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“Shit…”
Sun stared at the two pink lines on the pregnancy test as her hand trembled slightly while gripping the edge of the bathroom counter.
The light coming from the vanity lights reflected off the mirror, catching the sheen of sweat on her forehead due to nervousness. Her heart hammered in her chest, it made her feel both dizzy and strangely grounded all at once.
She had bought the test on a whim two days ago, hiding it in her purse after a long day on set. Two weeks ago had been… too much. The heat that had crept up unexpectedly when it wasn’t supposed to, the way Ongsa’s scent had stuck to her skin even after their mating. It had been intense, desperate, and unprotected in the haze of it all.
Sun had convinced herself it was fine, that her suppressants and their usual precautions would hold. But the fatigue? The sudden sensitivity to smells on set? And the way her body felt heavier? It wasn’t at all normal, so it had pushed her to this moment alone in their bathroom.
Pregnant… She was pregnant!
Her free hand drifted down to her stomach that’s still flat, pressing lightly like she could already feel the tiny life growing there. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and she couldn’t tell if it was from fear or pure, overwhelming joy mixed with the uncertainty of how to tell her wife. Probably the latter.
The front door clicked open downstairs, followed by the familiar jingle of keys. Sun could smell her wife even from up here, that clean, earthy scent that always made Sun purr with contentment.
Sun quickly wrapped the test in tissue and tucked it into the pocket of her silkrobe. She splashed cool water on her face, trying to compose herself.
“Sun? Baby, I’m home,” Ongsa called from the hallway, warm and tired. Footsteps ascended the stairs. “You in the bedroom?”
Sun stepped out of the bathroom just as Ongsa entered their room, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
Even after years together, through dating, mating, Sun’s breath still caught at the sight of her alpha as Ongsa’s broad shoulders filled the doorway.
“Hey,” Sun said, forcing a small smile as she walked across the room. She wrapped her arms around Ongsa’s waist, burying her face in her neck and inhaling deeply. Ongsa’s scent enveloped her like a blanket, easing the nervous flutter in her chest.
Ongsa chuckled softly, hugging her back and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Long day on set? You smell… different.” Her hands rubbed soothingly on Sun’s back, alpha instincts picking up on the shift immediately. “Everything okay?”
Sun pulled back slightly, biting her lip. She couldn’t keep this from Ongsa. Not when they were mated, not when every fiber of her being wanted to share this with the woman who had tilted her world and made it feel right.
But the words stuck in her throat and the weight of the moment pressed down heavier than the fatigue she’d been carrying. Ongsa’s concerned eyes made Sun hesitate. She doesn’t even know what she’s scared of and yet…
“Nothing’s wrong,” Sun lied softly, forcing a smile. It came out a little too bright, but she hoped Ongsa’s tiredness wouldn’t see past her. “Just a long day on set. The director kept us late for reshoots, and the lights were giving me a headache. You know how it is, but I’m okay now that you’re home.”
Ongsa studied her for a bit longer, her nose twitching as she scented the air again.
Alpha instincts were sharp and sensitive, especially with a mated omega, but Sun had years of practice masking for cameras, what more with oblivious Ongsa, right?
Finally, Ongsa relaxed, pressing another kiss to Sun’s forehead. “Alright. You’d tell me if it was more, right? I hate when you push through alone, don’t want you going through something like your heat alone again.” Her hands stayed on Sun’s waist. “I’ll shower quick and make dinner. You rest.”
Sun nodded, leaning into the touch before Ongsa headed to the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, Sun let out a shaky breath, her hand drifting back to her stomach. The lie sat uneasy, but dinner first felt safer before the news that would change everything. She changed into her pajamas, hiding the test deeper in her drawer, and went downstairs to set the table.
Ongsa emerged in fresh sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, preparing food with mild flavors Sun’s sensitive nose could handle tonight. Sun then poured water for both of them while Ongsa plated the food.
They ate at the dining table in peace. “So, how was the clinic today?” Sun asked, poking at her food with a fork while trying to keep the conversation casual.
Ongsa swallowed a bite, leaning back in her chair with an easy, tired smile. “Chaotic, as usual. Mrs. Chaidee brought in her ancient Persian cat again, swears he’s constipated every other week. Turns out he just hates the new litter box!” She chuckled, shaking her head. “What about you? Any on-set meltdowns today, or just the usual lighting issues?”
