Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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A love story like no other

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Chapter Text

The train doors slid open with a groan of metal and Wilhelm shot through them the second they did, landing on the platform in a rush of pounding heart and nervous energy. Late. Of course the train had to be late today.

He darted through the crowd, weaving past festivalgoers in flower crowns and couples pushing prams. The air smelled of lilacs, roasted almonds, and spring—the kind of day where Stockholm seemed to sparkle beneath a flawless blue sky. But Wilhelm barely noticed. His mind was fixed on one thing.

Simon...

Finally, the park opened before him, alive with the sounds of music and chatter. His eyes scanned the sea of people, searching—there! A familiar group near the stage: Sara, smiling in the sunshine, August standing tall with their little daughter, Alma, perched on his shoulders, her tiny hands clutching a pinwheel. Felice, stylish in a pale yellow dress and dark sunglasses, waved him over. Ayub and Rosh were with her, Ayub balancing three drinks, Rosh halfway through a cinnamon bun.

“Wille! Over here!” Felice called.

He jogged over, breathless, cheeks flushed. “Sorry! The train—”

“Was late. We figured,” Felice teased, smirking. She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. “You’re lucky. He’s just about to go on stage.”

“Cutting it close, man,” Ayub said, handing him a bottle of water.

“You made it,” Rosh added, grinning. “Would’ve been a shame to miss your omega’s big moment.”

Wilhelm took the water gratefully, heart still racing. But not from the run. His gaze had already locked onto the stage.

Simon stepped up to the microphone, curls catching the sunlight. The applause began to rise, the chatter dying down. And then—

The first strum of Om Du Inte Fanns filled the air, and Wilhelm’s breath caught.

It wasn’t just any song. It was their song—the one Simon had written and performed at their wedding, in front of the people who mattered the most. The one Simon had sung, voice trembling with emotion, as they stood together beneath an arch of white blooms, exchanging vows. The one that had made Wilhelm cry that day, and was about to do so again now.

Simon’s voice, warm and raw, floated over the crowd.

"För du gör mig stark
När jag är svag, ser mig för allt
Som jag kan va' om du inte fanns
Vem fan är jag om du inte fanns?"

(This is how I see Simon performs it: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrHHLYMjMyk)

The words carried more than melody. They carried memories—seven years of love, of struggle, of joy. Seven years since that first kiss. Three years of marriage, of building a life they chose, together. And now, Simon was still singing the same truth: that loving each other, against all odds.

Wilhelm felt it in every beat of his heart.

Alma clapped in time with the music, her little voice piping, “Simon sing!” August smiled, bouncing her gently on his shoulders.

Around him, Wilhelm could sense Felice swaying, Ayub mouthing along to the lyrics, Rosh tapping the rhythm against his leg. The whole park seemed spellbound by Simon’s voice.

When the final chord faded, the applause was deafening. Simon’s eyes found Wilhelm’s across the crowd, and that smile—that soft, brilliant, only-for-Wille smile—lit up his face.

...

The music of the festival resumed in the background, but Wilhelm’s world stayed focused on Simon. He watched as Simon stepped down from the stage and was stopped by a woman with kind eyes and a little boy at her side. The boy clutched a lopsided daisy crown and stared up at Simon, wide-eyed.

Simon knelt to the child’s level, speaking softly. The boy giggled, showing off his flower crown. Simon laughed with him, his whole face alight, brushing a curl back from the boy’s forehead.

Wilhelm felt it like a tidal wave—the longing, the warmth, the need. His alpha instincts stirred so fiercely it almost hurt. Seeing Simon like that, so natural, so gentle with the child, made something deep inside him ache with want. He pictured Simon cradling their own pup, singing lullabies at bedtime, holding small hands as they walked through this very park.

August, ever observant, caught the look on his face and smirked. “Ah. There it is.”

Wille blinked, torn from his thoughts. “What?”

“The alpha look. You’re picturing it, aren’t you? Simon with your pup.”

“I am not,” Wilhelm said, a little too quickly.

“Sure you’re not.” August’s grin widened.

Alma, sensing the moment, wriggled on August’s shoulders. “I want Wille! Wille, Wille!” she called, reaching out her arms.

August laughed, putting her down. “Go ahead. He’s all yours.”

Wilhelm took her into his arms without hesitation, her small body fitting perfectly against him. Alma snuggled close, her scent of toddler and spring grass filling his senses. His heart swelled. How could he not want this?

“Aww,” Felice said, watching them. “You’re doomed, Wille. That’s too cute.”

Ayub grinned. “Yeah, man. You’re toast.”

Rosh nodded, mouth full of cinnamon bun. “She’s claimed you now.”

Wilhelm chuckled, smoothing Alma’s hair. “She’s very convincing.”

Simon approached at last, cheeks flushed from the performance, eyes shining with happiness.

“What’s going on over here?” he asked, eyeing the group’s knowing smiles and Wilhelm’s occupied arms.

“Nothing!” Wilhelm said, a little too fast, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple.

Simon raised a brow, amused. Then he turned to Alma. “Alma, sweetheart, can I have my husband back?”

“No!” Alma said firmly, tightening her grip on Wilhelm’s neck, grinning mischievously.

The whole group burst out laughing.

Simon placed a hand over his heart, mock-wounded. “What? You’re stealing him from me?”

Alma nodded, giggling. “Mine now!”

Wilhelm laughed, kissing the top of her head. “She’s a tough negotiator.”

Sara shook her head, smiling. “Looks like you’ll have to share, Simon.”

Simon grinned and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around both of them. His scent—sweet, familiar, home—wrapped around Wilhelm like a promise.

And as they stood there, surrounded by friends, family, and spring’s soft breeze, Wilhelm thought, Soon..

…

The apartment door clicked softly behind them, sealing out the sounds of the city — the festival music, the voices, the hum of spring night settling over Stockholm. Inside, it was quiet, warm, familiar. Just theirs.

Wilhelm let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, tension easing from his shoulders the moment they stepped inside. He slid out of his jacket and laid it over the back of a chair, watching as Simon padded barefoot across the floor, pulling off his denim jacket as he went.

Simon always seemed to shed layers the second they were home — as if their shared space allowed him to breathe easier, be freer. His curls were still a little wild from the breeze, cheeks faintly pink from performing, and his t-shirt clung to him in places, shaped by the warmth of the day.

“I think I’m going to take a shower,” Simon said after a moment, stretching his arms up over his head, back arching, a soft groan of relief escaping him.

Wilhelm swallowed hard, eyes tracing the smooth line of Simon’s stomach as his shirt lifted slightly. His omega always managed to look effortlessly beautiful, like he belonged to every soft and sunlit thing in the world.

Simon caught him staring and gave a small, knowing smile, but his voice stayed soft, inviting. “Would you like to join me?”

There was a gentle playfulness in the way he said it — not teasing exactly, but warm, open, like he already knew what the answer would be.

Wille’s heart skipped, heat curling low in his belly. He nodded, unable to speak for a moment, just drinking in the sight of Simon waiting for him at the bathroom door, expectant and loving.

...

The steam wrapped around them as Wille stepped into the shower. The bathroom was already hazy with it, the air thick, the mirror fogged. Simon stood beneath the spray, head tilted back, water streaming over his body, turning his skin slick and glistening.

Wille couldn’t look away.

Simon’s eyes opened slowly as he felt Wille’s presence, and a soft smile curved his lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Wille whispered back, stepping closer, hands finding Simon’s waist, pulling him gently to him, their skin slick and hot against each other.

Simon’s hands slid up his arms, fingers threading through his damp hair, drawing him down for a kiss that started slow, soft — lips pressing together, savoring — before deepening, tongues brushing, breaths mingling. The sound of the shower filled the space, but all Wille could hear was Simon’s soft moan against his mouth, the quiet hum of want between them.

Their bodies fit together perfectly, as always — familiar, loved, needed. Wille’s hands roamed Simon’s wet skin, over the curve of his back, down to his ass, pulling him close, feeling the delicious grind of their cocks sliding together, hard and eager.

“Wille,” Simon breathed, breaking the kiss just long enough to look at him, pupils blown wide with need. His hands traced down Wille’s chest, slow and sure. “I need you.”

That was all it took.

Wille turned him gently, pressing him against the warm tiles, kissing along his neck, his shoulder, tasting water and salt and Simon. He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, savoring the way Simon gasped, the way he arched back against him, greedy for every inch.

The rhythm built between them naturally, the slick slide of skin on skin, the water pouring down masking the soft slap of their bodies meeting. Wille held him close, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other hand splayed over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his omega’s heart.

Simon’s sounds, his soft whimpers and breathless moans, filled the space, urging Wille on. The scent of him, sweet and warm, filled Wille’s head, made him dizzy with want. Every thrust, every touch, was pure instinct, pure need.

And then — the thought rose, unbidden but unstoppable. I want this forever. I want to fill him. I want him carrying my pup.

The desire hit so hard it stole Wille’s breath. His knot swelled before he could stop it, and with a sharp cry of Simon’s name, he came deep inside him, locking them together, trembling with the force of it.

Simon gasped at the sudden fullness, bracing his hands against the wall, but then a soft laugh escaped him — tender, affectionate. He glanced back, eyes shining through damp lashes.

“Well,” he said, voice warm and breathless, “someone got a little carried away.”

Wille’s heart clenched with guilt even as he clung to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Shh,” Simon said gently, his hand finding Wille’s where it rested over his stomach. He laced their fingers together, leaning back into him. “Don’t be sorry. It’s… nice.” He smiled softly. “Nice to know I can still make my alpha lose control like that.”

Wille pressed his face to the curve of Simon’s neck, breathing him in, letting the moment anchor him. His heart felt too full for words.

...

Later, after they’d dried off and curled up in bed, the cool night breeze drifted in through the cracked window, carrying the faint scent of lilacs and city stone. Simon lay half on top of Wille, one leg thrown over his, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. Their skin was still warm from the shower, their bodies loose, sated.

Wille’s fingers played absently with the ends of Simon’s damp curls. His mind kept circling back to the way Simon had looked at that little boy at the festival — gentle, patient, kind — and the way his heart had swelled with the thought of what could be.

Simon yawned, soft and content, and reached to switch off the small lamp on his nightstand. Darkness filled the room, save for the silver-blue glow of the moon filtering through the curtains.

And then Wille spoke, the words slipping out, soft but certain. “I want a pup.”

The silence that followed was immediate, complete. Wille felt it before he heard it — Simon’s body going utterly still beside him. The easy rise and fall of his breathing hitched, then resumed, slower now, quieter.

Wille couldn’t see Simon’s face in the dark, but his heart sank at the quiet. He hadn’t known what reaction he’d expected — but this… this stillness hurt more than he thought it would.

Finally, Simon’s voice came, soft, careful. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

Wille swallowed, tried to keep his voice steady. “Yeah. Of course.”

