah, he’s been in a crappy mood all morning. He’s man enough to own up to that now. And, sure, he’s been taking it out on Steve. Though, if anybody else were here, he’d probably hash it with them, too.

It’s just—

His appetite’s been gross and weird—from the food, to the insane amount he’s been eating, the ups and downs of his persistent nausea. And his clothes are fitting in all sorts of different ways, ways that don’t flatter his figure at all. He’s emotional over everything: a paper with an accidental rip in it, the food in the fridge being shrouded in darkness ninety percent of the time, the same unchanged ending in The Outsiders, a squirrel eating a peanut in the park, a small pup at the grocery store nervously holding their parents’ hands, and the way Steve’s eyes crinkle when he smiles—it all makes him so teary eyed and ridiculous looking, no matter how much his alpha tries to reassure him it’s okay. Not to mention that his heat is late and—

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” he realizes aloud, “my heat is late.”

As swift as he can, Eddie tosses on one of Steve’s t-shirts—for the extra bit of room that his own won’t provide—and charges himself down their apartment’s steps. Right at the bottom stair, he finds Steve sitting, head in his hands, shoulders trembling. There are stuttered hiccups coming from him. When he glances up to the commotion that Eddie causes, it’s with tears sitting tacky on his cheeks.

“Are you out here to snap at me again?” Steve croakily questions. His voice shakes in its timber, ready to come barreling down as a mere shadow of its former self. He sniffles, smears his palms messily over his cheeks, and lets out a shuddery sigh. “I’m sorry if I upset”—

Eddie grabs for Steve’s hands, wrapping them in his own. “My heat’s late,” he rushes out. “Steve”—aside himself, he whips a sharp, shocked laugh—“my heat is fucking late. ‘M not…I’m not sick! I’m”—

“Your heat is…are you—do you think”—Steve looks at him with wide, teary eyes. Owlishly blinking. He huffs a disbelieving chuckle, the realizations hitting him all at once—“you’re—Oh my god, Eds. We have to—The pharmacy they should have—Are you sure? You aren’t trying to get my hopes up, right?”

He astutely shakes his head. “No, baby, think about it! Th-the scent change, the morning sickness, my appetite being out of whack, my fuckin’ wild emotions, that little pooch I have now—All of it, Stevie, all of it! I’m—I have to be!”

“My omega’s pregnant?” Steve whispers. Gently, he loosens his left hand from their shared grasp and reaches it out towards Eddie’s stomach—he only holds his palm there, lightly. It’s shaking. “I…I’m gonna be a dad? Really?”

Meeting Steve’s gaze, Eddie softens. Careful as he speaks. “Y-yeah, sweetheart, I think y’are. We’re gonna be parents. Have our own little pup. Is that—Isn’t that great?”

Steve’s hands tremble heavier. Tears streaming down his face—not fast, though; slow, almost as if they aren’t there at all. He gasps and huffs and laughs incredulously. “It’s…it’s amazing, are you kidding? I mean—Do you—Is this—Omega, do you want to do this? I mean, I know we’ve been mated for a while and we’ve got the spare bedroom—It’s an office now, but we can turn it into—And our money—We should—The interest on my savings, it should be enough. I think we can do this, but do you”—

Eddie can’t take it anymore. Without so much as a warning, he wrestles Steve’s face between his palms and kisses him soundly, messily, passionately. He can taste the saltiness of tears, the mint on Steve’s tongue, the traces of bitter black coffee. Their scents waft, spreading between them nearly cloying with sugar and the caramel ribbons of their favorite ice cream. He breaks away from it when he can’t catch his breath.

Panting, he can only stare at Steve in complete wonder. Something caught between wanderlust and marvel. He smiles, splitting his own face the way a s’more would be broken, stretchy—melting. Finally, after a long moment, he gathers his words. “Are you kidding?” Eddie softly says, “of course I want to do this. I want to do this with you, Steve. You—Baby, you’re the alpha of my dreams. Nobody else I’d rather do this with.”

Steve, for all his quiet, soft crying, bursts with a sob. Squeaky, “Me too,” he says, “I was thinking maybe this was why you were—I didn’t think it could be true. My—The dream, Eds, my dream.” Hastily, Steve palms his cheeks again to wipe away his tears. Chuckles at the shine left on his hands. “We’re gonna be parents,” he murmurs, awed. “We should—I really want you to take a test, just in case. I don’t want us to be wrong about this.”

“Do you want to drive?”

A snotty, deep inhale. Then, “My inner alpha doesn’t want you to do it. Are you serious? You drive like other people don’t exist.”

“I drive like that because I have things to do. People to see. An alpha to love.”

Steve snorts. “Very charming,” he notes. “But, seriously, it’s making me nervous thinking about you and a potential pup being behind the wheel. Let me protect you, omega? Or is that—I don’t want to suffocate you.”

Eddie pets his hands through Steve’s soft, tussled hair. “I shouldn’t have said that,” he whispers sweetly, “you don’t suffocate me at all. I was just—I don’t know. You’re instincts were responding to a possible pregnancy. I can’t punish you for that.”

“But we don’t even know if that’s the case”—

“I want you to drive,” Eddie firmly states. “I want you to protect your pack. And I want you right by my side the rest of our lives. Because you are going to be such a good father, just based on how you already take care of me. I trust you. I want you.” He runs his hands down the sides of Steve’s face, his neck, squeezing at his shoulders. “Look after me,” he murmurs—a light, curling command—“even if that means I don’t drive for a while.”

“You can drive, Eds. I just don’t want you to be hurt or…or worse”—

“Alpha,” he purrs. The concerned, folded lines of Steve’s face begin to relax—his response to the soothing pheromones Eddie is pushing between them; finally working. “Drive me to the store, please. And, um, can we stop for burritos somewhere? I have a craving.”

Steve sighs slowly through his nose, fully relaxing into himself. He’s smiling to himself, soft and small. “Let’s go, Eds,” he whispers, pulling them up from the stairs, “I’ll roll the window down, too, okay? In case the morning sickness gets the best of you.”

“Always so attuned to me, alpha. You’re so good to me.”

“You’re good to me, too.”

Eddie holds Steve’s hands, squeezes them. He brings them up to his lips, then, and kisses his fingertips. Murmurs, “Only the best for my mate.”

——— “How the fuck do I piss on this thing?” Eddie mutters, holding the unpackaged pregnancy test in his hand. The box says to pee on it. Should he—Does he hold it while he’s sitting down? Maybe get a cup to urinate into—that’s how it usually goes at a doctor’s office, right? Would it mess up the results somehow if Steve came into the bathroom and held Eddie’s penis for him? He flips the little cardboard box over in his hands again, clenching the pregnancy test tight between his fingers.

Results in five minutes, it reads.

That feels too short.

Did he even grab the right one?

There had been an absolute wall of tests at the pharmacy. Some of them in dark blue, flimsy, foil baggies. Others in bright pink, eye straining, tiny boxes. The one he grabbed came with more than just one, the box is indeed pink—as if all omegas are feminine in that way; and also, why does it matter if the box is pink, right? It still cost him more than he liked just for the extra sticks, now he has to worry about the whole pink box debacle? One of the other people in the aisle had recommended it to him—were they an insider? Working for the test company? Making a profit out of his obliviousness?

He took it anyway. And Steve had read the directions over and over and over again just to make sure everything was done right. That he knew what they were getting themselves into.

It seemed easier in the car, with the receipt still crinkling in their hands. Less daunting.

Less real.

The thing is, Eddie’s excited. He is. They want pups—multiple. Even though Steve told him, “If this is the only time you want to do this, I won’t be upset with your decision, omega. If you choose that you don’t want to do this at all, I’ll support you one hundred percent.” All in the car. With the radio tinny and quiet. They talked about abortion. They talked about potential complications—as if that was to help Eddie’s nerves; but he supposes it did, in a way, just in case something went dastardly wrong. And the whole changes that will be made to Eddie’s body along the way.

He’ll gain weight, obviously—that’s already happening, but he’s not as upset as he thought he’d be. It’s normal. But being unable to fit in his favorite pants is sort of annoying. The morning sickness was another. Miserable. Awful. They’ll have to find ways over the next couple weeks to lessen the worst of it. His center of gravity will change. There’ll be stretch marks—unless he uses a ton of slimy, repulsive lotion. Cravings. Favorite scents might change. Mood swings. And on and on and on—

It’s real and sort of terrifying. But only sort of.

A pup that smiles like Steve, laughs like his mate, smells like a mixture of them, that might have Steve’s droopy eyes and all his moles—all the things that make up his reason to wake up every morning could be reflected in something he helped create. Does it scare him that he could majorly screw it all up? Of course it does; even if he didn’t have a terrible dad, even if he didn’t have all his behavioral sorts growing up, even if everything was adjusted and perfect—even if, he’d probably still be scared. Wayne was when taking Eddie in—he’s the perfect parent—and nothing felt wrong even with the always jittering hum of fear creeping within their peripherals. He imagines that Steve reflects these feelings. Probably has his own little tidbits of Eddie that he’d like to see breathe after them.

The thought of there being a literal monolith to present the pure passion in their bond, it makes something bloom inside Eddie. Not like a rotten weed. A lily of the valley—drooping with the heavy weight of beauty, swaying with its bulbous skirts, and bright in its whites.

Also, Eddie believes in himself enough now to assure that he could love a pup fully and completely. That he could nurture one. Carry them in his arms no matter how much they outgrow the need. He’ll be bad at the raising in ways, he’s certain, but there’s enough worry in him—he knows, in anything, that he will outweigh the worry.

He’s afraid of screwing this up, but that’s enough to comfort him; maybe he won’t.

Steve believes in him too—which isn’t shocking, considering he’s more faithful to Eddie’s choices than anything else in the universe. It’s enough, though, to believe in himself more so than he ever has before.

Eddie tosses the cardboard box into the trash. And, with less details, he sets the test itself on a new washcloth when the toilet finally flushes. He strides out of the bathroom, to their little living room, and places himself next to Steve on the couch. His mate is biting at his fingernails.

“Five minutes,” Eddie says, “then we’ll know.”

There’s a quick nod from Steve, his fingers released from between his lips, and he sighs. “That feels like not enough time,” he mumbles.

“Kind of what I was thinking. But…I don’t know, maybe we need this to be quick? So that we can start planning?”

“Well, if it’s negative, what would be planning for?” Steve asks.

Eddie smirks and snorts. “Could figure out, like, a whole sex calendar just to have it stick. Or we could go out and buy five more tests and I can sit down and take each one.”

“Y’think it could show a false positive? ‘M kinda worried it’s gonna get it wrong,” Steve nervously says. His left leg is bouncing, the soft pat of his heel as it hits carpet over and over. There’s a scrunch between his eyebrows, a sour twist to his mouth. The faint trace of rusted copper—like a penny—in his scent; a trickle of worry that waxes and wanes. “I really don’t want it to be negative,” he murmurs, “but—I don’t—we don’t have to have pups, I know that, but it could be”—

He reaches out and takes Steve’s trembling hands, squeezing them in his grip. There’s saliva all over his fingernails, the ends of them chewed to bits and pieces—scraggly and misshapen now. Eddie presses himself closer. “It’s okay to want this,” he assures, “because I want this, Steve.” His thumbs dig into the soft padding on the backs of Steve’s hands. Hopefully it’s soothing enough through Eddie’s own nervousness. “I really want this to work out for us. Having pups has always been at the back of my mind, but I never thought all of this could be a reality for me.”

Steve sniffles. “What changed?” he mutters.

“I can’t really pinpoint it,” Eddie answers. He takes a moment of silence, staring down at their hands, the way his thumbs sweep over Steve’s skin. A lot changed. He voices that. “For one, I never thought I’d get away from my asshole dad. But…Wayne’s there now. In that shape, that position, all the love on his back, on his sleeves. Never thought I’d find my way out of Hawkins. Never thought I’d be somebody that people chose first—prioritized, loved, the whole courting and mating stuff.

“But now I’m in a place where I feel like I can think about my future. Where I can reach for it now and I’m not gonna touch empty air. 

“I have…I have you, first and foremost. You in all your many ways. You’re the most secure I’ve seen you—safe and comfortable and loud, taking up space and making it your own. There’s no hesitation in the way you reach for me now. The way you seek for me when you need help, when you need somebody to just hold onto, when you just…just need somebody to care. You’re happy and you’re free and you’re—I feel like the luckiest omega alive right now.

“To have somebody by my side who full heartedly supports what I want to do. Who will nurture me at my lowest and be there at my best. You care for me. You care for Wayne. You care for the pups back home. And Robin, of course. There’s love in everything you have, you do, you are. I don’t know, Stevie, I’m just…

“I have an alpha that loves me—that’s something special,” Eddie murmurs wetly. He breathes out deeply, trying to catch himself from teetering. Steve’s looking at him with awe. It feels like being kissed by the sun. “Granted, I don’t have a job that I am one hundred percent set on, but that’s fine. We make enough money together. I have coworkers who don’t treat me like an outcast, they see me as a person, they want to know me. I’ve got a home made up with all of me kept in mind. There’s space for the both of us, for more family. There’s always food in the fridge. I can be myself wherever I am. My friends love me in all my ways.” Eddie shrugs. Aims for nonchalance, but the lump in his throat is heavy otherwise. “I think I’m right where I need to be,” he says, “and where I am, I feel like I can make true on things I’ve always dreamed of, but tried to let go of. Y’know, ‘cause it always felt so…so Hollywood to think of myself as a parent to an alpha’s pup. But I’ve always wanted to be. And now I can and—I’m ready for this. I want the test to be positive.”

Without realizing that Eddie had dropped his eyes, he looks back up to find Steve already staring. His big hazel eyes red rimmed and hazy, tears streaming down his blotchy cheeks, lower lip trembling, and his shoulders shaking with suppressed hiccups. Panicked, Eddie attempts to move his hands up to Steve’s face, but Steve only holds on tighter.

“I’m so glad I reached you in time,” Steve blubbers, “I’m so fucking happy I get to love you. And—fuck—and be loved by you.” He shutters a few, short sobs. Squeezes at Eddie’s hands, refusing to let go. “We get to do this all together, no matter what that damn test reads. And that’s just…just incredible. That we’re alive right now. Safe. Fuckin’ happy—all of it.”

They both breathe out a laugh. Sitting close, pressed thigh to thigh. Eddie knocks his forehead against Steve’s, brushing it like a cat would. “You might be a dad,” he whispers, “isn’t that perfect?”

“We’re gonna be dads,” Steve murmurs. “I want them to have your nose.”

“Really?”

“Mhm”—Steve nods against him, shifting the thin skin on their foreheads—“and your eyes. Just big and seeking. Telling a thousand words without actually talking.”

Eddie smiles big; gummy and wide and audible. “Funny, I want our pup to have your eyes. Puppy dog eyes. Shiny and droopy and just so fucking soft. And, um, they’re wearing some of your moles…and they smile like you, laugh like you.”

“I think what you want is a clone, Eds.”

“No, what I want is a little you. Because then I know they’re gonna be loved by everybody. Because they’re sweet and they’re charming and they’re funny. They take care of their own. They aren’t selfish.” Eddie gives a small shrug. “What I want is a pup who’s a good person and beautiful—both inside and out. And I know they will be as long as they’re related to you.”

Steve shifts away a little bit. Reaching up with his right hand, cupping the side of Eddie’s head. Stroking his thumb over the curve of Eddie’s cheek. “And since they’ll be related to you, then I know they’re going to be attentive and intelligent and selfless and loyal. They’ll be so wonderful,” he whispers, “on principal alone that they’re from my favorite person in the world.”

He sighs into Steve’s hold. “Are we just blowing smoke up our own asses?” Eddie quietly asks.

For all his teary-eyed talk, Steve lets out a startlingly loud belly laugh. His head thrown back. The line of his throat exposed. His eyes crinkled around the sounds. Eddie loves him. Loves him even more when he says, “Oh, so what? I know that you’re a good person. And you think of me as a good person. As long as we continue to be ourselves, then our kid’s gonna be just like us in that way. We’re fine.”

Eddie hums. He stands from the couch, hanging over Steve. Hand outstretched. “In that case…you wanna come back to the bathroom to check the test? Or should I bring it out here?”

“I’ll come with you,” Steve decides, slotting his hand with Eddie’s. He allows himself to be pulled up from his cushion, steadying himself against Eddie’s shoulder when he fully rises. “I’m kinda excited,” he comments as they pull their way to the bathroom.

“Only kinda?”

“I mean, I’m also a little scared? Is that weird?”

Eddie shoulders his way through the bathroom door, slotting himself between the corner of the counter and the toilet. He pulls Steve inside, too, placing him right in front of the sink. With a soft scrape, Eddie picks the test up, but his palm covers the actual reading. “No, it’s not weird,” he finally answers, “‘cause I’m scared, too. Think it’s only natural.”

“Right,” Steve says with a nod. “I don’t want to fuck any of this up.”

“Neither do I, sweetheart.” He juts the test forward. “You wanna look at the results first?”

Steve pushes it back, but instead of pulling away from it, he wraps his own hand around Eddie’s. “We should look at it together,” he says.

Before Eddie does anything to actually glance at the marks, he lets them stand in the sweet sound of their silence. Whatever they find could change the rest of their lives—forever. Right now, it’s just them. In a bathroom that’s on the side of too small. Under fluorescents that will eventually makes Steve’s head ache. Their scents mingling, slotted right next to each other in a library of perfection.

Pup or not, the result tells them the next course of action.

That’s a daunting realization in its own part.

“Whatcha waiting for, Eds?” Steve asks softly.

He shrugs. “We’re gonna be changed based on this—no matter what it is,” Eddie murmurs, “I’m just trying to save it in a picture before it’s gone.”

“You worried?”

“Always.” He swallows, looks down at their hands, and sighs. “But…but, like, fundamentally, we won’t be the same people we were before. Whether it’s because we’re becoming parents or trying to become parents. Just—I want to remember us unsure and worried and…and immature. Just for a little longer. For a moment.”

Steve’s fingers tighten over the back of Eddie’s hand. “You’re always going to be the Eds I met all those years ago.”

“Even though I was fuckin’ scared out of my skin?”

“Yeah,”—Steve steps closer, leans his forehead on Eddie again, and lets out a quick, low chirp—“but you were also brave. You’re brave now. And you’ll be this person to me for the rest of our lives.”

Eddie sniffs. “Will you flip it over with me?”

Without an answer, Steve just rotates the both of their hands until the result side of the test is staring up at them. Eddie moves his thumb, where the soft pad of it was covering, and lets out a pitched, gasped chirp.

“Two lines,” Steve mutters, “what does that mean?”

“It’s, uh, it’s”—can’t help himself, Eddie begins to purr, interrupting his words with rough croaks—“I’m pregnant,” he says.

“R-really?” Steve breathes. “Y’are? That’s—Two lines, that’s what it means? You’re positive on that?”

Eddie bumps his head against Steve. Chirps and purrs and chirps and purrs and—“I’m pregnant,” he says again, awestruck. “We’re gonna be dads, Steve! We’re doing this! It’s positive!”

Steve laughs under his breath, runs the tip of his nose against Eddie’s, and leans to peck his lips. “It’s positive,” he echoes in a whisper. “What do we do now?”

He scrunches his face at Steve’s question. “I don’t know,” Eddie mutters, “what if we started by getting some strawberries and Nutella?”

“Craving?”

“Of course,” Eddie murmurs, “but we can also feed them to each other. Sound good?”

A small hum escapes Steve’s throat. Hushed, “Yeah,” Steve says, “sounds perfect.”

——— Eddie fills a small pyrex bowl with Nutella and shoves it into the microwave. 45 seconds. And then he turns back around in their kitchen, resting himself against the counter, watching on as Steve slices up the strawberries.

Though the microwave is loud and echoing through the room, Eddie can’t help but focus in on the steady, rumbling, deep purrs Steve pushes out. He’s been doing them since they left for their little snack—the pregnancy test continuing to be fresh on his mind. Steve finishes his knife work on the strawberries and instead of washing his hands, he brings his fingers up to his mouth, slurping the fruit’s juice one by one. Every single time he parts his lips, purrs spill out; every time the sugary juice touches his tongue, Steve chirps involuntarily.

“Enjoying yourself, alpha?” Eddie asks.

With a finger deep in his mouth, Steve nods and hums out an affirmative. “Yeah,” he says muffled, “it’s good. I’m good. We’re all good.”

“I can hear you,” he murmurs, “love the way you preen.”

“Are my noises really that loud?” Steve croaks—those purrs put a soft vibrating edge to his words. “The microwave is still going.”

Eddie chuckles. “They’re the loudest they’ve ever been,” he points out.

“Can’t help it,” Steve says around a full smile. Something proud and shining and just so happy—Eddie’s over the moon. “Hard to keep my excitement to myself.”

“Well, don’t do that. I like how vocal you are, sweetheart. Love how much you’re in this with me.” He steps forward towards Steve, stopping right at his side. Gently, Eddie pets a hand through Steve’s hair—the way he folds right into the hold makes Eddie’s heart soar. “You’re so handsome when you’re happy.”

Steve rocks himself impossibly closer. Their noses tap each other. Lips mingling when Steve presses the smallest of kisses. “You’re sweet,” he says, “you smell sweet, too. I wanna eat you up, Eds.”

Eddie tilts his head, exposes the column of his throat, the side of his neck where his scent gland is. “You can take whatever you want from me, Stevie,” he purrs, “y’know how much I love your attention.”

In the junction of Eddie’s shoulder and neck, Steve slots his head. Lips pressing warmly against skin. There’s a hesitant kitten lick against the gland. A full body shiver when Eddie’s scent must intensify. “Smell…smell like…mmm.” He rocks forward again, this time grabbing for purchase on Eddie’s hips, fingers tightening. A broken, low, quiet moan breathes free from Steve’s chest.

Softly, Eddie lays his hands against the flexing planes of Steve’s back. Warmth kisses his fingertips, meets his palms. “Alpha,” he sighs. “So good”—carefully, Eddie maneuvers them so that his back is resting against the counter again, Steve slotting one of Eddie’s thighs between his legs—“feel so good.”

A waft of melted Nutella shares space between them—and with it, Steve bites down on Eddie’s neck. Garbled moans follow.

Steve’s breath stutters hot and cold to the underside of Eddie’s jaw. His fingers tense and relax and tense and relax and—his hips grind down hard on the soft meat of Eddie’s left thigh. The heavy bulge of Steve’s cock noticeable by warmth alone. Eddie runs his right hand up the curved line of Steve’s spine, up until it rests at the ends of his hair. He tugs at Steve’s strands, eliciting a choked whimper from his alpha.

“You got a knot for me?” Eddie breathily asks. “Gonna knock me up again, alpha?”

That spurs Steve on.

In one swift motion, Eddie is being bent over the counter, his backside hitched high in the air, and Steve’s meaty hands pinning him in place. “Omega,” Steve whines, “please? Can I—Please?”

“Use your words, alpha,” Eddie commands lightly. “What do you need from me?”

“I—I need to put my knot in you, please, omega. Please let me—fuck, I need to—gotta, Eds.”

“Before you do anything,” he rumbles, “I want you to grab the Nutella from the microwave and set it on the counter.” Hesitantly, Steve pulls away, leaving Eddie crumpled over the counter. The microwave door opens and closes with clunky, loud thumps. Right in Eddie’s eyesight, the glass Pyrex bowl is placed. “Dip a topless strawberry in it”—and Steve does—“feed it to me, alpha. Gotta make sure I’m getting all my nutrients, right?”

The chocolate coated strawberry is gently placed onto Eddie’s tongue, Steve’s fingers lingering between his lips. With a swipe, a coil, he wipes Steve’s fingertips clean. Saliva beads and drips down naked knuckles, leaving a slick trail that—experimentally—Steve brings up to his mouth. Moaning around his own hand.

“Alpha?”

“Mm?” Steve hums.

“Feed me another strawberry, sweetheart.” Eddie keeps his tone light, almost playful. To add, he throws out a small pout. “Please?” He looks up to Steve with his best wide puppy eyes. “And then my handsome, selfless, wonderful alpha can put his pretty knot in me. Fill me up”—Eddie drops his voice—“knock me up, give me all the cute babies in the world.”

Quickly, and with less care, Steve stuffs Eddie’s mouth with two whole strawberries—dripping once more in Nutella, leaving smears in the saliva on his fingers. There’s a rustle, a clink, as Steve fights with his own belt, and then the thump of his pants as they hit the floor. He positions himself behind Eddie again, fingers pushed deep into the waistband of his sweatpants, curling and ready. “Now, omega? I need to—Please let me fuck you, Eddie.”

Eddie opens his legs wider, shuffling from side to side. He places his arms—folded—under his heavy head. And looks back to Steve with sultry eyes. “I’m ready,” he purrs, “been waiting for you to touch me like this again.”

“I didn’t”—he tears Eddie’s pants down his legs—“I didn’t wanna scare you off,” Steve pants. “Didn’t need you to know how much I…fuck…I’m turned on by this.”

“What does it for you, baby? Is it the scent? My slick?” Eddie smirks, raises his eyebrows slightly, blinks his eyes as doe-like as he possibly can. “Is it ‘cause I’m carrying your pup? Doin’ all the hard work for you? Giving you exactly what you want, alpha? You deserve it, baby. Deserve all the pups in the world.” He wriggles his hips again, the naked skin of his ass hitting the stuffy air of their kitchen. Steve’s warmth is pressed right against his ass. Cock hanging heavy. Already slick with want. “And I deserve to be fucked by you, alpha. I’ve been good for you, now you be good for me.”

A hot glob of spit travels from Steve’s mouth to Eddie’s ass. Fingers gently spreading the moisture between his cheeks and then working to stretch him—to relax him enough to take. Steve’s cock is thick and long, his knot adding onto the sheer size. He takes his time, slowly inserting himself inside of Eddie, only stopping once he’s fully seated. His stomach is pressed against Eddie’s back, as Steve has leaned over, his face smushed into Eddie’s curls. Breath heaving, chest rising and falling.

Hands travel up from Eddie’s hips to his waist. Fingers curling around to pet and press and lay against his softening stomach. “So warm,” Steve murmurs, “so sweet and beautiful and good. Wanna stay like this forever, omega. Connected inside you.”

Eddie gently rolls his hips, working himself up and down the shaft of Steve’s cock. Slow, not rushing, keeping them close together. “We won’t be able to do that, sweet thing. We’re gonna be raising a family.”

“I know,” Steve whispers, “but I can stay with you like this right now.”

He sighs, relaxing against the counter. “You want a strawberry, sweetheart? Bet it would be good paired with my scent. Can you smell me from where you are?”

Nosing down from Eddie’s head, Steve presses his face against the scent gland once more. His mouth parts slightly. Blindly, Eddie reaches for a cut up strawberry, dips it in the bowl, and places it between Steve’s lips. A full, high moan leaves his throat. “Sugar,” Steve breathes, “my sweet omega. So sweet for me.” His sticky lips press against Eddie’s neck, trailing Nutella spit along his skin. He rolls his hips, slapping his skin to Eddie’s hard. “Want you to smell like this forever…mmm…fuck.”

Eddie whimpers as Steve licks over his scent gland again. Teething along the skin. Fingers press firmly to his abdomen, gripping him, keeping him tight. “Alpha”—

Steve fucks into him even harder. Setting a new, brutal pace. His breaths rattle and heave out of him. Mewling against Eddie’s scent gland, fingernails scratching along his skin, moaning unashamed directly into Eddie’s ear. “Gonna take care of you,” Steve rasps, “keep you happy. Please you all the time. Need you to smell like this for however long you can. Fuck, I love it. I love you, Eds. You’re gonna be a good dad, shit.”

“What does that make you, Stevie?”

“Huh? What”—

“Are you a daddy, Steve? Are you gonna be my good alpha daddy?” Steve, if possible, doubles over even more against Eddie’s back. A strangled, guttural moan breaks free. His hands are moving everywhere now—over Eddie’s chest, scratching along his collarbones, gripping tight to his shoulders, down his waist, back onto his hips—aimlessly and helplessly. He thrusts, hard enough to dislodge Eddie from where he’s resting his head, his own hands reaching out for purchase on anything atop the counter. His fingers scramble, fingernails dragging along the tiled surface. “Ah—alpha, yes, you’re doing so good—fuck, you’re so good to me. Fill me up, sugar, give me everything”—he turns his face into the counter, muffling his sounds against it. Then, he shifts back towards the Nutella and strawberries, dipping another one and raising it up to where Steve’s mouth is. “Take from me, too, baby. Eat another berry for me, alpha, show me”—

Steve takes it without another thought. There’s a haziness in his eyes, from the little bit that Eddie can see of him. He chews around the fruit, but doesn’t let Eddie drop his hand away. Instead, he bends down and suckles onto Eddie’s fingertips. Swirling his tongue. Grating his teeth against skin. Drooling against each digit. “Could eat you,” he garbles, “wanna—keep you—need you everywhere around me. Gonna—fuck, omega, gonna come. Need to—can I? Please? Can”—

“C’mon, daddy, give me what you think I need.”

With one final—almost painful—thrust, Steve is coming deep inside Eddie. Steve’s knot blooms, filling every bit of extra space inside Eddie, pressing against his walls. His hips still, hands squeezing along Eddie’s hips, teeth baring against his shoulder, a loud, unforgiving moan. Steve’s eyes are slammed shut, crinkling at the corners. Red in the face. There’s sweat beading on his brow bone. And then he crumples, falling limp against Eddie’s back.

Eddie, trembling and shaking, gushes slick down the insides of his thighs. Hands flat to the counter, turning white with pressure. Face smushed against the tile, breathing broken, croaky noises. “Good”—he huffs, praises—“good, so good.”

A gentle hand paws the side of Eddie’s face, brushing back the hair that threatens to get caught in his mouth. Steve presses a kiss to his cheekbone. To the underside of his jaw. The shell of Eddie’s ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, “omega, for letting me have you like this. Been craving you for days now.”

“You should be like me, alpha,” he pants. “Tell me what you need. I’ll make sure you get it.”

“Need to be careful.”

“I want you to, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, “I needed this, too. Fuck, I needed this. Love your cock. Love your knot.” He takes a deep breath, pulls his eyes over his shoulder to attempt direct eye contact—it comes close enough. “I love you, daddy.”

Steve growls low in the back of his throat. “I can’t go again,” he chuffs, from deep inside him. “Gotta wait until I”—

“Well, I’ve got all the time in the world.” Eddie eyes the cutting board full of berries again. “Feed me a strawberry, please? Need to get back my stamina.”

With a light roll of his eyes, Steve reaches for a cut up strawberry, and feeds it to Eddie. “Good?”

“The best. Thank you, alpha.”

“Only the best for you, omega.”

——— Second Trimester

He hits sixteen weeks.

And it shows. Steve has taken full notice.

As it is, they’re sitting in the living room again, huddled close on the couch. Eddie’s lounging against the back of the sofa, but Steve is elongated—his head resting on Eddie’s stomach. Hands cradling the gentle swell.

“Hey, my little bug,” Steve sweetly coos, “did you know you’re the size of an avocado?” He pets his hands down Eddie’s sides. “I could make guacamole out of you.”

“Steve”—

“Sorry, ‘m sorry,” he mutters around a lopsided smile. “Did you also know that you can start frowning and smiling now? I bet you didn’t find my joke very funny, probably making a little grumpy face at me. You poutin’ like your papa does?”

That’s the name the pup will call Eddie.

Dad is for Steve—changed after a lot of…playful takes on the new name.

“I bet they actually frown like you,” Eddie shoots back, “with your big Beaker pout.” He pulls the face like Steve shows it, or at least as close as possible. He doesn’t think his face can actually pull down like that.

“Hey!” Steve says, though he doesn’t sound affronted. If anything, pleased as pie. “My frown doesn’t look like that!”

Eddie scoffs. “Oh, it so totally does! Plus, this is pay back for your pizza giving me heartburn.”

Steve makes that face—the Beaker pout. “You need me to grab you some Tums? I think you can take a couple.”

He runs his hands through the top of Steve’s hair. Gently scratching his nails against his scalp. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. The heartburn comes and goes anyway because of the whole pregnancy thing, I’ll be alright.”

The tip of Steve’s nose runs along the upper part of his belly. Cold and puffing air. He kisses Eddie’s skin. “Okay,” he mutters, “you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

“Of course,” Eddie whispers, “I’ll tell you if anything starts to suck.”

With a small sigh, Steve relaxes against Eddie’s stomach again. “This doesn’t suck,” he murmurs, “y’think that she can hear me in there?”

“Mmm…dunno, baby.” His hand passes through Steve’s hair again. “Also she? Is that what you’re hoping for, alpha?”

A shrug. “Just feel it, I dunno. Think our little bug is a girl.” He presses a kiss to Eddie’s stomach again. “Y’hear that, pup? Now you gotta prove me right, huh?”

Eddie chuckles, removes his hands from Steve’s head, and pats at his belly. “Don’t listen to Dad, little bug. You can be whoever you wanna be.”