Sun laughed, the sound a little higher-pitched than normal. “Oh, you know, the usual. My co-star kept forgetting her lines during the emotional confession scene, so we did like fifteen takes. And the costume department put me in something itchy that made me want to scratch everywhere, but it’s fine, really.”
She took a sip of water, her mind screaming Tell her, tell her, tell her! while her mouth kept the small talk flowing.
Sun savored every bite of the food, every laugh, letting it calm her nerves. The test hidden upstairs felt heavier with every passing minute, but the lie from earlier had given her this pocket of peace.
As plates emptied and they moved on to simple fruit for dessert, Sun’s resolve built. Ongsa’s scent wrapped around her reassuringly, and she knew she couldn’t delay forever. Not with a pup on the way.
She set her fork down, heart hammering again like it had in the bathroom.
“Ongsa,” Sun started softly. “There’s something I need to tell you. It’s not bad—actually, it’s really good—but I kind of… lied earlier when I said nothing was wrong.”
Ongsa looked up, concern flashing across her face as she set her own spoon aside. “Okay? You’re scaring me a little, baby. What’s going on?”
Sun took a deep breath, standing up and walking around the table to take Ongsa’s hands in hers. The alpha’s palms were warm, calloused from years of handling animals, and Sun squeezed them tight. “Remember two weeks ago? We got carried away, and well…” She smiled shakily, tears pricking her eyes again but this time with pure joy breaking through the nerves. “I’m pregnant, Ongsa. We’re having a pup.”
For a split second, Ongsa’s face lit up with dawning realization, eyes widening, mouth opening in a perfect ‘O’. “You’re… pregnant? We’re—”
Then, like a tree felled in the forest, Ongsa’s eyes rolled back and she slumped sideways in her chair, head thunking softly against the table edge before sliding completely to the floor in a dramatic heap.
“Ongsa!” Sun yelped, panicking as she dropped to her knees beside her wife.
The tough, level-headed veterinarian who once calmly extracted a fishhook from a furious raccoon had just face-planted at the news of motherhood.
Sun patted Ongsa’s cheeks gently, then more urgently. “Hey! Ongsa! Wake up! This is not how I pictured this moment going!”
Sun’s instincts flared into overdrive. She fanned Ongsa’s face with her hand, then grabbed a napkin from the table to dab at her forehead.
“Come on, you big softie! I’m the pregnant one here, you’re supposed to be carrying me romantically, not passing out like a Victorian lady who saw an ankle!”
A few minutes ticked by as Sun’s panic built in waves, she checked Ongsa’s pulse, considered calling the clinic emergency line, ‘Hi, my wife fainted because I’m pregnant—yes, I know how that sounds,’ and even shook her shoulders lightly.
Finally, Ongsa stirred with a groan, eyelids fluttering open. She blinked up at the ceiling, then at Sun hovering over her like a worried angel in pajamas. “Wha… what happened? Did I fall? Did the chair break again?”
Sun sat back on her heels, relief flooding her even as a giggle escaped. “You passed out, you giant dork. Right in the middle of me telling you the news. Thud. Like a sack of potatoes.”
Ongsa pushed herself up on her elbows, rubbing the back of her head with a sheepish wince. “Passed out? Why would I—wait.” Her eyes sharpened, locking onto Sun’s face as memory rushed back. The color drained from her cheeks again. “Why? What did you say?”
Sun couldn’t help the fond, exasperated smile. This was her alpha, brilliant with animals, calm in crises, but apparently zero defense against surprise paternity.
“Because I said I’m pregnant, Ongsa. Positive test, you, me, baby.”
Ongsa’s eyes widened comically once more. “Pregnant—” The word barely left her lips before her head lolled back dramatically, and she flopped flat onto the dining room floor again with a sigh, arms splaying out like a starfish. A soft snore even escaped her this time, as if her brain had hit the ultimate overload button.
“Ongsa this isn’t a dream, stop passing out!”
Sun poked her wife’s cheek repeatedly. After another minute of gentle prodding and fanning her face with a paper napkin, Ongsa finally stirred properly. Her eyelids fluttered open, focusing on Sun’s worried but amused expression hovering above her.