Simon shifted slightly, tucking himself back against Wille’s side, his hand resting over Wille’s heart. But the quiet between them felt different now.

Wille closed his eyes, held Simon close, and let the night carry them forward. Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow we’ll find the words.

...

Chapter Text

Morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, soft and golden, casting delicate patterns across the hardwood floor of their apartment. The city beyond their window had already begun to stir — the distant hum of traffic, the occasional bark of a dog, birdsong threading between it all. But inside, the world felt paused, held in a gentle hush.

Wilhelm sat at the kitchen table, his coffee cooling in his hands. He’d barely touched his breakfast — toast growing cold on the plate, jam glistening in the light like stained glass. Across from him, Simon picked at his eggs, his fork pushing food back and forth without much interest. His curls were still slightly damp from his shower, sticking up in soft, wild tufts. The neckline of his worn t-shirt stretched just enough to reveal the curve of his collarbone.

They hadn’t said much. The clink of cutlery, the quiet drip of the coffee pot — those had filled the silence between them. But the real weight in the room came from what had gone unsaid, what still hung between them after the night before.

Wilhelm kept stealing glances at Simon, trying to read him, but Simon’s gaze stayed down, focused on his plate though it was clear his mind was elsewhere.

Finally, Simon set his fork down and drew in a slow breath. His hands folded together on the table, and he lifted his eyes to meet Wille’s.

“Wille…” His voice was soft but steady, and Wilhelm felt his heart trip in his chest. “I need to say this before anything else: I love you. I love you so much.” His gaze was warm, but there was a fragility beneath it that made Wilhelm want to reach across the table and hold him. “And I do want a pup with you. I really do. I don’t want you to think I don’t. It’s just… last night, when you said it, it caught me off guard. I felt overwhelmed, like my brain couldn’t catch up to what my heart wanted.”

The knot in Wille’s chest unraveled with those words. His shoulders eased, his grip on his coffee mug loosened. A smile ghosted across his face — small, but real. “You scared me a little,” he admitted, his voice low, touched with a kind of vulnerable honesty that only Simon ever drew out of him. “You were so quiet….  I thought that maybe I’d said something you weren’t ready to hear.”

Simon’s eyes softened even more, full of regret. He stood without hesitation, rounded the table, and slid onto Wille’s lap, straddling him, arms winding around his neck. His scent enveloped Wille — clean from the shower, warm, familiar, perfect.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispered, their foreheads brushing. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just needed a moment to process. But I want this too. I want you. And I want our family — when the time is right.”

Wille let out a slow, shaky breath, wrapping his arms tight around Simon’s waist, pulling him close enough to feel the steady beat of his omega’s heart against his chest. They stayed like that for a long, quiet moment — nothing but the sound of the city beyond their windows, the soft rhythm of their breathing, the promise between them.

After breakfast, they moved to the living room, coffee mugs in hand. They settled on the couch, bodies close, Simon’s legs tucked beneath him, Wille’s arm draped along the back of the sofa. The morning light painted them in gold, the world outside forgotten as they finally let the conversation take shape.

“So…” Simon began, playing with the rim of his mug, thoughtful. “What do we do from here?”

Wille smiled, brushing his knuckles gently along Simon’s cheek. “We figure it out. Together.”

Simon leaned into the touch, then straightened a little, determination lighting his features. “I think it’s actually… a good time. For me, I mean. With work — I’m part-time at the school, so I can keep teaching for a while. And for my own music… yeah, I want to keep writing, keep creating, but I can focus on building things up more after maternity leave. I wouldn’t be starting from zero.”

Wille’s heart swelled listening to him — the way Simon spoke, with hope and clarity, not just for him, but for them. He found himself smiling so widely it almost hurt. “You’re already thinking ahead,” he said, wonder threading through his words.

Simon laughed, a little sheepish, but happy. “Well… yeah. I guess I am.” He leaned back against the couch, eyes shining. “But there’s a practical side to this too. I’ve been on birth control for years — since I presented. I can’t just stop it overnight. I should talk to a doctor, see what’s best. Make sure I’m healthy, that everything’s okay.”

“That makes sense,” Wille said, squeezing his hand. “You want me to come with you?”

Simon’s smile was soft. “Yeah. If you want to.”

“I want to.”

They both fell quiet for a moment, each picturing it — the appointment, the steps that would follow. The future, unfolding piece by piece.

Simon’s gaze drifted toward the hallway, thoughtful. “You know… that extra room we have.”

Wille followed his line of sight, and his heart clenched in the best way. “It would make a perfect nursery.”

Simon nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “Yeah. It really would. I can already see it — soft colors, maybe those sheer curtains, so the light stays gentle. The crib by the window…”

Wille couldn’t help it — he shifted closer, heart pounding with love and want, and set his coffee down on the table. His hand slid along Simon’s thigh, slow and warm, fingers brushing the waistband of his sweatpants.

Simon turned to him, brows lifting in amusement as Wille leaned in, lips finding his in a kiss that was sweet at first, then deeper, needier. Wille’s hand slipped lower, fingertips sneaking beneath the soft fabric.

Simon laughed against his mouth, pulling back just enough to speak, breathless but grinning. “Wille… you know I can’t get pregnant right now, right?”

Wille chuckled, nuzzling his nose against Simon’s. “I know - I just think it will be good to practice how to breed you.”

Simon laughed again, full and bright, and pulled him in for another kiss — this one slow, lingering, filled with promise. And as they sat tangled together on the couch, the future felt closer, more real, and so full of hope it almost made Wille’s chest ache with the joy of it.

…

The train rumbled beneath Wilhelm’s feet, the steady clatter of wheels on tracks doing nothing to calm the knot of nerves in his stomach. He glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes, cursing the delays, cursing himself for not leaving earlier. His heart raced with worry — not just because he was late, but because this felt important. The first real step toward the life they both wanted.

...

Meanwhile, Simon sat in the small, brightly lit exam room, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. The medical center was clean, modern, with pale blue walls and a large window that let in soft daylight. Despite that, Simon felt exposed, like he’d been cracked open just walking through the door.

Across from him sat Dr. Vera Lindqvist — kind eyes behind slim glasses, hair streaked with silver, and a manner that instantly put him at ease. She smiled warmly as she checked over his file on her tablet.

“So, Simon,” she began, looking up, “what brings you in today?”

Simon drew a breath, cheeks warming a little even though he’d rehearsed the words. “I, uh… I want to come off my birth control. My husband and I — we’re hoping to start trying for a baby.”

He saw Vera’s smile widen, genuine and kind. “That’s wonderful to hear. Congratulations on making the decision.” She set the tablet down and leaned forward slightly. “We’ll start with some basics — bloodwork to check hormone levels, and I’d like to ask: how long has it been since your last gynecology exam?”

Simon shifted on the paper-covered table, suddenly aware of how long it had been. His face went pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… I guess since I started the birth control. So… many years.”

Vera didn’t miss a beat, her tone staying gentle. “That’s perfectly okay. I’d like to do a check-up, just to make sure everything looks healthy and ready when you come off the medication. It’ll help us spot anything that might make conception harder down the line.”

Simon nodded, heart beating faster with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

She gave him clear, calm instructions: change into the gown, blood sample first, then the exam. Simon stepped behind the curtain and changed, folding his clothes neatly, heart fluttering at the thought of what this meant — really meant. The paper-thin gown felt strange, but this was for something. For them.

Vera returned with a nurse, and Simon barely felt the prick of the needle as the blood was drawn. His mind was too busy racing ahead, imagining tiny clothes, a crib, Wille’s hand on his big belly one day.

“Okay,” Vera said, cheerful and kind. “Up on the table when you’re ready, feet in the stirrups.”

Simon climbed up, cheeks still warm, placing his feet where instructed. He felt exposed, vulnerable — but also strangely hopeful. He took a slow breath, trying to relax.

And that’s when the door opened, and Wille rushed in, breathless, hair slightly wild from the wind, cheeks pink from hurrying. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he blurted, eyes wide, guilt written all over his face.

His gaze dropped to Simon — gown hitched up, legs resting in the stirrups — and he froze for a heartbeat, his own cheeks flushing deep red. “Oh—oh.”

Simon couldn’t help it — he laughed, soft and warm despite his own embarrassment. “Good timing, huh?”

Vera, professional and unflappable, smiled at the flustered alpha. “No problem at all, Mr. Eriksson. I was just about to begin Simon’s exam — a routine check to make sure everything’s looking good before he stops the birth control.”

Wille nodded quickly, stepping to Simon’s side, taking his hand in both of his. His grip was warm, reassuring, grounding.

The exam didn’t take long. Vera talked them through everything, explaining what she was looking at and for. When she straightened again, she smiled at them both. “Everything looks perfectly healthy. No concerns at all.”

Simon let out the breath he’d been holding, and Wille squeezed his hand, the tension easing from both of them.

Once Simon was dressed again, they sat together at the small consultation table while Vera pulled up a chart on her screen.

“So,” she began, tapping the display, “let’s talk next steps. When you stop birth control, your body will begin adjusting. Your natural scent will return, and so will your heats. It might take a cycle or two before everything regulates fully, but it’s completely normal.”

Simon nodded, processing, glancing at Wille who listened intently, jaw tight with focus.

“This,” Vera continued, pointing at the chart, “shows the best window for conception — usually during the peak of your heat, when your body’s releasing the most fertile scent and your omega hormones are highest.”

Then she glanced at Wille, kind but direct. “And for you, Mr. Eriksson — one way to support this process is to abstain from ejaculation before Simon’s next heat. No masturbation, no sex — that way, when the time comes, you’ll have the highest sperm count possible. It can really improve your chances.”

Wille went visibly red, his ears burning, and Simon bit back a grin at how flustered his alpha looked.

Simon smirked playfully. “That won’t be a problem.”

Wille gave him a look — half mortified, half adoring — and shook his head, but couldn’t stop the soft laugh that escaped him. “You’re going to make this torture for me, aren’t you?”

Vera chuckled kindly, rising to see them out. “You two will do just fine. I’ll send your lab results once they’re processed. And Simon — you can book a follow-up whenever you're ready to come off the birth control. We’ll support you through every step."

As they left the office, Wille slid his arm around Simon’s waist, pulling him close as they walked down the hall, their hearts light despite the nerves. The first step had been taken — and together, they were ready for what came next.

...

Chapter Text

The days after the doctor’s visit passed in a kind of quiet anticipation, like the pause before a song’s crescendo. Simon booked his follow-up appointment and picked up his final packet of birth control — a marker of time ticking forward. They’d talked and planned late into the night after seeing Dr. Vera, huddled together on the couch, heads bent over calendars and apps, imagining the future in tentative, hopeful strokes.

But for Wilhelm, those days also became their own kind of trial.

...