“Well, of course,” Steve says, “I just think my instincts are right again. They’ve been right so far.”

“You’re very observant, I’ll give you that, sweetheart.” He sighs, relaxes against the back of the couch, and closes his eyes. “What do you think about a nap?” Eddie murmurs, “‘cause I think that might be something I really want right now.”

Steve sits back up, angles himself to face Eddie on the couch, and pets a hand down the side of Eddie’s face. “We can go back to bed, baby, if that’s what you need. I’ll grab the blanket from the dryer and refill your water bottle, omega.” He leans over and pecks under Eddie’s right eye, smiling when Eddie peels it back open. “You want me to lay down with you?”

Eddie nods. “And cuddle me?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

——— “You know what I noticed during the ultrasound today?” Eddie says around his foaming toothbrush. They’re getting ready for bed—Eddie himself is completely wiped, while Steve lays awake in their nest reading a book. It’s a bigger font copy of The Hobbit; an anniversary gift from a few years back, when Steve had previously been solemn and upset about not being able to read a regular copy. His reading glasses are low on his nose when he peeps around the cover.

“Was it something about the pup? Should I be worried?”

Eddie hums. “No, I don’t think so.” He turns back towards the ensuite’s sink, spits a glob, and spits again before getting a cup of water. After a quick swish and rinse, he faces Steve again. “My lower belly’s got a couple stretch marks on it. Not, like, too big or noticeable if you don’t know what to look for. Just thought it was interesting.”

Steve sets his book page down over his chest, opening his right arm to beckon Eddie under the covers. Within seconds, he’s tucked into Steve’s side. A hand warmly petting over his shoulders. “It’s not a bad thing,” Steve assures.

“I know, alpha,” Eddie murmurs, “it’s just…wow, things are actually changing.” He swallows hard. “And we’re gonna find out the gender of the pup soon, which is crazy. Feel like it was just yesterday we were even finding out about all of this in the first place, y’know? I thought everything would happen a lot slower.”

A hum comes from Steve. And his scent blooms with little buds of nerves—like it’s charred around the edges. “I’m nervous, too,” he whispers, “at the pace of everything. Feels like I’ll wake up tomorrow and the pup will be here.”

“Don’t jinx anything,” Eddie firmly warns.

“I’m not, omega, swear. Besides, we definitely have a lot of time left before the pup arrives. Y’know, as long as no complications pop up”—and now Steve’s scent turns sour—“as long as everything is healthy, right? Which, like, that includes you. So I gotta make sure you’re taken care of. And—The food I made today had enough vegetables and protein and stuff, we barely had any sort of junk food—which, would be fine if you wanted junk food, I’m just saying—Are you okay, omega?”

Eddie raises his head from Steve’s shoulder. Eyebrows raised in amusement. “Are you, alpha? Sounds and smells like you’re working yourself into a tizzy.”

“I just—I’m worried that we could still be doing things wrong. What if I’m not supporting you the right way? Are you—Have I—Are things okay right now? We’re doing okay, right?”

He pets a hand over Steve’s chest, scratching through his hair again. “We are,” he murmurs gently, “we’re doing super okay. I’m healthy and safe. And you’re being sweet and taking care of me the way I need. Everything is going perfectly fine.” Eddie settles back down, turning his face into Steve’s shoulder, kissing it. “Do you wanna check in on the pup, sweetheart? Think they might be fluttering around right now—unless that’s the indigestion I’ve been having, in which case, uh…definitely not the pup.”

Steve’s scent goes sugary and warm again as he bursts with raspy laughter. He maneuvers down their mattress, book abandoned between them, putting himself eye level with Eddie’s belly, placing a gentle hand. “Hi, pup,” he murmurs, “Papa says you’re moving around. You gonna say hi back to me?”

A few long moments pass in complete silence. Their breaths soft and mixing. Scents calmed and mingling. And then—

Gasp.

The hand against Eddie’s belly tightens. “Hello,” Steve coos, “oh my goodness, hi pup. How’s my little bug doing?” He giggles, thumb sweeping against skin, scent sugary like bursting Pop Rocks. “Have you been giving Papa any trouble? You gotta be nice to him, he’s giving you a little home right now. But when you do meet us, we’ve got a perfect nest for you to get nice and cozy in. And Dad—that’s me—he’s gonna make you all the pancakes in the world, and he’s gonna read to you, and we’re all going to go to the park and play. Papa’s gonna sing all kinds of songs to you, too. He loves singing.”

“I’ve better start learning some lullabies,” Eddie whispers.

Steve snorts. Looks up at him—eyes big and shiny and bright. “We should try and find a book of lullabies or something. She’ll wanna hear you sing to her all the time.”

“I don’t think bug is a girl,” Eddie says, “I think you’ve got wishful thinking.”

“Intuition,” Steve responds, “I just know these things.”

Eddie reaches down and trails his hand over the back of Steve’s neck. “Speaking of knowing,” he says, “how are we going about finding out the gender?”

“We should do something simple. I, uh, I really don’t want to do a big party or anything. Unless, y’know, unless you want to, omega. Then I’m one hundred percent on board with the decision.”

“What if we just had a bakery make us a cake and then we ate it at home? We could, like, cut a slice and take a photo of it and send it out in the mail or something. I’m not keen on the whole pup shower things.” Eddie sighs. “The thing that I’m worried about is that somebody in the pack back home is going to plan a surprise thing and it’ll be sprung on us.”

“I’ll call home,” Steve says, “tell them to not make any big plans like that. Promise, omega, we’ll do something chill.”

Just as he goes to give his thanks, Eddie cracks with a giant yawn. “Get back up here,” he mumbles, “I wanna go to bed.”

“You sure you’re okay? Been all kinds of tired,” Steve comments, wriggling back up the mattress, wrapping himself around Eddie.

“Just tired,” he mutters, “had a long day.”

“Okay”—Steve smacks a kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head—“I love you, omega.”

“Love you, too, alpha,” Eddie mumbles.

Within moments, they’re both out like a light.

——— He pulls Steve back to their nest. Half-dressed and still waking up.

Eddie pushes himself up into Steve’s space—as his alpha stands over him—and presses a hard kiss to his lips. Pulling back, he’s breathless. “Slick,” he pants, “I’m super fucking slick right now, alpha. I need you.”

“Baby”—Steve sighs—“I’ve gotta get to work, omega. I can’t”—

“Just really quick,” Eddie rushes out. “I don’t even need your knot, just need you to stroke my dick and that’s it. Just need’ta…need to come, please.”

Steve wavers, stepping back, getting close. He noses at Eddie’s hairline. Lips smearing over Eddie’s forehead. “You’ve got a lot of energy for somebody who couldn’t sleep last night,” he murmurs.

“Blame it on the pup, not me. Shit. It’s getting harder to sleep with this bump in my way, swear to god.” He wriggles against the edge of their nest, scents heightened, leaving him shuttering and purring. “But I need you, alpha. Gimme something to work with,” he whines. Rocking. “The toys don’t feel as good as you do.”

A growl rumbles from Steve’s throat. His palm cupping Eddie’s crotch, rubbing over the noticeable bulge in his pants. “Lean back on your hands,” Steve commands, “spread your legs for me. Let me help.”

Quickly, Eddie opens up for Steve, leaning back into their nest. “Do you need me to”—

“Lift up a little, let me get your pants down.” He does what Steve asks of him. Gets a peck to the cheek for it. His pants go down agonizingly slow. “We should take you shopping for some omega maternity clothes,” Steve comments, “make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.” As soon as Eddie’s cock springs free from the waistband of his underwear, Steve is dropping to his knees. Lips mouthing—teasing—at the head of Eddie’s cock.

“Al—Alpha,” Eddie gasps.

Steve hums, pushing himself forward inch by little inch. Until he’s fully wrapped around Eddie’s cock, warming it from all angles. Tempting the grounds, Eddie rocks his hips, but as soon as he’s started, Steve is pinning him down by the hips. Eyes heated as he looks up to Eddie, slitted and eyelashes fanning dark, pupils dilated so his irises are nearly 100% black. Steve’s lips are wet with slick and spit, bright magenta from the stretch, bobbing up and down the length of Eddie’s shaft.

Tentatively, Eddie places his right hand in Steve’s hair, but is immediately shook out of it.

With a small pop, Steve comes up for a breath. “Don’t,” he pants, “don’t mess up my hair. Hands to yourself, omega.”

“But I need to touch your hair, alpha.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, giving Eddie a ‘be patient’ expression. “Later,” he says, “tonight, I promise. Just let me please you first.” Without letting Eddie say anything more, Steve leans forward again, wrapping his pretty pink lips on Eddie’s shaft, and works all the way up until he gives a ragged, gurgling gag.

“Careful,” Eddie murmurs, stroking his fingers down Steve’s hollowed left cheek. His thumb rubs into the warmth flushing Steve’s face. “Don’t hurt yourself, babe.”

The vibrations of Steve’s following hum shakes all the way to Eddie’s core. A sharp exhale of breath chases. And then his tongue starts to swirl again, flexing and wet.

Eddie moans breathily, chest heaving with his panting, eyes rolled back. His eyelashes flutter tiredly, face heating up, fingers falling away from Steve’s face. He’s already embarrassingly close—and Steve doesn’t need to know this, but Eddie had already worked himself up twice this morning while in the shower, slicking up his own hand before cleaning up in the hard, warm spray from the shower-head. For all that he’s already done, he really shouldn’t be as turned on as he is; and he definitely shouldn’t be considering a round two after Steve’s done with him. But he’ll just wait for when Steve goes to work.

The biggest plus side in his pregnancy so far is how his libido has doubled. It’s also his greatest weakness—waking up with wet boxers, dick hard, pussy throbbing, his insides squirming for Steve’s knot at all hours of the day; especially when his alpha isn’t home. A man can only take so many masturbation sessions before he just breaks.

This is him breaking.

Despite Steve’s hands pinning him into place, Eddie still attempts to roll his hips.

It makes the fingers wrapped around him tighten, but honestly, Eddie doesn’t care to listen. He continues to lift his hips, seeking friction and completion wrapped in one. Steve’s mouth is hot and wet, saliva pooling atop his tongue, drool spilling out the corners of his mouth. And Eddie goes against his alpha again, wrapping his hand in the hair at the back of Steve’s head, twirling strands around his fingers and pulling—hard—as he finally, finally gets the desired pace from Steve’s bobbing.

Stuttering through his breaths, moans spilling from his core hot and ready and burning through his throat, Eddie comes with a shout. His body eases like a puppet with its strings cut, but before he can fully collapse back, Steve steadies him. The tongue around Eddie’s cock twitches as Steve swallows, and it licks a stripe as he pulls off.

“I hope you didn’t ruin my hair,” Steve croaks, “and I need to brush my teeth again.”

“Sorry,” Eddie sighs. “Sorry, alpha, I couldn’t help myself.”

Steve sniffs, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, but stops when he catches a glimpse of Eddie’s cock and his noticeably throbbing pussy. “You’re still turned on,” he points out. “Do you need”—

“No, I’m okay, alpha. You should get yourself ready for work.”

“Are you sure? I can”—

“I’ll just masturbate again, I’m fine.”

That gives him an incredulous look from Steve. “Again?” he questions, “what the hell do you mean again?”

Eddie darts his eyes to the side, sitting back up and tucking himself back into his underwear without looking. “I, um, I may have gone a couple rounds in the shower? And last night? And yesterday morning for sure.”

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “Do you think something’s up or…”

He shakes his head. “No, my sex drive is just running wild. Usually, I can get myself to calm down, but uh…yeah, these last few days not so much. I get too sensitive if I just leave it alone, so I had to take it into my own hands. And I figured that I should be mindful enough to not bother you.”

Steve frowns—Beaker. “But I can help you, omega. If you need me to help. It’s gonna get harder when you grow bigger.”

“Then I’ll ask down the road, Stevie, it’s okay,” Eddie reassures. “I love when you dote on me, but I don’t need you to put all your attention on me all the time. Promise you, I’ll be fine. Probably just plug myself with a vibrator and take it easy today.”

“Oh god,” Steve groans. “Now I’m gonna be thinking about you doing that all day today,” he whines. “Robin’s gonna think something’s wrong with me.”

“There is something wrong with you,” Eddie gently teases. He smirks, sharp and only a little mean. Steve rolls his eyes at him and he giggles. “Go wash your mouth out, baby. Unless you want other alphas to know who you’ve got waiting at home.”

“That a new bedroom thing for you?” Steve calls after himself when he moves towards the bathroom. The sink turns on and the sound of mouthwash being poured fills the little space.

“No! I just—You’re mine. Maybe there’s some pride in that.” He tries to say it nonchalantly, loosely so that it won’t make a big scene for Steve. But he still hears the gagged gargle from the bathroom. He continues, “Just imagine it, sweetheart. Other alphas trying to approach you because they smell something good. Only to find out it’s your pregnant omega back home that you sucked down on because he was just too tempting. Because you’re a good alpha who takes care of their mate. Everybody would know just how well you take care of me. Fuck me good, fill me up, keep me pleased.” Eddie sighs dreamily at that, shuttering—his hand aches to reach for his already spent cock, but he refrains; for now. “Let me scent your jacket before you go. Please, baby?”

Steve stumbles back out of their ensuite. Clumsily grabbing for his jacket off the dresser, tossing it Eddie’s way. “Make it extra sweet for me,” he says, “want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Eddie picks up the jacket, rubs the collar against his neck. “You know that payphone tucked near the back of Family Video?”

“Mm, yeah,” Steve says, tugging on his sneakers. When he stands up from his crouched position on the floor, he’s breathless and staring down Eddie’s hands. “What about it?”

“You should call me on your lunch break,” Eddie suggests. “Tell me about the people who smell me on you. Want you to tell me if you growled at them. If you got all big and huffy for me. And if this jacket was only to fend off the other alphas.”

“What do you”—

“Tell me if you go into the bathroom with me tucked up against your nose. With your hand on your heavy fucking dick. Thinking about me at home, lazy and tired, rocking myself on my vibrator, making our whole apartment smell like sweet formula milk. I want you to tell me if you stroke yourself raw. If you make a complete mess in your pants. Tell me, alpha, if you get turned on even without me there.” Eddie looks up from where he’s now rubbing the jacket over his wrists. Eyes half lidded. Dangerous. “I’m gonna come,” he says, “because I always do when I know you’re pleasing yourself. I’m gonna come with your name in my mouth. Vibrator in my pussy and my hand wrapped around my cock—still gonna be warm from that pretty mouth of yours. And all I’m gonna think is that my alpha Steve did this to me. All of it. The courting and the mating, the fact I’m pregnant, the way I can’t get enough of sex—the way I crave you all the time.” He stands from the bed, shuffles over to the bedroom doorway where Steve stands stock-still and shocked, and he wraps the jacket over Steve’s shoulders. With a tug the lapels, worming Steve’s arms through the sleeves, and a jerk on the zipper—it’s done. “Because I do,” Eddie purrs, “crave you every single moment of the day. And all I want”—he nips at Steve’s lips, suckles on the bottom—“is you”—another peck—“right next to me”—hands caressing the sides of Steve’s neck, where Eddie leans in and noses at Steve’s own scent gland; rosemary and campfire, sugar and cinnamon, slick—“all the fucking time. You think you can call me?”

Wordlessly and listlessly, Steve bobs his head. He tucks his nose into the collar of his jacket, but—

Eddie jerks Steve back up from the sides of his face. “Wait until you get to work,” Eddie lightly commands, “and then you tell me all about it. Tell me you understand.”

“I understand, omega,” Steve breathes. “I’ll call you. Tell you everything.”

“Good,” Eddie husks. “Such a good mate. Kiss me and the pup bye?”

Steve kneels down in front of Eddie again. Kisses his belly gently, hands framing either side. “Bye, bug,” he murmurs, “you give Papa a break today, okay?”

“She’s gonna try and make me piss my pants.”

They both watch as a kick flutters by, Steve presses his hand to the spot. Snorts. “She?”

Eddie shrugs. “Maybe I’m just following intuition?” He watches as Steve stands back up, accepts the kiss to his lips. “How big is she?” Eddie murmurs.

“According to that Nesting & Pupsbook I read, she should be about the size of an ear of corn.”

“We’ve got a little corn pup.”

“Corn pup? Sounds like corndog,” Steve chuckles.

Eddie giggles. “Are we gonna dip her in mustard or something?”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Ew, no. If anything, we’re dipping her in ketchup.”

“Ugh, that makes me queasy.” He fakes a gag, tries to keep his face set in disgust, but ultimately loses to Steve’s little fit of giggles. Eddie sways into Steve’s space, impossibly closer, and hooks his fingers into the belt loops of Steve’s jeans. “I wish you could stay here all day,” he whispers, “keep me and the pup company.”

Matching the volume, Steve asks, “But what about our plans today?”

“You could always do it here…at home.”

Steve kisses Eddie’s cheek. “As much as I wanna be here with you, we need to make sure that there’s some money. Other than whatever’s still in my savings account. So…But you keep the nest warm, I’ll call you on my lunch break, and then when I get home—hmm—what if I picked up Chinese takeout? Does that sound tonight?”

“Two orders of lo mein and sweet and sour chicken sounds delicious right now.”

“I’ll pick some up on the way home and we’ll have a lazy night in the nest. Promise.”

Eddie runs his wrists on Steve’s jacket collar again—an extra measure. “Love you, alpha, see you tonight.”

“Love you, too.”

——— At twenty-three weeks, they bring home the reveal cake.

Steve had ordered it. Just a nine inch round cake, like that of one at a pup’s first birthday—the messy, yet glorious smash cake. Plain white buttercream frosting on the outside, moist vanilla cake that’s been dyed by food coloring on the inside, and a spill of chocolate sauce on the very top. It’s simple, but pretty. And now it’s theirs.

They bring it out after dinner, when Eddie states he could use a little something sweet with a knowing glint in his eyes. So, now, they’ll finally find out. Albeit a week later than most expecting omegas, but it’s their way of doing things and that’s just fine.

Eddie makes Steve wrap his hand around the knife’s handle, poised to cut a slice.

“No peeking at any cake crumbs that come up on the blade, wait until we get the whole piece out,” Eddie says.

“I can’t believe we’re finally doing this,” Steve murmurs excitedly. “It’s not gonna change anything about how we love the pup, but I just—Gosh, it’s just crazy we’ve made it here already.”

“Well, you better start grabbing your nuts ‘cause things are gonna get crazier after this. We’re a month and a half away from entering the last trimester and I swear, Steve, things are gonna be wild.”

“I’m gearing up to have a really emotional moment,” Steve says, “do you have to mention my fuckin’ balls right now?”

Eddie shrugs innocently. “I’m just giving you a little warning. Maybe grab your balls and cry, baby.”

“Stop mentioning my—Can we just cut the cake already? I wanna know.”

With a gentle breath, Eddie keeps his focus on Steve’s face and carefully—centimeter by little centimeter—pushes the knife down. Only stopping when it goes stiff against the cardboard cake-board. They drag it back up, Steve reaches for the nearby paper towel he had crumpled earlier, and giving the knife a barely there glance, he wipes it off.

“Ready?” Eddie whispers, “as soon as we cut this other side, we’re gonna get the piece off the board and look at it.”

“What are you hoping for?”

He shrugs again. “I don’t have a preference. I’m just excited to have a pup with you. What about—are you hoping for a certain”—

“No”—Steve give a little shake of his head—“god, no. I don’t wanna do what my parents did to me, y’know? Made every decision for me based on my stupid gender. We’re not gonna do that, no matter what we find out—right? We aren’t going to do that?”

“Baby, of course we aren’t,” Eddie murmurs softly. He brings his non-dominant hand to Steve’s face, stroking his cheek. “We’re gonna love them with everything we’ve got. No matter who they are. You aren’t going to be anything like your parents, you hear me? The pup’s not even here and you’re already being more involved and attentive to them than your parents ever were. And more than my parents were. We’re going to be okay, alpha, I promise.”

Steve takes a deep, steadying breath. His lower lip wobbles, head cushioning further into the cup of Eddie’s palm. “I’m ready,” he says, voice shaky, “stick the other side.”

He looks back down to the cake, just to make sure the knife goes where it should. With one more cautious final push, the slice is freed from the rest of the cake. Eddie sucks in his own sharp breath, holding it long enough that his chest burns before releasing it. This is it.

“There’s a pup in me,” Eddie mumbles, “and they’re growing and stuff. And…and we’re getting closer to meeting them. And this is—God, this is it.”

Steve’s right hand lands warmly on the center of Eddie’s back, running up and down in languid stripes. “Is it just now fully setting in?”

“Something like that,” he mutters. Sniffs. “Do you have the plate?”

Without saying anything, Steve shuffles the plate further towards the cake. And Eddie, finally, places the slice down.

Inside it’s—

Pink.

It’s conformist and stupid, that pink is girl and blue is boy and all that gendered sort of stuff, but call Eddie a hypocrite because he still associates all the intuition to the color. They’re having a pup and he’s already being stereotypical in all this, what’s a little more?

“You were right,” Eddie breathes, “alpha, we’re having a girl.”

“I told you”—Steve gasps, laughs, sobs all at once—“I told you I knew these sort of things!”

Stunned, Eddie repeats, “Alpha, we’re having a girl.” He blinks, looks down at the slice of cake in his hands, and shifts his focus back to Steve. “A little girl.”

“Yeah, Eds, a girl,” he coos. “Are you—You okay?”

Eddie blinks again, cheeks now wet with previously unnoticed tears. “Y-yeah, I’m super okay,” he says shakily, “I just can’t believe we’re finally here. And I’m doing it with you. And it’s—This is high school Eddie’s dream come true.”

“Really?”

“I always pictured you next to me,” Eddie says as an answer. “Even if it seemed so unrealistic back then. I just—I’d see you from afar. With your pretty smile and those warm eyes and you…you were always right there when somebody needed you; even if those people weren’t people that I liked. You were just—there. Ready.

“And all I could think, sitting at my own desk or table, was that, Wow, Steve Harrington would be the perfect mate. It was wishful thinking on my part. But I”—Eddie wrangles Steve’s right hand, holding it tight instead—“I’m so glad I was right. You are not only the most perfect mate, but you are also the most doting, most respectful, most thoughtful alpha in the world. And we’re gonna have a baby girl who’s probably gonna have your eyes. She’s gonna look around at our world, surrounded by our mingling scents, wondering how she ended up so lucky. With two loving parents.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Eyes darting over his face, teary and happy. Whispers, “In my dreams, you were always right there. And here you are. Right here. About to”—Eddie chuckles—“about to eat fucking cake with me. Isn’t that something?”

There are tears falling fast down Steve’s cheeks. He sniffles and groans, “Gah, Eds.” And pulls his hands back to rub over his warm, ruddy cheeks. “Why’re you makin’ me cry?”

“Because I need you to know how much I’m ready to do this with you,” Eddie says seriously, “no matter what.”

Steve hiccups a breath, wipes his face again, and sighs. “I know I’ve probably said it a million fucking times already, but—wow, I can’t believe this is happening. It’s so weird to think I was at one point jealous of you and now I”—he coughs around a half-formed sob—“now I can’t do anything but adore you.”

“I adore you, too,” Eddie murmurs. “Can we eat the cake now? Because, uh, as much as I love getting sappy with you, I really am craving something sweet.”

That earns him a snort. “Am I not sweet enough?” Steve asks, mirth in his eyes.

Already holding his fork, Eddie poises to take the first chunk out of the slice. “You’re plenty sweet, Stevie. I just happen to want some cake right now.”

“I’ve got cake that you can have”—

“Later,” Eddie moans around his cake. “Just let me eat right now.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “At least let me have some, too, omega.”

——— Third Trimester

He can’t sleep. It’s pissing him off.

Steve’s conked out, snoring like a chainsaw right next to him. Limbs tossed everywhere, drooling and sighing into his pillow. And Eddie’s stuck laying on his back feeling more and more like an abandoned turtle, belly itchy, and his legs restless. He’d do something about it—if it didn’t mean having to wake up his mate.

For now, Eddie stares at the ceiling, hands tangled in his own hair to try and alleviate the scratching he’s been doing, wondering how many more sheep he’ll have to count. So far he’s up to 489. There’s wool in his eyes—or at least they’re heavy and aching enough to feel like they’re full of wool.

“I just wanna sleep,” he quietly whines. Eddie attempts to toss over on his right side, but all that does is jostle the entire nest, still leaving him uncomfortable on his back. And that—

“Eds?” Steve sleepily grumbles, “what are you doin’?”

Eddie huffs. “I’m trying to sleep,” he snaps, “don’t worry about it.”

Despite his brushing off, Steve still rouses. He chases after Eddie, wrapping an arm around his middle. Hand sweeping. “Omega, tell me what’s wrong. Let me help you,” Steve rumbles.

“I”—he sighs, gives in—“I’m itchy and my legs are achy and I feel like I’m going stir crazy despite going to the grocery store today. All I wanna do is sleep, alpha. But I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Do you think a warm bath will help your ankles and feet?”

Eddie grunts. “It’ll just make me itch, though. These fuckin’ stretch marks are gonna be the death of me, swear to god.”

Steve runs a patient hand over Eddie’s belly again. “Then let’s put your feet in the bath. And I’ll sit on the ledge of the bathtub with you, rub lotion on your belly, take you on a little walk around the apartment.”

“Alpha, you had a long shift today. I don’t wanna interrupt your sleep, I’ll be”—

“Eds, I have the day off tomorrow. I’ll just make it up ‘cause I know you’re probably gonna spend a good portion of the day asleep anyway. Just let me take care of you the way I know how.”

He sighs. “I need help getting up,” Eddie says quietly, “it’s getting harder to turn over.”

Without saying anything, Steve pulls away and sits up. He pads around their mattress until he’s standing over Eddie, holding his hands out. One tug later, and Eddie’s sitting up. Groaning, but sitting up. “Does your back hurt, too, omega?”

“Little bit,” he mumbles, “this is gonna be so much worse when I actually hit the third trimester, isn’t it?”

Something soft and hurt flashes in Steve’s gaze. His face creases with concern and sympathy. “Maybe, but we’ll find a way to minimize it a little bit, okay? I’m gonna take care of you in any way I possibly can. Make sure you don’t hurt as bad.”

“It just gets tiring,” Eddie sighs. “I’m losing so much sleep.”

“How come you haven’t woken me up before, Eds? Y’know I’m always willing to try and soothe you.”

He shrugs helplessly. “It just felt like…like I’d be asking too much,” Eddie murmurs, “like I’d be taking advantage of your selflessness or something. I dunno.”

Steve crouches down in front of Eddie, the two of them still holding hands. “You are not taking advantage of me, omega. You’re carrying our precious little pup. Things are changing, both socially in our life, but especially physically for you. If something is bothering you, no matter how little it is, I want to know. It’s in my best interest to try and help you.”

Eddie’s eyes burn, his throat pinches, the space between his eyebrows is clogged. His next breath is shuttering and wet. “Okay,” he squeaks. “Sorry, I don’t know why—I’m so emotion—Think it’s my stupid hormones.”

Gently, Steve’s hands drag up Eddie’s arms, running back down with feather light fingers. “You don’t have to apologize, baby,” he murmurs, “things are complicated and you’re tired and it’s probably overwhelming. I understand.”

He hiccups, rubbing at his eyes harshly—until Steve pulls them back down with a tut, instead wiping Eddie’s cheeks himself. “Do we have th-the lavender bath salts?” His scent must be atrocious, rotten and spoiled again, as Steve pumps out pheromones—campfire and early morning dew grass—to soothe. “I just wanna feel a little normal again.”

With careful hands, Steve stands Eddie from their nest.

Eddie wobbles, leans further into Steve, and squeezes painfully tight at his hands. “My legs hurt,” he mutters.

Steve caresses Eddie’s back. “I know,” he whispers, “I know, sweetheart. We’re gonna make it better, but just give yourself time to recalibrate.”

“She won’t stop moving,” Eddie whines, “I want her to take a nap.”

“Oh, sugar,” Steve coos. “I know you do, I’m sorry she won’t calm down.” He pries them apart, only by a couple inches. “Let’s get you to the bathtub, okay? Do you, um, do you wanna use that shower chair from when you were recovering after Vecna? That way, I could fill it up enough to soak your feet and ankles, and then you’ll have some back support, too.”

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters. “Yeah, that would be nice. Can I lean on you as we walk?”

Instinctively, Steve bends to allow Eddie’s weight against him. Slowly, they move one step at a time. Shuffling over the carpet, Steve’s hands still sweeping down Eddie’s back, kisses being pressed to his forehead.

He’s left alone for a moment, sitting on the closed toilet lid.

They had passed by the alarm clock—3am—and he cringes at the thought of the time. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would be asleep already. Cuddled close into Steve’s side, snoring through his mouth, hair trapped at the corners of his lips. He’d be deep in it, nightmares having long gone, and his comfort surrounding him everywhere.

Now, he’s lucky if he manages a couple hours at night. Most of his time during the day is spent making up for lost sleep. And it sucks. He has things to do. A crib to build, newborn socks to fold, pup blankets to scent. Eddie should be reading up on baby names and their meanings. Getting their apartment safe and pup-proofed; outlets covered, corners on tables turned dull, sharp objects and chemicals hidden away. But all he does is sleep or eat or itch and ache or crave Steve when he isn’t there.

For the time being, he strips himself out of his pajamas. Too big sweatpants and a plain t-shirt that he picked up from the big & tall section of their local thrift store. Maternity clothes were ugly, some too expensive. This was the compromise.

It’s weird, sometimes, to realize the changes he’s fully going through. All these annoying symptoms aside. To see the roundness of his midsection, the zigzag stretch marks crawling their way up his hips and lower belly, the barely there curve of his chest—where, yes, he’s begun to leak as embarrassing as it makes him feel—and then the extra bit of pup weight disbursed across his limbs and such. His body is forming its own nest, cushioning and comforting their little girl. Giving her the space to keep growing and to be healthy. And all he has to do is take care of himself. That starts with the bath.

Steve comes back with the folded up shower chair, setting it up inside the bathtub. Squeaking legs and the back unfolding. He plugs up the tub, sets the water to warm, and begins to fill it up with bubbles and bath salts. Lavender and eucalyptus fill the room. He looks over his shoulder, holding his hand out towards Eddie.

“You ready to get in, baby?” Steve softly asks.

Silently, Eddie takes Steve’s hands, lets himself be pulled from the toilet, and maneuvered into his shower chair. Immediately, the warm water laps around his feet and ankles. Almost instantaneously, the effects of the bath salt take its place—his legs feel new. He groans. “That’s good,” Eddie murmurs, “this is so good.”

Steve smirks at him. “I bet,” he says, “it’s gonna be even better when I moisturize your belly, omega. You’ll be more comfortable in just a moment.” He stands from where he’d been crouching at the lip of the tub, slips out of his own pajama bottoms and t-shirt, and brings forth a bottle of shea butter lotion. Steve settles himself on the lip of the tub, squirts a dollop of lotion into his palms, begins to rub his hands together like a greedy bug, and scoots himself closer to Eddie’s side. “This stuff works like magic,” he swears, “helped me so much when my scars would get tight a few summers ago.”

“Well, rub your magic off on me, magic man,” Eddie purrs.

It’s cold as soon as Steve reaches over and places his hands along Eddie’s lower belly. He hisses like a cat caught in the rain. “New nickname for me in bed, huh? Magic Man?”

“I think that’d be the actual worst name I could call you,” Eddie says, “like, probably within the top three. I’d rather eat a jar of mayonnaise than say that to you.”

“Ooo, harsh,” Steve hisses. “But, fine, I’ll take it. Is the lotion helping at all? Feel okay?”

“Slimy,” he responds, “but it smells delicious. And also, yeah, it’s kinda working.” Eddie follows the trails that Steve’s nimble fingers make, smiling pleased to himself. “I should have you do this for me everyday. Right before I go to bed.”

“If you ask, omega, I’ll do it whenever you want. Could even use a little bit of skin oil, too. That might help with any sort of skin stretching.”

“Can it be a tree tea oil? I really like the smell of that one. Or…maybe even an orange? Make me smell like a big basket of sunshine.”

Steve chuckles, low and raspy. He moves his hands up, thumbs circling around Eddie’s navel. “You already smell like sunshine—happy.”

“But imagine the citrus, Stevie! With a little bit of honey and some chocolate and…hm. Think I might be hungry.”

“Y’think?”

Eddie scoffs, shoves lightly at Steve’s shoulder, and rolls his eyes. “The doctor told me I needed extra calories anyway. So who cares if I’m hungry right now? Maybe we could go on a little drive to the gas station? Pick up a chocolate bar or two?”

Steve sits back up. Pumps another small circle of lotion in his hands and begins rubbing at Eddie’s sides and hips. “As long as you don’t mind me buying and eating some mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“Why would I care”—

“Last time I ate some, you kissed me and proceeded to tell me that I smelt like toothpaste. And you were all grossed out at the scent.” Steve snorts. “Though, that could’a just been because of your pregnancy nose.”