“Sun…?” Ongsa’s voice came out hoarse. She blinked a few times, then slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position against the dining chair, one hand rubbing the back of her head. “Did I… pass out again?”
“Yes, idiot!” Sun said with a frown, relief flooding through her as she knelt beside her wife and pulled her into a tight hug. “Twice! If you pass out again I won’t talk to you anymore”
Ongsa sat there for a long moment, processing. Then the full meaning hit her again.
Her eyes widened, but this time with pure, radiant joy instead of overload. A big, beaming smile spread across her face, lighting up her entire expression like the sun breaking through clouds.
“Pregnant,” she whispered, testing the word carefully. It didn’t knock her out this time. Instead, a delighted laugh bubbled out of her. “You’re pregnant! You’re carrying our pup. Sun… we’re going to be parents.”
Happiness radiated from Ongsa like warmth from a hearth. She surged forward, scooping Sun fully into her lap right there on the dining room floor, and showered her face with eager kisses, on her forehead, cheeks, nose, lips, everywhere she could reach.
“I’m sorry for fainting, twice. My brain just short-circuited. One second we’re talking about itchy costumes, the next you’re telling me we made a little life. Stars above, I’m so happy.”
Sun melted into the affection, her own happy tears spilling as she cupped Ongsa’s face. “I was nervous all through dinner, but seeing you like this makes it perfect.”
Ongsa’s hands trembled with excitement as they settled on Sun’s stomach, rubbing gently. “A pup, our pup. Part you, part me. I already love them more than I can say.” As an alpha, her protective instincts kicked into high gear, scent blooming thick and comforting around them.
“Tell me everything. When did you find out? How are you feeling? I need all the details.”
—
Sun had officially paused everything. No more shooting schedules, no appearances, her agency had been understanding, supportive even, after the pregnancy announcement made headlines.
“Take all the time you need,” her manager had said. For the first time in years, Sun’s days belonged entirely to her growing belly, their home, and the increasingly ridiculous levels of care from her wife.
Ongsa, meanwhile, had dialed her protectiveness and alertness up to twenty. What started as sweet concern had turned into something almost overbearing. Sun found it equal parts endearing and hilarious.
Sun was barely one month pregnant, the news still fresh. At the doctor’s office for their first official prenatal visit, Ongsa sat rigidly beside Sun on the examination table, one arm wrapped securely around her wife’s waist like someone might try to steal her. Her free hand rested on Sun’s stomach, thumb stroking absentmindedly.
The obstetrician, a calm beta woman in her fifties, reviewed the chart with a gentle smile. “Everything looks excellent so far, HCG levels are strong. We’ll do an early ultrasound today just to confirm placement and heartbeat, but at this stage, it’s mostly precautionary.”
Ongsa’s grip tightened slightly. “Precautionary? Does that mean there could be something wrong? Should we have come in sooner? I read that the first four weeks are the most delicate. What about her heat cycle last month? We weren’t exactly… careful.”
Sun placed a soothing hand over Ongsa’s, squeezing gently. “Love, breathe. We’re here now.”
The doctor nodded patiently. “It’s completely normal to have questions. Many alphas get protective like this. Let’s take a look at the ultrasound.”
As the doctor prepared the wand and gel, Ongsa’s brain kicked into high gear.
She leaned closer to Sun. “Is the gel too cold? Will it shock the pup? Should we warm it more? And the machine—is it safe this early? I read online about electromagnetic fields and—”
“Ongsa,” Sun whispered. “It’s standard procedure. I’m okay.”
The alpha wasn’t convinced. When the doctor applied the gel, Ongsa hovered like a bodyguard, watching every movement. The moment the screen flickered to life, showing the tiny gestational sac, Ongsa’s eyes widened in awe.
“There it is,” the doctor said warmly. “Very early, but perfectly positioned. No concerns.”
Ongsa squinted at the screen as if she could personally negotiate with the pixels. “It looks so small. Is it supposed to be that small? Should we be doing more tests? What about nutrition? Her suppressants, did we stop them in time? I should have researched the exact timing better. Maybe we need a specialist. A team of specialists.”
The doctor blinked, clearly trying not to smile. “Mrs. Ongsa, this is textbook healthy for one month. Many couples don’t even know they’re pregnant yet at this stage.”