It started out manageable. The first few mornings, Wille woke before Simon, heading out for a jog or to the kitchen for coffee. But by day four, simply watching Simon shuffle into the kitchen in his oversized t-shirt, curls messy from sleep, eyes soft with lingering dreams — it was hell.

He tried. He really did. He kept his hands to himself (mostly). But then Simon would stretch, arms overhead, shirt riding up to reveal some skin at his waist, and Wille would have to turn away, muttering some excuse about checking emails or needing a shower.

Simon noticed, of course.

“Everything okay, Wille?” he teased one evening, after catching Wille staring at him for the fifth time in as many minutes — this time while Simon bent down to retrieve something from a low cupboard.

“Fine,” Wille said, voice tight, cheeks pink. “Totally fine.”

“You look like you’re about to combust,” Simon laughed, crossing the kitchen to cup Wille’s face, playful and sweet.

“You’re torturing me,” Wille admitted, pressing his forehead to Simon’s. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me right now.”

“Oh, I know,” Simon grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I love it.”

...

The nights weren’t any easier. Simon’s scent had always been comforting, but now that Wille knew what lay ahead — knew what they were working toward — it felt impossible not to want, not to touch. But he kept his promise. No sex. No relief.

Instead, they fell asleep tangled together, Simon pressed warm against him, and Wille stared at the ceiling in the dark, counting heartbeats, telling himself it would all be worth it.

...

Finally, the day of Simon’s appointment arrived.

Wille went with him, holding his hand in the waiting room, feeling the weight and wonder of what they were about to do. Dr. Vera greeted them with the same steady, kind manner as before, and after a short check-up and talk, she gave Simon the green light to stop his birth control.

“It might take a little time for your body to adjust,” she reminded them, smiling. “But you’re both doing everything right. And remember — enjoy this process together.”

Simon flushed at that, and Wille squeezed his hand, both of them feeling the meaning of the moment settle between them like sunlight.

...

The changes came slowly at first, subtle as a shift in the wind.

Wille noticed it in the mornings — Simon’s scent beginning to deepen, richer somehow, more omega in a way that made Wille’s instincts stir, made his pulse quicken without him even realizing it.

One morning, Simon came into the kitchen in his usual casual way, reaching past Wille to grab a mug. And Wille froze, breathing him in, the change so tangible it was like tasting something sweet and familiar but new at once.

Simon caught him staring. “What?” he asked, laughing softly, setting the mug down.

“Nothing,” Wille said, voice low, eyes dark with awe. “You just… smell incredible.”

Simon’s cheeks pinked, but his smile was pleased. “You’re noticing already?”

Wille nodded, stepping closer, brushing a curl from Simon’s forehead. “Yeah. And it’s driving me crazy.”

...

The shifts weren’t just scent. Simon’s moods seemed softer, more reflective. Sometimes Wille would find him standing in the extra room, hands on his hips, quietly imagining what it would look like filled with baby things. Other times, Simon would curl up on the couch, resting his head in Wille’s lap, content just to let Wille play with his curls while they talked about names, dreams, fears.

Wille loved every bit of it — the closeness, the promise.

But the waiting? The waiting was brutal.

One night, as they lay in bed, Simon wrapped around him as usual, Wille groaned softly, pressing his face to Simon’s neck. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

Simon laughed quietly, stroking his back. “You’re doing amazing. Almost there.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wille muttered, though his voice was full of love. “You’re not the one trying not to explode every time you walk in the room.”

Simon lifted his head just enough to kiss him, slow and deep. When he pulled back, his eyes were bright with affection and mischief both. “Just think of how good it’s going to be when it’s time.”

Wille groaned again, flopping onto his back, and Simon’s laughter filled the room, warm and bright.

...

As Simon’s scent deepened further and his body adjusted, the sense of anticipation between them only grew. Wille found himself looking at Simon differently — not because he was different, but because everything felt heightened, more charged, more theirs. Every glance, every brush of hands, every quiet conversation about their future bound them tighter together.

And as the calendar ticked toward Simon’s next heat, the two of them braced together for the next chapter — ready, eager, and utterly in love.

…

The change came on gradually — like the first hint of summer in the air, subtle at first, then undeniable.

It started with Simon’s scent, deepening day by day. What had begun as a subtle shift became something richer, sweeter, pulling at Wille’s instincts so powerfully he found it hard to think of anything else. The way Simon smelled now was intoxicating — like home, like belonging, like everything Wille had ever wanted.

Wille had been ready for this. He’d cleared his calendar, handed off cases, told his colleagues he was taking a few days away. There was nothing more important than being with Simon, taking care of him, being the alpha his omega needed.

By the time the heat truly began, Simon was flushed and restless. The apartment felt too warm, his clothes too heavy, even the softest blanket too much against his skin.

Wille stayed close, watching him with gentle, worried eyes. “Let’s get you to bed, baby,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. He helped Simon up, steadying him with an arm around his waist, guiding him down the hall to their bedroom.

Simon’s skin was hot beneath Wille’s touch, his breaths coming faster, small whimpers escaping as the need began to build.

Wille drew back the covers, helping Simon out of his clothes, leaving him in just his underwear. He kissed his forehead, smoothing damp curls back, and tucked him in. “I’m right here,” he promised, voice thick with love.

...

The hours that followed were slow and tender. Wille barely left Simon’s side. He brought cool cloths for his forehead, offered water and light food, coaxing Simon to eat what little he could manage. He rubbed Simon’s back when the heat made him ache, whispered soothing words when the restlessness turned to frustration.

They lay together, Simon curled against him, Wille’s arms around him, his scent offered freely to calm and comfort.

“You’re doing so well,” Wille murmured again and again, pressing kisses to Simon’s temple, his cheeks, his throat. “I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Simon clung to him, trembling at times, his body burning with need. His scent grew headier, filling the room, making Wille’s heart pound and his own instincts roar beneath the surface. But he held himself back, waiting, watching for the signs that Simon was ready.

...

And then — finally — it came.

Simon shifted restlessly in his arms, his body pressing closer, needy sounds spilling from his lips. His scent peaked, rich and fertile and so perfectly his. His eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils wide, cheeks flushed deep pink. He nuzzled against Wille’s neck, breath hot and desperate.

“Wille… please,” he whispered, voice thick with want, with love, with trust. “Please, alpha… I need you.”

That was all it took. Wille’s restraint snapped, but not his tenderness. He kissed Simon deeply, hands sliding over heated skin, pulling him close, aligning their bodies with care and reverence.

He pressed inside slowly, filling Simon with steady, deep strokes, whispering his name, telling him how beautiful he was, how perfect. Simon gasped, clung to him, legs wrapping around Wille’s waist as the alpha moved within him, every thrust slow at first, savoring the feeling of coming home.

“Wille…” Simon moaned softly, voice trembling. “I can feel you — so deep… gods, it’s so good…”

Wille shuddered at the words, at the way Simon welcomed him, opened for him. His own need grew sharper, his knot beginning to swell as instinct took over. He moved deeper, harder now, still careful, still watching Simon’s face, until the moment came — the peak of their need, bodies straining together.

With a low, broken groan, Wille sank his teeth into the mark at Simon’s neck — their bond flaring between them like a sun bursting to life — and knotted him deeply, locking them together. Simon cried out, the sound one of purest pleasure, of relief, of belonging.

Wille spilled into him, pulse after pulse, his seed flooding Simon’s heat-drunk body. He held him tight, trembling, murmuring broken words of love, of wonder, of everything he felt.

Simon’s hands stroked Wille’s back, soothing him even as he trembled with his own release. His voice was soft, awed. “I can feel you… gods, Wille, I can feel everything… so full, so warm… it’s perfect…”

They stayed like that, joined and breathless, kissing between gasps, tears pricking at the corners of their eyes from the sheer overwhelming intimacy of it. Wille nuzzled Simon’s neck, kissing the tender skin around his mark, whispering, “You’re mine. I love you so much. You’re everything.”

Simon smiled, dazed and happy, fingers carding through Wille’s curls. “I love you too… always… this is everything I ever wanted…”

Long after their bodies quieted, they stayed tangled together, knot still holding them close, hearts beating in sync. And as the night wrapped around them, they drifted into sleep, wrapped in love, in hope, and in the beautiful promise of what was to come.

…

The night of Simon’s heat blurred into dawn — the kind of dawn where the sky glowed pale pink and soft gold, and the world outside their window seemed impossibly quiet, as if even the city knew to let them have this moment.

Wille woke first, still holding Simon close, their bodies sticky with sweat and scent, his knot finally softened and slipped free sometime in the early hours. Simon lay warm and heavy against him, his breathing slow and even, the edge of exhaustion softened by the contentment on his face.

Wille couldn’t stop himself from just looking at him — at the faint flush still on his cheeks, the way his lashes fanned out over his skin, the way his mouth was parted slightly in sleep. His omega. His mate. His everything.

He pressed the gentlest of kisses to Simon’s forehead, then to his temple, whispering words Simon wouldn’t hear but that his heart needed to say. “Thank you… I love you… you’re so perfect…”

...

The days that followed were slow, gentle, cocooned in that soft space after shared need and fulfillment.

Simon was tired — the heat had taken a lot out of him, as they’d expected — but he glowed in a way Wille had never seen. His scent was sweeter, his moods softer, his touches lingering longer than usual, as if he too felt how much deeper this had brought them together.

Wille fussed over him, bringing him meals in bed, rubbing his back and legs when the aches flared, making sure he drank enough water, enough tea. Simon teased him gently — “You’re going to smother me, alpha” — but the sparkle in his eyes said he loved it. That he loved him.

At night they lay wrapped in each other, whispering dreams into the dark — about tiny clothes, about what color to paint the nursery, about how they’d handle sleepless nights and lullabies and first steps.

But beneath it all, unspoken but understood, was the waiting.

...

The first morning Simon woke without the lingering haze of heat, they both felt it — the shift back to normal, but with a thread of tension beneath it. Wille found himself watching Simon’s every move, listening for any change in his scent, in his mood, in the way his body moved.

Simon noticed, of course. He always noticed. One afternoon, curled up together on the couch, he caught Wille’s gaze, smiled gently, and brushed his knuckles along Wille’s cheek.

“You’re going to drive yourself crazy, you know,” Simon said softly, warmth in his voice. “We won’t know for a while yet.”

Wille exhaled, leaning into his touch. “I can’t help it. I just… I want this for us so much.”

“I know,” Simon whispered, kissing his forehead. “Me too.”

...

They counted the days together, quiet and hopeful.

Every little thing felt like a sign: the way Simon lingered over certain foods, the way he grew tired earlier in the evening, the way Wille swore Simon’s scent had changed — just a little, but enough to make his alpha heart leap with hope.

They didn’t say it out loud, not yet. They didn’t want to jinx it, to chase the dream away too soon.