He paws at the tip of his nose, furrows his eyebrows, pouts. “Hey, what’s wrong with my nose?”

“Nothing, omega,” Steve assures. “You just…your sense of smell has, like, heightened significantly or something. Every little smell gets a different reaction from you. My cologne makes you gag, the milk makes you queasy, and now mint ice cream is grody to you.” He shrugs. “It’s like when I get a migraine and every smell is awful to me. No big deal.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, soaking. “Weird to think that some of the smallest things about me are changing from all this, isn’t it?”

“Kinda sorta,” Steve answers. “One one hand, yeah, it’s a little odd when you start to not like things you used to love. But also…I don’t know, carrying a whole new life is sure to change something. Even if you were physically the same, mentally you probably wouldn’t be. You’re…you’re a little more stand-offish than you were before.”

Eddie frowns. “I’m being stand-offish towards you? Am I being mean?” The mere thought of him accidentally hurting Steve’s feelings is enough to get him teary-eyed again. His lip wobbles precariously. He tries to hide it behind his hand. No use.

Steve sees him. “Oh,” he coos, “omega, baby, no.” He sits back, arms outstretched, hands on either of Eddie’s knees. “It’s just—sometimes you don’t want to be touched. And sometimes, you get your words all jumbled up and they come out a little harsher. It’s okay.”

“But harsher means meaner, Steve. I’m not being nice if I’m being harsh.”

“Eddie, I just said it’s alright. Seriously, baby. I’m not offended when you snap at me occasionally. And I mean that—when you get irritated, it’s very occasional.” His thumbs begin to rub little airy circles into Eddie’s knees. “I still feel very loved and respected and appreciated by you. I also am just considering the fact that your entire body is changing—and, yeah, sometimes that means you’re gonna be a little upset when I ask what you’re doing when you try to get comfortable, or when you get upset over some pants not fitting, or your skin being itchy, or…and the list can go on. The same way that I get all huffy when the light’s in my eyes during a migraine episode, or you’re being too loud, or the smells are too much. It’s just how our body is reacting to sudden intrusions—mine in the form of a stupid headache, yours in the form of a full on pup. It’s all no harm, no foul. Promise.”

Softly and with care, Eddie places his hands over the backs of Steve’s. “You’ll let me know if I say something that actually gets under your skin, right? When something cuts too deep?”

Steve gives a little nod. “After I’ve cooled off or let myself cry, yes, of course. As long as we talk to each other, we’re gonna be okay. That’s what we’re doing right now, Eds.” He stares a moment longer, gazing deep into Eddie’s eyes. “Do you want me to massage your legs? The pressure might help with the restlessness. Unless, y’know, you still want to go out and get chocolate bars.”

Blinking sleepily, Eddie shrugs. “I think I can hold off on the chocolate until tomorrow,” he mumbles, “all this emotional talk and the warm water is finally making me tired. Can I have a massage in bed?”

“Yes, of course, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, “let’s get you back in your comfy clothes.”

A few minutes later, and they’re back to laying in the nest.

Eddie’s surrounded by pillows upon pillows—some of them taken from their couch. There’s blankets tucked at his hips, just to keep him cushioned. And Steve’s sitting criss-cross between Eddie’s spread legs. He picks up the right leg first, sets Eddie’s ankle and foot into his lap, and begins an easy massage into his calf.

“Is this too hard? Too soft?” Steve questions softly.

“It’s good pressure,” Eddie mutters, “you could probably go a little deeper, if you want.”

Cautiously, Steve presses deeper. Enough to turn the tip of his fingers white with pressure. Hushed, “Good?” Eddie merely nods, takes a deep breath, and relaxes into their nest. For a long moment, Steve goes silent with his focus, but then he looks back to Eddie’s face. “Y’ever hear about the Omega Glow?” he asks.

��Spotted it once or twice on the front of health magazines at the grocery checkout,” Eddie answers. “Why?”

“I think you’re glowing, omega,” Steve compliments sweetly, with a purr. He drifts his hands, scratching as he goes, and now massaging at the ball of Eddie’s ankle. “I know you’re losing sleep—which sucks—but somehow, you’ve managed to still look healthy and radiant. Just absolutely beautiful.”

Eddie smiles small at Steve, eyes half-lidded in relaxation and gazing on. “You’re buttering me up, alpha,” he mumbles, “I only look good because you’re already in love with me. Also because you constantly dote over me, baby.”

“Okay, yeah, you look good to me all the time. But I’m telling the truth, swear. You’re gorgeous, Eds. Y’always are.” Steve directs his attention to his hands again, shifting over to Eddie’s right leg now. The pressure stays the same, fingers deft and working.

“She’s due in June,” Eddie says suddenly, idly. “Our little June bug.”

“You have names in mind yet?”

He shakes his head softly. “Well…sorta, kinda. At first, I thought about naming her after my mom. Ruby.” Eddie blinks, stares up at the ceiling, and sighs forlornly. “Then it made me sad. I can’t imagine looking at my pup with…with sadness all the time. And so I thought, y’know, name’s out of the question for sure. I wanted to name her after somebody. So I kept…kept thinking and thinking.

“Robin came to mind. Name our little girl Robin. I liked that. I did. But then I kinda realized that…maybe our kiddo doesn’t want to carry the weight of somebody else’s name. I, uh, I certainly don’t. But I do anyway—named after my grandpa. And that sucks because he was not a good person at all.” Eddie hangs his head, looking back at Steve. “I know Robin’s a good person, but she’s not immortal. She’ll pass on someday and our daughter will have to carry the heaviness of that grief in just her name, let alone when she gets to sit down and know her aunt. So”—he shakes his head—“I’ve got nothing. Why, do you have something in mind, alpha?”

There’s a pregnant pause where Steve says nothing. He goes shy. A flush on his cheeks, eyes down at his moving hands, and then he hums. “I was thinking Juniper,” he whispers, “it’s really…um…pretty to me.” He stills his movements. Still looking down. Quietly, “I’ve always known that if I were to ever have a pup, that Juniper was going to be my first suggestion. It’s something I’ve thought about since I first learned about the concept of designations and pups and pregnancy and stuff.”

Eddie watches Steve for a long moment. Pets at the crest of his belly in thought. He wriggles to get the attention on him, opening his arms when Steve finally looks, and beckons him closer. With Steve closer, in Eddie’s arms, he smiles. “I love the image of middle school Steve Harrington making lists of potential pup names,” he murmurs, “you’ve had this whole dream of yours figured out for a while, huh?”

Bashfully, Steve hangs his head and blushes deeper. Shrugs. “I know that it’s kind of an odd thing for a kid to think about, I guess. But…I dunno. A big, loving family always seemed like wishful thinking,” he explains, “but to dream about it was fun. To get lost in it. Future Christmases warm and full, everybody attentive, taking care of each other. A pack with all kinds of scents, mingling right under my nose, keeping me warm and satiated. The thought of having a pup of my own—somebody that is the physical manifestation of my love and passion for my mate. It just seems right for me.” Steve places his hands on either side of Eddie’s belly, gently patting along his skin, stopping when a kick rolls against his palms. There’s a tiny smile on his face, private and warm. “Juniper came to mind all the time. I’d dream about her. About a pup in my arms, looking up at me, cooing softly. And then I’d”—Steve’s smile drops for a second—“I’d wake up and she’d be gone. I’d feel like I was ripped open. Flayed. Something taken from me too early.”

Silently, Eddie cups his hands on Steve’s elbows. Thumbs tucking against his skin, running up and down in what he hopes is an obvious sign of comfort.

Steve continues, smile reappeared, “And now I’m here. Never thought I’d get here with somebody I actually cherish with all I’ve got. Especially somebody who returns that love? It…it blossoms me, I guess. There’s, like, flowers in my chest. I dunno.” He leans down, pecks the skin above Eddie’s belly button, and pauses. Breath stuttering. Eyes shiny and brimming. Watery, “I have my whole dream right in front of me. And I never want to look back.”

Now, Eddie places his hands overtop Steve’s. “I don’t want to either,” he whispers, “I want you here with me for the rest of our lives. Raising pups. Supporting each other’s careers. Sounds like a good life to me.”

“Sounds really good,” Steve agrees.

“Alpha,” Eddie breathes.

“Hm?”

“Can you help me onto my side? I wanna lay down with you now.”

With a few grunts and tight hand squeezes, Steve gets Eddie over on his left, pillows tucked around him, and lays down, too—facing each other. He strokes a single finger down the slope of Eddie’s nose. Watches his eyes flutter. “I love you, Eds,” Steve murmurs.

“I love you, too,” Eddie whispers.

Sleep comes easier after that.

——— Steve introduces headphones for the pup.

“She’s gonna have the most sensitive ears in the world,” Eddie says, “why the hell do we need to get her headphones right now? The sound of her own farts might set her off in a little hissy fit.”

His mate does his signature disappointed mom pose. Hands on his hips. Scowl soft on his face. Bitchy. “They’re not for when she’s born, Eddie. It’s for her to listen to music now.” He comes close to the nest, where Eddie’s laid back, relaxing, reading a book. “All I have to do is”—Steve stretches the headphones widely—“open ‘em up as wide as your belly is”—

“You make it seem like I swallowed a whole watermelon,” Eddie points out dryly.

Steve huffs. “I open them up,” he repeats—so bitchy. “And place them over your belly.” He leans down, stuffing them over either side of Eddie’s bare belly; it’s been hanging out for the better half of the day, what with the incoming late spring heat and all. “Lastly, what I’ll do is plug them into our radio and then little bug can listen to music.”

Eddie levels Steve with a curious eyebrow. “Is this your master plan to get our little girl obsessed with Toto before I have a say in anything?”

Casually, yet completely suspicious, Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Oh, it so totally is!” Eddie crows, jutting his finger at Steve. “You’re trying to corrupt our pup’s taste in music before I even have a chance!”

“You’re just gonna play Metallica all the time! She needs a little flavor in her life, omega!”

He scoffs. “Metallica saved our asses, you know that? You say that like Metallica is gonna be bad for her.”

“I’m not,” Steve squawks. “I’m just—I—Okay, maybe I just reallywanna have somebody in our family that at least shares some music tastes with me.” He pouts, big Beaker frown on his face, arms crossed tight over his chest. “So many of the pups in our pack back home share your taste in music. I just wanna have something in common with our actual biological pup, y’know? Like…like maybe by chance she’ll wanna bop her head to a little bit of Madonna or…or Belinda Carlisle or Bonnie Tyler or something in the car, y’know?”

Eddie softens his expression. He can feel the corners of his mouth sour, going downturned. His scent flaring as sweet as it can go in the face of the deeply charred edges of Steve’s own.

Metallica and Iron Maiden and Judas Priest are definitely some of the bands he wants to introduce their pup to. Eddie’s not going to beat around the bush when it comes to that. He has every intention in the world when it comes to playing metal for their girl. What he really doesn’t like is to see his alpha so upset and defensive over his own tastes—all as if they don’t matter, even years into their bond.

In the sticky silence that follows Steve’s long winded explanation, Eddie finds the space to toss his hair up out of the way, sit himself in a way that gives Steve access to between his legs, and so his line of sight is able to make out the arch of the headphones. He sighs. “Stevie,” he murmurs, “baby, what do you wanna play for her?”

Steve sniffles. “Um…not anything you’re gonna”—

“I like your taste in music, alpha. It’s just…yeah, sometimes I like riling you up,” Eddie admits softly. “You get all bitchy and huffy with me and it’s kinda…it’s really hot, okay? I promise I’m not trying to intentionally be dismissive to hurt your feelings. Am I doing it as sort of an inside joke? Yes, I can be man enough to admit. But it’s not funny anymore, I can see that now.” He pets his hands down the sides of his belly, gesturing vaguely at the headphones. “Tell me what you wanna play. I wanna know.”

“I, uh, I wanna play The Muppet Movie soundtrack,” Steve mumbles, “figured it’d be appropriate and sweet.” He shrugs after he says it—all nonchalant, yet shy. Completely unbothered, but still affected in his muted Steve ways.

Eddie blinks, stunned for a moment. “Oh,” he breathes. “Wow…um…I wasn’t expecting that. Stevie, of course I wanna—You have the cassette ready?”

Steve simply nods his head. “It’s already in the radio,” he mutters, “all I gotta do is plug in the headphones.”

“Well, bring it over.”

Moments later, their new portable radio is sitting precariously in the nest. Headphones plugged in. Cassette whirring away. Steve forwards the tape, tongue peeking from his between his lips to find the estimated start of the song he wants.

Eddie goes to ask, “What’s first”—

Before he can get an answer, Steve is laying prone on their bed, forehead resting against the middle of Eddie’s belly. Under his breath, he begins to croon the first lyrics of “Rainbow Connection”. His voice is soft, yet ragged with inexperience around the edges. It’s warm and inviting. He presses kisses in the breaks where Eddie suspects the banjo to be playing. And then, out of nowhere—

PBBBTTT—Steve blows a solid, loud raspberry against Eddie’s skin.

Eddie laughs, full bodily, kicks his leg out against Steve’s hip and attempts to swat at him. “Don’t”—he pants—“don’t do that, you dick!”

Steve looks up from under his heavy, dark eyelashes. Mirth. Solid, unmissable, absolutely unmistakeable mirth shines bright from within him. And he does it—again. PPPBBBTT! 

He jerks against the nest, caught in their crumpled blanket, head thrown back on the pillows. Futilely, Eddie attempts to wriggle away, but Steve traps him down with his giant damn hands. “Stop!” Eddie cackles out, ticklish and breathless. “Y’know that I—I can’t take tickles like”—Steve kisses right above Eddie’s belly button before blowing another raspberry—“oh my god! Steve, alpha, you can’t, I’m gonna”—and there it is. A few droplets of pee from his tired, pressed on bladder. Just the thing he was trying to avoid.

However, before he can sit up and shove Steve’s big head away, Steve completely draws back. His fingertips pressed tight to his lips. Chuckling under his breath. “Ow, oh my god,” Steve laughs out. “She totally just”—

“Oh, did she karate kick you?” Eddie smirks. “Maybe she’s ticklish, too, sweetheart.”

“Little bug totally just let one loose on me, that turd. And I was playing her the sweet, sweet voice of Kermit the Frog.”

Eddie laughs breathily from his nostrils. “Didn’t you say that what’s her face from high school sounded like Kermit?”

“You mean Tammy Thompson? Robin’s first big lesbian high school crush? Yeah, she totally sounds like a strangled Muppet, swear on my life.” Steve sits up on his haunches, gently removes the headphones from Eddie’s belly, and chuckles again. “Looks like she doesn’t like when a Muppet sings at her.”

He snorts. “Actually, I think she doesn’t like it when her dad blows big, loud fart kisses all over her. And makes her papa piss his pants.”

“Wait—You…”

“Peed a little in my pants? Yes, Steve, I did. I’m like a leaky faucet down there, babe.”

Steve scrunches his nose. “Why did you have to phrase it like”—

“Can you help me up so I can change my underwear? I also still have pee I need to get out of me. And you trying to make me laugh isn’t helping.”

There’s a small pout on Steve’s face. Mock offended. “Didn’t know your bladder hated my kisses that much.”

“It does when you make your omega writhe like a stupid worm in our nest,” Eddie huffs. “Now helpme up, Steve.”

Steve pulls him up with a not so subtle, “Bossy, bossy,” under his breath. Eddie can only roll his eyes and flip him the bird.

——— “When the pup is ready, you’re gonna have to help me down the steps outside,” Eddie says one day in late April. They’re about six weeks out from the due date. June is just around the corner. Things are getting more serious.

It’s all nerve wrecking.

“I’ll make sure the go-bag stays in the car,” Steve responds tiredly, “make sure my arms are completely empty to help you, promise.”

Oh, yeah, and he’s been rambling on and on and on as things really start to take flight. It’s like Robin, somehow, has infested his very thinking. Any little concern he can have, Eddie voices.

“And towels for the passenger seat.” He’s sitting atop a yoga ball—something Robin dropped by last week. It’s a pain in the ass, but he figures he should at least try it. No matter how dumb it makes him feel. There’s a jar of peanut butter in his hand, he scoops another glob and passes it between his lips. Muffled, “Don’t wanna get gunk all over the BMW. Make it lose its value. That would suck.”

Steve’s across from them in their living room, crouched down on their floor, folding stacks upon stacks of little onesies. He grimaces. “Yeah, that would suck majorly, Eddie.”

“Maybe I should just wear a nightgown or something. One of those muumuu things that Mrs. Henderson has. Make sure that my water breaks and just”—he mimics the sound of water releasing; a loud swoosh—“all over the floor. Then, I’ll just have to change my underwear and maybe…I dunno…I won’t get juice and shit everywhere.”

“Eddie, dude, you have to know how disgusting that sounds right now, yeah?”

He raises his eyebrows. Delivers a flat look. “You say that as if it won’t happen,” Eddie muffles around another heavy bite of peanut butter, “but it’s gonna be far, far worse. I’m talking mucus plug and placenta and”—

“Eds, please I just finished eating my”—

“I might shit when I’m pushing,” Eddie mock-whispers, “just full on dookie when I’m having our pup.” He giggles when Steve gags. Rocks himself on his yoga ball in self-satisfaction. “Not to mention diapers are gonna be needing changed. You’re gonna have to learn the first time. I’ll watch you, too tired from delivering in my hospital bed. Pup might have green poop. May just piss all over you or”—

“Eddie!” Steve finally snaps. “Please, baby, I get it. I don’t need anymore images right now. It’s making me nauseous.”

“You get used to it,” Eddie says. “At least you aren’t crazy constipated like I am. And your chest isn’t all sore and tender. And you aren’t having to bounce on a stupid fucking yoga ball,” he grumbles.

Steve sighs through his nose. “You’re right,” he concedes. “Just thinking about your water breaking is making me anxious, I’m sorry. I know it won’t be for a little while longer, y’know, but I’m just…shit, it’s getting real.”

“It’s been real, Stevie. But it’s okay to be anxious, I get it. The idea that I’m gonna be pushing a whole pup out of my vagina in a few weeks is insane. The fact that I’ve been developing a pup for roughly nine months is even crazier. She’s got strong bones and knows how to make faces and moves around a bunch. And then she’s gonna be here, screaming and crying and covered in her own mucus, and that’s…that’s real.”

“She’ll probably look like a little fruit or something, too. My mom used to tell me I looked like a dried apricot when I was born.”

Eddie scoffs. “Like you could ever look bad.”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno, I was ugly enough for my mom to turn to her nurse and just”—he mimics a dry heave; BLEGH—“puke just everywhere. All over the nurse, on the railing of the hospital bed, on the”—

“Alright, alright!” Eddie nags. “I get it, she puked. Jesus.”

“Taste of your own medicine.”

He heightens his voice, makes it squeaky in the back of his throat. “Taste of your own medicine,” Eddie mocks. He drops his voice again. “Your mom probably thought you were a beautiful pup. She was just exhausted and probably a little dehydrated and at the sight of you—pure relief flooded her system and it came out the only way her body knew how.”

Steve snorts. “It’s funnier if it was because I was ugly, though.” He plops down another stack of onesies, stretches his legs out and deliberately, slowly, begins folding again. There’s a contemplative, long moment of silence. A playful smirk dances over Steve’s face. Lightly, he says, “Y’think our pup is gonna come out and we’ll see her and just think, jeez she looks like a wrinkly little tomato. Because she probably will, you have to prepare yourself for that.”

His spoon scrapes along the sides of his peanut butter jar. Every last morsel on his spoon. “Then she comes out wrinkly,” Eddie says, “and red and wet and gross. Whatever. I’ll just be more relieved that I don’t have to push anymore and also that she’s there. Wrapped up in one of our scented baby blankets. Which”—he stops to swallow down another glob from his utensil, muffled talking once more—“speaking of which, alpha, we need to make sure all of the baby blankets are scented. And that her bassinet is tidy and sturdy. Oh, and that the car seat is properly secured in the backseat.”

“Omega, I promise, we are going to get all of that done. You don’t have to fret.”

Eddie sighs. “I know,” he whines. “But I just—what if it’s go time and my water is broken and I’m in a bunch of pain, but we’re still scrambling around the apartment to make sure all the shit is in place? And, like, we get there to the hospital and she arrives, but then we don’t have an extra change of clothes? Her diapers aren’t scented and fresh? And…and her car seat is wobbly and we get into an accident and”—

Steve’s scent blooms throughout the room. Rosemary, campfire wood, and dew grass. “Omega,” he rumbles, “I can tell you, right now, that we will have everything ready, okay?”

“But how can we”—

“We’ll make a checklist, Eds. Sit down together over lunch one day, write down every last thing we need. Onesies, socks, blankets, sweatpants for you, migraine medication for me—so on and so forth. Every last thing will be taken care of.” Steve rises onto his knees, awkwardly scooting across the carpet to stop at Eddie’s legs. He sets his hands on Eddie’s knees and looks up at him. “If anything goes wrong,” he murmurs, “we will find a way to take care of it and make it right again. Something’s missing? I’ll call Robin from the hospital, have her bring us what we need. If we don’t have the car seat in the right way? Then, I’ll find somebody who knows more than us—first time parents, by the way—who will know how to install it correctly. All this worrying is gonna make you sick, Eds. We’re gonna be okay.”

Despite the peanut butter surely sitting stubborn at the corners of Eddie’s lips, Steve still sits up a little straighter and brings their lips together in a slow, soft kiss. When he pulls back, Steve cups Eddie’s cheeks in his hands, and pumps more calming scent into the air. There’s a lot of melting passion in Steve’s eyes—Eddie can’t help but feel comforted by it.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Eddie echoes, even as his voice threatens to shake. He bumps his forehead against Steve’s, their noses squish from the impact. Attempts to sigh completely into the comfort. It’s not all the way, but just enough. Softly, “Do you wanna help me with my exercises?”

Steve takes the peanut butter jar from Eddie when he passes it off, setting it behind himself onto the coffee table. Then, his hands sit midair—clueless and confused. “Show me how to do it?”

Eddie takes Steve’s hands and places them on his hips. “Make sure you’re holding on firmly, but not so tight that it hurts me”—Steve tests the pressure and Eddie makes sure to nod at it—“there you go, that’s good. Now, what I’m gonna do is rock side to side; I just need you to keep me steady, sway me a little bit. I’m gonna put my hands on your shoulders”—and he does, beginning to shift his hips, pushing himself on the balls of his feet—“if you get uncomfortable on your knees, we can stop.”

“I’ll just get a throw pillow once I get to that point,” Steve says, “I’ve got you, okay? You keep moving and I’ll follow after you. Keep it easy and light.”

Slowly, gently, Eddie continues to ease into his exercise. Steve, as he said, keeps track. Their stares locked and soft, hands firm on his hips, and the steady rhythm of their bodies swaying together.

He takes a deep breath and releases it; Steve follows suit. “We should practice all those breathing exercises at some point. So I’m ready when I deliver,” Eddie murmurs between them.

“We will,” Steve assures firmly. “Wanna make sure you remain as calm as possible. No panicked breaths or fits.”

“I was reading up on the breathing,” he says, “and it seems so silly. Just”—Eddie does his best to mimic it—“hee-hee hoo.” Unable to help himself, his face splits into two with the force of his grin. It’s hard to contain it, though, when Steve only mirrors it. Especially so when they fall into breathless little giggles. When he gains his composure, he smirks. Lighthearted and at ease. He continues, “Y’see it all the time in movies and TV shows. Makes me wonder if any of it is real or if these book authors are just trying to make a quick buck off of unsure first time parents. I bet so many expecting omegas get to the delivery room and just forget everything they read up on.”

“Well, you were a theater kid, Eds. If you manage to forget what you read, I’ll be shocked,” Steve lightly teases.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs. “You forget that I barely passed English class. That was mainly because I couldn’t present a book report to save my life. What I’m saying, though, is that you should be prepared for me to possibly start screaming. Maybe even break your hand.”

Steve pulls back a hair. Eyes cowed, eyebrows raised into his hairline, pure picture of disbelief. Sternly, yet playfully, “You better not break my hand. We’re already gonna have to fight for the cost of this delivery to be covered.”

“No promises, Stevie. Things could ramp up within a blink of an eye. No matter how prepared I am.”

A kiss is pressed to Eddie’s lips; he watches Steve lick his own. Hum—savoring the faint taste of peanut butter. Murmurs, “Then we better make sure we’re prepared, huh?”

“Damn right, alpha. And you better be prepared for me to possibly puke on the nurse.”

“Duly noted, Eds. Du-ly noted.”

——— It’s either his insides messing with him or the real deal.

At this point in the pregnancy, Eddie’s not sure which one he prefers. On one hand, the thought of delivering a baby in the middle of the night is downright stomach swooping. On the other, however, he’s not sure how much more he can take.

He’s waddling, he’s achy and swollen, it’s harder to lug himself around, his sleep schedule is shot to shit, and the pissing every twenty minutes is wearing him very, very thin.

Forty weeks has been unkind to him.

Safe to say, he’s over it.

Steve’s over it, too—given how cranky Eddie’s been. They’ve picked at each other, arguments here and there, harsh words tossed with little care as to where they land. He’s trying to bite his tongue, but the exhaustion is ramping, as well as the stress of nesting and—

That’s another thing he’s been doing—nesting.

He flutters from room to room. Scenting pillows and blankets, vacuuming and mopping and vacuuming again, covering outlets and taping up table corners, washing every single pup bottle over and over and over again, pumping milk and labeling it and freezing it, rechecking every expiration date on food in their pantry, and then back to square one—scenting. Eddie’s probably tidied the bathrooms at least twenty times within the last two weeks, despite both rooms not needing it anymore. He has interrupted sports games on the television because he needs to spot clean the carpet. And any time he’s up on his feet, Steve snaps at him to relax.

“Eddie, you’re feet and ankles are swollen, you need to sit down and take a break.”

“It’s not clean enough in here, alpha! Let me do this”—

“I’ll do it, Eds! Oh my goodness. You are driving me up a wall.”

Steve apologizes every single time. He does. He’s been sweet on Eddie every single day, getting him what he needs, doing what must be done, checking up on their to-go list every time Eddie so much as suggests it. Eddie’s well taken care of. Of course, he returns the affection and sincerities back.

It’s easy to take all the niceness and sweetness for granted within these last two weeks. Just from the mere struggle of having to keep going. He’s come so very close to asking the doctors to just manually dilate him, send him on his way, let him have his pup now. But—well, there was no immediate need to do so. He just has to carry her to full term. Apparently, full term means full term—forty weeks or more.

He’s over it.

Today, Steve’s sticking close. Anxious and fretting. His instincts are bouncing off the wall.

Eddie’s making them hold hands. Squeezing with the pain. The contractions are every ten minutes right now—frequent enough they’ve started counting. After thirty seconds, Eddie relaxes, breathing out deeply.

“It’s not fake,” Steve murmurs, rubbing into the back of Eddie’s hand. “Baby, these are too familiar to each other for it to be anything but real.”

“I—I don’t want it to be real,” he grits.

Steve scoots closer, wrapping an arm over Eddie’s shoulders. “I know, honey,” he whispers, “I know that it’s anxiety inducing. You’re gonna be okay, though, I know it. Gonna be right next to you as long as I possibly can.”

Eddie, gritting his teeth, merely nods his head. He closes his eyes at the pressure building inside him, gearing for another contraction. Because—yeah, shit—it’s real. But all that passes over him is a sudden, terrible urge to piss. His eyes fly open and he tugs at Steve’s hand. “Help—Help me up, I need to piss, like, right now.”

Doing as he’s told, Steve quickly tugs them up from the couch, steadying his hands on Eddie’s hips and—

A gush. There’s warmth spreading. Something spilling down the insides of his thighs.

He had meant to be wearing something loose and easy and manageable, but…time was spiraling and it just seemed unnecessary. So, here he is, staring down at the crotch of his favorite sweatpants. Stunned and nervous.

“Alpha?” he calls out, shaky and shocked. “Is…is that what—Did I just”—

“Okay,” Steve mutters—his own voice is tight and wracked with nerves—“omega, don’t freak out, but”—

“Don’t freak out?!” Eddie snaps. “I’m having a fucking pup right now and you’re telling me not to freak out?! My fuckin’ cervix is literally spreading itself wider to deliver a baby with your big ass had and you want me to not”—

“Alright, Eds, I get it. I’m sorry.” Steve gently maneuvers them around the coffee table, leading them to the opening of their living room. “Let me get you a new pair of sweats, okay? The towels are in the footwell of the passenger seat, go bag is in the trunk, and the carseat is secured. I’ll be right back, omega.”

Eddie breathes—in and out and in and out and—“Please don’t leave me,” he whimpers, “I c-can’t—I don’t know”—

Steve pets his hands down Eddie’s tense arms. “Shhh,” he murmurs, “you’re okay, Eds. I just need to make sure we get you into some clean pants. I don’t want you to accidentally chafe your skin because the crotch of your sweatpants is wet, okay? I will be right back.”

Before he can protest any further, Steve is dashing down the hallway. The clunks from the stuck dresser drawers echo throughout the apartment.

He takes a quick glance around the space near him. Grimacing at the wet stain on the carpet by the couch. They’ll have to do some serious spot remover treatment there, but it should be fixable. Should be.

It hits him like a punch to the gut, standing in his own mess, his aches waxing, that this is it. He’s going to step out the front door with Steve by his side. They’ll go down the stairs one careful, measured step at a time. Drive to the hospital.

And Eddie will deliver their pup.

A whole being. From inside to outside. With a mash of their features.

No more evenings of quiet, soaking silence—sitting side by side with no worries outside of the very moment they exist in. Gone will be the days of complete restfulness and early breakfasts that are all their own. He’ll have to start watching his language, maybe even invest in a swear jar. He’s going to have to re-familiarize himself with sex education materials with designation notes and presentation diagrams from middle and high school; learn how to answer all those curious questions that will surely pop up down the road. There will be days full of play, nights full of snotty tears, and sick in-betweens where everybody’s miserable; just cranky and awful.

There won’t be just the two of them in the nest. A space always kept for their pup—and down the road, pups—to crawl between them and snuggle. At some point, a high chair at one end of the table, a training toilet sitting alongside theirs, rubber ducks balancing dangerously on the lip of the tub, dirty laundry and filthy diapers up to their knees, warm bottles of milk to spoonfuls of mashed sweet potatoes to Cheerios and berries to Thanksgiving turkey with sparkling cider, all the milestones tossed together.

He’ll cry at the first day of school, the graduation, the growing up and moving on.

There will be father-daughter dances; the two of them swapping to dance with their bug. Prom photos. Cliche high school drama. Gossip galore. Homework fights and bitter arguments and groundings. Hugs and kisses and cuddles; walks and runs and monkey bar climbing; comfort and grief and love.

Tonight, there will be one more addition. Though, truly, there’s been another addition for months. Now, she will come home. Breathe in their scents. Giggle at their voices. Cry for their touch. Coo at the warmth.

Eddie will perform lullabies as if they’re number one charters. Steve will read books as if they’re sonnets. And she’ll absorb it all with her big doe eyes; because she’ll have them, as long as they both do. She’ll blink in awe and blink with sleep and blink just to blink. She’ll breathe and laugh and gurgle. She’ll puke and poop and piss. She’ll rock and crawl and toddle and walk and run—run for miles and miles, bike around the neighborhood bragging about her training wheels being off, skate over a bump and fall down and scrape her knee, come inside to the warmth of their arms to get the bad feelings swept away.

He’ll be there with a bandage. The antibiotic ointment. His lips for a kiss. A hand for the help.

He’ll just be there.

Ready. Always.

That terrifies him. Shakes him. Thrills him.

To have been a loner, then a friend, a lover, and now he’ll be a father.

It’s something he’s wanted, distantly, like an unshakeable want—some dreamlike thing; a mansion, the convertible, money upon money; a family.

Here he’s about to have it. Why is he so nervous to walk out the door and make it happen?

He tilts into the doorway, forehead creased in pain, his trembling hands cupping the underside of his belly. Breathes; or, tries to at least. And peels his eyes open when Steve’s feet make thumps in the carpet.

“Oh, shit, omega,” Steve rushes. He clumsily trips over his feet, slotting himself right at Eddie’s side. “You’re okay…you’re okay,” he tries to soothe.

Eddie nods. His teeth squeak from how hard he’s grinding them together. Then, thirty seconds later—over. With a heaving, stuttering breath, he steadies himself. Gains his balance. Stands up straight. “What do you need me to do, alpha?” he mumbles.

“Um—I just need you to—Just stand there.” Steve, quickly, kneels down onto the floor. He reaches up, curls his fingers into the damp with sweat waistband of Eddie’s pants, and begins to gently pull downwards. “Lift your left leg,” he murmurs—Eddie follows his instructions, albeit sluggishly—“good, now your right and—Yeah, there, that’s good. Just gonna…” Steve tosses the soiled sweatpants to the side, thrown somewhere for them to find and wash later. He bunches up one leg, slots Eddie’s corresponding foot into the hole, and slowly works them over Eddie’s legs again. When they’re finally up, Steve stands, tucking the drawstring into the waistband of the sweatpants. “There,” he breathes, “all better?”