“But we know,” Ongsa insisted, voice rising with worry. “That means we have to be extra careful. Sun, no more early morning calls from your manager. I’ll talk to them. And at home, no lifting anything heavier than a pillow. I’ll carry all the groceries from now on. What about the stairs? Should we move the bedroom downstairs temporarily? Or install railings? Extra railings?”
Sun couldn’t hold back a laugh, even as she leaned into Ongsa’s side. “I’m not fragile, baby.”
“You technically are now,” Ongsa muttered, not deterred.
She turned back to the doctor. “What about scent exposure? My clinic smell, antiseptic and animals. Is that safe? Should I shower twice before coming home? Change clothes in the garage?”
The doctor set the wand down and wiped the gel from Sun’s skin with careful movements. “Sun should listen to her body. Rest when tired, eat balanced meals, and avoid high stress. But no need for extreme measures yet.”
“Yet?” Ongsa latched onto the word. “So later we might need extreme measures? I should start preparing now. I’ll make a spreadsheet—”
Sun gently cupped Ongsa’s face, turning her so they were eye to eye. “Hey. Overprotective alpha mode is cute, but you’re spiraling. The doctor said everything is fine. Our pup is tiny but strong, just like you.”
Ongsa let out a breath shakily, the awe finally winning over the panic for a moment. She pressed her forehead to Sun’s. “I know. I just… it’s so early and so precious. You’re carrying our everything. I want to wrap you in blankets and guard the door.”
The doctor chuckled softly as she printed the ultrasound image. “This level of protectiveness is common in mated alphas, especially with their first. It usually peaks around now and then again in the third trimester. You’re both doing great.”
She handed the small black-and-white printout to Ongsa, who took it like it was made of gold. The alpha stared at the tiny dot that was their pup, eyes softening completely. “Look at that… our little star.”
Sun smiled, resting her head on Ongsa’s shoulder. “See? Everything’s okay. You can tone the protectiveness down from emergency surgery level to… regular hovering.”
“Regular hovering is still twenty times normal,” Ongsa negotiated, but she was smiling now too. She carefully tucked the ultrasound photo into an envelope. “But I’ll try. For you.”
Sun was now in her fourth month, the pregnancy now visibly rounding her belly in a soft curve. The morning sickness had mostly passed, replaced by energy with occasional bursts of emotion. Today had been their gender reveal appointment, and the news still felt like magic.
They’re having a little girl.
The ultrasound photos rested in Sun’s lap like treasure. A tiny, perfect profile and the clear confirmation that they were expecting a daughter.
“A girl,” Sun whispered again, smiling down at the images as they pulled into their driveway. “We’re having a daughter, Ongsa.”
Ongsa parked carefully, then turned to beam at her wife, eyes shining with pure pride and joy. “Our little star is a girl. I’m going to be surrounded by my two favorite girls.”
She leaned over the console to kiss Sun softly, then helped her out of the car with care, one hand on her lower back and the other supporting her arm. “Careful on the step. The driveway might be uneven today.”
Sun laughed lightly. “It’s the same driveway it’s always been, love.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re carrying our daughter now. Extra caution protocol activated.” Ongsa guided her inside, hovering until Sun was settled comfortably on the couch with her feet up.
Only then did Ongsa disappear briefly into the kitchen, returning with a tray of fresh fruit, ginger tea, and a small bowl of Sun’s current craving, pickled mango.
They sat together, Sun leaning against Ongsa’s chest while the alpha’s hand rested on the gentle swell of her belly. The ultrasound photos were spread out on the coffee table.
“So,” Sun started, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Girl names. We need to start thinking. I want something beautiful but strong, something that feels like us.”
Ongsa’s eyes lit up. “I’ve been thinking about this since the doctor first mentioned it was possible. What about names connected to stars or the sky? Since that’s how we started…”
Sun tilted her head, considering. “Like Astra? Or Luna?”
“Luna is pretty,” Ongsa said, rubbing circles on Sun’s belly. “But maybe too common? Our girl deserves something special. What about Celestia? Or Nova?”
Sun giggled. “Nova is cute. But I keep thinking of something warmer… like Sol or something sun-related, since I’m Sun.”
Ongsa’s face softened. “Solana? Or just Sol for short? ‘Little Sol, shining bright like her mom.’” She kissed Sun’s temple.
“I like Sol… Solana it is.”