But every time Wille held Simon — whether they were watching a movie, or sitting at the table with their coffee, or lying in bed listening to the rain — he found his hand drifting to Simon’s belly, resting there gently, as if to say I’m here. I’m ready. I’m yours.

And every time, Simon would cover Wille’s hand with his own, threading their fingers together, his smile soft and full of love.

...

The waiting was hard — harder than Wille expected. But the hope? The hope made it beautiful.

And together, they faced each day, hearts full of the future they were building, one tender, patient moment at a time.

...

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun filtered softly through the windows of Sara and August’s cozy home. The smell of fresh flowers mingled with the faint scent of baking — Sara had insisted on making something special before heading out. Simon sat cross-legged on the living room floor, a colorful puzzle scattered around him and Alma, who giggled as she clumsily tried to fit the pieces together.

Alma’s little hands were busy but her bright eyes sparkled with mischief. “Look, Uncle Simon!” she exclaimed, holding up a puzzle piece triumphantly.

Simon smiled, his heart warm watching her. Babysitting wasn’t usually part of his routine, but he loved spending time with Alma — her curiosity, her laughter, the way she made him feel lighthearted in a way nothing else could.

Suddenly, Simon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He slipped a hand into his jeans, brought out the phone and answered quickly. “Hey, Wille,” he said, voice light.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Wille’s voice came warm but tinged with that alpha worry Simon knew well.

“I’m fine,” Simon chuckled. “Really. You’ve got to stop worrying about me. We don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet.”

Wille laughed softly on the other end. “Okay, okay, I’ll try. But no promises.”

Simon smiled, feeling the familiar comfort of their connection even miles away.

Just then, Alma looked up suddenly with a thoughtful expression, her little voice clear and loud: “Pregnant?”

Simon’s eyes widened. “Oh no...” 

But the damage was done.

On the other end of the line, Wille chuckled, unable to contain himself. Simon rolled his eyes and ended the call with a quick, “I’ll talk to you later,” then focused on chasing after the energetic three-year-old as she darted around the room, squealing with delight.

...

They raced down the hall, Alma giggling, Simon panting but smiling. The game of tag turned into a whirlwind through the house, and finally, just as Simon reached the front door to catch her, Sara and August stepped inside.

“Pregnant! Pregnant!” Alma yelled gleefully, bouncing in Simon’s arms.

Sara and August exchanged a quick glance, eyebrows raised, before turning their attention fully to Simon — whose face had turned a deep shade of crimson.

Sara gave him a teasing smile. “Simon, are you pregnant?”

Simon blurted out immediately, “No! Definitely not!”

August laughed softly. “Then why does Alma keep saying it?”

Simon took a deep breath, cheeks still flushed, and confessed, “We’re trying for a baby. We don't know anything yet, we're going to get it test out soon.”

Sara’s expression softened, and she pulled Simon into a tight hug. “I'm so happy for you ! That's amazing news ! If you ever want to talk, or need anything, you know you can come to me, right?”

Simon nodded gratefully, feeling the warmth of her support like a gentle shield around his nerves.

August smiled too, ruffling Alma’s curls. “Looks like Alma’s got a sixth sense.”

Simon laughed, finally relaxing fully. “Yeah. I guess she’s the best little cheerleader we could ask for.”

The four of them settled into the living room, laughter and chatter filling the space as the afternoon sun dipped lower, promising new beginnings just around the corner.

…

The soft fluorescent lights overhead hummed quietly in the small examination room, casting a cool, clinical glow on the pale blue walls. Simon sat on the edge of the examination chair, his fingers twisting anxiously in the fabric of his shirt. The faint scent of antiseptic mingled with the distant murmur of footsteps and muffled voices from the busy clinic corridor. His chest felt tight — part nerves, part hopeful anticipation, and part a deep, unspoken longing.

The door opened gently, and Dr. Vera Lindqvist stepped inside, her presence calm and steady. She carried a tablet in one hand, her professional demeanor softened by a warm, reassuring smile.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” she said kindly as she took a seat across from him. “How have you been feeling since your last appointment? Any new symptoms or changes we should know about?”

Simon swallowed, attempting a small smile, trying to keep the anxiety at bay. “Well… I’ve been a bit more tired lately, and hungrier too, but nothing that feels out of control.”

Vera nodded thoughtfully, tapping notes on her tablet. “That’s not unusual. Early signs can be subtle. How did you alpha handle it up to your heat?”

Simon’s eyebrows knitted in a question.

“You remember the advice I gave Wille about abstaining from ejaculation in the lead-up to your heat?” Vera continued carefully. “Did he manage to hold it? Were you able to support him through it?”

Simon’s cheeks flushed a vivid shade of pink, heat creeping up his neck. His gaze dropped to his lap as he felt the weight of the question — a reminder of the intimate sacrifices they’d made, the quiet struggles behind closed doors.

He blinked a few times, cheeks burning, and finally nodded shyly. “Yes… he did.”

Before Vera could respond, the door swung open abruptly, and Wille stepped in, breathless and apologetic, his face flushed from rushing.

“Sorry I’m late,” Wille said quickly, voice warm but anxious. “The train broke down, so I got stuck on a bus - I'm buying us a car, I'm so tired of this always happening to me.”

Simon’s eyes lit up with relief at the sight of his husband. Vera glanced toward Wille, a small smile playing at her lips.

“No worries,” she said kindly. “We were just talking about your ‘no release’ period before Simon’s heat. It’s a tricky thing for many couples.”

Wille shifted uncomfortably but nodded. “It was difficult, but we managed.”

Simon caught Wille’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, smiling despite himself.

...

Vera prepared the blood draw with practiced efficiency, cleaning Simon’s arm with an antiseptic swab and gently inserting the needle. Simon closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on steady breaths as the blood filled the vial. Wille stood close by, his hand resting lightly on Simon’s shoulder, lending quiet support.

Once finished, Vera walked out the room for a minute or two before stepping back into the room sitting down in front of them working around on her tablet. The room seemed to contract with tension as she looked up.

“I have your test results,” she said softly, looking at both of them. “At this point, there is no indication that you’re pregnant. I'm sorry.”

The words fell like a stone, cold and heavy in the quiet room.

Simon swallowed hard, his throat tight but voice steady. “That’s… okay. It can take time. We just have to keep trying.”

Wille’s grip on Simon’s hand tightened imperceptibly. He could see past the brave front to the flicker of disappointment in Simon’s eyes.

...

The drive home was wrapped in silence, punctuated only by the steady hum of the engine and the occasional sighs. Simon’s energy waned as exhaustion settled into his muscles, the weight of hope mingled with uncertainty pressing down on him.

At their apartment, Simon’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m really tired. I think I just want to go to bed.”

Wille nodded without hesitation, his heart aching at the sight of his mate’s weariness. “I’ll be there soon.”

Simon climbed the stairs slowly, the soft sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet night.

Twenty minutes later, restless and filled with worry Wille headed upstairs.

Outside their bedroom door, he paused, catching the faintest sound — soft, trembling sobs.

His heart clenched painfully.

He pushed the door open gently.

Simon lay curled on his side, shoulders shaking with quiet tears.

Wille slipped beneath the covers, pulling Simon into his arms with all the tenderness he could muster.

He pressed gentle, lingering kisses along Simon’s neck, pausing to trace the warm mark of their bond.

“I’m here,” Wille whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

Simon trembled against him for a moment longer before slowly relaxing, the sobs quieting into soft, even breaths.

Wille stroked his mate’s hair gently, whispering reassurances and promises, until finally, sleep claimed them both.

Before closing his eyes, Wille pressed one last kiss to Simon’s forehead, promising silently, We’ll try again.

...

Chapter Text

The months had slipped by in a slow, aching rhythm — five heats already, and still no sign of the baby they longed for.

Each time, Simon’s body bloomed into heat with the same fierce intensity: waves of warmth, need, and vulnerability that left him both exhausted and yearning. And each time, Wille had knotted him, their bodies merging in a sacred, ancient dance meant to create life.

But the hoped-for news never came.

The weight of disappointment settled deep in both their hearts, though neither spoke of it openly. Instead, they held each other tighter, loved harder, and tried to find strength in the small moments between the long waits.

…

Wille had noticed how Simon kept busy to distract himself — pouring his soul into music, spending hours writing lyrics and melodies that sang of hope, pain, and love.

He had taken up yoga with Sara, who was both his confidante and cheerleader, encouraging him to find balance amid the uncertainty.

Simon’s mornings began with a ritual of vitamins and supplements, carefully chosen to prepare his body for a possible pregnancy. Wille watched him do it with quiet admiration, the determined set of his jaw both inspiring and heartbreaking.

…

Wille himself was buried deeper than usual in work — late nights and long meetings, the kind of cases that drained his energy but filled his purpose. Yet, no matter how busy, his thoughts always drifted back to Simon — to his soft sighs in sleep, to the gentle way he’d glance over when Wille returned home, and to the unspoken pain Wille could feel just beneath the surface.

…

One evening, the tension became almost unbearable.

Simon was stretching in the living room, the curve of his back, the stretch of his hips in a yoga pose catching Wille’s eye in a way that made his breath hitch. The temptation surged, raw and immediate.

But Wille bit back the desire, reminding himself of the promise to hold steady until Simon’s next heat.

He grabbed his running shoes and slipped out the door, needing to clear his head and calm the storm within.

…

The sixth heat came on with fierce intensity. The air between them crackled with urgency and aching need.

When Wille knotted Simon that night, the closeness was raw and profound.

Midway through, Wille paused, resting his forehead against Simon’s temple, and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Simon’s breath hitched, and he nodded — but the answer was a fragile mask.

“Yeah,” Simon said softly. “I’m okay.”

But Wille could see past the words. The quiet pain of their repeated disappointment shone in Simon’s eyes.

He kissed him deeply, holding him tighter.

“We’ll keep trying,” Wille promised. “No matter how long it takes.”

Simon exhaled, the sting of hope and heartbreak mingling as they lay locked together.

Afterward, wrapped in each other’s arms, they stayed quiet — letting the night carry away their fears for a little while.

The future was uncertain, but their love was unwavering.

And in that, they found a fragile kind of peace.

…

A couple of weeks later…

The morning sunlight filtered softly through the large windows of the music classroom, casting warm, golden patterns on the wooden floor. Simon stood quietly near the front, arranging sheet music and tuning his guitar, preparing for the lesson ahead. The usual buzz of children’s voices echoed faintly as students began filing in, their chatter a gentle undercurrent to the calm before the storm of a busy school day.

Yet, beneath Simon’s composed exterior, a restless unease curled tightly in his stomach. His mind drifted to tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment — the endless cycle of hope and waiting that had defined the last six months.

Nothing’s changed, he thought, letting out a small, weary sigh as his phone buzzed softly against the desk. The notification read: Doctor’s appointment — tomorrow, 10:30 AM. The words felt heavy, a weight pressing down on his chest.