He simply nods again. Breathing deep. “Need my shoes,” Eddie mutters, “just do the…the weird flip-flops that we found at the gas station. They should be fine.”

When Steve comes back again, he slaps the flip-flops onto the floor, matching them up to the correct foot. He places a hand on Eddie’s waist, the other gripping tight to Eddie’s right, and holds him steady. “Careful,” Steve whispers, “just slip your foot—There you go. There you”—with the soft tip of his nose, Steve nudges at Eddie’s cheek—“look at me, omega?”

With a soft, questioning chirp, Eddie focuses his tired eyes on Steve’s.

“You are doing such a good job so far,” Steve softly praises. There’s a building purr, crescendoing with his gentle words. Deep and rumbly and so incredibly soothing, Eddie already feels some of his wound tension loosen. “I am so proud of you,” he continues on in a murmur, “of how far you’ve made it. The work that you’ve put in. How you’ve let me help, how you’ve adjusted, how you’ve grown. And I am in awe of how strong you are, omega. I am in awe of you in every single way. I am so ready to do this with you,” he affirms, “and I have never felt more ready for anything in my life. I’ve got you.”

Teary eyed and sniffling, Eddie bobs his head. Hiccups. “Thank you, alpha,” he breathes, “thank you.”

A soft smile adorns Steve’s face. “You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Eddie, despite being lost in all his mushy feelings, snorts. Chokes on his breath for a second, stuttering through it, squeezing his fingers around Steve’s when he feels the curl of flagging. But he leans more into his mate, nosing alongside Steve’s. “Let’s get outta here.”

——— Eight gruesome, miserable hours later and he hears it—

Bug.

Screaming. Crying. He peers over to her—slimy and pink and wrinkled to all hell. She’s alive, though, and well. Enduring the pain was hell, the way Steve tried to encourage him throughout pissed him off from time to time, and yeah…he did indeed shit the bed, literally. The product, the aftermath—it was worth it.

So incredibly worth it.

He loosens his tight grasp on Steve’s left hand. Drops it away with a gasp. Eyes big and bright and awestruck, looking out past Steve to see their pup getting cleaned, weighed, ready to be swaddled. And then Eddie looks back to Steve.

The softness and marvel shining on Steve’s face is enough to bring fat tears to Eddie’s eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall—not yet. There’s a smile pushing at Steve’s cheeks, bunching them up so high on his face. Eyes crinkled, immeasurably soft. His left hand has found a home on Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing tight to keep steady.

“There she is,” Eddie croaks, “lookin’ like a little tomato, alpha.”

Steve sniffles, his lower lip wobbles, and his grasp only tightens. “She’s so stinkin’ cute,” he shakily says, “and yet so freaking ugly at the same time.”

“Hey! I have you know I just spent hours pushing her out of my body.”

His mate nods his head. Cheeks darkening and blotching from his very noticeable free falling tears. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs with his next swallow—hard and clogging. “I-I know, omega. You did so freaking amazing”—he looks down at Eddie. And that’s when Eddie sees Steve in his entirety: wide gummy smile on his face, fat happy cheeks, blotchy multi-colored skin, eyes red rimmed and shedding tears, his eyelashes stuck together, and the biggest glint in his eyes. It’s beautiful. “I’m so proud of you,” Steve continues to say, “literally, like, the toughest, most resilient, most amazing person I know.”

Eddie reaches up to Steve’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks and wiping at them tenderly. “I’m proud of you, too,” he murmurs right back, “you kept yourself together so well. And you took such great care of me in all these months and…and you are just…sunshine, Steve. Alpha, you are the light of my world.” Over Steve’s shoulder, Eddie spots the nurses turning back to them, their little girl swaddled up in a white and pink polka-dotted blanket. “And here comes our little star,” he whispers.

When the nurses finally approach, they gesture for Eddie to curl his arms close, and then promptly set her softly in the cradle of his arms. She’s got chunky, flushed cheeks. Sparse dark brown eyebrows and a curly little patch of hair atop her head. Pouty pink lips. Downturned eyes. And—

“Look at that,” Steve coos. His right index finger comes close, curled into his palm, as he brushes his knuckle down the soft curve of her left cheek. “She’s got a little mole right by her ear.”

“Got your eyes, too,” Eddie murmurs, “wonder if they’ll be the same color.”

Gently, Steve lays his head atop Eddie’s. Half-sitting, half-standing from the hospital bed. Hand drifting to fully lay across the broad stretch of Eddie’s shoulders. Huddled in tight and close. “She’s got your nose,” Steve whispers, “just like in all your little pup photos.” An involuntary happy chirp slips free from Steve’s throat; Eddie can’t help but respond with a muted, careful one of his own. Steve sighs quietly, wistfully.

The tender, pretty bloom of Steve’s scent wafts and washes over Eddie. Smoky and herbal, yet this time curled with something new—the sweet juice of a ripe strawberry. Eddie knows he must make the room smell like milk and vanilla and campfire, judging by the hushed, low timer of Steve’s pleased purr. Bass and deep, vibrating right along the joint of Eddie’s right shoulder.

One of the nurses clears her throat softly, presenting them with the live birth certificate. She has a pen clicked and ready in her hand. “Do we have a name in mind?”

Eddie bounces his eyes up to Steve for a mere moment, catching his gaze. There’s something warm and knowing in it. He’d been thinking on names for a long, long while. Trying, yet constantly failing to come up with his own. There had been so many options, some that felt too basic, some that were too longwinded and elegant, others that were just…not them. After much deliberation, there had only been one name in mind that he found himself circling back to. One that could make a dream come true. With a steadying breath, pride and warmth surging in his chest, “Juniper,” Eddie says, “Robin…”—

“Munson,” Steve finishes. “Juniper Robin Munson.” The nurse turns away, filling in the appropriate blanks. And as she’s not looking, Steve swats at Eddie’s shoulder with wide, teary eyes. “Robin? I thought you didn’t want to name our pup after anybody!” he quietly squawks.

He shrugs as carefully as he possibly can, arms still full of pup. “I don’t know…it just felt right. Plus, when I was thinking over the middle name—just agonizing over it—I figured…why not name her after Robin? ‘Cause, like, Robin’s a cool person. A fantastic one! Our kid’s gonna love her.”

“And if she doesn’t…”

“No way in hell is that happening,” Eddie says firmly, proudly. “Robin would soon rather get rabies than be a bad aunt to your kid, alpha. I think the name is perfect. Unless you”—

“No, no, it’s awesome. I was just…just making sure that’s what you wanna go with. Permanent decision, y’know?”

Eddie grins to himself. “Oh, I know, Steven Edward Harrington. I know that names are very permanent.”

Steve scoffs and swats at him again. “Like you have a leg to stand on, Edward Steven Munson.” He peers back at Juniper. Smile wide and audible—gummy and clicking with his spit. “Based on all her movement in the womb, I’m calling it right now the our little June-Bug is gonna be a wild child just like you were.”

“Me? Wild child? I was actually a pretty mellow kid, believe it or not. You’re the one that purposefully crawled around backwards and told me, at length, that you used to hang upside down on the monkey bars and attempt to eat handfuls of wood chips while at the park.” Eddie snorts. He watches as Juniper scrunches her nose, coos sweetly. Gently, he pets the pad of his right thumb over her cheek, relishing in the softness of her skin. “But, yeah, Junie’s gonna be insane. If her little kicks were anything to go off of. Thank god I pup-proofed all the corners of the tables.”

“She won’t be walking for a while, omega, we don’t have to worry about that just yet.”

“Steve, if I may reiterate, you used to crawl around backwards. Juniper could be, like, a super-powered pup or something that just gets up and starts toddling at any given moment.” For now, though, he holds their pup close and smiles. “She’s calm right now, though. Let’s soak in it a little longer.”

Leaning in impossibly closer, Steve presses a warm, lingering kiss to Eddie’s forehead. Murmuring, warmly, “I love you so much, omega. Gonna be the greatest papa in the world.”

He sighs, relaxed. “I love you, too, alpha. We’re gonna be just fine.”

And, despite all the worry he carried during this pregnancy, Eddie finds himself believing that. Everything is right where it needs to be. His dream man is at his side. Their future is in his arms. The hardships, the annoyances—everything—was worth it.

Things are looking up for him—for the both of them—and he’s excited to see what comes of it. Bubbly laughter, gummy smiles, hugs and all. Perfect.

💕—————💕 Thank you for reading! Uh...this wasn't supposed to be over 25k words, but....oops?

[thecoochiefairy]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄. you did this.

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 along the wooden floors, on the search for her father to play with her. But as her small body took a couple more steps, the tension felt within the next room caused her to halt in place. Placing her dainty fingers against the door, she peeks through the crack as she listens.

"Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Sybil?”

“Who the hell are you talking to like that?”

He composes his frustrations.

 "I just—I’m tryna’ understand why I’m not going with Bambi to Providence. Any other time she leaves, I’m with her for safety reasons. Now all of a sudden it's confidential? You know can't fight by herself.”

"She's not going there to fight, Iver. Adonis said he wanted to speak upon some things regarding the treaty. I didn’t see an issue with it."

"Why not send me by myself? Alone?” 

Sybil stared at her son, sighing exasperatedly. 

She never had to say how she felt out loud—he knew.

Iver’s voice went low, "You think I'm weak.”

"If I believed you were weak, you'd never be the leader of my Protectors."

"Well thank you, Momma,” he sneers, “That really helps."

The moment she pressed her hand against his face, his jaw seemed to soften at the touch. 

"Bambi is an independent woman, Iver. Nothing is going to happen to her.” 

"You're doin’ it again.”

Sybil’s eyebrows raised questionably, watching him remove her hand from his face, "That manipulative bullshit you do. Bambi's independence has nothin’ to do with her safety!"

"It has everything to do with it, actually. It means that if she needs to protect herself, she’ll do so— Maybe she'll show those dogs who truly lead.”

"I've never understood your repugnance towards Providence. They saved us when we were almost ki—"

"Don't tell me what they’ve done for us like I don't already know, Iver."

"So then why are you constantly bashing them?"

"Unlike New Salem, Providence is an unruly democracy—I don't allow you to run freely and do whatever you please. Things like that allow us to be seen. Being seen means being killed. Need I remind you what happened when you were a baby?” 

Iver went silent, memories flooding through his mind. The gunshots. The need to escape and the fear of death—it was something he never wanted to experience again.

"What you need to worry about is that damn child—"

"This isn’t about Sin. I'm not even finna' go there with you right now.”

The child behind the door continues listening, hearing her grandmother's tone. Even for a seven year old, a frown came to her lips. 

"I know what this is really about,” Iver sneers, “You're threatened that she could take leadership of this coven. It wouldn't surprise me if you were sending my wife off to be killed.”

Sybil stared at her child. After a moment, she began laughing. Laughing. It was simple and highly obnoxious.

“If your wife was a threat to me, she’d be dead. It wouldn't be anything I had to sit and plan out."

Iver’s jaw clenched. 

Sybil then continued, “The real problem is you being threatened by all the women in your life. It scares you that Bambi could be higher up than you are—not to mention your lack of abilities. You're not ready to lead this coven, and it’s becoming extremely apparent.” 

"Momma—"

"Decades ago I carried you in my arms, escaping witch hunters trying to kill my original coven. They’d discovered white witches, but it never crossed their mind to think black witches existed too. So we were safe—For a while—Up until they caught onto our act. We attempted to flee as they came into our area, our houses, our homes. I made it out. Most didn’t. Through all of that, I kept you in my arms, refusing to let anyone harm you. I still do that,” she snarled in return, “So the fact that you come in here accusing me of trying to put Bambi in harm's way? Disappoints me. If my decision is to send one of my best Protectors to go speak to Providence Pack, then that is my goddamn decision,” she spits, “That’s final.” 

Iver had nothing else to say. Correction, he couldn’t have anything else to say. Opening the door to an empty hallway—he never noticed Sin hiding behind the wall.

Hearing the argument between her grandma and father was something she couldn't stop thinking about, wondering if her grandma wasn't as nice as she thought she was. But all of that flew out the window as she sat against her bed, both of her parents appearing in the room with smiles of excitement to see her. Her almond eyes creased upwards as she smiled, Iver seating Sin on his lap atop of the lavender comforter set. 

"Hey—mommy has to leave, okay? But she'll be back as soon as you wake up tomorrow,” Bambi smiles, brushing Sin’s face with her fingers.

"Where are you going?" The child asked. They could hear the sadness in her voice.

"Adult stuff, like Daddy does every day?"

"Can I come?"

"No, no. It's very dangerous for girls."

"So why are you going?"

Both adults looked at one another, surprised at the question.

Bambi corrected, "Little girls, it's dangerous for little girls. Mommy's a big girl, and she can handle herself.”

She stood from the bed, giving Sin a kiss to the forehead. She raises her lips to meet her husbands, gaining his attention as she repeats to him, “"I will be back."

Bambi said her final goodbyes before she exited the room, a silence almost deafening as they both stared at the open door. Sin looked up at her father— he could see on her face that she wanted to ask one more time, was she really coming back?

"She'll be back, Sin.”

He reassured himself as well.

[orcelito]

Sleepy Brain is such a powerful force......

Getting ready for bed... brushed my teeth... was wrapping things up... went to put on chapstick, as I often do in the bathroom...

I licked it. On autopilot. My brain just decided that was the thing to do.

Now my mouth tastes like fake French vanilla... what a life....

[madamechrissy]

Nanny! Nanami headcanons

pairings- Nanny! Nanami x CEO fem! reader

warnings- sexual tension for now, reader is a mama, mentions of masturbation, lil bit forbidden relationship vibes, down bad Nanami, mutual pining, Papamin is here!!

Nanami won my poll for the next story I'll be making!! (maybe a long oneshot idk yett) I haven't written much of him lately, so here are some hcs for noww

Nanny! Nanami who shows up just like Mary Poppins one day, after your cute but terrifying daughter Yuuka has chased off another of her Nannies, leaving you bringing her to your office that day. Little did you know one of your appointments for the day happens to have a degree in childcare, Nanami Kento.

Nanny! Nanami comes in and you shake his hand, big and warm, you can't help but pause at just how handsome he is, when he smiles sweetly at you. 'Sorry, my daughter had to come with me, but don't worry we can still talk business' you say with a smile in return. Nanami looks over at Yuuka now, smiling at her as well, your little girl, who is by all accounts a mischievous little demon for almost anyone but you. You know she hates that you have to work, but as a single mom that's just what you have to do, and running your marketing agency required you to come in the office frequently.

Nanny! Nanami is so handsome, professional, you expect him to need marketing advice, when he sits across from you, brushing off his suit over a broad shoulder, but soon he surprises you, with his soft, husky voice - 'I saw your ad, that you need a Nanny?' You blink a bit in surprise then, sure men were Nannies you supposed but you've never seen one. 'I went to college for just that, actually but I guess I could be called a Manny if you prefer' his lips twitch in humor and you giggle.

Nanny! Nanami is sitting criss cross on the floor coloring with Yuuka soon, so patient and sweet as you go over his resume, his references, he's truly a miracle worker and just what you need, despite the pricy salary request. 'You're so hired, if you can handle her' your daughter giggles a bit, and Nanami's hazel eyes study you from behind green shades, he's in this three piece suit with crayons in his hand, so cute you melt. 'I am always up for a challenge, when should I start?'

Nanny! Nanami is a miracle worker, truly, just one week of him watching your little girl and she's already hugging on his leg, crying when he even says he's leaving for the day. 'Stay for dinner, I'm making steaks' you offer softly, just before Nanami checks his Rolex, he certainly was worth his very expensive salary in every way, shit you'd give him more. 'Not overtime just dinner' you tease, he's always out the door right at 5:30. He eases off his coat as she tugs at his khaki slacks, smiling at the two of you. 'Dinner sounds lovely'

Nanny! Nanami fits in your life far too well, after having dinner and you putting her to bed, he's in your kitchen wiping down the counters and putting food up. Your heart pounds when you realize his sleeves are rolled up, revealing veiny forearms with a dusting of blond hair. His shirt is unbuttoned just a bit, loosened cheetah tie, as he gives you a tired smile that has no right being so attractive. And you realize maybe it's been too long since your husband left you, too long since you've been intimate, as washing dishes next to him makes you burn with desire.

Nanny! Nanami stays over for dinner often soon, he figures he might as well, versus going home alone to his apartment, he enjoys talking to you, watching you with your little girl, who becomes more dear to him every day. The spitting image of you, he finds it hard to believe she was so troublesome, as you tell him so many tales of her before. Soon the two of you are alone, it's been a month of him working for you, and you hand him an envelope as you crack open a bottle of wine, he pauses, across the marble kitchen counter. 'What's this?' He asks softly. Running a hand through your hair, brushing it off your shoulder, he feels his blood rush, eyes darting to your collarbone, imagining planting kisses on it. 'Just a thank you'

Nanny! Nanami sees the bonus you've put in, but for some reason it feels so wrong to take so much money, he loves watching your daughter and loves spending time with you. He clears his throat a bit, tugging at his tie as you put the crystal glass to your red lips, and he has a wild image of smearing your lipstick, which he tries to shove down. 'This is too much-' you cut him off with a wave of your hand. 'You have no clue how much I appreciate you' your emotions hit then, before you can think Nanami is brushing a tear away with one of his long fingers, and he's leaning over you, far, far too close.

Nanny! Nanami can't stop thinking of you after that moment, of how your lips parted just so, of how you felt when he hugged you, cursing himself because its not professional or okay to feel this way, the need to be part of your life without the title. He tries to watch himself, to not come so close, the more he works and is near you, the more he feels like this is family, and he can't. He has no clue why anyone would ever leave you two amazing girls, when he finally meets the ex, who comes to your work one day, and gets in your face, that's when he crosses his personal boundary, stepping right between you and him. 'And who is this!?' Nanami chuckles, towering over the man, as you say - 'he's who helps take care of my daughter, now leave' you're so shaken up when he storms out, Nanami holds you close.

Nanny! Nanami is watching a show with your daughter on the couch that night, when you hear it 'Papamin!' And he pauses, as do you, walking up just a bit and sitting at the arm of the couch 'papamin?' you ask softly, brushing her hair back, and she giggles with a beautiful smile. 'He is Papamin!' after a quiet moment, Nanami carries her to bed, and soon finds you knocked out on the same couch, he smiles with fondness, brushing your hair off your beautiful face. You're still in work work dress, blazer and heels and all, making him sigh, as he soon picks you up in his strong arms. You blink just a bit, yawning as you cling to him, inhaling that sandalwood and musk so intoxicating, while he walks you up those stairs.

Nanny! Nanami eases you down, and your cheeks heat up, body responding to his every movement, quiet rustled of clothing as he eases off your blazer, and his hands linger for just a moment. 'You need some rest, you're overdoing it' you sigh, a hand slipping up his light blue dress shirt, as you tremble in front of him, teeth catching your lower lip. 'Thank you for everything Nanami, gosh I... hope you never leave' it's quiet then, and you curse, shaking your head as you lower it, resting on his chest, hiding your flushed features. 'Oh god ignore that please, I don't expect you to always work here, it's just... she loves you so much and...' Nanami shushes you then, holding you close against his strong body, hand running up the small of your back. 'I love working with you'

Nanny! Nanami inhales your sweet scent, as you look up with dilated eyes, turning away then and lifting your hair off the nape of your neck. 'Could you unzip me, please?' He gulps as he does just that, revealing your back inch by inch, until it falls in a pool around still heeled ankles, showing him your black lace bra, panties and stockings, you turn now, so sexy his breath is caught, he can't even speak. He's not inexperienced by any means but you make him feel like a stuttering high school boy, as you now sit on your bed, reaching to unclasp a heel.

Nanny! Nanami instantly helps you, eyeing your smooth skin, your thighs peeking over garters, when he sees it, slick glistening on your inner thigh, his thumb brushes it, making you gasp, as the slick heat is spread, and goosebumps follow. The two of your eyes lock, your hand grips a tie you'd die to have around your wrists, his lips hovering, tasting of sweet whiskey as his breath burns your lips, when the door knocks. He curses softly, clearing his throat, murmuring 'I'm so sorry...' but you shake your head, quickly throwing on a robe. 'Please don't be!' Your daughter is soon in your bed and Nanami leaves for the night, but now he can't get his employer and her slick cunt off his mind, sucking you off his thumb and moaning in his car that night.

Nanny! Nanami wants you so badly he can't stop it when he strokes his cock in his bed, picturing burying his face between your thighs, making you feel so good your manicured nails would tug at his hair. He can't stop himself from cumming over and over, sure he could call over some woman, but how can he when you're in his life!? When he sees you again the next morning as usual, and you're smiling so pretty, he feels so guilty, he just busted in his hand thinking of his employer several times. Were you just tired, a little buzzed that night? Fuck he just wants to spend all his time with you, he brings Yuuka by your office and you light up, smiling so big at them, melting him even fucking further, as he feels himself falling ever deeper.

Nanny! Nanami is ready to leave for the night, he can still practically taste you, Yuuka has gone to bed early when you surprise him then, pouring a glass of your favorite red, then leaning up, giving him a perfect view of an ass that's just begging for him. He wills his thoughts to subside, to stay composed, when you pull down a decanter, crystal and glimmering, smiling at him. 'You like whiskey, right?' he sighs, nodding and taking the little glass you pour over ice, sipping it and eyeing you over the rim. 'I should just have one, though, since it's... getting late.' You panic, have you done too much, are you being too obvious, does he not want more? Was he just... in the moment? After his glass he takes your hand, kissing the back of it, lips burning an impression into your skin.

Nanny! Nanami murmurs a 'Good night, darling' to you, leaving you speechless at the term, and his footsteps echo along your tile floors, in a home that feels perfect when he's here with the two of you. Before you can stop yourself, you say his name, making him halt his steps, eyeing you with dilated eyes, tired and so sexy, his cheekbones even more enhanced as his jaw locks. You slowly walk up to him, until the two of you are an inch away, you swallow, trying to get the nerve to say it then- 'Nanami, please stay the night, it's really no bother at all, we could... have another drink' you murmur quietly in the foyer, tempting him with your every heatbeat, and he takes a breath. 'I would love to'

<3 idea spawned by @afkmylajah's suggestion

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[moonstruckme]

Different person— but is it overdoing it if I request a bad car accident but with an established relationship EMT marauders 👀

Yes definitely absolutely but I'll allow it (I did have to try and make it a little different though) <3

cw: scary car wreck aftermath, blood, concussion, angst

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

By the time the ambulance arrives, you’re already in hysterics. They only get worse when you see who steps out. 

“I’m sorry.” The words come out on a guttural sob, snot and tears and blood all mixed together on your face. “He was—I distracted him, and—” 

“Shh, shh.” Remus comes to you while Sirius rounds the car. He puts his hands on your jaw. “You’re alright. Don’t move.” 

“I made him look away—” 

“Stop moving, love.” His hands are still, grip firm, eyes moving quickly to scan you over. “I need you to focus.” 

“Is he okay?” 

“What hurts?” 

“But James—” 

“Sweetheart, please. Please.” Remus’ voice scrapes a little, and through your panic you register the wetness of his eyes. He’s terrified. “Sirius is with him, okay? We’re doing all we can, but I need to be sure you’re okay. Please let me do this.” 

Another sob collapses through your ribcage, but you choke out, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Remus takes a breath. His fingers shift slightly on your cheek; perhaps only adjusting his grip, but it feels like a caress. To your right, you can hear Sirius’ voice but not James’. “Focus on me. What hurts?” 

“Um…my shoulder.” You haven’t given it much notice, honestly, all your worry since the crash only for your boyfriend unconscious at the wheel, but when you take a moment to think it’s obvious. Your arm is screaming. “And my head, but less.” 

Remus nods, all business as he uses one set of fingers to feel the back of your neck, moving down your spine. “Any pain here?” 

“No?” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” You sniffle. “Sorry, I’m sure.” 

“Good. That’s good, sweetheart.” He spares you a brief kiss. The stiff upper lip you’d been attempting to form quivers underneath his gentle touch. “Do you feel sick at all?” 

“Yeah,” you admit, though you think that’s more from anxiety than anything else. 

Remus seems to understand. He pulls a pen light from his pocket, clicking it on. “Look here for me.” 

You have every intention of doing as he says, truly, but it’s at that moment that you hear Sirius say thickly, “There he is. Hi, baby.” 

Later, you might think it’s sort of funny—baby. It’s unlike Sirius to call James that, and unlike James to be called it. But perhaps Sirius is only feeling very overwhelmed by tenderness and relief; that, you could certainly understand. 

You turn in your seat, the pain in your left side temporarily vanishing. You only want to see James with his eyes open, but if you have your choice he’ll be awake and talking, normal, totally unhurt, a miracle. “James?” 

“Y/n,” Remus chides, but there’s relief in his voice, too, his gaze looking past you. 

“Sorry, I—Jamie.” Your voice breaks. You’re sobbing again all at once, reaching for your boyfriend as he blinks slowly, his lovely face all pinched in discomfort. “James.” 

You’re arrested from both ends, Remus catching your wrist and Sirius halting you with a stern look. It softens after a moment, that instinctive protectiveness giving way to something gentler. He almost looks sorry.

“Don’t touch him,” he tells you, firm though not unkind. “We can’t move him until we rule out spinal injury. Listen to Remus, angel, let us do our job.” 

You lower your hand, chastened, but are unable to tear your gaze away from James. He looks confused. There’s the smallest bit of blood collected under his nostrils. 

He seems to find words slowly. “Pads?” 

“Hello, gorgeous boy.” Sirius smiles at him, holding his neck and jaw as Remus had done for you. “Funny seeing you here.” 

Remus says your name again. Only when he cups your cheek, manually turning you towards him, do you finally look away. Your boyfriend is watching you with a tender expression. 

“He’s okay.” He thumbs underneath your eye, collecting blood and tears on the latex of his glove. “We’re okay, yeah?” 

“I distracted him,” you whisper, throat tight. “He swerved too late because he was looking at me.” 

“Well,” Sirius, who has evidently overheard, chimes in with a suave tone, “who among us could be faulted for that, eh?” 

A laugh, soft and half broken, stutters out of Remus. “Very true,” he says. “Can you look here for me now, please?” 

You let him go through his tests, which eventually find you well enough to be moved from the car. Your boyfriends work as a pair to get first James and then you onto stretchers. By then another ambulance has arrived and, neither Sirius nor Remus wanting to leave you or James and each seemingly having grown slightly jealous of the other, they swap off; Remus hops into the ambulance with James and another paramedic, and Sirius goes with you. 

You see this as your chance to get some real, unfiltered intel. Sirius can always be relied upon to tell things as they are. 

“Is Remus—are we going to the same place?” you ask as he locks your gurney into place inside the ambulance, knocking on the window to let the paramedic driving know once it’s secure. 

“Oh, yeah. Of course, you thought we’d let you end up in different hospitals?” Sirius turns your head gently with his hand, wiping with something cool above your eyebrow. It stings. “We want you both where we can keep an eye on you.” 

Your fear worsens. “Why?”

Sirius glances at your eyes, his expression softening. He brushes a gloved forefinger over your forehead consolingly. “Not because we think anything bad is going to happen to either of you, sweetness. Just for the same reasons as always; because we like to.”  

“How bad is it, though?” 

“Could certainly be worse,” he says. “You have a relatively mild concussion, and your shoulder—”

“With James,” you clarify quickly. 

“Oh.” Sirius blinks. His brows draw together, not condemning but sympathetic. “His concussion is a bit worse than yours,” he says, as frank as you’d been counting on from him. “He’s in and out, rather confused, but mostly unhurt besides that. Honestly, that first blow to his head might have saved him a lot of damage. Sometimes, when people go limp during a crash, they…hey. Hey, baby.” 

You shut your eyes, powerless to stop the silent sobs that shake your middle. Sirius wipes gently underneath your eyes. 

“That’s enough of that,” he murmurs. “We’re fine. We’re all fine.” 

“He’s hurt because I—because he turned—” 

“I heard you before,” Sirius quiets you. “You couldn’t control that, lovely.” 

You can feel your hairline growing damp with tears. Your voice is a scratchy, shamed thing. “I’m just so sorry.” 

“I know.” Your boyfriend presses a piece of gauze to the cut on your forehead, his gaze unflinching. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about, though. You really don’t. Anyone can blame themselves, but the truth is you might’ve gotten hit no matter what. There’s no sense in thinking like that.” 

Sirius pauses, looking for understanding in your face. You press your lips together in attempt to stop crying. 

“I need you to focus on getting better,” he says. “Can you do that for me? I can’t hug you properly so long as your shoulder’s dislocated, and I think we could both use a hug right now, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you whimper. 

Sirius offers you a small smile, taping the gauze over your cut. “Good. So you’ve got your job, then, yeah?”

“I’ll try.” 

“You’re going to be so great at it, sweetness. I have absolute faith in you.” 

[militaryapple]

Thinking about how Caleb would react to you moving to your own room after sex when he falls asleep. He wakes up and sees you sleeping in your own room and not with him. him finding out (after basically interrogating her and asking non stop for days since she started distancing herself) mc gets really insecure after sex but she usually stays, just this time she got in her head too much and actually decided to leave 😭

he'd be so sweet :( oh he would shower u with so much love.. my sweet boy caleb aghhh hold me..

wc. 2.4k

was he the problem?

caleb looked at you, dumbfounded almost as he listened to your sweet confession. "i just.." you said softly, "its not you, caleb — just the way ive see other woman, how better looking they are, how you fit so well between them.." caleb could feel his body tense. how could you say such deprecating things about yourself? have you seen yourself? you were perfect to him. other woman didn't stand a chance.

he knew something was up with you. it was like this for a while now, how everytime you both finished having sex; he would fall asleep in your arms just to wake up to you gone. it made his heart drop. how he’d get up to look for you worried, just to find you asleep in your room. his chest heavy watching you curl in your own bed. at first; he thought maybe it was just uncomfortable for you, you two have always slept together but it was intimate and new — you just needed to readjust to it.

then it was again, and again, and again.

then, at some point you two had stopped. there was no intimacy, no sex, not even a glance of love. so.. he thought he was problem. he didn’t press the furthers, why should he? if he was the issue then he should fix it — and quick. after a while he had thought maybe he had became a better version of himself, he learned new recipes, did chores more often than he should’ve, even started to stay home more to stay next to you; ignoring his colonel duties. yet there was no avail.

he needed to ask you what the problem was.

so here you were, telling him everything. how you felt, how ashamed you were in your own skin. his heart ached for you, he could tell you a million times on how pretty you were, how everytime you spoke it seemed like you the sun, or how whenever you looked at him; it was full of pure love. caleb’s hands found their way to your skin, pulling you close.

his hands on the crown of your head before moving down, patting you. his other arm holding you closely — tightly. he wasn’t going to let you go, he couldn’t let you go. “i’m sorry,” he said softly placing a kiss on your head, his hand moving to your face lifting it so you could look at him. his movements with you were gentle, like you were delicate. “you’re so — where do i begin?” he let out a soft chuckle, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“first of all, your beauty is unmatched.” you stood, looking at him while his arms dropped away from you, both hands now cupping your face while he wiped away your tears through your occasional sniffling. “truly, it is. you are like heaven and earth combined, kissed by the gods themselves.” his kisses lowering down, now on your cheek. “your hair is pretty too, yeah baby? all the cute styles you do with it,” he hummed down, now kissing your ears. “how could i forget your lips? yeah? perfect. just for me to kiss.” his words were sweet, reassuring.

caleb kissed you, it wasn’t rushed. he didn’t hope for anything back, it was a kiss to make sure you knew that he loved you. to him you were a jewel; something he should put up to show the world that it’s his. you wrapped your arms around his neck, returning the kiss, your hands finding their way around his body. “ah-ah.” he said softly, pulling away. “we aren’t doing anything if you aren’t ready,” he placed a small kiss back on your forehead, his hands bringing your arm down before intertwining his hand into yours.

his hands moved up to his lips, turning over so he could kiss your hands. "you are perfect." he said softly, you looked up at him. his gaze meets yours. he was real. truthful. there was no hint of mockery or lies behind his beautiful eyes, it made your heart race. "then," you said, eyes moving away from his. "can we.. kiss?" your voice was low. embarrassed. maybe you were so shy because he was quick to take your breath, leaning in and holding you.

you were shy because he guided you to his bed, and laid you down trying his hardest to not separate your lips. you were shy about how between each breath, he made sure that he complimented you. each part of you, "your smile is beautiful," to "your hands are the perfect size to hold". caleb had your grinning ear to ear - making it feel as if it was both of your first times again.

you leaned into his touch, bringing you up and settling you on his lap on top of him. he loved having you in this position, how he could see your face so clearly, how you looked straight at him on his legs while he sat up on his headboard. you pulled away making caleb look at you. "caleb, i really want to," you place your hand on his shirt, pressing down on his body.

fuck you were so sweet for him, you really were. he couldn't help but hold your hand, using his free one to cup your cheek. "you sure?' he looked at you like you were going to break. he was so kind with you, "I don't want to.. just for you to leave me." his eyes fluttered away from you, his cheeks and ears turning red. "at least let me show you how much you mean to me, please? let me love you - worship you." he kissed you again before pulling away.

you couldn't say no, he was like a puppy in love.

it wasn't long until caleb was back to kissing you, his kisses starting at your head, moving down to your cheeks. every time he pulled away he would whisper sweet nothing's to you - making sure you knew that he adored you. you were a woman kissed by the gods themselves and send down to him. how could you feel so bad about yourself when you were so perfect? those women you envy had nothing against you. they were mere peasants compared to you, a princess in all her glory.

you whined, the feeling of his kisses tickling your chin as he continued to press them against you, his hands moving towards your stomach as he lifted your shirt to rub small circles around your stomach, you were quick to move away from him, pulling your shirt down and looking away from him. ah. right, your body. caleb's brows furrowed before leaning close to you. "I love your stomach," he hummed "how easy it is to hold you," he kissed your cheek, your once stilled body leaning closer to him. he took it as a sign to slowly - make his way to your hips.