Sun waddled, yes, waddled through the aisles of their favorite supermarket, one hand on her rounded belly. She was six months along now, and the pup had decided to make her presence known with enthusiastic kicks. Sun reached for a jar of pickled mango on the top shelf, craving the sour-sweet tang that had become her obsession.
Before her fingers even brushed the glass, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back gently but firmly.
“No.” Ongsa said. “I’ll get it. You stay right here.”
Sun blinked. “Ongsa, it’s one jar. I can reach it if I go on tiptoe.”
“Absolutely not.” Ongsa stretched up easily, grabbing not one but three jars. “What if you lose balance? What if the shelf is unstable? What if—” She paused, eyes narrowing at a passing shopping cart. “What if someone bumps into you?”
The cart in question was being pushed by a tiny elderly woman who looked like she might blow away in a strong breeze.
Sun tried not to laugh. “Love, I’m pregnant, not made of glass.”
Ongsa huffed, adding the jars to their basket while keeping one hand firmly on the small of Sun’s back. “You’re carrying our pup. That makes you more precious than glass.” She scanned the aisle like a bodyguard. “And no more reaching. From now on, I do all high-shelf duty. New rule.”
“New rule?” Sun echoed, amused.
“Yes. New rule I just made up. For beautiful pregnant omegas married to cool alphas.”
Sun smacked Ongsa at that.
It was 11:47 PM when Sun nudged Ongsa awake, her round belly making the movement slightly awkward. She pouted, one hand resting on the firm swell where their pup was happily kicking away.
“Baby… I really want halo-halo.”
Ongsa sat up instantly, hair messy and sticking up in every direction, eyes suddenly alert like she’d been paged for an animal emergency in the middle of the night.
“Halo-halo? At this hour?” She rubbed her face, trying to process. “Sun, where are we even finding halo-halo at this time? Most stalls are closed. I could try to make something similar with what we have—”
Sun’s lower lip trembled. Pregnancy hormones hit like a truck. Her face crumpled, and before Ongsa could finish the sentence, the tantrum arrived in full force.
“I don’t know!” Sun whined, voice cracking dramatically as she crossed her arms over her belly. “You’re the alpha! You fix things! If there’s no halo-halo, then make me one! I want crushed ice and condensed milk and all the sweet toppings and I want it nowwww.”
Ongsa blinked, caught between protective instinct and pure panic at her wife’s distress. “Okay, okay—don’t cry, love. I’ve got this.”
She was out of bed in seconds, helping Sun sit up against a mountain of pillows, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then to her belly. “Stay right here. Nest, rest, I’ll handle it.”
True to her word, Ongsa threw on clothes, grabbed her keys, and drove to the 24/7 grocery store across town. She moved like a woman on a mission, filling the cart with everything needed.
Shaved ice machine (they didn’t have one at home, so she bought a small manual one), condensed milk, evaporated milk, ube jam, leche flan cups, red beans, sweet corn, jackfruit, coconut strips, nata de coco, and a suspicious amount of extra toppings just in case the whining wife wants variety later.
The cashier raised an eyebrow at the midnight dessert haul but said nothing when Ongsa explained proudly with seriousness, “My pregnant wife wants halo-halo. Right now.”
Back home forty minutes later, Ongsa turned their kitchen into a makeshift halo-halo laboratory. She crushed ice by hand, layered the ingredients carefully, extra ube because Sun loved it, extra flan because the pup apparently “deserved the best”, and drizzled condensed milk. The whole house soon smelled sweet and comforting.
She returned to the bedroom carrying a massive bowl, complete with a spoon and a proud little smile. Sun was waiting, still moody but eyes lighting up at the sight.
“Here,” Ongsa said softly, climbing back into bed and handing over the bowl. “Extra everything. I tasted a tiny bit to make sure it was safe… and good. Now eat slowly, okay?”
Sun took the bowl, digging in immediately with a happy hum. Her tantrum melted away with the first sweet, icy bite.
“It’s perfect,” she mumbled, mouth full. “You really made me halo-halo at midnight.” She said, tears now forming at her eyes.
Ongsa watched her like a hawk, one hand rubbing soothing circles on Sun’s belly. Every few spoonfuls, she’d reach over to wipe a stray drop of milk from Sun’s chin or adjust the pillows behind her back.