He straightened, pushing the heaviness aside just as the first student entered.

…

The day passed in a blur of music and laughter, but just at Simon was about to close up the lesson of the day, a sudden, sharp pain gripped his lower abdomen. It stabbed through him without warning, twisting and constricting with fierce intensity.

He gasped softly, clutching the edge of the desk to steady himself.

At first, Simon tried to brush it off, forcing a smile and encouraging the children to go out an have fun in their free time. But the pain deepened, spreading in relentless waves, stealing his breath and making his vision blur at the edges.

A small hand tugged gently at his sleeve.

“Mr. Eriksson?” Emil, one of the younger boys in the class, looked up at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

Simon’s voice was tight, strained. “I… I think I need some help.”

…

The world blurred around Simon as the nurse guided him down the hospital corridor. The soft squeak of her shoes, the sharp scent of antiseptic, the hum of distant voices — it all felt strangely far away, as though he wasn’t truly there. His body moved on instinct, but his mind lagged behind, foggy and heavy with dread.

He’d barely processed how he’d gotten here. One minute he’d been standing in his classroom, fighting through the pain that had bloomed suddenly in his stomach, and the next, paramedics had whisked him away while his students watched with wide, frightened eyes. No one had explained much. People worked around him — voices calm but hurried, hands gentle but firm — but no one told him what was happening.

His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic rhythm that seemed to echo off the sterile walls.

Simon barely noticed as they transferred him to a small exam room and helped him onto a narrow bed. He lay back, feeling the paper crinkle beneath him. The cold gel made him flinch as a technician pressed a wand against his lower belly. The monitor flickered on beside him, casting a gray glow on the dim room.

“Let’s take a look,” the technician said softly, but Simon heard the tension beneath her calm tone.

His eyes darted to the screen, scanning the blurry shapes – And suddenly something popped up that took Simon’s breath away. There on the screen — a small dot, so tiny, so fragile.

He felt his breath catch. A surge of something — hope? Fear? — welled up inside him.

But then a voice, measured and careful, spoke from beside him.

“I see… something, but…” A pause that stretched on too long. “There’s no heartbeat.”

The words hit Simon like a punch to the chest.

No heartbeat.

His gaze stayed locked on that little dot on the screen. His little dot. The one he and Wille had dreamed of for so long. The one they’d hoped for with every heat, every knot, every whispered promise.

Gone.

He didn’t feel the technician remove the wand or wipe away the gel. His world had narrowed to that single, brutal truth.

No heartbeat.

…

Footsteps shuffled nearby. A doctor entered, her voice gentle but firm. “Do you know when your alpha will arrive? We’ll need his consent for the next steps.”

Simon blinked at her, confusion and despair clouding his thoughts.

Next steps? What next steps?

Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over before he could stop them. His body trembled with silent sobs, the room tilting as his grief swelled too big for him to contain.

He didn’t know how much time passed before Wille appeared at the door, his face pale and drawn from worry. His eyes found Simon immediately, and he crossed the room in two long strides.

“Simon,” Wille breathed, his voice breaking as he knelt at the bedside. He took Simon’s hand, holding it tight, as if to anchor him to the world.

Simon clung to him, shaking. “Wille, I— They found something… But… No heartbeat…”

Wille looked up as the doctor stepped closer.

“I’m so sorry,” she said gently. “The embryo we found has no heartbeat, but it’s still in the womb. We need to perform a procedure to remove it — for Simon’s safety.”

Wille’s heart clenched. His protective instincts roared to life.

“Do it,” he said without hesitation, voice firm. “I don’t want him in danger.”

But Simon’s tearful voice cut through. “No… I don’t want this. I don’t want to lose it.”

Wille cupped his mate’s face, brushing damp curls from Simon’s forehead. “I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry, I wish I could do this for you, we have to get it out now. We have to keep you safe. As the doctor told us the embryo doesn’t have a heartbeat. It’ll be okay Simon, it’ll be okay.”

Simon’s shoulders sagged, torn between heartbreak and the need to trust his alpha. His sobs quieted, though tears still streamed down his face.

…

The procedure room was cold, too bright, too clinical. Simon lay back in the gynecological chair, legs propped in stirrups, the paper gown crinkling beneath him. Two doctors moved around him, setting up equipment, speaking in soft, efficient voices. One checked the monitor; the other prepared the instruments.

Wille stood at Simon’s side, never letting go of his hand, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles across Simon’s knuckles. His heart ached at the sight of Simon’s pale, tear-streaked face, the way his body trembled with fear and sorrow.

The hum of the machine began. Simon stared at the screen, at the tiny dot that could have been their dream. The machine whirred softly, and he felt the faint, invasive pressure deep inside as the doctors worked.

He watched, horrified and numb, as the little dot was slowly drawn away by the suction.

Gone.

The finality of it shattered him. His body tensed, but no sound escaped his lips. His tears fell silently now, streaming down his cheeks as he stared at the empty screen.

Wille leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Simon’s temple. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m right here.”

…

Hours later, the apartment felt too quiet, too empty.

Simon stood in the doorway for a long time, staring into the dim space as if seeing it for the first time. Then he moved, slow and heavy, toward the couch, sinking down as though his body couldn’t bear the weight of his grief.

“I need a break,” he said, voice hollow. “From all of it. The doctors, the planning, the hoping. I can’t do this anymore.”

Wille sat beside him, heart breaking anew. “Simon, don’t give up. Please don’t give up now.”

But Simon’s grief boiled over.

“How can you say that?” he shouted, his voice ragged with anguish. “How can you even say that after today? My body clearly can’t do this – So how can I keep going?”

Wille sighed “Simon,” he tried to pull his mate in to hug him, but Simon fists tried to push the alpha away. Wille didn’t flinch. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Simon, holding him tightly, grounding him as the storm raged.

Simon sobbed, screamed at Wille to let him go, which Wille didn’t. At one point his strength gave out. His tears slowed. His body sagged. He fell asleep in Wille’s arms, worn out, fragile, broken.

Wille held him long into the night, fingers stroking his back, whispering silent promises of love and protection.

We’ll heal, he vowed.

And as the dawn crept through the window, Wille’s mind turned toward a plan — a quiet place, far from here, where they could grieve, breathe, and find a way forward.

They needed it.

Now more than ever.

…

Chapter Text

The plane touched down in Rome just as the late afternoon sun bathed the city in a golden glow, the rooftops of ancient buildings shining like copper coins. The journey had been quiet — not because they didn’t want to speak, but because words had failed them lately. Simon leaned against the window, watching as the sprawling city unfolded beneath them, his heart heavy despite the beauty of it all.

Wille watched him in silence, feeling that same ache — wanting so badly to take away the pain etched into Simon’s face. This trip had been his idea, a desperate attempt to give Simon a break from the suffocating grief that had gripped them both. A chance, even if small, for them to breathe again.

Their taxi wove through the bustling streets of Rome, the hum of the city filling the air. But they didn’t stop in the heart of it — instead, they traveled farther out, to a small stone house tucked among olive trees and cypress on the edge of the countryside. The house was simple but charming: terracotta roof, a private pool glistening under the sun, and a garden fragrant with rosemary and lemon.

Simon stepped out of the taxi and looked around. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly, meaning it — but Wille could hear the hollow note in his voice, could see the shadows that hadn’t yet lifted from his eyes.

Wille smiled gently, wrapping an arm around Simon’s shoulders. “It’s just us here, love. No expectations. No plans. Just us.”

Simon leaned into him, taking comfort in the closeness.

...

The days passed quietly at first. They walked hand in hand through the winding streets of Rome, exploring the Colosseum, the Vatican, the piazzas filled with artists and musicians. They ate gelato beneath ancient arches, watched street performers make magic with fire and song, and tried to let the city’s vibrant energy seep into their bones.

But though Simon tried — oh, how he tried — the weight of loss still clung to him. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He laughed softly at Wille’s gentle jokes, but the sound lacked its old warmth.

Wille didn’t push. He simply stayed close, steady and patient, hoping that bit by bit, the city — and his love — might help mend the cracks in Simon’s heart.

...

One evening, after a day spent wandering museums and quiet gardens, Wille suggested something different.

“Let me take you out tonight,” he said, brushing Simon’s hair back from his face as they stood on the balcony, watching the sun sink behind the hills. “Just dinner, wine, and whatever we feel like after.”

Simon hesitated — part of him wanted to curl up inside, to stay hidden from the world. But the look in Wille’s eyes, so full of hope, made him nod. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s go out.”

...

They dined in a small, candlelit restaurant tucked down a cobbled alleyway. The food was rich and comforting — handmade pasta, fresh herbs, sweet tomatoes bursting with flavor. They shared a bottle of local red wine, letting its warmth loosen the knots in their chests.

For the first time in what felt like forever, they talked. Really talked. About the lose. About the heartbreak, the guilt, the fear. Simon admitted the depths of his pain, his feelings of failure. Wille confessed how helpless he had felt, watching Simon suffer, wanting so badly to make it better and not knowing how.

Tears were shed, but they were healing tears — the kind that washed some of the grief away rather than burying it deeper.

And somewhere between the second glass of wine and the shared plate of tiramisu, Wille said something — a small, silly memory from the early days of their courtship — and Simon laughed.

A real laugh. Bright, sweet, and warm.

Wille’s heart soared at the sound. He’d missed that laugh more than he could say.

...

Later, tipsy on wine and happiness, they found themselves pulled into the rhythm of a nearby square where a small band played beneath fairy lights. Wille twirled Simon beneath the stars, and they danced like they hadn’t a care in the world. Just for that night, they let Rome carry them.

...

When they returned to their little house, Simon’s eyes sparkled with mischief for the first time in months.

“Would you,” he began, leaning in close, voice low and playful, “be willing to try skinny dipping with me in our pool?”

Wille’s grin was immediate. “You don’t even have to ask twice.”

Laughing, they stripped under the moonlight and slipped into the cool water, the night air soft against their skin. The pool shimmered, reflecting the stars above, as they splashed, kissed, and let their hands roam freely.

The playfulness turned to heat — touches lingering longer, kisses deepening. Simon wrapped his legs around Wille, pulling him close, gasping as Wille entered him in the water. The cool of the pool contrasted deliciously with the heat of their bodies, moving together in slow, desperate need.

When the chill of the water became too much, they stumbled inside, dripping and laughing, kissing their way to the shower. Under the spray, they came together again — Simon’s back pressed to the tile, Wille’s hands firm on his hips, the water cascading over them as they moved in a rhythm that felt like coming home.

They didn’t stop there.

The kitchen was next — Simon lifted onto the counter, Wille between his thighs, their mouths never parting as they lost themselves in each other.