“how i can kiss it,” you didn’t react to his touch, letting out a small ‘mm,’ in resistance but he stayed firm. he knew you weren’t going to go anywhere this time. “how i can feel you.” his mouth made its way to your lips and you returned the kiss. he carefully touched your stomach, watching your every move. you seemed more comfortable, so he pushed himself a little farther. his hands traced down to your thigh, rubbing it slowly. "caleb," was what you muttered out. oh you sounded so pretty, his name falling from your lips were music to his ears. "what is it baby?" he murmured, his hands rubbing the inside of your thing. "so soft, you know.. i imagine my cock between your thighs, they're so pretty. i cant help but think about how i'll pump into them," his kiss lowering to your neck. you whined at the confession he made, holding to his neck.

his hands slid closer to your cunt, his fingers pressing soft against the fabric of your panties while you moan softly. "yeah? you like when I press riiiight here?" he was precise, his fingers pressing down on your sensitive nub making you twitch in return. you let out a moan, his mouth reaching yours. your kisses now sloppy, messy. "there you go pretty baby, let me make you feel good, let me love you." his breaths turning into moans — feeding into you.

you could only nod, your eyes fighting to stay open. your hips rolling at the feeling of his fingers that rubbed and tickled your nub. caleb’s fingers moved to your panties, pulling on the waistline before down to your cunt. “look at you, so wet. it’s so cute, already eager.” he kissed your cheek, his mouth maneuvering to your ear as he whispered. “deep breath for me baby ‘just wanna make you feel good. okay?” you listened — and before you knew it he slid a digit in your cunt.

he pumped you agonizingly slow, watching your cunt suck him in knuckles deep. you were gorgeous, your moans to your eyes. your flushed face and how you looked at him like he was everything. “you look so pretty like this,” he hummed, his fingers quickening at the sound of your moans before sliding another digit in you. “i can stare at you like this for hours — stare at your gorgeous body.” his free hand sliding up your shirt, cupping your tits while he fondled you.

“so soft” he purred, his mouth now mouthing to your jawline, his fingers both touching and fucking you. you cried holding on to his arm while your legs closed tightly together. that didn’t stop caleb from going faster. his fingers reaching deep into you — making you feel him. “i love you,” he whined, his eyes glossy while looking at you. god, you haven’t done anything to him yet he looks like he’s about to cum. “i love you, everything about you, i want you, i need you.” you fall back on the bed, moaning while you clenched against the feeling of his fingers.

“come on pips, cum for me yeah? you can do it pretty girl,” the words sending a shiver down your spine, your hips rolling at the rhythm his hands rubbed you. it wasn't until a minute later you were babbling sweet nothings, clutching on the sheets of his bed while you moaned out his name. you were pretty little thing. Caleb moved his hand away from your tit, and slipped his fingers away from your pussy. he leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "you're doing so well for me, yeah pretty baby? you wanna stop here? i'll run a bath and wash you.." he was cut short quickly, your hand tugging on his arm.

"please," you whined out softly, your hands twitching while you looked into his eyes. he couldn't say no to you, after all you were his prized possession. caleb was quick to tug on his pants, pulling them down and his waist line, his cock pretty - leaking precum while he stared down at you. he lined himself up with your cunt, sliding his tip between your folds. "oh fuck baby," he gasped, eyes fluttering while one of his hands grabbed your arms, holding them down - the other exploring your body.

"I wish you could see just how beautiful you look," he whimpered, "how - mphgh, how good you are for me." his hips thrusted between your cunt, your juices coating him while he let out soft moans and whimpers. "oh god - baby you're perfect, so perfect I love you," he was about to sob with how good you felt. with calebs free arm he held on your hips, his hands memorizing every curve of your body. "just so gorgeous," he groaned.

you sobbed, "please, you're teasing me I can't - I want you." that was all he needed to hear before his cock was shoved deep into you. you groaned, trying to wiggle, yet caleb kept you firm. "fuck, look at you - taking me so nicely." his hips rocking into you slowly, then picking up a pace. you could only cry at the feeling, overwhelming and so fucking good. Caleb moved his hand from your hip to your nub, rubbing in circles. your legs shook before locking around his hips.

god. you were beautiful, no matter how many times he had told you. you were still so gorgeous, he loved seeing you this way. how you moaned for him, and how you held on to him so greedily. he loved feeling you - seeing you. hearing you while he fucked so deeply into your cunt. his hips started to snap against you, making your eyes roll back in response. you were drunk off him, how good he felt inside you.

you hips bucked, rolling at the feeling of him, "m close, please baby," you moaned. caleb could only shudder, his fingers rubbing against you. faster. harder. “yeah baby? come on, cum for me, wanna see your pretty lil face.” he hiccups, his pace destroying you. you couldn’t help but jolt at the feeling. you clenched around his cock, making him moan in response. you couldn’t take it anymore, your hips rolled against his, your legs shaking as you groan. it was bliss — while caleb kept his pace until he couldn’t his hips slamming into yours while he moaned. “fuck, my pretty girl oh my pretty little lady.”

caleb was quick to take care of you, taking you to the bathroom and washing both you and your hair, clothing you and feeding you a quick meal. he even set you down in his bed with fresh new sheets you didn’t even know he replaced. it was time for you both to finally get some shut eye.

caleb laid you down, then lying down next to you. he faced you, holding on to your sides as he rubbed your back under your shirt holding you close. ah, yet you couldn’t help but think about the sex. was he truthful? was he just calling you pretty, or his or gorgeous just because it was the super of the moment? your mind lingered, until caleb placed a small kiss on the crown of your head.

“i’m staying up until you fall asleep,” he hummed. you couldn’t respond. you knew why, he didn’t want you to leave again. not to run away and cry in your bed; calling yourself names that were untrue. “instead,” he said “i’ll spend the entire night telling you more things i love about you. just until i hear that you’re sleep,” his voce was soft. he was gentle. your arms wrapped around him, your face nuzzling itself in his chest while he began to whisper sweet words in your ear.

oh how he loved you. :(

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

Overprotective- Jacaerys Velaryon

A/N: My thoughts lie only on HOTD, and most of those thoughts are on this PRINCE. I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 3.0k Synopsis: Jace's overprotective nature begins to grate on the reader's nerves as the birth of their first child looms closer.

Legend told that when in the womb, Targaryen babies started out as dragons before transforming into human children. It was nothing more than a silly folktale, your Targaryen family had assured you. But waking up in the dark of night, flinging the covers off of your scorching body, you aren't so sure.

Your nights had been spent like this for nearly two months now. If it wasn't the heat that coated your body, clinging sweat to your brow, it was waking up nearly ever hour to relieve yourself.

The child growing in your stomach was truly a Targaryen - passionate and unyielding.

The first four months of your pregnancy had been wonderful. You had none of the sickness that so many face in the early stages of their maternity. Back then you were often tired, but the child slept whenever you did. And to top it all off, Jace was a perfect husband. He brought you water when you needed it, rubbed your feet when they were aching, and then, you had wanted him constantly, and he had been more than happy to oblige.

But things change quickly during pregnancy, you are coming to understand. Jace wakes up next to you now, sitting up immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

"Nothing," you say, turning to face him. Your bedroom is dark, but even so, you can see the worry in his eyes. "Just too hot."

"Can I do anything for you? Should I call the Maester?"

"No, I'm fine," you say, straining to get out of bed. He supports your back, giving you the extra push to get up. You hate that he has to do this, that he has to push on your sweat drenched back, in order for you to stand.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"To relieve myself."

"You just got up--"

"I know, Jacaerys," you snap, holding your stomach as you leave the room.

Jace had been wonderful those first few months, when you had been in high spirits. But now, you were in pain constantly, which made you irritable, which made any attempt he made to help you irksome.

When you came back into the room, Jace is still up, his head resting on his pillow. He lifts it a little when you come back in, smiling at you gently. The sheets have been changed - another new routine - but one that doesn't bother you so much. It made a world of difference to lay down in a cool, clean bed after waking in a pool of your own sweat.

"All right?" he asks as you lay down beside him.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, why?" you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Because you called me Jacaerys," he says, brushing a stray hair off your brow. "You only do that when you're mad at me." You let out a breath of laughter, but immediately feel like the emotion could change into a sob. Jace must see it, too, because he scoots closer, pulling you into his bare arms.

"Hey," he says, kissing your forehead, "You can call me Jacaerys whenever you like."

"I'm not mad at you," you say, turning into him, so your growing stomach presses into his. "There's just this monster inside of me making me go mad." Jace smiles to himself, nodding his head.

"I know."

"I love you," you say, a hand to his cheek. He leans in to kiss you, his lips cool. When you break apart, you realize the windows are wide open, and while you've been sweating all night, he has to be freezing. You start to say something about it, but he cuts you off.

"I'm fine," he says. "I love you. Please just try to get some sleep."

"Get off me, then," you say, pushing him playfully. He smirks, falling back over to his side, taking your share of the blankets, as well. You lay on your back, and can't help the groan of pain at the pressure the position puts on you. Jace immediately reaches for your hand.

"Jacaerys," you say, squeezing his palm once. He laughs.

"Good night, Y/N."

"Goodnight."

At seven months pregnant, the burning has finally stopped, but you feel weaker still. Every movement puts pain on your back, your shoulders, your feet. You and Jace speak a language that is mostly moans and groans, and not the kind that used to be typical for the two of you.

One morning, when Jace is away at Driftmark, Rhaenyra joins you for breakfast. At the sight of your sovereign, you try to stand, which makes Rhaenyra laugh.

"Don't trouble yourself, Y/N," she says, walking towards you. "I remember when I was your size. Took me all morning just to get out of bed." You give her a tight lipped smile, settling back into the comfy position you had arranged for yourself.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"How are you feeling?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of tea. She motions to you, but you decline with a shake of your head.

"I'm alright."

"Is she kicking?" she asks, nodding to the hand on your belly.

"Only when I'm trying to sleep," you say with a laugh. "You agree with Jace, then? You think it'll be a girl?"

"The way you're carrying, yes, but one never really can tell. What are you hoping for?" she asks.

"For these next months to pass quickly," you say, straining when a nerve pinches in your side. You adjust your position, and find that Rhaenyra is looking at you with a small, understanding smile. "And of course, for a healthy baby."

"Of course."

"I don't know how you've done this so many times," you say. "Does it get any easier?"

"No," she says simply. You sigh, which makes her smile grow. "How has Jace been?" she asks.

"Very protective," you say, smiling. "Maybe too much so. I feel like if I just breathe wrong he's on alert, worried something has happened." A strange expression passes over Rhaenyra's face - equal parts pride and sorrow.

"I'm afraid Jacaerys has seen more than his fair share of pregnancies gone wrong," she says gently.

"I'm sorry, I know," you say, embarrassment passing through you.

"That's not to say that he isn't overbearing," she adds with a smile. "He's much like his father that way."

"Really?"

"He couldn't always be there," she says, "But when he was, he made up for the time apart with his watch over me." You smile at her as the door opens across the room, and Jace enters.

"You're back early," Rhaenyra says, lifting an eyebrow at him. He smells salty when he leans down to kiss you. He smiles at you, then looks to his mother.

"Thought I might join you for breakfast," he says, sitting next to you. "Besides, I was needed here more than at Driftmark." You exchange a look with Rhaenyra.

"How are you feeling this morning?" he asks you.

"Just fine, Jacaerys," you say, patting his cheek. "You didn't need to cut your visit short."

"Well, there is something I need to do here nonetheless."

"What's that?" you ask.

"It seems Syrax has laid another clutch of eggs. Joff and I are going to retrieve them, and the younger boys are going to help us pick one for the babe," he says, a hand on your stomach. You smile at him, at the gentle caress of his hand. You know he comes from a place of love with his attention.

"Do you want to join us?" he asks.

"I doubt I could make it downstairs, much less down to the Dragonpit."

"We could bring them to you," he says.

"No," you say, "Decide with your brothers. Just pick out a good one." He nods to you, leaning in to kiss your temple.

At the end of breakfast, Jace goes off to the Dragonpit, but only at your insistence. He wanted to walk you back to your chambers, but Rhaenyra assured him she was more than up to the task. Once he was out of sight, she laughed to herself.

"I see what you mean," she says.

Jace returns to your room that night with a shiny, white dragon egg.

Jace's lips are soft on yours. At eight months pregnant, finding moments with him is getting harder every day. He lies next to you, a hand on your stomach, the other cradling the back of your head.

"Y/N," he hums, each word spoken onto your lips, "I want you." You make a sound in your throat, both in agreement and in discomfort. It has been too long since the two of you have been intimate.

"I'm huge," you say.

"You're not and I don't care," he says, his mouth moving across your jaw.

"The last time we did this," you breathe, arching into him when he nips at your earlobe, "We had to stop because you worried you'd hurt the baby."

"I promise I'll relax this time," he says.

"How could you even get to me?" you ask with a laugh. Jace smiles at you as his hand moves from your stomach to your hip, turning you onto your side easily. He presses up behind you, kissing along your neck.

You sigh, relaxing into him. His hand pulls up the skirt of your nightgown, exposing your legs to the cool night air. It has been so long that you know you're ready for him immediately.

"Just tell me if I'm hurting you," he says. You groan, putting a hand to his face to stop him from kissing you more. "Y/N."

"Jace." You scoot away from him, turning slowly to face him.

"I didn't mean anything by it," he says with a sigh.

"How many times have you fucked me in that same position?" you ask. Jace frowns, frustration evident on his face. "Have you ever hurt me?"

"No, but things are different," he says. "What's the harm in asking if you feel okay?"

"It doesn't make me feel desirable," you say, looking up at the ceiling, stupid, frustrating tears forming in your eyes again. Jace sighs and moves to your side, propping himself up on an elbow so you have to look at him.

"Y/N," he says gently. "Of course you are desirable. You are still the most beautiful, incredible woman I know. And it's because you are so incredible that I want to make sure that I don't do anything that puts you in more pain than I know you are already in."

"I promise I will tell you if I am hurting, okay? You don't have to coddle me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," you say, hand on his cheek to bring his lips to yours. "I'm the bitch for complaining about her kind husband." He laughs and kisses your palm.

"You're not a bitch," he says. You kiss him again. "Now please roll onto your side and let me fuck you." You laugh, doing as he says.

"Of course, My Prince."

Jace is at Dragonstone Castle when you go into labor. He has been anxious for the last month, knowing that any day the baby could arrive. He intended to postpone this meeting with the great houses, but you assured him that the babe would not come today. The only thing that kept him to his promise was the fact that Vermax could bring him back to the Red Keep quickly.

When Joffrey bursts into the room, Jace is immediately on his feet, already fearing the worst.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Y/N has gone into labor."

Jace barely spares a glance at the lords around the table. He urges Joffrey along. His brother had the foresight to request that Vermax be readied for when they arrived upon the shore.

The ride is quick, as he knew it would be, but he still urges Vermax along, wanting and needing to be close to you as soon as he can.

When he gets to the Red Keep, he runs up to your chambers, intending to throw them open and run to your side. Instead, he finds that they are locked. He can hear soft discussion, encouragements, but the loudest sound coming through the door is your screaming.

Joffrey followed him to the door and carefully peels him away. "She's alright," he insists. Jace won't be able to agree until he can see you himself.

Together, they sit outside your door for the next three hours. Joffrey doesn't say much, but when your screaming gets louder, or there seems to be a rise in urgency to the voices inside, he puts a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It seems like ages have passed when the doors finally open.

He doesn't wait to hear what the Maester has to say. He rushes into the room, his eyes going immediately to your bed. Midwives quickly take away bloodied sheets, and when they clear, he sees you. You are drenched in sweat, your hair matted all around you, and he's not sure he's ever seen you look more beautiful.

"Y/N," he says, as if he's looking upon the gods themselves. You look up at him, your face breaking into a smile. He rushes to your side.

"Are you okay?" he asks, taking your face in his hands.

"I'm okay," you say, laying a hand over his. He laughs. It's a result of the built up tension from the hallway, and he can't stop himself. He laughs as he kisses you, over and over. You laugh, too, and he tastes the salt of your tears on your lips.

"What is it?" he asks, quickly studying your face.

"Don't you want to meet him?" you ask.

"Him?" Jace's face falls in awe.

"Him," you say. You look towards one of the midwives and they bring over the smallest bundle Jace has ever seen. He sinks onto the bed beside you as the babe is placed in his arms.

"Hello," he says quietly. You lean onto his shoulder, looking down at your son with a smile on your face.

"Isn't he beautiful?" you ask, your voice a whisper.

"Yes," he says, his heart still thundering from the surprise. "What have you called him?" he asks.

"I assumed we'd discuss that together," you say, "But I was thinking Lucerys, if that'd be alright." Jace has tears of his own in his eyes. He bites back his smile, unable to put into words what the name means to him, what you mean to him. He nods his head.

"Does that sound good to you, Lucerys?" you ask, your finger touching the blanket over the baby's stomach. He starts to move around, crying out just a little. Like you've done it a million times before, you take Lucerys into your arms and shush him gently.

Jace kisses your temple repeatedly, until you laugh. You turn towards him and kiss him fully, passionately.

"I love you so much," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"I love you, too."

You stay in that position for an hour or so, Jace holding you, and you holding Lucerys. Joffrey is the first to meet the future heir to the throne, and he kisses you on the cheek when he learns his nephew's name.

When his mother enters the room, Jace doesn't stand, wanting to keep you in his arms forever. She is all smiles as she leans over your opposite shoulder. You sit up slowly, and Jace's arm around you helps guide you upright.

"Hello, little one," Rhaenyra says, taking the child into her arms. You sigh happily, watching her interact with him. Jace can't keep from kissing your face a few more times. He doesn't think he has ever been this in love with you.

"And what is the name of our little prince?" Rhaenyra asks, looking between the two of you. Jace looks down at you, but you nod your head to him.

"We've decided to name him Lucerys," he says simply. Rhaenyra's expression changes immediately, her eyes welling up with tears of her own. Holding Lucerys in one arm, she leans down to kiss you both.

"A fine name," she says through tears. "You did well," she says, looking at you. You smile back, tears forming again in your own.

After a few moments in her arms, she hands your son back to you, and departs, letting the two of you get acquainted to your new family. Neither of you say much. You just watch Lucerys with rapt attention, counting his fingers, and touching his soft patch of hair.

"He's so beautiful," you say quietly.

"He is."

"I don't think I'm ever going to let him out of my sight," you say, looking up at Jace with a smile. He smiles back, but notices the exhaustion on your face.

"Maybe you can for a little while," he says, "Just to get some rest."

"Still so overprotective," you say with a smirk.

"I've got two to protect now," he says, "So if you could just once let me take care of you without arguing--" You cut him off with a kiss.

"I'll try," you say. "But don't either of you leave this room."

"I don't think you could kick us out if you wanted to."

Jace stands with his son in his arms, watching as you lay down. The midwives come back in to check on you and Lucerys, before leaving the three of you alone for the time.

"It's okay, Y/N," he says lowly, when you still haven't shut your eyes, your gaze locked on the two of them. "We'll be here."

"Promise?"

"I swear it," he says, giving you an easy smile. He watches you close your eyes, and in a few moments, your breath falls into an easy rhythm, just like Lucerys's.

Jace looks down at his son. He doesn't want to disturb his sleep, but he wants to tell him, here and now, that he'll always be overprotective. So he makes the vow to himself, just like the one he made when he married you. He is always going to protect the people he loves, even if it sometimes drives them mad.

[ddejavvu]

Eddie Munson being totally in love with his best friend, then one morning after a night of drinking and pot, he wakes up with you tucked safely under his arms, in his bed... with no recollection of why you were there. The poor guys just really worried, because he doesn’t want the first.. something to have happened, and not even be able to remember it!

Eddie's initially surprised, but not panicked when he wakes up with a body beside his. He's the town freak, sure, but some chicks are into that, and this wouldn't be the first time he's woken up to feel skin-against-skin. But when he glances down and catches your face- your nose, your lips, your chin tucked into his chest, he blanches.

He's not particularly smooth, and certainly not good in a crisis. He doesn't think to gently ease you off of his chest or replace his arm with a pillow so that you don't notice you're being transferred- no, instead he darts out from beneath you, and your bleary eyes blink open in concern when you hit the mattress below.

"What- Eddie?" You ask, in your sweet voice, the one that Eddie notices is raspy, and if it's raspy for the reasons he thinks it's raspy he'll quit weed for good. And booze- he'll never black himself out again for as long as he lives if he'd missed a night of hearing that voice.

"I'm half naked." He notes, looking down at his bare, tattooed chest, "Are you wearing clothes?"

You nod, peering tentatively beneath the blankets to double check, "Yes? Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, we- I don't remember anything. And you're in my bed. And I'm shirtless. And I probably had so much last night."

"You did," You laugh, carefree and easy as you stretch out your sore muscles, "You don't remember anything because you were so far gone you tried lighting a pretzel stick. And I was in your bed because you made me watch a horror movie while we were high and I was too scared to be on the couch. And you always sleep shirtless."

All valid points. Eddie scratches lightly at his abdomen, "So you're saying we didn't- y'know? Do anything?"

"Relax. We both kept our pants on."

"Good." He nods, shoulders loosening from weight he hadn't realized was piled on them until it was gone, "I wouldn't have wanted to do that to you while we were drunk."

One of your brows raises, and like most of your facial expressions, this one sends a wave of impending doom over Eddie- he's so fucked- "Would you want to do that to me while we're sober?"

Eddie hopes that his flyaway curls, made even messier by his pillows, cover the pink parts of his face. He's usually a smooth-talker, never one to stutter but he's never managed to smart off to your face- no, in front of you he folds instead.

"I didn't say that." He manages, his hands finding purchase on his hips, "You're putting words in my mouth."

"Are they untrue?" You ask, brow only arching further, as a sadistic grin begins spreading over your face like you may be looking to steal Christmas from the Whos, "Because the only thing that did happen was you woke up with a semi."

"That just happens sometimes." Eddie's telling the truth, but in this particular instance, it could have had something to do with your perfume filling his nose, blacking out his senses, "That doesn't mean-"

"You've still got it." You refrain from glancing at Eddie's waistline, but you don't need to, "It came back when I started teasing you."

"You are ogling me." Eddie states, faux hurt in his tone as he fights a losing battle, "And I can't believe you'd strip me down to such base instincts without considering the deep nuance I hold."

"You'd better strip yourself down for a cold shower," You snicker, turning away and giving Eddie a truly unfair shot of your mostly-bare back where your tank top has ridden down your torso, "Or I think you're gonna nuance all over your pants."

[lay-z]

Mommy's Good Pup (1/2)

— pairing: sub!John ‘Soap’ MacTavish ⨯ fem!Reader

— warnings/info: 18+ | smut; pet play; established romantic relationship; himbofication; dom/sub dynamic; mommy kink; rimming; free use; unrealistic amount of cum/orgasms; fluff/aftercare; abrupt ending

Johnny has some secret kinks he’d love to explore with the first woman he truly loves and trusts. 

The front door slams shut behind you as you toe off your shoes to leave them behind before making your way into the flat, clutching the sleek black shopping bag in your right hand. 

When you enter the living room, Johnny has already perked up on the couch like a loyal dog who’s been waiting for his owner―which is already too perfect itself. 

Dressed in nothing else but a pair of black boxers and a loose-fitted tank top that matches his eye colour and gives a nice view of his muscular arms and shoulders, his baby blues light up as he tosses his phone aside on the couch cushion haphazardly, focusing all his attention on you and flashing a toothy smile before his handsome face twists into a sudden scowl. 

“Where were ye?” His voice is only half accusing with a petulant undertone, like you’ve left for days without a note instead of barely two hours. “I’ve been worried.” 

Approaching the couch, you put the bag down on the coffee table. “Running some errands downtown,” you answer honestly, giving a small unapologetic shrug. “Traffic was a pain in the arse, so it took a bit longer. Sorry.” 

He pouts, grumbling under his breath: “Could’a told me. Doesnae take much to type a wee message, innit?” 

You suppress a smile, but your eyes twinkle with mirth. Johnny is too adorable when he’s needy and clingy―which is always whenever he’s home from work and life on base. 

“I didn’t want to bother you while you were at the gym.” The scowl softens―even more so when you close the distance and slowly crawl onto his lap, knees bracketing his meaty thighs on either side as you straddle him. His hands come up naturally to rest on your backside, groping your ass cheeks through your jeans as his head tips back to peer up at you. 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “So thoughtful,” he croaks, pupils already dilating and swallowing up the baby blue of his irises. “But I missed my woman. Always do, ye know tha’, right?” 

Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start rubbing and caressing the sore muscles, nodding absentmindedly. He’s still warm from his recent shower, his golden skin lightly flushed, and dark mohawk damp while the fresh scent of his minty two in one bodywash and shampoo clings to him. 

Johnny leans his head back against the couch, eyelids drooping with a soft sigh as he enjoys your gentle massage and the weight of you on his lap. It’s the missing piece of truly returning home and all he’s going to be craving on his leave for the next two weeks. 

His fingers dig into the plump fat of your arse through the rough fabric of your jeans, like a kitten making biscuits, then his gaze drifts over to the coffee table and the black bag resting on top of it. 

“So... what did ye get, hm?” he asks curiously. From the looks of the volume, you bought quite a few things. 

Trailing your fingertips along his collarbones where they peek out from his tank top, you draw your thumbs up to trace the curve of his thick neck with a look that borders on hungry as you observe how his pulse throbs below his skin. 

After licking your lips, you answer: “A few surprises for you to celebrate the start of your leave, baby. It’s something uh... something I think you’ll like a lot.” 

Dark eyebrows draw together in a curious and intrigued frown, hips shifting underneath you as he sinks deeper into the cushions, adjusting his grip on your body. It’s subtle, but his beginning restlessness is enough to let you know that you have his full attention―like dangling a treat in front of a puppy’s snout. 

“Oh, aye? A kitchen or bedroom surprise?” He lets out a boyish little laugh as you lean back to grab the bag and place it between your bodies. “Both, I suppose,” you answer with a pondering pout. “Depending on where we use it.” 

He snorts, heart skipping in his chest as you begin rummaging through the contents of the bag.  

“I just have a few questions, okay? Nothing bad, though.” And your own heart flutters nervously as your fingers wrap around the black soft leather collar. The small heart shaped name tag jingles softly as you pull it out―stainless steel glinting in the daylight with Mommy’s Good Pup engraved on it in cursive letters. 

“Like... is this too much?” you ask, lashes fluttering with nerves and excitement as you show off the collar. His collar. 

Johnny gulps audibly. Bright eyes widening comically as you reveal your surprise―or one of them at least. His cheeks flush a soft pink as his heart begins to pound blood through his veins, most of it rushing south and into his head simultaneously, nearly making him dizzy. He practically stares at the collar dangling from your fingers. The engraving on the tag causing his cock to twitch in his briefs and the softest gasp to hitch in his throat. 

So, you did pick up on the hints he has been dropping for the past weeks. 

“No, it’s... it’s perfect,” he manages to stammer, unable to tears his gaze away from the collar. “Ye could never have somethin’ like this be too much, luv.” 

Licking his lips nervously, like a dog licking its chaps, he reaches out with sweaty palms to take the gift from your delicate grasp.  

The black leather is soft and supple, obviously top-quality, the tag cool against his skin. It’s not too heavy, just enough to be a comforting pressure around his neck when fastened around it. A shudder runs down his spine as he runs his thumb over the engraving, tracing the letters that would soon rest against his skin.  

He clears his throat before speaking: “So, ye’ve picked up on my hints, hm? And–” he clears his throat again and finally glances up at you again, his voice soft and strangely vulnerable, a hint of fear and excitement swirling in the depths of his eyes. “Ye dinnae think it’s... weird, do ye?” 

A part of him is still unreasonably terrified of your reaction, even though you’ve already bought the collar, making the first huge step into the direction of this new kink he’s all too excited to finally explore with someone he trusts and loves more than he ever thought possible. 

However, another part of him is utterly elated and eager to finally have you put the collar on him, to have you claim him the way he has been dreaming to be claimed and loved since first laying eyes on you. 

You can almost see the insecure and doubtful thoughts play in his head like a horror movie before you take the collar back to unbuckle it swiftly. “No, not weird at all, baby.” You assure him with a small shrug. “I just wish you would’ve felt comfortable enough with me to just... tell me or talk about it, y’know? That’s what the John MacTavish I know and love usually does.” 

His chest deflates as he exhales the deep breath he was holding, nodding eagerly. “I... I jus’ wasn’t brave enough,” he admits softly, his Scottish accent thicker than usual. “Ye ken I’m usually pretty open, but... this was different. It felt like something special and weird, something I wanted to keep just for me. Until I met ye.” 

Your soft hum of acknowledgment and understanding makes him relax into the cushion, though his cock begins to throb and harden as you bring up the collar to his thick neck, your eyes locking with his in question. 

“May I collar you now, baby? Make you my sweet pup officially?” you ask playfully, already fitting the leather around his neck, but waiting for his permission to fasten it. 

The words Mommy’s Good Pup glint up at Johnny, making his heart race and his cock twitch again, nestled under your crotch. He feels the anticipation building inside him, the need to give himself over to you completely slowly bordering on overwhelming. This is what he’s been dreaming of and it’s finally becoming a reality. 

“Aye,” he breathes out, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes, ye can collar me, love. I’m all yers.” 

Your own heart beats rapidly as you buckle up and secure the collar around his neck, listening to his words and seeing his pulse in his neck throb so deliciously. 

“I know you are, baby, and I love that, but there’s some stuff we need to clear up before we do this, okay?” you remark thoughtfully while flicking the little name tag with your fingertip with a soft giggle before rubbing your palms up and down his buff chest. “What exactly is this about? Do you want to be used? Need more attention and loving? A little bit of degradation or more praise? Talk to me, Johnny. I wanna understand this new... experiment.” 

Johnny's breath catches in his throat as you secure the collar around his neck, the leather moulding perfectly to his golden tanned skin. He can feel the weight of it, a tangible reminder of who he belongs to officially now―in a way he’s never quite belonged to anyone before.  

His pulse races beneath your fingertips as you flick the name tag, the jingle echoing in his ears like a promise of things to come. 

He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry as he tries to find the words to express the swirling thoughts and desires in his head. Your supple palms feel like brands against his chest, even through the fabric of his tank top, your touch igniting a fire deep within him, like searing napalm spreading through his veins. He wants to lean into you, feel your warmth and affection wash over him. 

“It’s... it’s about givin’ myself over to ye completely,” he starts to explain, his voice now low and heavy with emotion. “I want to be used for yer pleasure, to be the instrument of yer own desire. Want to make ye feel good and worship yer bonnie body like ye deserve.” 

He reaches up to cup your face in his large, calloused hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones gently. “I need yer attention when I’m home. Yer focus, yer love. I want to be the centre of yer world, even if only fer a moment. And... and I want to be pushed, to be tested. I want to be praised for bein’ a good boy, but... I also want to be punished when am bein’ bad.” 

A fierce blush stains his cheeks now, but he keeps holding your lovely gaze, determined to be honest with you. “I want to be degraded; to be told ‘m jus’ a dumb animal, a set of holes f’ye to use. But I also want to be cherished, to be held an’ kissed an’ told that ye love me. I want it all, hen. I want everythin’ you can give me.” 

You hum and nod along, leaning into his touch as he lists of his deepest desires, needs, and wants while you continue to rub his chest, feeling his muscular thighs tense as you straddle him, cock twitching and swelling to live as you sit on his crotch. His boxer briefs doing little to nothing to hide his growing arousal. 

“Mhm, yeah,” you rasp, pinching and rolling his nipples through his shirt with half-lidded eyes, thoroughly enjoying the flush on his cheeks. “That sounds very lovely to me, baby. Thank you for telling me.” 