“Of course I did. You’re carrying our baby. If you want halo-halo at midnight, I’ll find a way.”
Sun leaned against her wife’s shoulder, mood completely shifted as she offered Ongsa a spoonful. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m a good wife,” Ongsa replied proudly, accepting the bite before rubbing Sun’s belly again. “Good pup… let your mom enjoy without too much kicking for a bit.”
They finished the massive bowl together on the bed, Ongsa fussing the entire time, making sure Sun didn’t eat too fast, that she stayed hydrated, and that she was comfortably propped up. The earlier tantrum was long forgotten, replaced by giggles and soft kisses between bites.
Sun walked slowly down the hallway toward their bedroom, one hand supporting her heavy belly while the other trailed along the wall for balance.
Now seven months pregnant, even short distances felt like marathons. Her ankles had swollen noticeably after a long day of light house tasks, and every step sent a dull throb through her feet.
“Ongsa…” she called out, voice carrying that tired and needy lilt. “Help? Walking is hard right now.”
She didn’t even finish the sentence before she heard rapid footsteps. Ongsa appeared instantly from the kitchen where she’d been prepping tomorrow’s meals, her protective instincts kicking in at full volume. Her hair was still slightly damp from an earlier shower, and she wore an old t-shirt that stretched across her broad shoulders. Without hesitation, she closed the distance.
“I’m here, I’m here,” Ongsa said urgently, sliding an arm around Sun’s waist and taking most of her weight effortlessly.
One strong hand settled over the curve of Sun’s belly while the other supported her back. “Why didn’t you call me sooner? You shouldn’t be walking alone this late. What if you lost balance? What if the pup shifted and made you dizzy?”
Sun leaned into her wife with a soft sigh of relief, though a small amused smile tugged at her lips. “It’s ten steps down the hallway, love. I’m not climbing a mountain.”
“Ten steps is ten opportunities for something to happen,” Ongsa replied seriously, guiding her with care, as if Sun were made of delicate glass. She matched Sun’s slow pace perfectly, murmuring soft reassurances. “I’ve got you, just lean on me. That’s it, perfect.”
They reached the bedroom doorway, Ongsa pushed the door open with her foot, never once letting go of her omega. The room was already prepped for comfort, extra pillows arranged in a nest formation, and the air lightly scented with the calming blend Ongsa had researched specifically for pregnant omegas.
“Bed,” Ongsa declared, helping Sun sit on the edge first.
She knelt down immediately to ease off Sun’s soft house slippers, frowning at the visible swelling around her ankles. “Your feet hurt, don’t they? You should have told me earlier. I would have carried you from the living room.”
“They do hurt,” Sun admitted, wincing as she flexed her toes. “They feel heavy and tight. All that extra weight is really hitting me tonight.”
Ongsa’s expression softened. “My poor wife. Carrying our strong pup is hard work.”
She helped Sun swing her legs fully onto the bed, fluffing pillows behind her back and under her knees for optimal support. Once Sun was settled comfortably against the headboard, Ongsa climbed onto the bed near her feet, sitting cross-legged.
“Foot massage incoming,” Ongsa announced, gently lifting one of Sun’s swollen feet into her lap.
Her hands were incredibly gentle now. She started with light pressure on the sole, using her thumbs to work in slow, soothing circles.
“Tell me if it’s too much or just right.”
She reached for the bottle of unscented lotion on the nightstand and warmed some between her palms before continuing. The scent was mild and comforting as she massaged Sun’s arch, working out the tension with careful strokes.
Sun let out a long, blissful sigh, sinking deeper into the pillows. “That feels amazing. You’re really good at this.”
“Only the best for you,” Ongsa murmured, focused entirely on her task.
She switched to the other foot, kneading the ball and heel with just the right amount of pressure. Every few moments, she’d glance up at Sun’s face to check for discomfort, then down at her belly.
“Our little one is growing so fast. No wonder your feet are protesting. They’re doing hero work carrying both of you.”
Sun smiled softly, watching her alpha through half-lidded eyes. The overprotectiveness that had once been twenty times normal now felt like a warm blanket.
“You’ve become such a worrywart.” Sun giggled.