Finally, they found their way to the bedroom, both breathless and dizzy from wine and passion. Wille took his time, worshipping Simon’s body, the alpha in him needing to reclaim what grief had tried to steal from them.

When he finally knotted Simon, they both trembled — not from sadness, but from the overwhelming relief of being so close again.

Simon nuzzled Wille’s neck, voice soft and sincere. “I missed this. I missed us. No plans, no pressure. Just you and me.”

Wille kissed him deeply, heart full. “Me too.”

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, the moonlight spilling across the sheets, the weight of grief eased, if only for tonight.

…

The soft light of dawn filtered through the sheer curtains, painting the room in gentle hues of gold and blush. The air was warm, filled with the faint scents of the countryside — rosemary, citrus, and the sweetness of dew-kissed grass. The world outside stirred slowly awake, but inside the little house, it felt like time had paused, cradling them in a quiet, intimate cocoon.

Simon was the first to stir. His body ached in the most tender, satisfying way — a delicious soreness that reminded him of the night before. His muscles protested as he shifted slightly, the deep ache in his hips and thighs pulling a small groan from his throat.

Wille, still half-asleep, tightened his arm around Simon’s waist, nuzzling the curve of his neck. “Mmm, morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and contentment.

Simon smiled softly, eyes still closed. “Morning.” His voice was low, warm, but laced with exhaustion. He felt thoroughly loved, thoroughly spent.

Wille pressed a lazy kiss to Simon’s mating mark. “How do you feel?”

Simon let out a quiet laugh. “Sore. Very sore.”

That made Wille grin against his skin. “I might’ve overdone it.”

Simon opened his eyes at last, turning his head just enough to see Wille’s sleepy, happy face. “No complaints. I needed that.” His voice grew gentler, more serious. “We needed that.”

Wille brushed a hand through Simon’s curls, his thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Yeah. We did.”

For a long while, they simply lay there, tangled together in the soft sheets, hearts beating slow and steady in sync. Outside, the world grew brighter, birdsong filling the air, but inside that room, they stayed wrapped in each other, reluctant to let the peace of the moment slip away.

...

Eventually, hunger — and the lure of coffee — nudged them from bed. Simon moved carefully, wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the side. He laughed at himself, shaking his head as he rubbed his sore thighs. “I think you broke me,” he teased.

Wille smirked, pulling on a pair of boxers. “Not my fault you’re irresistible when you’re tipsy and naked.”

They made their way to the kitchen, Simon still moving gingerly. Wille busied himself with the coffee, the smell filling the air as the machine sputtered to life. He watched Simon settle at the small table, the soft morning light making his omega’s skin glow.

And then, as they sipped coffee, something shifted. The heaviness that had clung to them for months didn’t feel quite so suffocating. For the first time in what felt like forever, they could talk about the future without it tasting bitter.

Simon toyed with his mug, fingers tracing the rim. “I was thinking…” he began slowly, choosing his words with care. “Maybe when we go home… we don’t have to rush. No charts. No schedules. No pressure.”

Wille nodded, his gaze tender. “Whatever you want, love. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

Simon glanced up, meeting his eyes. “I want a family with you. I still want that. I just… I want to remember how to be us first. Like last night. Just you and me.”

Wille reached across the table, taking his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I missed that. I missed you.”

Simon squeezed his hand, the faintest smile playing at his lips. “I’m still here.”

“I know,” Wille whispered. “And I’m going to be here no matter what.”

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise higher over the hills, feeling the first real stirrings of hope returning to their hearts.

...

Later that morning, they took their breakfast out onto the terrace — fresh bread, sweet fruit, strong coffee — and talked about everything and nothing. They made plans for the day: a walk through the olive groves, maybe a lazy afternoon by the pool. No obligations. No expectations.

Just them.

Simon’s soreness lingered, but he didn’t mind. Every ache reminded him of the night they’d found each other again, the night they’d let joy and love seep through the cracks left by grief.

As they leaned back in their chairs, hands entwined, the future didn’t feel quite so daunting anymore. For now, they had this. And that was enough.

…

Chapter Text

The plane touched down in Stockholm as the late afternoon light bathed the tarmac in soft amber. The city felt colder than Rome, the air sharper, but it also felt familiar — steady and grounding in a way Simon hadn’t expected.

They moved through the airport quietly, hands linked, their bodies still tuned to the slower rhythm they’d found on their trip. Wille carried their bags, casting frequent, protective glances at Simon, as if to check that their fragile peace hadn’t been left behind in Italy.

When they stepped through the door of their apartment, the familiar scent of home wrapped around them: soft laundry soap, the faint trace of coffee, a hint of Simon’s cologne lingering on the air. For a moment they simply stood in the entryway, taking it all in.

Simon exhaled slowly. “It’s strange. I didn’t think I was ready to come back… but I think I am.”

Wille smiled gently, dropping their bags. He slipped his arms around Simon from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “We’re home. We can take this as slow as we want.”

Simon leaned into him, savoring the solid, safe warmth of his alpha. “Yeah. Slow sounds good.”

…

The days that followed were quiet, gentle.

They unpacked at their own pace, turning the task into something shared rather than rushed. Simon played soft music in the background — mostly instrumental, calming — while Wille folded clothes, set souvenirs on shelves, and tucked their memories from Italy into corners of their home.

Mornings began with lazy breakfasts at the kitchen table, Wille cooking scrambled eggs while Simon brewed coffee. The simple routine felt like a balm, soothing the raw edges of their hearts.

Simon returned to teaching, easing back into his classes with careful steps. The children’s chatter, their bright, eager faces, reminded him that life kept moving — and that he could, too. His colleagues welcomed him with warm smiles and quiet understanding, no questions asked.

In the afternoons, he found refuge in his music, sitting at his keyboard or with his guitar in hand, letting melodies pour out of him — sometimes soft and wistful, other times bright and hopeful. The act of creating brought him peace.

Wille, too, found comfort in work — but he made sure not to bury himself in it. He came home earlier, cooked dinner more often, left his briefcase unopened some nights so he could simply sit beside Simon on the couch, legs tangled, their presence enough.

…

One evening, a week after they’d returned, they sat together in the living room, the city lights flickering beyond the windows. Simon curled against Wille’s side, his head resting on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I was afraid coming home would break whatever we found in Italy,” Simon admitted quietly. “But it hasn’t. I think… I think we’re okay.”

Wille pressed a kiss to Simon’s curls. “We’re more than okay. We’re healing. Together.”

Simon smiled, small but real. “Yeah. Together.”

They talked then — not about charts or doctors or plans, but about simple things. Where they might go hiking in spring. What to cook for Sara and August the next time they had them over. Whether they should repaint the extra room just because they’d always meant to.

The future, for once, didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like possibility.

…

Some nights, they made love — slow, tender, rediscovering each other without urgency or expectation. Other nights, they simply held each other close, content in the warmth and safety they shared.

There were still moments when sadness crept in — when Simon would go quiet, or Wille would see the flicker of pain in his mate’s eyes. But those moments no longer defined them. They came and went, and between them was the steady beat of love, stronger than grief.

…

A couple of weeks later

...

It had been creeping up on Simon for days — first a faint nausea that he blamed on too much coffee, then a deep, bone-tired exhaustion that even long naps couldn’t fix. By the end of the week, Simon could barely keep food down. Every attempt to eat or drink left him curled over the toilet, trembling and pale.

That evening, the apartment was silent except for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional car passing in the street below. Simon lay on the couch, a cold sweat clinging to his skin, the throw blanket bunched uselessly at his feet. His head pounded. His stomach twisted again, forcing him upright to stagger to the bathroom.

…

Across the city, Wille was still at the office, finishing up late paperwork he’d promised would be done by morning. His phone buzzed with a message from Simon — just two words:

Simon: Feel awful.

Wille’s heart clenched. He stared at the screen for barely a second before grabbing his coat, preparing to leave. But then Simon’s next message came:

Simon: Don’t come. Stay. Finish your work. I’m fine.

But Wille knew better. He could hear the strain between the words, could feel Simon’s misery through the phone. And it tore at him that he wasn’t there.

Without hesitation, Wille dialed Sara's number.

She picked up on the second ring “Hi Wille" 

“Sara, could you please go check on Simon? He’s really sick — he didn’t want me to leave work, but I don’t want him alone like this.”

“Of course,” Sara said instantly. “We’ll head over now. Don’t worry.”

Wille’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank you.”

...

It wasn’t long before Sara arrived at the apartment, Alma’s small hand tucked in hers. The second the door opened, Alma dashed inside, her curls bouncing, her face full of concern.

“Simon!” she cried, spotting him half-curled on the couch.

Simon managed a tired smile, opening his arms to her. “Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered hoarsely.

Alma clambered up beside him, small arms wrapping around his neck. Simon let out a soft sigh, the comfort of her presence easing him just a little. Her warmth, her innocence — it soothed him.

Sara knelt down beside them, brushing his damp hair from his forehead. “Simon, you look awful. What’s going on?”

“Started a few days ago. Thought it was just a cold or something I picked up at school,” he said weakly. “It’s probably just a bug.”

Sara frowned. “You’re burning up. Let’s get some water in you.”

But before they could move, Alma tilted her head, watching Simon thoughtfully. Then she smiled brightly and declared, “Pregnant.”

Simon froze. His heart skipped. He opened his mouth to gently correct her, but the word hit him like a jolt. His mind raced, counting back. His heat. When had his last heat been?

Oh God. He was late.

“Sara…” His voice shook as he met his sister’s wide-eyed gaze. “Could you — could you run down to the store to get something for me?" 

Sara of course said yes. 

…

Minutes ticked by, Simon sitting with Alma curled against him. His mind raced, heart pounding loud in his ears. When Sara returned, breathless from running, she handed him a small bag.

“I grabbed three. Just in case. But Simon, don't you want Wille to be here when you-”

Simon shook his head, his hands trembling. “No… I don’t want to ruin his night when the test shows it's negative. " 

In the bathroom, his hands shook as he opened the packages, followed the instructions, and set the tests down in front of him, he had taken all three of them. He sank to the floor, back against the cool tile.

Sara knocked and asked if they could come in, Simon of course let them, and they came in quietly, Alma on her lap. They sat together, waiting. The room felt still, heavy with hope and dread.

And then — the lines appeared.

One after the other. Positive. Positive. Positive.

Simon stared at them, his vision blurring with sudden tears. He looked at Sara, who was already grinning through her own tears.

Alma clapped her hands. “Pregnant!” she crowed, delighted with herself.

The sound of it — sweet and certain — made Simon laugh, the sound breaking free through a sob. Sara laughed too, pulling him into a tight hug, Alma squished between them.

...

Later that night, the apartment was dim, the soft glow of the table lamp the only light. Simon sat at the living room table, the three tests lined up in front of him like precious relics, his fingers resting near them, still as if afraid to breathe too deeply.