You keep toying with his peaking nipples as he begins to squirm and breathe harder. “But my good boy needs to tell me about his safe word again before we start doing anything, okay? Can you do that for Mommy?” 

Johnny gasps as your fingers find his nipples, the sensitive buds hardening under your teasing touch. His hips buck up slightly, seeking more friction, more contact. The growing bulge in his briefs throbs and twitches against your clothed core, his cock aching to be freed. 

“Y-yeah, of course,” he pants, his cheeks burning hotter under your intense gaze and the shift of your tone to something more dominant, soft yet demanding. “My safe word... is Loch Ness. If it’s too much, I’ll say Loch Ness.” 

His hands drop from your beautiful face to cover your hands with his own, pressing them more firmly against his chest. His heart races beneath your palms, a staccato beat that matches the pounding of his cock against the confines of his underwear. 

“Please, Mommy... I want to be so good fer ye. I want to give ye everythin’ you need,” he nearly whimpers, his voice raw with desire. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. I’m yers.” 

“Loch Ness,” you repeat evenly with a few nods, allowing him to guide your hands for a moment as you start grinding your hips to stimulate his bulge when he bucks his hips with a soft grunt. “So... let’s say, whenever you’re in the mood to play, you will put on the pretty collar I’ve bought you, okay? And vice versa. I’ll ask permission to put it on you when Mommy would like to play with her sweet pup. Sound good?” 

Johnny shudders as you grind your hips against his, the friction of your rough jeans sending sparks of pleasure shooting up his spine. His cock throbs harder, a damp patch forming on his boxers as his arousal grows. He grips your hips tighter, pulling you flush against him as he rolls his own hips up to meet yours, letting out a shaky breath. 

He has officially ascended and found heaven; there is no other explanation for this. 

“Yes, Mommy,” he gasps. “Whenever I want to play, I’ll put on my collar fer ye. And whenever ye want to play, ye can ask to put it on me. I’ll always be ready for ye, though.” 

He leans in to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. “I want to be ready for you all the time. I want to be a good boy, always eager and attentive. Yer good pup, Mommy.” 

“Good,” you reply with a soft gasp, observing as his eyes begin to gloss over while he submits to you so willingly, letting go of any stress or troubles from his work as his brain melts out of his ears metaphorically. “Good fucking boy, Johnny.” You coo at him, one hand clutching his shoulder while the other grips the sofa’s backrest for leverage as you begin to dry-hump his cock more fervently. 

“My sweet boy, hm? Are you gonna cum in your undies for Mommy now? Gonna show me how desperate you are for me?” 

The bag crinkles and slides off his lap with your movements, but neither of you cares. Johnny lets out a low moan as you hump his crotch, his fingers digging into your hips as he bites his lower lip, determined to follow your wish and command as he focuses on the feeling on top of you and the pressure around his neck while the tag jingles cutely against the collar. 

The pressure and friction are enough delicious torture to push him closer to the edge embarrassingly fast; his hips bucking erratically, chasing the pleasure you’re giving him so freely.

“Oh fuck... Christ,” he pants harshly through gritted teeth. “I’m so feckin’ desperate for ye, Mommy. I f-feel... ‘m gonna... Fuck–!” His cock jerks and pulses rhythmically, tip leaking more precum and staining his boxers.  

Johnny’s been wanting and craving you since returning home late last night; too late to disturb your peaceful sleep for a welcome home quickie, which has only left him even more pent up after hitting the gym today. 

“Please, let me... I–I need... ‘m gonna cum. P-Please, let me cum!” He admits shamefully, face burning hot with humiliation and arousal while you give him a first taste of exactly what he asked for―and it’s almost too thrilling and too much already, if it weren’t for the way you moan along with him in pleasure. 

With a strangled cry and his eyes squeezing shut, Johnny comes undone. Cock pulsing and jerking as it erupts in his boxer briefs so hard, his cum soaks and spurts right through the fabric, painting his boxers and your jeans white. His bulky mass shudders and convulses, hands gripping you possessively as he gets lost in the throes of an intense, shameful climax. 

Meanwhile, you watch and feel him come with a smile. Your own soft moans overshadowed by his as he makes a mess between you two. 

Cupping his face with both hands, you hold him steady as he continues to pant and shudder, your breaths mingling briefly before you capture his lips in a deep, filthy kiss; tongue delving past his lips to claim his mouth and get a first real taste of his submission while Johnny whimpers into the kiss, his body still trembling and quaking with aftershocks. 

“Oh, fuck,” you groan after pulling back slightly. “My good fucking boy. Came so fucking much for me, hm? All for Mommy, sweet pup.” 

Your praise washes over him like warm milk and honey, wrapping him up in a blissful feeling of home. When you pull back, he chases after your lips with a soft whine, hands roaming your flanks, desperate to keep you close. 

“A-Aye,” he stammers weakly. “All f’ye. I couldn’t–couldn’t hold back, not when ye’r doin’ all this f’me. I’m so sorry, I jus’ couldnae control it. It’s embarrassing.” 

In unison, you both peer down at the mess he’s made with his massive load of cum, a mix of shame and pride warring in his expression while your foreheads rest against one another. 

You click your tongue in reprimand, shaking your head with a soft smirk as you nuzzle your nose against his.  

“No, not embarrassing, baby. Never embarrassing. I love it when you cum quickly, when I make you feel so good and horny that you can’t help yourself but cum for me. Okay?” You’re practically cooing at him as you start caressing his muscular torso again, rubbing your palms along his arms and shoulders. 

Johnny shudders at your gentle touch, his skin tingling with goosebumps and his cock giving a feeble twitch of renewed interest. Your reassuring words make his heart swell with happiness and love, and he leans into your caress, craving more of your touch as he soaks it all up with greed. 

“Really, Mommy?” he asked softly, a hint of wonder in his voice. “Ye dinnae think it’s gross or pathetic? Am glad I could make ye feel good, but... I wanted to last longer for ye. I wanted to worship ye properly before I lost control.” 

He peers up at you with a mix of affection and determination, his hands sliding down to your hips again while the smell of you and his drying cum fills his nostrils. “Can I make it up to ye, Mommy? Can I worship yer gorgeous curves properly, now that I’ve calmed down a bit?” 

You keep caressing him sweetly, feeling his skin break out in goosebumps beneath your palms while his bright blue eyes sparkle with wonder and adoration, causing your own chest to heave and blossom with warmth, butterflies going rampant in your stomach. 

But you shake your head. “No, Johnny. It’s not gross or pathetic. I like exploring this kink with you. I love that you want to do this with me. You’re mine, baby. My sweet Johnny, and I’m yours. All yours.” You lean in to kiss the tip of his nose, his scruffy cheek, his lips―each sweet kiss serving to underline your statements, your claim on each other. 

“How about we stay in today, hm? Order some food later and just... keep playing a bit, hm? What do you say?” 

A blissful and cheeky smile spreads across his face as he nuzzles into your touch, savouring the closeness. Before he answers, he turns his face to capture your lips in another deep kiss, groaning contentedly into your mouth. 

“Mmm, I like the sound of that, Mommy,” he murmurs roughly, his hands sliding around to cup your plush rear, giving you a squeeze and pulling you harder against his lap despite the mess. “Stayin’ in, orderin’ food, playin’ with my beautiful Mistress... sounds like a bloody perfect day.” 

He pulls back slightly to gaze into your eyes while his hands tug on your shirt to pull it from the waistband of your jeans before they slide under the stretchy fabric to explore the supple skin of your back until you arch into his touch, ass grinding over his softened prick again. 

“Aye, let’s stay in, order a feast, and see where the day takes us. I want to spend every moment I can worshippin’, pleasin’, and lovin’ ye, hen.” 

Your eyelids flutter closed with a soft sigh as you let him caress and explore your body for a moment, listening to his words before your eyes flutter open again. 

The black collar you’ve bought him looks so good around his throat, along with the little dog name tag, that you can’t help but touch it again before you glance at the bag still resting and half-spilled beside you on the couch cushion. 

“I've bought more than this collar, y’know,” you say, biting your cheek to keep yourself from grinning too wickedly. “But before we continue, I want you to get naked for me... and I want you to stay naked for the rest of the day, except for the pretty collar... and the butt plug I’ve bought for you.” 

Butt plug. 

That makes his breath hitch even sharper while your fingers trail along his collar, his hands still underneath your shirt. Nervousness and excitement flash in his bright eyes as he swallows thicky, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. 

“Butt plug?” he repeats softly, a hint of awe in his voice. “I cannae believe ye’d spoil me so.” He slowly pulls his hands away from your body, more than reluctantly. 

Johnny has shoved quite a few fingers up his own arse while exploring himself in the past, has taken your fingers on multiple occasions now, and even that small pink love egg vibrator that he usually uses on your clit―but he’s never taken a butt plug.  

“Not just any butt plug,” you announce, already reaching over to pull it out of the bag. “It has a tail, too!” 

And when you present it to him, Johnny’s eyes nearly roll back into his skull as a feverish wave of desire and arousal overcomes him while he mentally thanks any god that is responsible for bringing you into his eyes. 

“Fuck,” he groans, chest heaving with deep breaths as he watches your fingers curl around the stainless-steel plug―with a beige fluffy tail attached to it. “Didn’t think white would suit you, so I picked beige.” 

You sound so giddy and eager, it’s maddening, and Johnny can feel his cock slowly pulse and throb back to life despite his release mere moments ago. 

“Oh, aye?” His voice sounds breathless as he reaches for the hem of his tank top to follow your other instructions, more than eager to get naked for you. He pulls the soft blue fabric over his head and drops it next to him haphazardly. “I don’t care much about the bloody colour as long as ye find it pretty, love.” 

Your soft chuckle is music to his ears, and he must force himself to nudge you off his lap, so he can tug his ruined boxer briefs down next while you sit back on your haunches next to him. Standing up, he shimmies out of the sticky, uncomfortable fabric; muscles rippling with his movements as his soft cock is exposed, his naked body now fully on display for you, except for the black collar around his neck. 

The dog tag jingles softly as he sits back down on the couch, his muscular thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable, his expression a mix of vulnerability and excited anticipation as he meets your eyes again. 

“Like this, Mommy?” he rasps. “Is this what ye wanted to see?” And he spreads his legs more, needing and yearning for all your attention on him while his impressive cock and balls rest between his thighs, framed by dark, unruly pubes that connect to a thick happy trail. “Am all yers, ready to wear whatever ye bought me, ready to be yers in every way.” 

“Fucking perfect, sweet pup,” you purr hoarsely after watching him undress for you, and you reach out to caress and rub his chest once more, feeling his coarse dark chest hair under your fingertips before you lightly tug on his rosy nipple with a pleased smile, eliciting a gasp from him. “I want to put the tail plug inside you,” you remark, feeling his heartbeat thud against your palm while his fat, spent cock throbs between his meaty thighs. “Can I?” 

If Johnny had a tail, it would certainly be wagging right now, but alas―he can merely nod eagerly to show you how much he’d enjoy that, eyes sparkling with glee and trust as he scrambles on the couch to get in position for you. 

Scooting toward the edge of the couch cushion, and without hesitation, he lifts his legs and spreads them wider, putting his whole business and tight, puckered hole on lewd display for you. The musky scent of his sweat and arousal fill the air even thicker now as Johnny reaches down to hold himself open, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh of his ass. 

“Please, Mommy,” he whines needily, his hips lifting slightly as if offering himself to you. “Put it inside me. Claim me, own me, make me yer good boy.” 

“Aw, my sweet boy.” You rub his taut belly teasingly. “So fucking needy, hm? Fuck, I love that.” Pulling back, you get up from the couch and grab the sex toy. 

It’s not too big for him, you made sure of that when you bought it, measuring it with your fingers to compare the thickness, knowing that he’s taken three of your fingers in the past before. 

“Stay here and keep presenting that pretty asshole for me, yeah? I’ll clean this and get the lube.” You announce, caressing the fluffy tail along his arm playfully before leaving the living room. 

Johnny keeps shuddering and trembling even as you leave the room while your sweet praise rings in his ears like the echo of a gunshot, making him feel cherished and desired.  

The plug you’ve bought isn’t ginormous, but it’s certainly bigger that anything he’s taken up his arse before―and the thought of that furry tail wagging from his ass sends a thrill through him that nearly makes him feel drunk with desire and need. 

While you’re gone, he focuses on keeping his ass raised and spread, his puckered hole clenching and fluttering as the cool air from the AC brushes over his flushed skin. He can feel his flaccid cock starting to swell and lengthen again, the knowledge of what is about happen arousing him immensely once more. 

The sheer thought of having the toy stretch him and have his insides moulded to its shape enough to have him moan quietly, knowing he’ll be feeling that delicious ache for days as a reminder of your touch and claim on him. 

After a few minutes, you return, wearing nothing but a short black silk robe, holding the trusty bottle of lube and the tailed butt plug in your hands. 

Seeing that Johnny is still in the same position on the couch—keeping his legs up, hands under his bent knees while his ass rests on the edge of the couch seat, presenting his puckered asshole for you—pleases you more than you could’ve ever imagined. 

His face is flushed, his cock fully hard again despite having cum just a few minutes ago. It’s a sight to behold and one that makes your pussy even wetter as you approach him on bare feet, dimming the lights on your way over to him for a more sensual atmosphere. 

“Such a good boy, Johnny,” you praise him with a smile. “Doing so well for me, baby.” 

Getting down on your knees in front of him, you put the toy and lube down before you start massaging and groping his plump ass and the back of his meaty thighs while you watch his fat prick twitch and leak onto his stomach. 

“You’re okay, yeah? Talk to me.” 

Johnny’s breath catches in his throat at your return, azure eyes widening at the sight of you in the short silk robe. The black fabric clings to your curves, secured with a belt around your waist like a present for him, hinting at the delights hidden beneath.  

“Y-Yeah,” he answers with genuine awe at your sweetness, though he doesn’t know anything else but love and care from you. “I’m okay, ‘m more than okay. I feel amazin’, being here for ye like this.” 

And his hips buck slightly, cock jumping as you start groping and caressing him again. 

“Fuck, luv,” he groans, his head lolling back as he pushes his ass more firmly into your touch. “Yer hands feel s’good, Mommy. I love how ye touch me, how ye make me feel. So safe and loved.” When he gazes down at you with hooded eyes, his pupils are blown wide with lust. “I’m ready for the toy, Mommy. I want to feel it stretchin’ me open, claimin’ me inside and out as yours.” 

Hearing his confirmation that he’s okay eases your own hidden insecurities and helps you relax as you watch and study his every reaction. 

“That’s good, baby.” You smile up at him, eyes meeting as he holds his legs open for you, still caressing his ass and legs. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, that you can finally experience this wish of yours with me. I’m enjoying this a lot, too.” 

Your eyes flicker to his flushed, twitching cock, and you lick your lips as observe the milky bead of precum drip onto his stomach while his balls keep throbbing. 

“Hm, but before I put the plug inside, I want you to cum again, okay? I’ll help you a bit more with that this time, I promise.” And with that, you spread his ass cheeks a little wider as you lean in to lick and suck on his plump balls. 

Johnny lets out a loud, strangled moan as soon as your warm, wet tongue starts lapping at his sensitive balls, your sweet lips latching around his flesh. The sensation sends electric jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, making his spent cock bob against his stomach, sticky pre smearing across his lower stomach. His hands tighten on the backs of his knees, fingers sinking into the flesh as he tries his best to hold himself open for you. 

“Oh fuck!” he cries out, his voice breaking on a gasp. “That f-feels incredible–”  

His hips buck involuntarily, pressing his sac more firmly against your suckling mouth. The combination of your lips and tongue on him like this, and the filthy sight of you on your knees before him, is rapidly pushing him towards another intense climax. 

“Please, M-Mommy,” he pants harshly, his chest heaving and sweat beading on his brow. “Keep goin’, just like that. I'm gettin’ close again, s-so fuckin’ fast. Fuck! I want to cum f’ye, want ta give ye another load.” 

Listening to his wrecked voice, his moans and whimpers, makes your pussy drip and slick steadily while your cheeks grow even hotter with arousal as you taste his very essence on your tastebuds. 

Knowing that he’s already close again by the way his shaft twitches and his balls twitch on your tongue, you pull back to start peppering kisses around his sac and hairy thighs, going lower until you reach his sensitive taint. 

Leaning in, you lap and tease the area before going even lower—until you finally reach his puckered hole. And while you dig your fingers into his firm, trembling thighs, you spit on it obscenely before leaning in with a needy moan, and you start licking his hole, giving him his first proper rim job from. 

And Johnny lets out a guttural, animalistic moan as your tongue makes contact with his ass. The sensation unlike anything he has ever felt before, electric and overwhelming in its intensity. His body convulses, back arching off the couch as he fists his hands in the cushions. 

“AH, FUCK!” he roars, his voice echoing off the living room walls. “Holy shite–shite, shite... that feels... FUCK! Don’t stop, please don’t stop!” 

He’s so incredibly hard, his cockhead flaring an angry purple as it weeps a steady stream of precum onto his flushed skin. He’s whining and moaning so loud, you’re almost afraid the neighbours might hear, but his sounds are too sweet, his taste so good that you can’t really care. 

His balls draw up so tight they ache, his orgasm building to a crescendo while your nifty tongue delves deeper, probing and teasing his fluttering hole, pushing him closer and closer to a second orgasm. 

“Mommy, I’m... I’m gonna... FUCK!” Johnny yipped, his body going rigid as his climax slams into him like a bomb blast. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum spurt from his tip, painting his chest and stomach with streak after streak of his release. His asshole clenched and spasmed around your invading tongue, milking it, as if trying to coax you inside while Johnny’s eyes rolled back in his head, lost in the sensations of another mind-blowing orgasm. 

“Mommy... Mommy!” he chants breathlessly, his hips bucking erratically as he rides out the waves of his release, his speech slurring: “Fuck... s’good... so fuckin’ good.” 

You can feel your own slick arousal coat and stick to the inside of your thighs as you continue licking his rim and up his taint again while you reach for the tailed plug resting next to your knees while he’s too distracted―still coming, babbling, and shaking with aftershocks. 

Your clit throbs and pulses hotly between your folds, but you keep ignoring your own needs for now as you pop the cap of the bottle of lube open, and smearing a generous glob on the sex toy before you pull back from his ass to tease his fluttering hole with the smooth, round tip of the plug. 

“Atta boy,” you coo hoarsely, kissing and nipping his inner thigh as you slowly push the toy inside. “Relax for me, baby. You’re doing so good. So good for your Mommy.” 

Johnny’s cock continues to twitch, dribbling the last weak spurts of his release onto his stomach, coating his body hair. His bulky chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, sweat matting the short strands of his hair to his forehead, the feeling of the cool air on his slick skin and sore muscles making him shiver. 

When he feels the smooth tip of the plug teasing his slick hole, Johnny lets out a breathless moan. “Oh... oh, f-fuck.” His hips twitch slightly as you push the plug in a little further. “That feels... s-strange. But good. Oh, really fuckin’ good.” 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces his body to relax, his muscles going pliant under your teasing ministrations as you suck a lovebite into his inner thigh. “I’m ready, Mommy,” he murmurs, gazing down at you with hazy, trusting eyes like the loyal puppy he is. 

“Shhhh, my sweet pup.” You shush him, still massaging his meaty thigh with one hand while pushing the thick plug deeper inside his ass; twisting and rolling it teasingly while his puckered hole clenches around it, sucking it deeper inside. 

“Just relax and feel this, yeah? I’m gonna make you turn all dumb for me tonight. Gonna turn you into my dump, sweet pup, Johnny.” 

Johnny whines and whimpers in return, his cheeks flushing as deeply as his swollen prick at your promising words, his shaft still hard as you push and tease the fat plug deeper into his asshole, fulfilling his deepest desire to serve and act as your dumb, loyal, and utterly submissive pet. 

And to think Johnny initially planned to put the collar on you.

[estrellami-1]

Ok so I saw a post about Steve as a teacher letting his kids control his Spotify which means his Wrapped is All Over The Place but the top artist is Corroded Coffin and Steve finds out from the thank-you video that Eddie is hot. I see it, I love it, it’s inspired.

I’m thinking something… a little different.

“Alright, class!” Steve calls. “Marcus, it’s your turn to choose the music, right?”

“Actually, Mr. H?” Amber pipes up. “Spotify Wrapped came out today!”

Steve blinks. “Spotify… what?”

Marcus is nodding. “Spotify Wrapped! It tallies up what you’ve listened to and gives you stats and stuff. It’s cool!”

“Ah,” Steve says, nodding, squinting at his computer. “And I see that… how?”

There’s a cacophony of noise until Steve holds up a hand. Everyone quiets, and Becky holds her hand up. He nods at her. “It’s at the top,” she says softly. “Where your recently played is.”

He smiles at her. “Thank you, Becky.” He navigates to it, clicking on it and letting the graphic play.

Their genre, apparently, is soft grass indie metal. He’s entirely sure that’s made up. Their top artist, making up sixty-four percent of the music they listened to, is Corroded Coffin.

There’s a video; a little thank-you the band put together. It starts with Eddie up front, as the lead singer. Gareth, Jeff, and Freak are slightly behind him, grinning at the camera. Steve recognizes the background as Jeff’s living room. “Hi!” Eddie starts. “Thanks so much for listening to our music this year.”

“We couldn’t do what we do without you,” Gareth adds on.

“And everything we do is for you!” Jeff says.

“It’s totally metal of you to listen to our music, and we appreciate it!” Freak finishes. They all wave, and the camera cuts off.

Steve is… gobsmacked. He loves his husband, truly, but he looks so uncomfortable, and the way he’s speaking is weirdly stilted. He was not made to stand still.

He shakes his head, knowing he’s about to make Eddie’s year, and blow these kids’ minds.

Eddie had always been more vocal than Steve about coming out, saying fuck it to the consequences. Maybe being gay was accepted in the metal community, but Steve had been too new in his current job to even think about the jeopardy this could put his career in.

But honestly. That video was terrible, and his kids deserve better.

He sighs, raises a hand to get the class’s attention. “I know that was cool,” he chuckles. “But if you can be quiet and patient, I could get you something even cooler.”

“Cooler than a video from Corroded Coffin?” Nick asks.

Steve tilts his head. “Cooler than that video, at least.”

Nick doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

Steve just smiles. “How about we find out?” He puts a finger to his lips and FaceTimes Eddie.

He makes sure his volume is low, enough so that he even has trouble hearing when Eddie picks up.

“Baby!” Eddie exclaims, then clocks the background and is instantly worried. “Wait, you’re still at work. Are you okay? Is everything okay? Did you hit your head again? Do I need to come get you?”

“Christ, you’re dramatic,” Steve mutters, grinning wide. “I’m fine. I’m with my class, and we just finished looking at our Spotify Wrapped. Guess who our number one artist for the year was.”

Eddie’s eyes sparkle. He grins. Steve nods. “Corroded Coffin,” he confirms, then sighs. “I have to say, though, I was a little disappointed by the video.”

Eddie groans, throwing his head back. Steve gets a great view up his husband’s nose. “I know! I know, it sucked, but the guys were happy with it and it was, like, our eighth go, and-”

“I get it,” Steve promises. “But how would you like to one-up it?”

It takes Eddie a second, but his eyes gleam. “Are you sure? Your career-”

“Is stable enough now,” Steve finishes. “I’m sure. If you are.”

“Fuck,” Eddie mouths, conscientious of Steve’s class. “I love you.”

Steve smiles, blows a kiss to the camera. He gets a smattering of awws from some of his female students.

He figures out how to connect his phone to his computer to the screen, pushes the volume button up, and nods. “Go, Eds.”

Eddie grins and waves at the screen. “Hi, Mr. Harrington’s class! I’ve heard so much about you guys. It’s totally metal that you’re listening to our music—that’s something your teacher neglected to tell me.” He grins at the screen, a private thing for Steve, who dutifully rolls his eyes.

“I hear your music every day, Eds, forgive me if I don’t think anything of it when I hear it here and at home.”

“Mr. H,” Nathan asks in a pseudo-whisper, “how the hell do you know Eddie Munson?”

Eddie bursts out in a laugh. “You must be Nathan,” he says.

Nathan goes white, then pink. “H-hi, Mr. Munson, sir.”

“I think you should be their teacher,” Steve says, grinning first at Eddie, then his class. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Nathan say sir before.”

Everyone laughs—including Nathan—and Eleanor raises her hand. “How do you know him?”

Steve takes a breath, glances at his phone. Eddie’s smiling patiently at him, and Steve’s own smile grows as he answers her. “I’m his husband,” he tells her.

“Ten years and counting!” Eddie crows. “Though we’ve known each other for… twenty… something.”

Steve chuckles. “Twenty-three, Eds. If you count high school, which I don’t.”

“But I do,” Eddie nods. “Twenty-three years. And counting.”

Steve chuckles again. “And counting,” he agrees.

As his room explodes into noise, he looks back at his phone to find Eddie already looking at him.

That’s the way it goes, he thinks. Eddie saw him the whole time. It took Steve a while to catch up, but now that he has, he’s never been happier.

Twenty-three years and counting, indeed.

[pinkmirth]

thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you ’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

© 𝒫𝐼𝑁𝐾ℳ𝐼𝑅𝑇𝐻! ⸻ all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ❤︎

[miupow]

최승철 ─── 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗖𝗛𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗠𝗔𝗦 !

seungcheol finally knows exactly what to get you for christmas this year.

★ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴。。。choi seungcheol x fem!reader 𝗴。⧼ 🔖 ⧽ ⸝⸝ smut , fluff , pwp

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 。。。marriage au・husband!seungcheol・mentions of babies , pregnancy , and family planning・breeding kink・creampies・strength kink・big dick cheol is a warning within itself・dirty talk・daddy kink・praise kink ⸝⸝ ‎ 𝘄𝗰。1. 6 k | 𝘁𝗼 𝗹𝗶𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗿𝘆。

𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 from @jenoslutie ; cheol + breeding kink for christmas please !

♬ have yourself a merry little christmas 一 phoebe bridgers

notes from lia。idk how i feel about this one im ngl... but i wrote it and it's here! all feedback and reblogs are appreciated ^_^ i hope you all enjoy!

seungcheol’s grip on the steering wheel is so tight you’re beginning to worry that he’s cutting the circulation to his fingers. his usually plump lips are fixed in a thin line, his sharp jaw ticking as he grinds his teeth and stares unblinking out onto the dark, snowy road out in front of him.

“baby? is something wrong?” you ask gently, shooting him a confused and concerned quirk of your brow. he had seemed completely fine when the two of you had left your parent’s house earlier, christmas dinner still heavy in your bellies as you lingered to kiss your new baby niece goodbye. you were positive that you hadn’t done anything to upset him in the few short minutes since then either, but you could never be too sure. maybe you had forgotten something. you would never put it past you.

it’s almost as if the sound of your voice wakes him out of a trance, his neck snapping to the side to blink owlishly at you. “huh?”

you open your mouth to repeat yourself, but it seems that your words finally register when his eyes go wide and his ears go pink, blush deepening as he sharply turns his gaze back to the road. “oh, i-i’m fine, great, nothing’s wrong.”

he slides his hand across the console to squeeze your knee, the heat of his big hand sending exciting jolts up your thigh to your core. usually it was a comforting gesture from him, but the way his calloused fingertips dug into your skin was unusually tight and bruising.

“you look like something’s on your mind,” you prod, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. you can’t help but enjoy it when he’s rough with you, no matter the cause.

“just thinkin’.” seungcheol responds dismissively, the faraway look in his eyes unreadable.

“about…?”

“you with your niece.” he finally admits with a wistful sigh, his hand sliding from your knee up the inside of your thigh. you widen your legs to allow his venture thoughtlessly. “you’re so good with her, baby… you’d be such a good mother, i just know it.”

“you really think so?” you gush. “you know how badly i’ve always wanted kids… i’m a little jealous that my sister beat me to it. don’t get me wrong, i love babying kkuma too, but…”

you turn to gaze out at all the neighbors christmas lights you drive past, glittering so beautifully in the dark and snow, fully expecting the conversation to end there— you and seungcheol have only been married for a short while, stuck in an awkward sort of limbo where you were stuck between wanting to truly settle down and wanting to advance your careers. this sort of talk always made him uneasy, and he usually let these conversations die without much input at all. it made you a little sad, but you understood why he was hesitant. his career was always of the utmost importance to him.

but instead of silence, seungcheol blurted out; “i know what to give you for christmas this year.”

your head swiveled back to cock at him oddly, a confused smile beginning to tug at your cherry red lips. “just now? cheolie, christmas is today.”

“you’ll understand when we get home.” is all he said more.

and it did finally hit you, once you arrived at your house and stepped foot inside— in the blink of an eye seungcheol had you pressed up against the front door, his thick muscular arms pinning you effortlessly against the hard, cold wood. he steals your breath with a blazing kiss, filthy and debauched and entirely out of left field, swallowing down your high-pitched moan when he reaches down to grab a rough handful of your ass through your dress. you claw weakly at his flannel shirt, taken by complete surprise and unable to do anything else but melt against his lips and touch.

“cheolie, wait,” you whimper when he breaks the kiss, chest heaving as you search fruitlessly for words to say. seungcheol’s pretty plump lips are smeared with red from your lipstick.

“i’m going to give you a baby for christmas,” he growls, hot breath fanning your flushed face. “how about that, baby, hm? i’ll make you a mommy, just like you want…”

“oh, please,” you breathe out in rapture, leaning in for another heated, heavy kiss.

he takes his time with you, kissing away all your impatient whines— effortlessly he picks you up bridal style, just as he had on your wedding day, and carries you to the bedroom to spread you out gently across the king-sized bed. the veins in his biceps bulge deliciously, your mouth watering at the sight as he tugs his shirt off and over his head. he doesn’t give you enough time to appreciate his body in all its glory, unfortunately; like a man possessed he climbs on top of you and tears wildly at your clothes. you’re both naked before you can register it, your sparkly dress a crumpled heap on the floor, your panties, the same holiday red as your lipstick, caught on your ankle as seungcheol spreads your legs wide.

“i don’t need fingers,” you plead when you feel his blunt fingertips tease at your dripping folds, your husband always so tentative even when he’s worked up. “please, just need you inside of me.”

“a-are you sure?” seungcheol huffs, his pretty brown eyes blown wide and wild in arousal. you still struggle to take him most nights, even after all these years… but that painfully delicious burn is all that you craved to feel.

he relents with a nod of your head, retracting his hand to grip the meat of your thigh. he props your legs on his shoulders, giving the inside of your knee a quick kiss before positioning himself at your entrance. your pussy is so wet that his cock slides into you without much resistance, down to the hilt in one slow thrust. the stretch makes your eyes roll back in your head with a low, broken moan, so dizzyingly deep inside of you that it felt as if his fat, bulbous tip was prodding at your belly. he makes no movements, intent on letting you adjust to his size for a moment, but you’re far too impatient and greedy for your gift— with your arms shaking like jelly you lift yourself up off the bedsheets just enough to give the man above you a wanton, desperate pout. “fuck me, cheolie,” you beg him, “put a baby in me, please!”

he doesn’t have to be told twice; with a defeated groan seungcheol relents, slowly withdrawing his cock from your pulsing cunt before thrusting back inside with vigor. the rhythm he quickly builds is brutal, his long thick cock dragging against your gummy walls blissfully, hitting every sensitive spot you had. his fat heavy balls slap wetly against your ass with every thrust of his hips, the obscene clapping sound adding to the symphony of squelches from your pussy and moans from both of your mouths. your arms give out and you fall crashing back into the pillows, your face burning from the filthiness of it all. the pathetic little mewls tumbling from your lips sound borderline pornographic— he makes you cry out every time his cockhead slams against your cervix, admiring you spread out underneath him with a crooked grin. you’re sure he’s never fucked you this hard before, your climax racing to a crescendo before you could even begin to process it. and you didn’t have to ask to know that seungcheol was close too; the way he gripped your thighs was unmistakable, no doubt leaving dusky purple fingerprints in his wake as he bent you nearly in half and rose from his knees to fuck into you even harder.

“such good pussy,” seungcheol growls, more to himself than to you, throwing his head back in pleasure as his thrusts pick up even more speed. “fuck, i love this pussy so much. so fuckin’ wet and tight—"

his big hands held your ass in the air, your back arching off of the bed in a curve that you knew drove him wild. your knees were nearly knocking against your face, your core burning from the stretch to the point it was almost painful, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the dizzying, mind-blowing pleasure that ignited your entire body. your thighs began to shake in seungcheol’s grasp, just on the edge of your orgasm… but you and him both knew you couldn’t cum from just this alone.