“Remember back in high school? It’s always you looking out for me.” Ongsa said, though her hands never stopped their soothing work. She gently rotated Sun’s ankle in small circles, easing the stiffness. “Now I get to be the protective one, doing this to you every night if you need it.”
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by Sun’s occasional contented hums. Ongsa continued the massage thoroughly, working up to the calves with light strokes, then back down to the toes, making sure every aching spot received attention.
When Sun’s eyes started drifting shut, Ongsa carefully lowered her feet onto a pillow, elevating them slightly. She crawled up the bed and nestled around Sun’s side, one arm draped over her belly, hand resting where the pup was most active.
“Better?” Ongsa whispered, nuzzling into Sun’s neck and kissing the mating mark there.
“Much better,” Sun murmured, already half-asleep. “Thank you, honey…”
“Always.”
Sun was nine months pregnant, utterly done with it all.
Her belly was huge, the pup sat low and heavy, and her moods swung like a pendulum on steroids. One minute she was cuddling into Ongsa like she couldn’t get close enough, the next she was teary because the blanket was the wrong softness.
Needy, moody, and Ongsa met every single wave patiently.
It was a quiet afternoon when the latest round hit. Sun walked out of the bathroom after her third shower of the day, which was the only thing that still felt good, wearing one of Ongsa’s oversized shirts that barely covered her belly anymore.
“Ongsa,” she called, voice wobbling dangerously. “The nest feels wrong. The pillows are all lumpy and nothing smells right anymore.”
Ongsa appeared instantly from the kitchen, apron still on from preparing Sun’s favorite soup. “I’m here, baby.”
She guided Sun to the couch with gentle hands, then dropped to her knees to adjust every pillow and blanket in the nest. “Better? Or should I re-scent them again? I can put on a fresh shirt right now.”
Sun flopped back with a dramatic huff, tears pricking her eyes. “It’s still not right! And my back hurts… and I’m hungry but nothing sounds good except that one specific mango from the market which we don’t have anymore.” She reached for Ongsa’s hand and tugged her closer. “Come here. I need you closer. The pup won’t stop kicking my ribs and I miss your scent on everything.”
Ongsa didn’t hesitate. She climbed onto the couch, maneuvering carefully so Sun could lean fully against her chest. One arm wrapped around her wife while the other rubbed slow circles on the massive belly.
“I’ve got you. Lean all your weight on me.” She nuzzled into Sun’s neck, scenting her again with deep, calming strokes of her cheek. “As for the mango… I’ll run out and get more. Tell me exactly which stall.”
“You don’t have to,” Sun mumbled, even as she burrowed closer, needy instincts in full bloom. “But… I reallyyy want it.”
“Done.” Ongsa kissed her temple. “I’ll go after I massage your back. Turn a little for me?”
Sun obeyed with a needy whine, and Ongsa went to work immediately, working out the knots in her lower back with perfect pressure. Every few minutes she’d pause to check in. “Too hard? Too soft? Talk to me, love.”
“Perfect,” Sun sighed, mood already shifting toward contentment. “You’re so good to me. Even when I’m like this.”
“You’re my wife, and you’re growing our pup,” Ongsa said softly, pressing a kiss between her shoulder blades. “You’re allowed to be however you need to be. I love every version.”
The back massage turned into foot rubs when Sun complained her ankles were swelling again, which turned into cuddling when she suddenly felt cold, which turned into feeding her sliced fruit when hunger hit mid-cuddle. Ongsa moved seamlessly between tasks, never once complaining, even when Sun cried because the mango she brought back was “the right one but the wrong ripeness.”
By evening, they were settled in bed, Sun propped up with an army of pillows while Ongsa rubbed lotion on her belly in slow, soothing strokes. The pup was active tonight, big kicks and rolls visible under the skin.
“Active little star,” Ongsa murmured fondly, leaning down to kiss the spot where a tiny foot pressed out. “Take it easy on your mom, okay? She’s doing incredible work.”
Sun watched her with soft, teary eyes. “I can’t believe we’re here.”
Ongsa smiled, crawling up to lie beside her so they were face to face. She kept one hand on Sun’s belly, feeling every movement. “Feels like yesterday we were in high school, huh? Me texting you, hoping you wouldn’t know it’s me.”
Sun laughed softly. “I wouldn’t even know if it wasn’t for you being careless… You were this quiet, astronomy-obsessed alpha who barely spoke to anyone, but your messages, our conversations… they made me feel seen. I knew at that time who I’d end up with.”