He heard the key in the door. The sound of Wille’s footsteps, fast and eager.

“Simon?” Wille called, dropping his bag, pulling off his coat. His gaze fell on the table — on the tests — and then on Simon’s pale, tear-streaked face.

Simon opened his mouth but no words came.

For one breathless second Wille just stared — then the joy broke over him like sunlight. He crossed the room in a heartbeat, pulling Simon to his feet, into his arms. He lifted him off the ground, spinning him, laughing through his own tears.

“Simon! You're— we’re—” Wille’s voice shook with wonder, with love too big to fit inside him.

Simon clung to him, tears falling freely now, his laugh mingling with Wille’s.

“Yes,” Simon whispered. “We’re.”

And in that moment, the world felt whole again.

...

Chapter Text

The apartment felt different that night — as if joy had shifted the very air, filling every corner with its light. The three pregnancy tests still lay on the living room table, their little windows of pink lines standing proud like tiny flags announcing the future.

Simon was curled up on the couch, cheeks still a little flushed from earlier, hair a soft mess around his face. His nausea had eased some, but he was still pale, still a bit wobbly from the long, emotional evening.

Wille came in from the kitchen, setting down two bottles of water on the coffee table. “Alright,” he said, pulling out his phone, “what do you want for dinner, love?”

Simon’s smile was small but real. “Mmm… can we get something from that Thai place I love? The one near the park?”

Wille grinned. “Already knew you’d say that.” He kissed Simon’s temple and ordered their favorites — mild dishes, so as not to upset Simon’s still-sensitive stomach, but comforting, familiar flavors that always made him happy.

While they waited, Simon leaned into Wille’s side, their fingers twined together. “Feels unreal, doesn’t it?” Simon murmured, his thumb tracing over Wille’s knuckles.

“Yeah,” Wille said softly. “But it’s the best kind of unreal.”

When the food arrived, Wille insisted Simon stay put while he set it all up. He brought the containers and plates into their bedroom, spreading it out across the bed, lighting the small lamp on Simon’s nightstand so the room glowed softly. Simon laughed as he climbed in, propping himself up against the headboard.

“This is fancy,” he teased, eyes warm.

“Only the best for my omega,” Wille said, kissing him gently before settling in beside him.

…

The takeout boxes lay empty on the nightstand, their delicious smells still lingering faintly in the air. Simon sighed contentedly, sinking deeper under the duvet as Wille took the tray and set it aside. The soft light of the bedside lamp bathed their room in gold, making the space feel like its own little world — safe, quiet, and just theirs.

Wille climbed back into bed, pulling Simon close. His arms came around his mate as naturally as breathing, one hand finding its place over Simon’s belly as if it had always belonged there. Simon’s head rested against Wille’s chest, his ear over the steady rhythm of his alpha’s heart. That sound grounded him, made all the wonder of the day feel real.

For a long moment, they just stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, letting the silence stretch soft and easy between them.

Wille was the one to break it, his voice low and filled with awe. “I can’t stop thinking about it.” His thumb brushed slow circles over Simon’s stomach, tender and protective. “About seeing the bump start to grow. Every day, watching you carry our pup…”

Simon smiled sleepily, the sound of Wille’s words wrapping around his heart. He laid his hand over Wille’s, lacing their fingers together over his belly. “Me too,” he whispered.

Wille shifted, tilting his head so he could kiss Simon’s curls. “I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands off you when that happens. I’m going to want to kiss that bump all the time. Talk to them. Let them know I’m here.”

Simon let out a soft laugh, warmth flooding his chest. “I don’t think anyone will mind. They’re going to have the most devoted papa in the world.”

Wille’s heart clenched in the best way. He tightened his hold just a little, keeping Simon as close as he could. His hand stayed right where it was, over the place where their pup had begun.

“Would you rather have a boy or a girl?” Simon asked after a beat, his voice hushed, as if saying it aloud might break the spell of the night.

“I don’t care about the gender, as long as they’re healthy. But I got to admit, sometimes… I picture a little girl with your curls and your eyes. Sweet and stubborn, just like you.”

Simon’s lips curved into a soft, amused smile. “You’re going to spoil her rotten, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Wille grinned. “And you? What do you picture?”

Simon shifted so he could look up at him, his eyes bright even in the low light. “I feel the same as you about the gender. But I wouldn’t mind having a little boy. With your dimples and your kind heart. Someone, you can teach how to ride a bike. Someone who’ll follow you around everywhere because he wants to be just like his papa.”

Wille’s throat went tight, emotion swelling in his chest. He bent to kiss Simon, slow and lingering. “God, I love you,” he murmured against his lips. “I love you so much.”

Simon’s fingers slid up into Wille’s hair, holding him close. “I love you too.”

The night stretched on, but they didn’t notice. The world beyond their room disappeared entirely. They talked in soft voices about names they liked, about whether their pup would be musical like Simon, or if they’d inherit Wille’s love of books. They wondered about first words, first steps, and bedtime stories.

Every now and then, Wille would gently shift the hem of Simon’s shirt up so he could press a kiss to his belly, lingering there as if he could already feel the little life growing inside. Simon’s heart ached with how deeply he loved him, with how much he wanted this future they were dreaming about together.

“When should we tell people?” Wille asked quietly after a while.

Simon thought about it, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Wille’s forearm. “Not yet. I want this to be just ours for a little while longer. I want to be sure that everything is alright in there before telling anyone.”

“Of course, that makes sense,” Wille said, brushing his nose against Simon’s hair.

And so they stayed like that, all night, wrapped in each other beneath the duvet. The soft city sounds outside faded into nothing. The room, the bed, their shared warmth — it was all that existed. They talked until their voices grew drowsy and their words faded into quiet sighs and gentle kisses. Wille’s hand never left Simon’s belly, and Simon never let go of Wille’s hand, as if holding onto this night with everything they had.

Sleep eventually claimed them both, their dreams filled with the little life they’d begun together.

…

A couple of weeks later

...

The soft hum of the clinic’s waiting room seemed oddly comforting. Simon sat close to Wille on the small couch, their hands tightly intertwined, his thumb nervously stroking Wille’s knuckles. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee, but it wasn’t unpleasant — it smelled like hope, like a new beginning. A couple of other patients sat scattered around, flipping through outdated magazines, but Simon barely noticed them. His heart was beating loud in his ears.

Wille squeezed his hand, leaning in to whisper, “You’re trembling.”

Simon gave a small, nervous laugh. “I just want to know everything’s okay.”

“It will be,” Wille said, his voice steady, calm, the way it always was when Simon needed grounding. He pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple. “I promise.”

Just then, the door to the exam rooms opened, and a warm voice called out, “Simon Eriksson?”

They both stood, Simon feeling Wille’s hand firm and supportive at the small of his back. Dr. Vera Lindqvist greeted them with her usual calm smile, her kind eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Come on in,” she said, leading them down the hall into a softly lit exam room. It felt less clinical than Simon had expected — a pale blue wall, a small sofa, and equipment neatly arranged. The air was quiet, almost intimate.

“How are we feeling today?” Vera asked as Simon sat up on the exam table, Wille settling into the chair beside him.

“Nervous. Excited,” Simon admitted, offering a shy smile.

Vera nodded. “That’s perfectly normal. First scans always feel big — because they are big. Let’s have a look and see how things are progressing, shall we?”

Simon nodded, his heart in his throat. He lay back, lifting his shirt as Vera prepped the scanner, her voice gentle as she explained every step. Wille reached for his hand again, holding it tight.

The moment the monitor flickered to life, Simon’s breath hitched. There it was — small, but so very real. Their pup.

Vera smiled at the screen. “There’s your little one,” she said softly, adjusting the image. “Strong placement, good size for this stage.”

Simon blinked quickly, tears stinging at his eyes. Wille’s thumb brushed them away, his own eyes glistening.

“You’re really pregnant,” Wille murmured, as if saying it aloud would help it sink in.

“I am,” Simon breathed, awed. “We are.”

Vera continued her examination, pointing out tiny details. “Everything looks healthy. I’m setting your estimated due date in early June — looks like around the seventh or eighth, based on measurements today. We’ll refine it as we go.”

Simon let out a long, shaky breath, his hand resting protectively over his belly. Wille looked like he couldn’t decide between grinning and crying.

When the scan was done, Vera handed Simon a folded paper towel to clean off the gel and turned to gather a small, neat canvas bag from the shelf.

“I’ve put together a pack for you — ‘What to Know When You’re an Expecting Omega.’ There’s guidance about nutrition, exercise, and what to expect in the months ahead. And also — this.”

She pulled out a brightly colored booklet. “This is your birth plan sheet. I want you and Wille to take your time with it. It asks about preferences for delivery, pain relief, who you want present, things like that.”

Simon turned the booklet over in his hands, feeling the weight of it. “Do we need to decide everything now?”

“No,” Vera said warmly. “But before your next scan, I’d like you to have talked about the main points. Especially whether you’d like to plan for a natural delivery or a c-section. That helps us prepare the best care for you and the baby.”

Simon hesitated, glancing at Wille, then back at Vera. “What’s better? For the baby, I mean?”

Vera gave him a gentle, honest look. “In most cases, natural birth is best for the baby. Bonding is immediately after delivery. But this is your decision, and we’ll support whatever feels right for you.”

Simon nodded, swallowing hard. It all felt so real now — not just the dreaming, but the planning, the responsibility. He felt Wille’s hand settle on his back, steadying him.

“I put an overview sheet in the bag,” Vera continued, “with all the options — natural birth with or without pain relief, c-section, water birth, you name it. You don’t have to know all the answers today. Just talk about it together.”

Wille reached for the bag and slung it over his shoulder, smiling. “We will. Thank you, Vera.”

As they left the exam room, Simon felt lighter somehow. The weight of uncertainty had been replaced with something different: the weight of a future that was suddenly so clear, so close he could almost touch it.

Out in the parking lot, Wille stopped and took Simon’s face in his hands, eyes full of joy. “June,” he said softly, wonder in his voice. “We’re going to have our pup in June.”

Simon smiled, leaning into the touch. “I can’t wait.”

...

That night, at home, they lay in bed again with the booklet spread out between them, reading through the pages, laughing at some of the awkward stock photos and marveling at the long list of choices they had to make.

But all the while, Wille’s hand kept finding Simon’s stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles there, and Simon kept holding onto his alpha’s hand like it was the only thing keeping him anchored in this beautiful, overwhelming new reality.

And it was perfect.

…

Chapter Text

Simon and Wille were curled up on their bed, the booklet Vera had given them spread out between them, its bright cover reading: Your Birth Plan — Choices for Omegas and Their Families. The little canvas bag Vera had packed for them sat nearby, its contents half-unpacked, a tangle of pamphlets, vitamins, and soft blue and yellow information sheets.