“daddy!” you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you try to reach for your clit yourself, “daddy, i wanna cum, please!”

seungcheol smacks your hand away and replaces it with his own, his talented fingers rubbing tight circles against the engorged bundle of nerves. “that’s it, scream for daddy,” he goads with a breathless chuckle, “gonna make me a daddy, yeah? gonna take all this cum like a good girl? come on, cum with daddy.”

your orgasm hits you like a train, your cunt clamping around seungcheol’s cock like a vice, milking him for all he’s worth as you gush and squirt around him. with a deep, animalistic grunt he cums as well, hot thick white ropes filling your needy pussy up until it was overflowing and dripping down onto the sheets. you feel so full and satiated, tummy warm with his sticky seed, seungcheol’s thrusts growing weaker and slower as you both come crashing down from your highs. gently, he places you back down onto the bed, untangles your limbs and kisses your aching joints as if in apology.

“did so good, baby,” he chuckles, leaning down to press another chaste kiss to your tummy. “merry christmas to you and the little one.”

[randompiecesofwriting]

Your Side of the Bed

Summary: Robby finds himself in an arrangement of sharing the reader’s bed. Sleeping side by side in the most literal of senses. It was simply a way they could be there for one another, offer comfort on hard days. And yet he found himself wanting more.

Paring: Michael “Robinavitch” x reader

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: NO SMUT I don’t think it’s even joked about here lol so there’s no smut in here! Brief mention of suicide prevention measures in a joke. Reader gets a small cut and is freaked out by medical procedures.

A/N: Really this was born out of me just wanting to write some Robby fluff. I think I’m slowing down on my writing frenzy y’all so please don’t expect my previous schedule of nearly every other day story releases I’m sorry! All in all as always I just wrote what I thought I would want to read so I hope y’all enjoy it and as always let me know what you think!

You hadn’t expected the night to end the way it did when you left your job that evening.

And honestly there was no reason you should’ve, afterall you hardly knew the man.

Sure you’ve met Robby a few times before. Interacted with him enough to know what he did for a living but beyond basic elevator small talk you’ve never really spoken to the man.

So when you spotted him standing outside of his apartment, keys in hand, just staring down at them dejectedly you didn’t really have a plan when you opened your mouth. You just knew you recognized that look on his face, the way his hands shook, the way he stayed rooted in place even as the elevator dinged as you got out, and you wanted to help.

“Hey Robby” His head snapped up at the sound of his name, the way his eyes went wide at your voice telling you he truly hadn’t noticed your approach “just getting back?”

“Yeah” he sighed out the word, telling you more than you thought he really meant to, his gaze going back to his keys, reluctance on his face as his shoulders dropped slightly.

“Have you eaten yet?” The words basically tumbled out of you, the offer though made spontaneously was no less sincere “I’m just getting back too and was going to make something quick if you want to come in” and you could see the hesitance quickly building, the denial on every part of him but his lips “I was thinking pasta and I struggle to make anything less than four servings”

He seemed to pause at the joke, to take a second to reconsider. “It’s late I don’t want to impose”

You shook off the worry easily, moving past the man to your own door faking confidence he would follow “I promise you aren’t, besides I’ve kinda had a shit day so being alone doesn’t sound like a lot of fun right now”

It wasn’t a complete lie to be fair. Your day hadn’t been the best but more than anything you knew this man shouldn’t be alone right now and he wasn’t going to take help unless he could offer some in return.

“I should shower first” The implied acceptance had you smiling as he turned back to his door, you could practically see him hype himself up to go in.

“You can use mine” You offered, forcing a level of nonchalance you didn’t feel into your tone “no pressure obviously the dinner invitation stands either way  but since you’re going to be over anyways” you let the end of your sentence dangle purposefully as you shrugged “plus I don’t mean to brag but the landlord just fixed my plumbing so I have the best water pressure in the building”

Your attempt at a joke had him snorting as he cast one final look at his door before wordlessly turning away from it and heading in your direction, following you back to your place “If that’s true the landlord and I will be having words”

Trying to tamp down the odd mix of anxiety and excitement at having Robby listen to you, you kept your gaze ahead, focusing a bit too hard on getting your key into the lock as he stood behind you patiently “I had to threaten to sue and it still took months so good luck with that one, you’ll need it”

Opening your door you toed off your shoes and put them to the side in your entryway prompting him to do the same while you started turning on lights “Feel free to set your bag anywhere, kitchen tables covered in my work stuff so that may be your best bet” you instructed him as you set your own work bag down at one of the chairs at the table “in the meantime make yourself at home I’ll grab you a towel and some clothes you can use”

You rushed through the process of grabbing an extra pair of clothes you thought would fit him and a towel, knowing the longer you left him alone in your living room the more likely he was to back out entirely. Something that was quickly proved correct as you joined him with the stack back out in the living room, hesitation and awkwardness practically carved into his bones as he stood rigidly in the center of the room.

“These should fit but obviously let me know if you need anything else” you ignored the trepidation on his face as you handed him the stack, Robby blindly grabbing it as he already started to backtrack.

“You really don’t have to-“

“Please I want to” you interrupted him, walking back towards the kitchen forcing him to hold onto the stack as you got out a pot “besides I need someone to get wine drunk with. Can’t do it on my own, I think that’s when they call it alcoholism”

Still he stared at you silently, you could practically see him trying to think of a way to politely extract himself.

“Unless you don’t drink of course in which case I’ve got soda or water or-“

“No no” he chuckled though it sounded slightly strained, patting to top of the stack you had given softly “wine’s good”

“Good I’ll open the bottle then” you smiled warmly at him, gesturing with a nod back towards the hallway behind him “bathroom’s down on the left I’ll be out here if you need anything”

Still he just stared at you for a brief moment, silence stretching with words unsaid, before he finally accepted it and nodded, giving you one last thanks before he made his way to go shower, leaving you to start cooking and distract yourself from the death spiral of regret and anxiety your brain was trying to force you down.

You heard the shower start up just as you put the pot on the stove to boil, you’d honestly planned on doing as little as possible when it came to getting food in you tonight after work but with Robby here you figured you could at least put in a minimal amount of effort. All things considered though boxed pasta and jarred sauce was as far as you were willing to go tonight.

Deciding last minute to add at least a salad to the side you were chopping up vegetables by the time that Robby joined you once again, looking tired but clean and a little lighter at least.

“You weren’t kidding about the water pressure” he noted as he sat on the other side of the bar that separated living room from kitchen, watching you continue to chop.

“I know right” you grinned at him “I don’t know what they did but I’m considering letting all my other unanswered maintenance requests go as a thank you”

He chuckled at that, looking back out at your apartment appraisingly “do you need me to do anything cause I-“

“Sit down doc” you chided him harmlessly “have a glass of wine you look like you’ve had a long shift”

He took the glass you slid his way with a nod, a small huff escaping him as he shook his head “what about you what’s got you coming home this late?”

A part of you wondered if you should commend his effort to try and fix your shifty night in lieu of his own or condemn his clear avoidance of the conversation turning to him. For now you chose to do neither and instead just answer “parent teacher conferences”

He hummed at that, watching you carefully as you threw the salad together and checked on the noodles “they go that badly?”

“They didn’t but that’s kind of the problem” you shrugged as you stirred the boiling water.

He raised a brow at that, no question coming to his lips just a silent ask to continue.

“It’s always the parents of the kids I’m not worried about who show up” you shrugged, leaning your elbows on the counter in front of him as you spoke “The straight A students, or at least the students who are clearly putting in the effort and trying”

“Meaning the students who’s parent’s you want to speak to don’t come” he answered for you in understanding.

“Exactly” you nodded, grabbing out a colander to drain the pasta as you continued “Which I get it parents can be busy or can just not make the conference hours but given all the emails I’ve sent over the course of this semester that have gone unanswered…”

You trailed off with a shrug, dishing up two portions of pasta and salad without a thought and placing one in front of Robby before putting yours in front of the seat next to him.

He nodded in thanks, starting to eat as you did the same, a small silence passing over the two of you that felt infinitely more comfortable than the one shared earlier in the evening, before he broke it “do you know what you’re going to do about it yet?”

You nodded in answer, twirling your fork absentmindedly in your pasta as you thought “Yeah it’ll be another round of emails, maybe some printed notes sent home with kids offering to meet at other times, I’ll see if I can at least get some of them on a phone call or something”

He hummed in thought, studying you for a moment before his eyes cut back down to his plate “you’re a good teacher”

You snorted at that, furrowing your brow at the man beside you in response “what makes you say that”

“You care” he shrugged like it’s obvious “you’re going out of your way to try and set these kids up for success. That’s what a good teacher would do”

“Feels like the bare minimum” you chuckled slightly “it’s my job to make sure they leave my classroom set up for whatever comes ahead”

“The fact that you so clearly believe that proves my point” he smiled back at you “it’d be a lot easier to write it off, to say you tried and give up but you keep pushing, keep advocating for these kids. You’re a good teacher”

And truly you didn’t have anything to say to that, the words dying on your tongue as you looked up at him and saw the complete sincerity in his eyes. Instead you simply offered him a small smile that he mirrored back.

“What about you how was your day” the question was out of your mouth before you could think better of it, the action of asking him in return feeling too natural.

You could see him shut down at the question, could see his walls going up as his gaze cut back to his plate “Fine. It was fine”

And maybe you should’ve left it there but you were already in too deep to feel comfortable with letting it go “you’re a good doctor, you know that right?”

His gaze cut back up to you quickly with a furrowed brow, a shocked huff leaving him at your words “have I treated you before?”

“No” you assured him with a snort “but no matter what you claim I can see that you’re not fine” you watched him tense at your words, would’ve found it almost funny in any other circumstance “I just mean a good doctor wouldn’t have a day get to him like that. You clearly care about your patients. Like actually care not just pretend to care until you can shuffle them along to the next person, that’s what a good doctor would do”

He chuckled slightly at your words, a lopsided small smile tugging at his lips as he looked you over “Feels like the bare minimum””

“You throw my words back at me and my response will be the same as yours” you chided him good naturedly, relishing the sound of his laugh you got in response as he shook his head.

“touché”

You smiled at the concession, taking note of both of your empty plates and looking back out at your living room before making a decision “do you want to watch a movie?”

He raised a brow at you but you watched the corners of his mouth tick up in response making you smile back “Obviously you can tell me if you’re tired and would rather go to bed but I like a movie at the end of the day to wind down” you shrugged in response.

“Only if you let me do the dishes”

You tried desperately not to let it show how much his easy acceptance shocked you “Robby you can come over and do my dishes anytime”

He laughed easily at that as he took both of your plates and made his way over to the sink, collecting the various dishes you’d used to cook from around the kitchen.

“I hope you know this means I will be subjecting you to my objectively terrible taste in movies”

“I think I’ll live” and you tried to ignore exactly how it made you feel to see this man smirking at you from your kitchen as he handwashed your dishes. Instead you choose to make your way over to the couch and start looking at your options.

And that was how you found yourself seated comfortably next the neighbor you’d had maybe five conversations with before, watching a movie much too late into the night. And thus how you found yourself waking up the next morning to the light streaming in through your living room windows and a comfortable chest beneath your cheek, with an admittedly painful twinge in your neck but feeling more well rested than you had in months.

-

You didn’t see Robby for a few days after that. The morning after had been awkward enough you counted it as a blessing.

There’d been a brief moment of serenity, admittedly, right before you fully woke up where all you could notice was how warm you felt, how comfortable, how secure. You remember burying yourself further into the comfort, giving a soft wiggle as you pressed your face further into what you had assumed was your pillow, until you heard a chuckle.

Rather you had felt the chuckle first, could feel it ruminate up Robby’s chest beneath your head before it broke to the surface. You felt what you quickly surmised to be an arm thrown over your shoulder and wrapped around you pull you in tighter, hardly enough to notice but enough to send butterflies through your stomach, before you finally opened your eyes.

Robby had already been staring down at you, his eyes wide in clear surprise but still the corners of his mouth ticked up, you wondered if he noticed. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as you looked back up at him, neither of you moving for a moment, almost afraid to burst the bubble before you spoke “good morning”

His eyes got almost comically wider as his gaze cut to the nearest clock, a verification of the time seeming to fully solidify exactly what position the two of you were in for him as he quickly retracted his hands, open palms coming up by his head as if to placate you in the situation as a million apologies spilled from his lips.

You had just barely pulled yourself off of him before he was on his feet and grabbing his bag, all but running out of the door before you’d even finished stretching.

So naturally the first time you would see him in days would be when you were drunk off your ass after a night out with friends.

You all but stumbled out of the elevator, heels as always were a terrible choice for a night out but you couldn’t help but love the way your legs looked in them. So focused were you on keeping upright as you exited the elevator that you completely missed Robby standing in front of his door.

Looking up from your feet finally however you noticed the man frozen in place, keys in hand, lips slightly parted as his gaze made a slow climb from your feet up to your face. You couldn’t have stopped the grin from growing on your face if you had tried “Dr. Robinavitch we have got to stop meeting like this”

You speaking seemed to have snapped him out of whatever daze he was in, a startled huff escaping him as his posture relaxed “Well you look like you had a good night”

“I had a great night” you affirmed, taking a wobbly step forward that had him surging forward to brace you by the forearm, a slight chuckle escaping him as he helped you steady yourself.

“And how many drinks did we have tonight?”

“Not enough” you shook your head, griping his hand in yours happily as you took another step “ohhh we should do shots”

He laughed much more freely at that, shaking his head in response “we absolutely should not do shots we should do carbs. When was the last time you ate something?”

“Fuck I love carbs” you hummed letting him lead you back to his place without a thought, leaning up against the wall while he put his keys in the door “French fries, we should do French fries”

“I can manage French fries” he smiled at you, pushing open the door before extending a hand to you, helping you into his place with a hand on your hip.

You leaned into him happily as you more pawed at the buckle on your shoe than actually tried to get it off, this going on for just long enough Robby was getting ready to help you with it when it finally slipped off your ankle and you fled the shoes where they dropped, making your way to his kitchen and going right for his freezer.

“Make yourself at home” Robby teased as he carefully picked up your shoes and set them off to the side alongside his, making his way next to you in the kitchen to start preheating the oven as you dug around in his freezer for the fries.

“yes you got the good ones” you cheered as you unearthed the bag, handing it to him without a thought as you immediately dipping into his fridge “we should do cheese on top”

Smiling in amusement Robby took the fries without a word and got out a baking sheet, dumping a good amount onto it before fielding the block of cheese you tossed his way without even looking to see where he was.

“Now you don’t have salsa but you do have tomatoes and onions and I can make that work” finally you shut the door to the fridge and turned to face him with the required ingredients clutched in your hands.

“Salsa?” he asked with a raised brow, putting the fries in the preheated oven.

“We can’t have loaded fries without salsa” you answered as if it were obvious, eyes skating around his kitchen looking for something “now where do you keep your knives”

“Absolutely not” he chided immediately, making his way across the kitchen over to you and grabbing the produce from your arms.

“No I swear I can do it” you tried to assure him even as you let him push you out of the kitchen.

“Swear all you want but I’m chopping the vegetables”

“You chop the vegetables I’ll chop the fruit?” you asked hopefully, giving him your best charming smile that Robby couldn’t help but mirror.

“Nice try now will you please sit down at let me do it” he shook his head as he led you around the bar to the stool on the other side, hands on your waist to steady you as you stepped up into the chair and plopped yourself down.

“But I could help!” though you thankfully stayed put you still tried to get involved, swinging your legs energetically in the air as you watched Robby start to dice “I could be like that person who hands you the scalpel”

He furrowed his brow at you with a smirk, looking up at you from his slightly bent position as he worked “person who hands me the scalpel?”

“Yeah you know in the tv shows. You go scalpel and hold you hand up like this” you demonstrated the proper movement to him, choosing to ignore his grin as you talked “and someone puts it in your hand without saying anything that could be me”

“You do know I’m not a surgeon right?”

“All I’m hearing is you don’t have a scalpel person and it could be me”

He laughed at that, shaking his head as he gathered up all of your fry toppings “why don’t you sober up first then we’ll talk about your career options”

With a disgruntled huff you rolled your eyes, resting your head in your palm as you watched Robby finish off your loaded fries, dutifully instructing him on how much of each ingredient was required before happily digging into the plate he set in front of you, a myriad of content hums coming from you as you ate making Robby smile.

“You know I like this way better” you pointed out without looking at him, taking the time to pick the perfectly loaded fry.

“Like this better than what?”

“Better than you being weird” if you noticed the way the room went cold around Robby at your words you didn’t let it show, instead snacking happily as you stole a glance at him from the side of your eye.

“I’m weird?”

“You acted weird” you corrected him with a shrug “after we woke up on my couch you basically ran away from me”

A tense silence followed but you watched him unabashedly, waiting patiently for a response Robby wasn’t sure he wanted to give “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable”

“I wasn’t uncomfortable” again the words came out of you so easily, a part of Robby wished he could be drunk for this conversation too “in fact I was really comfortable until you moved”

A huff left him at that, a small smile growing on his face despite his inner turmoil “Really?”

You nodded in response, finishing off the last of your food and wiping off your fingers on a napkin, pushing the plate off to the side and finally turning your full attention to him “I mean the couch wasn’t the best but you make a comfortable pillow”

He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly at that, an anxious hand coming to rub at the back of his neck as he laughed it off “well I’m glad I could be of service”

“I don’t think I realized how bad I had been sleeping lately until that night” you revealed softly, the carbs and the late hour clearly kicking in as you seemed to sober slightly “stress of parent teacher night ya know? But I slept really well that night”

“I know what you mean” the words slipped out of him before he could think any better of it, the way they put a smile on your face making it hard for him to regret them though.

You studied him for a moment, a comfortable silence blanketing the two of you before you broke it softly “you wouldn’t admit it but you were having a bad day. Did I make it better?”

Now it was his turn to examine you, to watch the lazy way you kicked your feet out from the chair, the way your hair fell half hazardly around your face as you tilted your head slightly at him, the soft curve of your lips as you smiled absentmindedly at him “yeah. Yeah you did”

“Good” and now you were beaming at him, spreading a warmth through his chest he wasn’t prepared for “we should do it again sometime”

“Pass out on your couch?”

“I’d prefer the bed but beggers choosers” you shrugged through the idiom with a chuckle “but no I meant be there for one another. It’s nice to have someone there, even if it’s just to exist next to them in silence”

“yeah it is” the admission again left him without much thought, a smile growing on him as he watched you perk up slightly at the response “for now though you need to get to bed and work on sleeping this off, you good to head home now?”

You nodded happily at the question, pushing yourself off the stool with practiced ease as you did so “Just need to grab my purse and I’ll be good”

He frowned at that “what purse?”

“Black tiny bag” you described it to him, looking around his apartment lazily “got my keys in it”

“You didn’t come in with a purse”

“no” you shook off the statement without a thought “I remember packing it before I left, got all my stuff in it”

“No I mean you didn’t come into my place with a purse” he explained slowly, watching as the news seemed to hit you, your shoulders dropping in defeat “You didn’t have it with you when you got off the elevator”

With a heavy sigh you cursed under your breath, the palms of your hands coming up to dig harshly into your eyes as you swore softly, the last of your fun drunkenness abandoning you fully.

With a huff Robby couldn’t help but smile at the move, gesturing back to his room with a nod “Go take a shower I’ll call the bar you were at and see if they have it”

With a grumble you nodded “thank you”

“Don’t worry about it” he shook you off as he pulled out his phone “bottom left drawer of my dresser should have clothes you can wear, take whatever you want”

Nodding you slowly pulled yourself off towards his room, tossing the name of the bar you were at over your shoulder before disappearing around the corner.

Calling confirmed the bar did in fact have your purse and were willing to hold onto it until the morning so Robby made sure to inform Jack he would be running a little late the next day so he had time to go with you to pick it up. By the time he had finished his calls and cleaned up the kitchen you had joined him back out in the living room, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room with dripping hair in sweatpants that were just slightly too long and a shirt you had no business looking that good in.

“I’m sorry I could’ve helped clean”

He shook you off again with a swipe of his hand, practically forcing his eyes away from you as he surveyed the space around him “don’t worry about it there wasn’t much to do” he assured you, offering you the glass of water he had gotten you earlier “drink all of that first but go ahead and go to bed, we can go pick up your purse tomorrow”

With a nod you took the glass with a small thank you, “will you-uh-“ you stuttered on the words, fidgeting slightly on the spot making Robby frown “do you think we can share the bed?”

His furrowed brow raised as he realized what you were getting at, already shaking his head “Oh don’t worry about it I was already going to insist you take the bed anyways, I’ll sleep on the couch”

You chuckled nervously at that, taping your fingers on the side of the glass as you shook your head in response “no I mean. Just it was really nice last time we-ya know-shared the couch. Would it be okay if we did it again?”

Robby was at a loss for words at the question, his entire mind going blank on the spot as you fidgeted beneath his gaze.

“The answer can of course be no” you quickly cut in with a small laugh “I just haven’t slept as well since so I figured”

“Yeah” the word all but slipped out of him without his head clearing it, Robby finding in the moment that he didn’t really want to walk it back anyways “yeah we can share the bed”

Finally your fidgeting broke as you smiled in relief, relaxing on the spot as you nodded “okay good”

“You go on ahead I’ll meet you in there” he instructed softly with a smile “just gotta lock up first”

Giving him a nod you heeded his instructions, slipping underneath his covers on one side of the bed and laying still, listening to Robby’s nighttime routine as he locked the door and brushed his teeth.

When he finally made it back to the bedroom you could practically feel the hesitance rolling off of him as he stood beside the bed for a moment, not moving an inch as he debated just taking the couch anyways, before he carefully peeled back one corner of the blanket and slowly lowered himself, careful not to jostle the bed too much in case you were sleeping, careful not to get too close to what he considered ‘your side’.

You, however, were having none of that. The minute he seemed to settle you turned around and moved yourself beside him, placing your head directly onto his shoulder with a soft hum.

A startled inhale sounded from Robby as you did so, the muscles in his arm all tensing beneath you the second you made contact.

“I warned you, you make a comfortable pillow” you whispered out into the room attempting to cut the tension in the air. Something you seemed to at least partially accomplish as he huffed out a laugh in response, his arm remaining tense nonetheless “unless you’re uncomfortable cause we don’t have to-“

“no no” he interrupted you softly before you could get too far, his voice slightly hoarse causing him to pause as he cleared it quietly before continuing “could you just lift your head for a second”

Complying quickly Robby slipped his arm beneath your head and wrapped it around you wordlessly, prompting you to drop your head back down onto his chest and wrap your arm around him in response, one leg naturally tangling with his as you buried yourself fully into Robby’s side with a content hum that made him chuckle.

Your mind stayed fixed on the soft patterns he was tracing on your arm with his finger, wondering if he was even aware he was doing it. “Thanks for saving me tonight Robby”

Another appreciative laugh escaped him, your head bobbing slightly as his chest rumbled with it “’saving’ is a strong word there, I just gave you a place to crash, basic human decency”

And you thought about arguing the point, pushing back on his refusal to properly accept your thanks, point out that he was doing a lot more than the ‘basic’ nice thing. But if you knew Robby, and you were starting to think maybe you did, that would just make things worse, would just push him further away, so you let it go, for now at least “and supplied the French fries. You can’t forget the French fries”

“You’re right I did save you didn’t I? Think they’ll knight me?”

“Pretty sure that only applies in England” you hummed back, enjoying the quietness of the moment, the simplicity of it, the lack of any expectation “maybe a key to the city?”

“Not nearly as cool”

“No. No it isn’t. We’ll get you something to make up for it” your next words left you in a sleepy whisper, your eyes already closed, your brain not conscious enough to fully recognize the weight of your words as they slipped out “you deserve nice things Robby”

His fingers stilled at the words, no sound escaping him as he went silent, staring at the ceiling above the bed, all while you finally succumbed to sleep.

-

Things changed after that.

It wasn’t quite as you hoped, you still went days without seeing one another but whenever you had a bad day you had someone to go to, someone you knew would be there for you without question, without comment if that’s what you preferred, and you knew Robby felt the same.

There was no dramatic change, you didn’t automatically start spending every night together but still you found your excuses to cuddle up every now and then.

Something that apparently wasn’t going unnoticed, at least on Robby’s end.

“You seem lighter lately. Happy almost” Dana’s comment came out of nowhere at the end of a fairly standard Thursday shift. As usual with the charge nurse there was no preamble, no beating around the push, no coddling of feelings, she went right to the issue. For the first time Robby found that he really wished she wouldn’t.

“I’m sorry?”

“No it’s good. It’s creeping out the med students, our number of charting errors have been cut in half” She smirked at him, a smile that foretold trouble he did not want to deal with.

“Ah then you’re welcome”

“So you gonna tell me about her?”

And there it was, the metaphorical shoe “her?”

“The woman who’s been making you happy” Each statement was said with such a level of confidence, of finality, it felt absurd to try and push back.

“There is no woman” And yet still he must.

“There has to be a woman”

An incredulous laugh left him at that as he finally lifted his gaze fully from the chart in front of him to look at her. “Is it so impossible to think I’m just feeling better lately” he knew how weak the argument would be before it even left his lips “Maybe I found inner peace”

And based on the glare Dana sent back at him she thought so too “Either there’s a woman or I’m asking Gloria to up suicide prevention measures on the roof”

“Ask her to hire more nurses while you’re at it”

Surely there had to be something else to do in the emergency department than badger him “Does she work here?”

Surely she had to accept his flat out denial eventually “There is no woman”

“There’s a woman” The two of them both tensed slightly at the emergence of a new voice, Purlah’s sudden arrival catching them both off guard.

Dana, however, recovered quickly with a wolfish grin “What do you know”

“I know a lot of things you’ll have to be specific” Purlah leaned on her forearms against the nurse’s desk as she settled eagerly into the conversation. Now was his time to escape.

“About the woman”

“The woman up front? Is there something to know?” The last question was directed to him as the two woman fixed him with their gaze, halting him mid tip-toe.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about” Robby groaned softly, rubbing a tired hand over his face as he grabbed the first tablet he could see “now if you excuse me I think at least one of us should be doing thier job right now”

“Wait but the woman up front” Purlah stopped him before he could leave “She’s asking for you, says her name is Y/N Y/L/N”

A strange mix of panic and dejection filled Robby at the revelation, both feelings only growing as he watched Dana break out into a wolfish grin over Purlah’s shoulder as she watched his face drop before finally conceding “Yeah send her back”

Purlah nodded and took off and Robby knew news of your existence would be spread to every medical professional on the floor within the hour. So much for flat out denial.

“So there is a woman”

He refused to look at Dana as he switched out tablets “I promise it’s not what you think”

“Believe me I’m trying very hard not to think about it” she snorted, gaze pulling to the door to the ED as it opened and you scurried in behind Purlah, head ducked low and eyes planted firmly on the ground as you held a familiar looking kitchen towel to your hand “She’s cute”

“Not a word” Robby tossed the empty threat over his shoulder as he made his way to the room you were being placed in, choosing to ignore the cackle Dana let loose as he did so, instead putting all of his focus on your clearly panicked figure that sat up on the bed before him.

“Hey I’m really sorry”

“Don’t be sorry” he brushed you off easily, docking the tablet and pulling on a pair of gloves with practiced ease “What’s going on”

“I cut myself honestly a while ago and it hasn’t stopped bleeding” you held the towel wrapped hand out in front of you, offering it to him, speaking much faster than you normally did.

“Alright let’s take a look” he tried to slow down purposefully, to speak lowly and quietly, to put as much calm into his tone as he could.

“Again I’m so sorry to bother you at work and ask for you specifically I didn’t-“ Still you took off at double speed, not even making eye contact with him as you spoke.

“Hey you’re okay you should always come in with stuff like this” he cut you off with a reassurance, hand coming out to squeeze your knee in a small offer of comfort.

“Yeah I know I just feel like I used you to bypass the whole line and you guys probably have a whole system in place-“

“You’re rambling what’s going on” he cut you off again, a small frown as he watched you squirm on the spot, gaze never staying in one spot for long enough to be natural.

“I don’t really do hospitals well” you admitted shyly, the corners of Robby’s mouth ticking up slightly at your words as he shrugged.

“That’s okay me neither”

For the first time your eyes finally met him as you sent him a cold glare “you’re not helping”

He tried desperately to fight back his smile “Okay I’m sorry but listen, small cut, just a few stitches, we’ll have you out of here in no time”

“Right sure, few stitches” he let you all but talk to yourself as he gathered the suture supplies, tuning back in when he heard you voice raise slightly as you addressed him “I’m assuming that requires a needle”

“If you’d prefer I can hold the skin together myself until it starts to heal but I’ll warn you my hourly rate is incredibly expensive”

Another death glare was sent his way, he choked back a chuckle.

“Jokes’re really not helping got it.” He changed tactics with a warm smile, planting himself onto a backless stool a breath away from you, giving your knee a soft knock with his own “I’ve done a million of these it’ll be over before you know it”

Still you looked at him skeptically, a look that told him you were seriously considering his offer of simply holding your skin together himself.

“Hey you’re the one that told me I was a good doctor not that long ago, let me prove you right”

That finally got to you, a dramatic huff leaving you as you deflated slightly on the spot, a defeated “fine” slipping through your teeth Robby couldn’t help but chuckle at as he got the lidocaine ready.

“That’s the spirit. Now local anesthetic, small pinch and a burn” The words came out quickly, more one amalgamation of sound than individual words, his brain already starting to go through the motions when he paused “Imma need you to stop tensing, it’s just going to make it worse”

“Yeah I know I’m sorry” you sighed out the words, giving your shoulders a little shake to try and relax.

“You’re still tensing”

“I can’t help it I’m freaking out” the words exploded out of you as you tried to pull your hand back, Robby grabbing you by the wrist softly to try and direct you back into place.

“Hey hey look at me” he approached calming you down like dealing with a wild animal, entirely soft words and slow movement “sweetheart please I’ve got you. Do you trust me?”

With a huff you let him have you hand back, staring back at him blankly with an expression that told him the second he let go of you you were out the door.

“I’m going to pretend this hesitation doesn’t hurt”

With a roll of your eyes you sighed again, forcing a deep breath as you shook out the tension in your shoulders once more before refocusing your gaze, locking eyes with him and nodding softly “yeah I trust you”

Before you could even think of doing anything else he inserted the needle and depressed the plunger, pulling back quick enough to escape the way you dramatically snatched your hand back from him “Fuck did you just stab me with a needle without looking”

“I told you I’ve done a few of these” he shrugged with a smirk, already moving on to prepare the next step.

“Did you do each of them blind too?”

“The needle was already lined up” he motioned for you to give him your hand back, unable to keep the smile off his face as you glared at him.

“No I’m not listening I want a new doctor”

“What if I promised to look when I actually do the stitches”

“That should be a given?” The words came out in an incredulous shriek that had Robby fully laughing

"I'll give you a lollipop when we’re done”

You narrowed your eyes at him at the offer, hand on your injured wrist tightening slightly before you suddenly thrust it back at him with a huff “If I have a scar I’m suing”

“Deal” he conceded easily, threading his needle and inserting it before you could call it off again, the cut requiring just two quick stitches Robb had you done in minutes “See that wasn’t too bad”

Only when he had finished bandaging did you pull back your arm again, cradling it protectively into your chest as you sent him another glare “I want you to know I’m leaving this hospital with emotional pain as well as the physical pain I was already in”

“Oh that’s my specialty” Robby snorted as he started to clean up “Call it a two for one special”

“I’m demanding a red lollipop in recompense”

Robby looked surprisingly sheepish at that, hands tucked deep into his pockets as he swayed back on his heels “ah so about that we don’t actually have lollipops here. More of a family medicine thing”

You let the silence stretch uncomfortably as you glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest for an effect that pulled a small snort out of him.

“I can offer you a crisp five dollar bill for the vending machine though”

“And you lie to patients” you mused with an shake of your head and a condescending tsk “I’m adding this to my pile of evidence for the malpractice suit”

“My first name’s Michael just so you can make sure to get the right person on that”

You paused at that, cocking your head to the side slightly as you asked “is it really?”

“Yeah” he chuckled softly “you didn’t know that?”

“Always thought your parents just had a thing for alliteration” You shrugged it off with a smile, watching the corners of his tick up in response “seriously though thank you for this. I know I’m not the easiest patient”

“You didn’t get bodily fluids on me or try to hit me so that’s a win in my book”

“Damn so the bar’s low”

“Everytime I think we hit rock bottom someone shows up with a pickaxe to prove we can go deeper”

You let out an almost hollow chuckle, a sound more to fill the awkward silence following a statement you guessed held more truth than you could know.

“About what you said earlier” he hedged the words in, seemed almost hesitant to let them fall.