“I knew it was you too,” Ongsa admitted with a sheepish grin. “Or at least I hoped.”
Sun’s fingers traced Ongsa’s jaw. “Remember when I finally confessed? I was actually shaking so bad, I didn’t know where I got the courage, I just did it.”
“I almost passed out then too,” Ongsa chuckled. “Best day of my life. We really made it, Sun. We’re building a family.”
Sun’s eyes watered again, hormones making everything more intense. “I’m scared, and excited. And I need you closer right now.”
Ongsa immediately pulled her in, careful of the belly between them, wrapping her arms around her wife as best she could. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sol was perfect.
Tiny, with a tuft of dark hair and the smallest, most delicate features. She had Sun’s nose and, they both swore, Ongsa’s thoughtful eyes.
Ongsa sat on the edge of the bed as tears streamed down the alpha’s face nonstop. She had been crying since the moment Sol’s first cry filled the delivery room, and she showed no signs of stopping.
“She’s here,” Ongsa whispered, voice cracking for the hundredth time.
Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as she gently brushed a finger along Sol’s tiny cheek. “Our daughter. Our little star. Sun… look at her. She’s perfect. I can’t stop crying.”
Sun smiled softly, shifting the baby slightly so Ongsa could see her better. “I know, love. You’ve been crying since they placed her on my chest. It’s okay, let it out.”
“I’m sorry,” Ongsa sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand only for more tears to replace them immediately. “I’m supposed to be the strong alpha. But she’s so small and so real and she smells like both of us and—” Her voice broke again as Sol made a tiny squeaking sound. “See? She’s talking to us already. I’m a mess.”
Sun laughed, the sound warm and full of love. She leaned her head against Ongsa’s shoulder. “You were strong the whole time. You carried me when I couldn’t walk, took care of my needs with no hesitation, massaged my swollen feet every night, and hovered like a bodyguard for nine months straight. Crying now doesn’t make you any less my strong alpha, it just means you love her as much as I do.”
Ongsa nodded, still sniffling, and carefully wrapped her arm more securely around both of them. She pressed a kiss to Sun’s forehead, then leaned down to place the gentlest kiss on Sol’s head. The baby stirred, tiny mouth opening in a yawn that made Ongsa’s tears flow even harder.
“Look at that yawn,” Ongsa whispered in awe. “She’s so tiny. What if she gets cold? Should I ask the nurse for another blanket? Or maybe two—”
“Ongsa,” Sun interrupted gently, amusement sparkling in her tired eyes. “She’s perfect. Warm and safe, we’re all safe.”
The alpha took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself, but another wave of emotion hit when Sol’s little hand curled around Ongsa’s finger. “She’s holding my finger. Sun… our daughter is holding my finger.”
Sun shifted the baby carefully into Ongsa’s arms, watching with a soft smile as her wife cradled their daughter for the first time since the delivery. Ongsa held Sol like she was the most precious thing in the universe, which to her, she was.
“Hi, Sol,” Ongsa whispered. “I’m your mom. I’ve been waiting for you for so long. I promise I’ll always keep you and your mom safe.”
Sol made another small sound, eyes blinking slowly. Ongsa sobbed happily. “She knows my voice. She recognizes me already.”
Sun reached up to wipe tears from Ongsa’s cheek. “Of course she does. How could she not? Your scent has been all over me for months. She’s been listening to you talk to her every night, rubbing my belly and making promises.”
Nurses came and went, checking on Sun and the baby, but Ongsa barely noticed, too absorbed in memorizing every detail of Sol’s face.
At one point, Ongsa looked up at Sun, eyes still watery but filled with overwhelming love. “Thank you for carrying her. For trusting me through every moment. I know I was a lot—”
Sun laughed softly. “You were perfect. Exactly what we needed. I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
Ongsa smiled through her tears, leaning in to kiss Sun deeply and tenderly. When they pulled apart, she rested her forehead against Sun’s. “We did it.”
“Almost,” Sun corrected with a bright smile. “We still have to take her home and start the next chapter.”
Ongsa nodded, more tears slipping free as Sol yawned again in her arms. “I can’t wait.”
Outside, the world kept turning, but inside this room, everything had aligned perfectly.