“I feel like I shouldn’t be held responsible for anything that comes out of my mouth for the duration of this visit”

He chuckled appreciatively at the break in tension, running his knuckles up and down across the palm of his other hand as he looked at you for a moment before physically shaking himself out of it “no I mean if you’re ever back here again, for any reason, tell the nurses to come find me okay? Don’t worry about messing up our system I promise it’s a myth anyways, just come find me”

You couldn’t help but smile back at him at that, the promise falling softly from your lips “I will”

“Good” he answered just a softly with a nod “now how are you getting home”

“Ah I walked” you answered sheepishly “Tried to delay the inevitable for as long as possible”

He shook his head at that but didn’t say anything to condemn it, reaching into his pockets to pull out his wallet “I get off in 45, here”

You furrowed your brow as he tried to thrust a few folded bills into your hand “oh you don’t have to”

“Please it was cruel of me to dangle candy in front of you without following through” he was brushing off your denial quickly, grabbing your hand to force the money into your fingers when you refused to grab it “Get yourself something from the vending machine and wait in the breakroom I’ll take you home”

“Its not that far” you tried again

“Let me anyways” and you could see the silent question in his eyes, the plea, it was a look not dissimilar to the one he wore when he showed up at your door late at night.

“Which way’s the breakroom”

He responded with a soft smile, making his way behind you and leading you forward with a hand at the small of your back, stopping just outside the door to point to a room across the way. “Just through there, I’ll come find you when I’m done”

With a nod you started to make your way to the room, not making it more than a step before he was calling back to you.

“Also if a blonde woman introduces herself as Dana you run in the opposite direction”

“You realize that just makes me want to talk to her more right?”

“It was worth a shot”

-

For perhaps the first time in his life Robby was ready to leave work on time, some may even say he was eager to do so. And if the smirk on her face was anything to go by Dana was certainly one of these people.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve checked your watch in the past five minutes”

Robby chose to ignore her teasing tone, bouncing on his feet lightly as he eyed the board with dread “My shift did end five minutes ago”

She snorted at that, shaking her head as she watched him avoid her gaze “I wasn’t aware you knew what time your shift ended”

Robby sent her a cutting glare “I don’t suppose you’re going to get on Jack’s case like this too for being five minutes late when he’s always twenty early”

She sent him a dangerous smirk and a shrug “Don’t have to Jack’s here already”

Robby furrowed his brow at that, casting his gaze over the bustling ED in search of the attending “He is? Since when?”

“Bout twenty minutes ago” there was a forced casualness to her tone that made him dread whatever she was going to say next “I sent him to the breakroom for coffee, weird he hasn’t come back yet”

Another sharp glare was sent her way she couldn’t help but grin under “You’re too invested in my personal life”

“What personal life” she snorted “thought you said ‘it’s not what you think’”

“I’m leaving” he declared with a nock on the desk “you should too”

“You going to offer to walk me home too” she called after him as he made his way to the bank of lockers, enjoying the pointed way he ignored the comment.

Grabbing his things quickly he threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the breakroom, barging through the door without a thought to see you and Jack sitting side by side, the corners of his mouth tipped up in as close to a smile as Jack got while your soft laugh rang through the air, your injured hand without any of the dressings he had so carefully applied half an hour ago cradled softly in one of his.

“Hey Robby” Your greeting snapped him out of his staring contest with your hands, his gaze meeting yours across the room as you offered him a soft smile.

“Hey” he greeted back, watching Jack slowly, deliberately, retract his hand from yours “is everything alright with your stitches?”

“Yeah they’re good” you affirmed happily “Jack just wanted to take a look at them”

Jack, not Dr. Abbot or even just Abbot, Jack.

“Can’t remember the last time you did stitches, gotta make sure you don’t horribly scar the poor girl” if the smirk on Jack’s face was anything to go by the man knew exactly what he was doing.

“And the verdict is?”

“I’ve seen worse”

He snorted humorous-lessly “high praise coming from a combat medic”

Jack sent him another smirk before turning back to you “let me get you another set of dressings and you’re good to go”

“I got it” Robby cut in before Jack could get up, not enjoying the amusement that danced in the man’s eyes as his gaze cut back to Robby still standing in the entryway.

“I don’t mind-“

“I said I got it” Robby forced a polite smile to his face, one he knew didn’t reach his eyes, a fact that only made Jack’s smirk deepen “Besides I heard you have a case of explosive diarrhea to take care of in south 7”

Jack chuckled as he leaned slightly closer to you, stage whispering while he kept his gaze on Robby “I think I’m in trouble”

You giggled back at him knocking your shoulder against his playfully as you stage whispered back “you better go before you get me in trouble too”

Standing up slowly Jack made his way out of the breakroom finally, sending Robby off with a mirth filled smile and a slightly too aggressive set of pats on the shoulder, finally leaving you and him alone in the breakroom.

“In my defense you told me to avoid Dana, nothing in there about Jack”

With a huff he shook his head, dropping his back next to you “My mistake clearly. Now lets get you some new bandages and get out of here before she has a chance to sink he claws into you”

“Ah you’re about thirty minutes too late for that” you giggled at the way he sighed dramatically at that, sitting down next to you to start applying a new set of bandages to your hand. “I like your coworkers though, they’re nice”

He chuckled at that with a shake of his head “nice is not the word I would go with there, try lacking any semblance of boundaries”

“The best of friends are” you shrugged with a grin, Robby unable to help himself from mimicking it as he finished off your bandage.

Finally free to leave the hospital the two of you made your way out, Robby doing his absolute best to avoid the gaze of everyone as he led you through the packed waiting room. Only when he was safely outside with you did he finally breathe easy.

The silence between the two of you as you walked stretched, blanketed the surrounding area, he couldn’t help but focus on it and yet it didn’t feel oppressive, didn’t feel awkward, he didn’t feel the need to try and break it.

This was the moment everything changed, there was a charge in the air you could feel, a weight to the moment that was palpable.

Robby looked down at you wordlessly, eyes dancing over your face as he just studied you for a moment, the corners of his mouth tipping up as you offered him a soft smile.

“Let me take you out” a simple offer, said on a shrug, followed by an endearing clarification “like on a date”

It wasn’t a grand declaration, wasn’t a cathartic clash, wasn’t a dramatic outpouring of emotion. It was quiet, casual, understated. A facsimile of that first time you spoke in the hallway. A simple hand held out, palm up. An offer for the taking.

“I’d like that”

You hadn’t known all that would result from that chance meeting late at night in the hallway. Hadn’t known all of the comfortable silences, awkward moments, and heartfelt conversations that would be shared in the weeks to come. And honestly you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 07:55 A.M 」

a little drabble based on this outrageous ask :)) and half-inspired by some lines from the broken ring: this marriage will fail anyway—that's my new roman empire everyone ehe🥹 and who can resist domestic husband!gojo?😋

a part of gojo's love entries

“you’re cheating on me.”

morning breakfast. satoru stopped chewing his toast at your wild accusation, his baby blue eyes blinking rapidly as he processed your words before turning to you and bursting out—

“huh?!”

“last night,” you charged, eyes narrowing in distaste. “i can’t believe you.”

“whaaa?” he tensed up, racking his brain for any indicators that he might have wronged you in any way, until he came across an irrefutable truth—

“wait no, last night, you almost made me lose it in my pants!” even satoru’s face reddened slightly while recounting your nightly tales. “before i busted it inside you. how is it possible that i’m committing adultery?!”

you huffed, looking away from him righteously. “in my last night’s dream, you did.”

. . .

“eh...” satoru blinked again, fully absorbing your words, before stupidly smiling. “what? you dream about me?”

you scowled, picking at your omelette. “yes. about you running away with five bimbos, banging them in a cottage in the middle of the woods, and leaving me here waiting for you like an idiot.”

he burst into uproarious laughter, so loud and crisp it made him wheeze. “what? seriously? you— ahahahaha!”

you threw him an unamused look, mildly irked.

“hey, wifey,” satoru nudged you, his grin stretching wide in sheer delight. “no one else can make my body react the way it does around you, you know~”

“…”

“this here,” your husband then shamelessly gestured towards his crotch. “—is broken already. my happy friend here can’t get up anymore if it’s not you.”

“…”

“i mean it! you’re the only one who can give me an erection!”

you whipped your head around him, scandalized. “ew! satoru, you—!”

“well, that’s the fact! nothing too embarrassing— we’re married!” he shrugged as you bulged a vein. “besides, shouldn’t you be proud? you've truly got me wrapped around your pinky~”

seeing how you were cutely pouting throughout breakfast, still all giggly, satoru led you back to bedroom to cuddle you.

“there, there, sweets... happy now?” satoru pulled you closer and pat your back, his body still slightly shaking with suppressed laughter.

“hmph.” you put your hands around his torso with pursed lips, squeezing him in return.

“look at this, it’s only when she’s spooked that the wife shows me any affection,” satoru exclaimed with a dramatic sigh. “so, what else did the dream version of me do to you, huh?”

“you bend each bimbo on every surface, lied to me that you’re on a long mission,” you huffed, grimacing as you recalled your dream vision. “you’re the worst.”

satoru still had that dopey grin on this face, and right this second, he thought you were the absolute cutest, because how could you think that he is capable of looking at anyone else the way he looks at you?

you have his heart, body and soul already. hasn't he told you that?

“is that so, poor you,” he retorted with mock sympathy. “but since you’re so worried...”

and suddenly, he rose from the bed with his arm around your back and another under your knees, cradling you in a princess carry. and with the smuggest smirk he whispered—

“...well, i have to make it up somehow. how about i bend you on your vanity desk now, hmm?”

[luveline]

could you write plss write something about JJ’s confession and spencer is with bombshell reader and loves her entirely but she gets extremly scared and insecure??

Your usual confidence is shaken after JJ’s confession, but Spencer is emphatically in love with you. fem, 1.5k

Spencer gives you a rundown after every case. Not just as a colleague who missed it, but as his partner who he loves. This one comes out slowly. Maybe even reluctantly. 

He’s recounting the moment JJ had been forced to tell a secret. “She told me she’s always loved me, but that things are too complicated now.” 

You freeze in total bewilderment, your mug of hot tea swelling over the rim to warm your fingers. Further overwhelmed, you set it down on the coffee table. 

You’re in pyjamas on the couch. Spencer sits in sweatpants on the other end of it, his own cup of tea in hand. He’s watching you carefully. You’d felt generously comfortable only moments ago, riding the high of his continued survival, but now you’re feeling sick.. 

“She told you she loves you?”  

“That she was too scared to tell me before.” 

“And what do you think about that?” 

“I think if I never met you, I would’ve spent half of my life calling after her.” His lips quirk into one of those typical awkward Spencer smiles. “What should I think?” 

“I can't really tell you what to think, Spencer.” 

If he never met you, he’d still want JJ? Or if you weren’t in the way, he’d be with her now? Or what? 

You’ve never been the insecure type, to begin. You met Spencer when you were both rookies trying to establish themselves in the BAU, Spencer as a new member, and you as a hopeful applicant. Each time you liaised, or came around to annoy your good friend Derek Morgan, Spencer would be there, looking cute and lonely as ever. It was easy to become his friend. Easier again to fall in love with him. 

Not easy to convince him you truly wanted to be with him, but you were persistent, and… honestly, you’ve never been in love with someone like you have Spencer. That’s why JJ’s confession sends ice water down your back. 

He lets you steep for a few minutes, but ultimately can’t take the weird silence. 

“Hey,” he says, clear worry in his tone as he puts his own mug on the coffee table and moves to sit beside you, his hand falling onto your knee. “Hey, what’s that face about?” 

“What face?” you ask, schooling your expression. 

“That face.” His head tips to the side. 

“I’m not making a face.” 

“I know you…” he says, a tenderness to him as his hand slips under your leg, his fingers pressing into the softest skin behind your knee. 

“What else did she say?” 

He nods with understanding. “She said she was too scared to say it before, and that things are complicated now, I guess because everything’s changed so much.” 

“She has a family.” 

“Angel, even if she didn’t, you think that would make a difference?” He finds your hand for kissing. “What do you think I said to her? I love you. I told her I love you, she already knew that, but I told her again. I said there’s nothing complicated about it.” 

You stare at him. 

“Nothing complicated about it,” he repeats, pressing your kissed hand to his neck and covering it soundly with his own.  

You’re not expecting the insecurity of it. You and Spencer have never been on surer footing. Every day with him seems to guarantee the next. He just has to look at you and you know he’s your person, but you forgot he could just love somebody else if he wanted to. You forgot he even liked JJ to begin with. This sudden reminder is like having your legs kicked out from under you. 

You panic. 

“I love you,” he says, your hand moving down, pressed with fever to his chest. “More than anyone.” 

“I love you too… I just– I guess I thought JJ was my friend,” you say. 

“She is. She said she needed something that would shock the UnSub… I don’t think she expected anything to change. We just needed to get out of there.” 

He almost died and you’re thinking about JJ. Shit, JJ could’ve died. 

You bow your head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, no, for what? For what?” He sandwiches you to his side. “I’m sorry, it’s not fair. It puts you in a bad position. But you don’t have anything to worry about, I love you, and I don’t have any feelings for JJ.” 

You wonder if that’s true. 

You’re being unlike yourself. Embarrassed, you hide your face in his collar and let him hug you gently. 

“Sorry.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I have no idea what to do right now.” 

Insecurity isn’t your style, but it’s not something that can be helped. You have, through everything, pioneered desperately to put your best foot forward. You wear clothes ordered to fit and then tailored for good measure, you take care of your appearance in a way that others might find objectionable. Who you are outwardly is just as important to you as the inward, which makes this all the worse. You hate being out of control. 

Spencer can make it better, despite his insistence on cluelessness. “You know it could never be anyone else but you, right?” he asks softly. 

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m not angry because she didn’t have a choice, but do you really believe she didn’t mean it? She could’ve made up a hundred different lies.” 

“I think she meant it,” he says, still speaking softly. 

“You understand why that would freak me out, right? If you never met me, you could be with her.” 

“I can’t imagine a universe where we don’t meet,” he says. 

Spencer delivers it with that sincere yet shy honesty that he tends to say many things. Like it’s simple, like he’s aware of how cleanly cut it is, and like he’s worried you won’t agree with him. 

You try not to act so small, straightening your back, and sewing an arm behind his neck and over his shoulder. You’re not feeling a hundred percent just yet, and so you press your forehead to his cheek, his hair kissing your  ear. Spencer drags your leg across his thigh and lets you stew for a little while. 

“I don’t want to be with JJ.” He squeezes you closer, nearly has you in his lap. “Is that what you’re worried about? If I never met you, I wouldn’t want to be with her, because she had no interest in me, or– or maybe she did, but she didn’t show it. I know exactly what it feels like now to be loved without remorse, to– to never be told I’m too much. JJ is one of my best friends in the whole world, but you’re my heart. You’re the only person who’s ever liked me for me, all of me, even when I know it wasn’t easy.” 

“It’s always easy,” you murmur.

“That’s not the only reason I love you, but it’s important. JJ’s smart and she’s beautiful and she’s such a good mom, but she’s not you. She could never be you, and I don’t want anyone that isn’t you.” 

You don’t want him to say cruel things about JJ and you’re glad when he doesn’t, but you definitely need his assurance that he prefers you. Then you feel silly, because it’s your bed he comes home to, your hip he’s caressing as he waxes poetic for you. 

You feel less like he doesn’t love you and more like you’ve made a fool of yourself for even suggesting it. “Am I your best friend?” you ask (childishly, depending on who you ask). 

“You’re my best friend. You’re the best friend. Every day I get to be with you is perfect.” 

“That’s really romantic,” you mumble, nearly not quite kidding as you rub the tip of your nose into his cheek. 

“You bring it out of me.” 

You sigh and wrap your arms around him tightly. “Thanks, Dr. Reid. I think you fixed me.” 

“You’re still making a face.” 

“You almost died today, baby. JJ isn’t the sole thing on my mind.” 

“Almost died is an exaggeration. We almost die all the time.” 

You sniff his hair at your discretion. When he holds you like he’s doing now, you realise you have no need to worry. How can he squeeze your soft sides and chase your nose with his if he doesn’t mean what he says? Spencer’s not like that. 

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” you say. 

“I don’t think you did. But would you feel better if I say it’s okay? Because it’s okay. I’m sorry for telling you something I knew would upset you, but we don’t–”

“Have secrets, I know.” 

You give him a teeny kiss by his ear. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs pleasantly. 

You press another right on top of the first. Slower, you peel away to stroke his hair. His eyes hold all the proof you need —you’re loved without competition. 

[whosashan]

I'VE GOT MY EYES ON YOU

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x reader

SYNOPSIS: How you and him started dating.

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Xavier

The moment you laid eyes on Xavier, you knew you had to have him. How could you not? That strikingly handsome face, those curious blue eyes, and an effortlessly captivating presence—it was impossible to resist.

The first time you approached him was at a grocery store. Your heart pounded against your ribs, threatening to break free from your chest, but you forced yourself to remain composed. Summoning your courage, you struck up a conversation.

He didn’t seem particularly interested, responding with brief, lackluster answers.

‘It’s fine, he’ll warm up to me,’ you assured yourself, determination flickering in your gaze. You had never pursued a man before, but this time was different. There was something about him—something magnetic—that refused to let you walk away.

Somehow, you managed to secure his phone number, and you wasted no time texting him, attempting to revive the conversation from earlier.

With persistence, you chipped away at his guarded demeanor, gradually uncovering bits and pieces of who he was. One particularly useful detail you learned? He lived close by. Another? His cooking skills were, to put it lightly, atrocious.

‘Perfect,’ you mused, making a beeline for your kitchen. It was time to put those cooking classes to good use.

Weeks turned into months, and an unspoken routine formed between the two of you—you would cook, and he would eat. As cliché as it was, the old saying held true: the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach. Your bond deepened, not in a whirlwind of passion, but in slow, comfortable moments. And you didn’t mind one bit.

Late-night arcade outings, spontaneous hangouts, and occasional movie nights became the norm. And every time he fell asleep beside you, his face soft, his messy hair falling over his slightly flushed cheeks, your heart stuttered in your chest.

But with familiarity came a new problem: you had started to care, truly care, and with that realization, your once-unshakable confidence wavered. Flirting had been easy before, playful and teasing, but now? Now, every word felt heavier, every glance more meaningful. And the worst part? You were sure he didn’t even notice.

The final straw came when you noticed a certain colleague of his getting too close for your liking. That was it. You couldn’t put this off any longer.

“Hey, Xayxay, can you meet up? I want to talk to you about something,” you texted, before promptly throwing your phone onto your bed as if that would somehow lessen the weight of your nerves.

You waited. And waited.

It felt like an eternity.

Then, a sudden knock at your door.

You nearly tripped over yourself in your rush to open it. And there he was—Xavier, slightly breathless, eyes laced with concern, like he had practically run to get here.

“Did something happen?” he asked, stepping inside with the ease of someone who had long since made themselves at home in your space. And you loved that.

You sighed, wringing your hands together.

“Look, I don’t want to put this off any longer…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Xavier, I like you. More than a friend.”

You braced yourself for rejection. But instead, you were met with his puzzled stare.

“…Aren’t we dating?”

“…What?”

“…What?”

So, it turned out you had nothing to worry about after all.

Zayne

On your way home, you stepped into a charming little pastry shop near the hospital. The aroma of freshly baked goods filled the air, making your mouth water in anticipation. You could already picture yourself sinking your teeth into a rich, decadent cake.

As you stood in line, your gaze landed on a man whose face was so strikingly handsome it felt almost unfair. There was an air of quiet composure about him, an effortless grace that made it nearly impossible to look away. You found yourself studying him, mind racing with ways to strike up a conversation. How often did you come across someone this captivating?

"Excuse me, sir." Your voice took on a honeyed sweetness that made you cringe internally, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "You seem like quite the pastry connoisseur. I don’t come here often, so I’d love a recommendation." A harmless lie.

He turned his gaze toward you, expression unreadable. Crossing his arms, he seemed to consider your question carefully before responding.

"If you’re looking for something light, the macarons are an excellent choice. If you prefer something more substantial, the caramel cheesecake is exquisite." His tone was smooth, assured—like a man who always knew the right answer.

At least he had good taste.

"Ahh, thank you! I’ll definitely try both," you said, flashing him a bright smile. Then, before you could lose your nerve, you added, "If you’re not busy, maybe we could enjoy them together here?"

Where had this sudden boldness come from?

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a small nod, he answered, "I do have a break from work right now. Alright."

You nearly leapt with joy, but just as you were about to celebrate internally—

"Ahh, Y/N! My favorite customer! What can I get for you today?" the cashier called out cheerfully.

You froze. Busted.

Despite the momentary embarrassment, the interaction led to an exchange of phone numbers. You didn’t get to see Zayne often due to his demanding career as a doctor, but he always found time to text back, even indulging your occasional rants. Sometimes, he even called. The slow progression of your relationship was something you treasured, a delicate dance of growing affection.

Time passed, and though you longed to ask Zayne out, you hesitated. He almost seemed too good to be true. Would he ever truly be interested in you?

Then, there were the little things—how his gaze lingered a second too long, how his hand seemed to hover over yours before pulling away, how, despite his overwhelming schedule, he always carved out time for you. Were those hints? Or were you reading too much into it?

Your thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the soft ping of a notification. Your heart jumped as you picked up your phone. A message from Zayne.

"Are you free tonight?"

Such a simple text, yet it sent heat rushing through your body.

"For sure! What do you want to do?" you replied, fingers trembling slightly as you awaited his response.

"I’d love to take you out."

Your breath hitched. Take you out. As in… a date?

You stared at the message, searching for any alternate meaning, but there was none.

"I would love that, Zayne," you finally typed, hands shaking.

"Lovely. I’ll pick you up at 7."

You practically sprinted to your room to get ready.

The evening was nothing short of perfect. He took you to a refined restaurant, surprising you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers—proof that he had been listening all along. The air between you was charged with something different, something new yet thrilling.

After dinner, the two of you strolled beneath a sky blanketed with stars, the crisp night air adding an almost cinematic touch to the moment.

"You’re shivering," he observed, his voice as calm and measured as ever. Without hesitation, he slipped off his coat and draped it over your shoulders, the warmth of the fabric—and of him—enveloping you.

"Thank you…" you murmured, smiling softly but avoiding his gaze, afraid he’d see just how deeply he affected you.

"Y/N." He came to a halt, prompting you to stop as well. His tone was composed, yet there was an unfamiliar weight behind it.

"I would love to take you out more… What I mean is, would you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" His face remained impassive, but you swore you caught the faintest hint of a blush gracing his cheeks.

Your heart nearly exploded.

"I would love nothing more, Zayne."

Rafayel

Being an art enthusiast, you often found yourself wandering through exhibitions, losing yourself in the beauty of each piece. Tonight, however, felt different. This was Rafayel's exhibition—a name that had long held a certain power over you. His art possessed an almost hypnotic quality, evoking emotions so profound that you struggled to put them into words.

As you moved through the gallery, your gaze inevitably found him. Rafayel stood amidst a small group of admirers, answering their questions with an effortless confidence. His voice was smooth, steady, rich with an underlying intensity that made it impossible to ignore.

But it wasn’t just his voice that captivated you. He was a masterpiece himself—dressed in a crisp white blouse, his dark hair slightly tousled, his sharp eyes carrying a quiet depth. There was something about the way he carried himself, as if knowing the effect he had on people.

You didn't want to appear as just another admirer swooning over the artist. Your fascination went beyond that—you were genuinely intrigued by his mind, his process. So, when the crowd around him began to disperse, leaving him momentarily alone, you took a steadying breath and approached him. He stood before one of his paintings, his gaze heavy with contemplation.

"You truly know how to capture a moment," you mused, your voice steady but tinged with admiration. "This piece in particular—it feels almost melancholic, like someone longing for something just out of reach."

Rafayel’s eyes flicked toward you, scanning your face, weighing your words. For a brief moment, you feared he might dismiss you with the same aloofness he granted others, but instead, his lips curved into something almost thoughtful. And just like that, an unspoken understanding passed between you, giving way to a conversation that carried on far longer than you had expected.

That first meeting was the spark. You found yourself returning to his exhibitions more often, drawn not just to his art but to him. It became a quiet routine—the two of you engaging in deep discussions, learning the intricacies of each other's thoughts and mannerisms. At first, Rafayel maintained his usual air of arrogance, teasing and enigmatic, but with time, you glimpsed something more—something raw and unguarded beneath the facade.

It wasn’t long before your admiration deepened into something more. You had fallen for him, hopelessly so. And you liked to think, in stolen moments of lingering glances and fleeting touches, that perhaps he felt the same.

One evening, you found yourself in his studio, sitting on the floor as he worked, the only sounds being the occasional stroke of his brush against canvas. The atmosphere was comforting, intimate in a way words couldn’t quite capture.

“You’re unusually quiet,” he remarked, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“And you’re talkative, as always.” A soft smile played on your lips as you stood and walked toward him.

“Rafayel, can I ask you something?” The hesitation in your voice made him pause. He turned to face you, one brow arched in curiosity.

“Why so serious?” he asked, studying you intently.

You scoffed lightly. “Never mind, then.”

He let out a small sigh. "You’ve already started. Might as well finish."

You hesitated for a beat before finally speaking. “Do you… have someone you like? More than a friend, I mean.”

For a fleeting second, something unreadable passed through his gaze. Then, a slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Curious, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle before answering, “There is someone. She’s insufferably stubborn, a little reckless, and quite possibly the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” His gaze softened, a rare warmth creeping into his tone. “And yet, she’s also the most endearing.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “You need to be more specific.”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If you weren’t so oblivious, you’d figure it out.”

A teasing smile spread across your lips. “Wait—are you talking about me?” You nudged him playfully.

He said nothing, his focus returning to his painting.

Oh.

“YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT ME?” you blurted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a small crush,” he scoffed, though the faint pink dusting his ears betrayed him.

A laugh bubbled out of you, pure and unrestrained. “Aww, Rafayel! I like you too.”

His expression flickered with surprise before he quickly masked it with his usual confidence. “Of course you do. Who wouldn’t?”

Despite his words, his actions spoke differently—pulling you into his arms, he pressed a tender kiss to your temple, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Perhaps, just this once, he didn’t mind wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Sylus

Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and craving the crisp night air. The city was bathed in the gentle glow of streetlights, the sky an endless expanse of inky black adorned with shimmering stars. Their quiet brilliance was captivating, an ethereal distraction that kept your gaze skyward as you wandered aimlessly through the quiet streets.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure in your path until you collided with him.

“Oh! I’m so sorry—” you started, but your words caught in your throat as you looked up at him.

The man before you was striking. Towering in stature, his silver hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, tousled in a way that made it appear effortlessly elegant. But it was his eyes that truly seized your breath—deep crimson, piercing and intense, as if they could unravel every secret hidden within you. His features were sharp, sculpted to perfection, and his presence exuded an air of undeniable dominance.

He regarded you with a smirk, his amusement evident.

“Worry not, sweet thing,” he murmured, his voice a velvety caress against your senses. The smoothness of his tone sent a shiver down your spine, deepening the warmth blooming in your cheeks. His gaze flickered over your face, noting your reaction, and his smirk grew ever so slightly.

Only then did you realize what else you had stumbled upon. A few feet away, a man knelt on the pavement, head bowed, his entire posture trembling before the silver-haired stranger. The sight sent unease prickling up your spine.

What exactly had you just walked into?

The silver-haired man followed your gaze before exhaling softly. “Ah,” he mused, as if debating what to say. “A young lady like you shouldn’t be wandering alone at this hour. The night is filled with monsters, after all.”

The way he said it, with that knowing glint in his crimson eyes, sent a fresh wave of unease through you. Somehow, you knew he wasn’t speaking metaphorically. But instead of pressing for answers, something in you decided it was best not to ask.

“I was just out for some air. I should…probably head home now.” You forced a steady voice, willing your body not to betray the apprehension creeping into your bones. Every instinct in you screamed to run, yet your legs remained locked in place, unwilling to reveal your fear.

He tilted his head slightly, watching you. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Allow me to escort you.”

Your breath hitched. “You seem more dangerous than whatever else is lurking out here.”

A rich chuckle escaped him, dark and amused. “A fair observation.” He leaned in slightly, his gaze never wavering. “But that decision, my dear, is entirely yours.”

Despite every warning sign flashing in your mind, you hesitated. There was something about him—his presence was undeniably commanding, yet oddly reassuring. And then, there was the nagging feeling that he was familiar, though you couldn't place why.

Eventually, you gave a small nod, curiosity overpowering reason.

And so began your entanglement with Sylus. The enigmatic man came and went like a shadow, slipping in and out of your life at his whim. Some nights, he would appear unexpectedly, gifting you your favorite sweets or leaving a new dress draped across your doorstep with no explanation. Tickets to your favorite concerts would mysteriously find their way into your mailbox, the sender unstated but obvious.

It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. He was impossible to understand, yet he made you feel desired—seen in a way no one else ever had.

But after monthsof his unpredictable vanishing acts, your patience wore thin. So when he strolled into your apartment one evening, pouring himself a glass of the wine you had bought earlier, you finally snapped.

“You’re confusing me,” you blurted, frustration lacing your tone. “What am I to you, Sylus?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. He raised the glass to his lips but paused, considering your words. Slowly, he set the drink down and approached you, his crimson eyes locking onto yours. When he reached out to cup your cheek, you instinctively pushed his hand away, resolve burning in your gaze.

He sighed. Vulnerability did not come easily to him; that much was clear. But you were different. You had made him a little softer, a little weaker in ways he didn’t quite understand.

“I can’t keep living in uncertainty,” you continued, voice steadier now. “Either tell me what you want, or leave me alone.”

A beat of silence stretched between you before he spoke, his voice low, certain.

“I want you.”

The simplicity of the statement sent your heart racing. You hadn’t expected him to be so direct, nor for his words to carry such weight.

Your face grew hot. “You’re an idiot.”

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest as you sighed, resting your head against him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled of something rich and warm, a scent you couldn’t quite place but already found comforting.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Sylus merely hummed in amusement, his arms wrapping around you with the quiet possessiveness of a man who had no intention of letting go.

Caleb

After your reunion with Caleb, an unfamiliar feeling took root in your chest—no, not unfamiliar. It had always been there, buried beneath layers of friendship and denial. But now, it was impossible to ignore. Suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how much of a man he had become.

His kind yet brooding eyes, that boyish grin, the intoxicating scent that lingered on his clothes—had he always smelled this good? Broad shoulders, strong arms, hands that had always handled you with ease, lifting you effortlessly whenever. The thought alone sent heat creeping up your cheeks, and the man sitting across from you clearly took notice.

“What’s got you all blushy-blushy, pipsqueak?” he teased, pinching your cheek with that infuriatingly smug smirk.

You scoffed, turning your face away. “Don’t touch my face, Caleb! I have makeup on.”

Lately, you’d found yourself caring more about your appearance around him. It was absurd. He’d seen you at your absolute worst—bedhead, tears, even the aftermath of too much liquor. Yet now, every glance he sent your way made you feel… shy? What was happening to you?

He only chuckled in response, leaning back against his chair.

The two of you had met up at a café to play Kitty Cards, an old favorite. He always let you win, though he never admitted it. You pretended not to notice, but every time you did, it made you smile—just a little.

“Alright, come on. The movie’s gonna start soon.” He stood, extending his hand toward you. Without hesitation, you took it, savoring the warmth of his rough palm against yours.

The movie of choice was a horror film—Caleb’s idea, of course. You had agreed, partly to humor him and partly because any excuse to spend more time with him was welcome.

Inside the theater, you sat beside him, the glow of the screen illuminating his sharp features. The flickering light made his eyes glimmer, and for a moment, you were caught staring. You quickly looked away, but not before he noticed. Of course he noticed.

“You’re acting weird.” His gaze lingered on you, his voice laced with curiosity.

“I—uh—I’m on my period,” you blurted, grasping for an excuse. “That’s all. I just feel a little unwell.”

His expression softened instantly. “You should’ve told me. Do you want to go home? I’ll cook you some soup, and we can watch something there instead.”

There he was again—always caring, always thinking of you. It made your heart race, and you hated how easily he could do that to you.

“No, it’s fine. Let’s just watch the movie.”

As the film progressed, it proved to be far scarier than you’d anticipated. Without realizing it, you had latched onto Caleb’s hand. He chuckled at your reaction but didn’t pull away.

Then came the jump scare.

Out of reflex, you turned toward him, seeking comfort. But at the same moment, he turned toward you.

Peck.

Your lips brushed against his.

Your breath hitched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a few heart-stopping seconds, neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. Just stared.

“I’m so sorry!” you yelped, whipping your head away in mortification.

“Hey, it’s fine, pipsqueak.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “It was an accident.”

You didn’t know why, but his words stung a little.

“…Yeah.”

By the time you returned home, your shoulders were weighed down with something heavy, something unspoken. It gnawed at you, clawed at your chest.

Caleb, as if sensing your turmoil, placed his hands on your shoulders, turning you to face him. “Alright, that’s enough. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to the floor before gathering the courage to meet his eyes.

“Caleb… would it be selfish of me if I said I want to kiss you again?”

Silence. A single, tense moment stretched between you, thick enough to drown in. Then, without a word, he reached for you. His hands cupped your face, disregarding your earlier complaint about ruining your makeup, and with a quiet exhale, he pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, tender—yet it held the weight of something long overdue.

In that moment, you knew he was no longer only your best friend.