Simon sat cross-legged, his back against the headboard, fiddling with the corner of the booklet. His brow was furrowed, a tiny crease between his eyebrows that Wille noticed and reached out to smooth with his thumb.

“Hey,” Wille said gently. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Simon gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s just… a lot, you know? I feel like I should know what I want, but I don’t. I don’t even know what’s normal. I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” Wille said firmly, sliding closer so their thighs touched, his hand finding Simon’s. “There’s no wrong choice here.”

Simon let out a breath, leaning his head briefly on Wille’s shoulder. “I know. I just… it’s our pup. I want to do what’s best for them. For us.”

Wille squeezed his hand. “We will.”

They flipped the booklet open to the first page — a simple introduction about how creating a birth plan helped omegas feel more in control, more prepared. There was a list of options: natural birth, assisted delivery, c-section, water birth. Simon’s eyes scanned the words, his fingers tracing over them.

“I keep thinking about what Vera said,” Simon murmured. “That natural is usually best for the baby. I want to do that.”

Wille nodded, listening, letting Simon work through his thoughts aloud.

“But what if I can’t handle it?” Simon added quietly, voicing the worry that had been tugging at him since they’d left the clinic. “What if something goes wrong? What if I can’t do it?”

Wille shifted, turning fully to face him. His hand came up to cradle Simon’s cheek, his thumb brushing lightly there. “Simon. You are the strongest person I know. And whatever happens, I’ll be right there. Every second. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

Simon blinked, his heart tight with love and relief. He turned into the touch, kissing Wille’s palm. “Okay,” he whispered. “Natural birth it is.”

“Good,” Wille said softly, pride and tenderness in his voice. “And if it changes — if we need to do something else — we do. No guilt. No shame. Just doing what’s right in the moment.”

Simon nodded, taking comfort in that. Together they kept reading — about pain relief options, birthing positions, the use of water, the possibility of music or dimmed lights.

“Do you want music?” Wille asked, grinning a little. “I could make a playlist. Or you could. Knowing you, it’ll be better.”

Simon laughed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “I don’t know if I’ll want music when it’s actually happening. But maybe. Something calming.”

Wille made a mental note. “Okay. We'll make one just in case.”

They kept going, page after page, Wille reading some parts aloud, Simon pointing out things he liked — or didn’t like. They lingered over the section about who would be present during the birth.

“You,” Simon said immediately, resting his hand on Wille’s knee. “Just you.”

Wille’s chest ached with how much he loved him. 

After a while, the booklet lay forgotten on the blanket beside them. Simon leaned into Wille, his head tucked beneath Wille’s chin, his hand resting on his own belly where Wille’s hand soon joined it.

“We’re really doing this,” Simon murmured, voice soft with wonder. “We’re really having a pup.”

“We are,” Wille said, kissing his hair. “And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”

Simon was quiet for a while, just listening to the rain, to Wille’s heartbeat beneath his ear. Then, quietly: “Do you think it’s too soon to start looking at cribs?”

Wille chuckled, the sound warm and low. “Not at all. In fact, I was hoping you’d say that. Because I may have already bookmarked a few.”

Simon lifted his head, laughing for real now, that sweet sound Wille had missed so much. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m prepared,” Wille teased, brushing his nose against Simon’s. “And I’m ridiculously excited.”

…

The train rumbled softly beneath them as Simon and Wille sat side by side, gazing out at the rolling countryside as it blurred past. Fields dotted with barns, clusters of trees just beginning to show the soft green of early spring, and the familiar little towns that marked the way to Bjärstad — Simon’s childhood home.

Simon leaned against Wille’s shoulder, his fingers laced with his alpha’s. He felt a small, nervous excitement bubbling in his chest, and he could tell Wille felt it too. They’d spent the night before debating the best way to break the news to Linda — whether to blurt it out over dinner or wait until they’d settled in for the evening. In the end, they’d decided not to plan too much. We’ll know when the moment’s right, Simon had said, and Wille had agreed, kissing his forehead.

Now, with Bjärstad drawing closer, Simon found his heart beating a little faster. Telling his mother — this was real now.

Linda’s house felt the same as it always had — warm, a little chaotic, filled with the comforting smell of coffee and home. She’d hugged them both tight at the door, commenting that they looked tired but happy, and soon they were sitting around her kitchen table, mugs in hand.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Linda asked, eyeing them over her glasses with that knowing look only a mother could give. “You two don’t usually make overnight visits without a reason.”

Simon glanced at Wille, who gave him the tiniest of nods, his hand resting reassuringly against Simon’s back.

Simon took a breath. “We do have news,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Something we wanted to tell you in person.”

Linda’s eyes lit up with curiosity. She set down her mug, leaning forward.

“I’m pregnant,” Simon said, the words feeling magical and surreal all at once.

For a heartbeat, there was stunned silence. Then Linda gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “Nej, Simon! Är det sant?” she exclaimed, her eyes filling with tears. She stood so quickly her chair scraped back across the floor and rounded the table to pull Simon into a fierce hug.

“Oh, älskling, I’m so happy for you. For both of you!” she said, pulling Wille into the embrace as well. Wille chuckled softly, hugging her back.

Linda stepped back, wiping at her eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me on the phone? I would have baked something special!”

Simon laughed, relief washing over him. “We wanted to see your face when we told you.”

“Well, you’ve made me the happiest grandma-to-be,” she said, beaming. The rest of the evening was spent curled up on the sofa, Linda asking every question imaginable — how far along Simon was, how he was feeling, if they’d thought about names yet.

...

Back home, it was Ayub and Rosh’s turn. They’d invited them over for a casual dinner — pizzas and beer (Simon wasn't drinking, of course), keeping it easy. But Simon couldn’t stop smiling, and eventually Rosh arched an eyebrow at him.

“Okay,” Rosh said, smirking. “You’re up to something. Spill.”

Simon glanced at Wille, who this time didn’t hesitate. “We’re having a baby,” he said simply, the pride and joy clear in his voice.

Ayub’s face broke into a wide grin. “No way! Simon! Wille! That’s amazing!” He pulled Simon into a hug, Rosh clapping Wille on the back.

“Finally,” Rosh teased. “About time you two made it official with a mini-you.”

They toasted with their drinks, Ayub already making jokes about babysitting and teaching the kid to play football, Rosh promising to be the cool uncle. The night was full of laughter and easy joy.

...

When it came to Felice, they met at a café she loved, one with ivy climbing the walls and cozy little nooks. Felice hugged them both before they even sat down.

“You’re glowing, Simon,” she said, grinning as she sipped her coffee. “What’s up?”

Wille laughed. “Do we really look that obvious?”

Simon gave a small shrug, cheeks warm. “We wanted you to know — we’re having a baby.”

Felice gasped, delighted, clapping her hands. “Oh my god! Congratulations! I’m so happy for you guys!” She leaned over the table to squeeze Simon’s hands. “You’re going to be such amazing parents.”

They talked for a while, Felice peppering them with excited questions. But then, as the conversation drifted to family, she tilted her head and asked, “Have you told your parents yet, Wille?”

The question was innocent enough — but Simon felt Wille stiffen beside him, just for a second. The light in Wille’s eyes dimmed a little, though he forced a small smile.

“No, not yet,” Wille said quietly, glancing at Simon and then down.

Felice noticed the shift and change and reached out to squeeze his arm. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Wille said, his smile softening. “It’s just… complicated you know.”

...

Later, as they drove home, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the road, Simon kept glancing at Wille’s profile. He could see the tension there, the way Wille’s jaw was set, how his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual.

Finally, Simon broke the silence. “Do you want to tell them?”

Wille sighed, his shoulders slumping a little as the question hung between them. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Part of me does. Part of me thinks they should know. That maybe… maybe this would change something.”

Simon stayed quiet, letting Wille find his words.

“But I’m scared,” Wille went on, voice low. “Scared they’ll react the way they did about us. That they won’t be happy. That it’ll just hurt all over again.”

Simon reached over, resting his hand on Wille’s thigh, grounding him. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. Always.”

Wille gave him a quick, grateful glance. “I know. And that means everything.”

The rest of the drive passed quietly, but it wasn’t a heavy silence — it was thoughtful, filled with the weight of decisions still to come, but also with the warmth of knowing they’d face them together.

...

Chapter Text

The soft clink of silverware against plates echoed in the cozy little café where Simon and Sara sat across from each other, a half-finished brunch spread between them. The place smelled of strong coffee, fresh bread, and sweet berry jam.

Simon leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly stroking his small, still mostly hidden bump through his sweater. He was twelve weeks now — that magic milestone where things felt just a little more real, a little more hopeful.

Sara was watching him, a fond smile tugging at her lips. “You’re glowing, you know,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

Simon snorted. “I feel like I’m glowing with tiredness. And hunger. Again.” He grinned, picking at a slice of bread. “But thank you.”

Sara tilted her head, her eyes soft. “Tired, hungry, glowing — yep. Sounds about right. I remember that. God, when I was this far with Alma, I was eating everything in sight.” She laughed, shaking her head. “August kept bringing me pastries. Like, every day. I think I lived on kanelbullar and orange juice for a month.”

Simon grinned at the image. “That sounds amazing.”

Sara glanced at him, and something flickered in her expression. “You know... seeing you like this, Simon, it almost makes me want another one.” She said it lightly, but there was something wistful in her tone.

Simon raised his brows. “You should! Alma would love a sibling.”

Sara laughed. “Don’t tempt me. Maybe once I can sleep through the night again.”

They both laughed together, the sound warm and easy. But as the plates emptied and the conversation slowed, Simon found his thoughts drifting — as they often did lately — to Wille.

Sara noticed. “You’re deep in thoughts,” she said gently.

Simon hesitated. Then he sighed. “About Wille. About his parents.”

Sara leaned in, resting her chin on her hand. “He’s still struggling, huh?”

“Yeah,” Simon admitted. “I catch him zoning out all the time. I know it’s about them. He doesn’t say it, but I know.”

Sara toyed with her spoon. “Could you… I don’t know… try contacting them?”

Simon let out a small laugh — not unkind, just weary. “It’s not like I can text the queen of Sweden, Sara. It’s impossible. I wouldn’t even know where to start to get in contact with them – and if I did get in contact with them they would just hang up – They never liked me so why would they talk to me.”

Sara gave him a sympathetic look. “I wish I could help.”

“I know,” Simon said, smiling softly. “It’s just… hard watching him carry it. I don’t want this hanging over him when we should be happy.”

…

Later when Simon returned from brunch he heard the soft hum of music drifted through the apartment, mixing with the occasional clink of tools. Simon followed the noise and found himself looking into the room they had decided should be the nursery.

Wille sat cross-legged on the nursery floor, completely absorbed. The half-built crib lay in front of him, its pale wood glowing under the nursery lamp. His brow furrowed in concentration, lips moving as he silently read the instructions, determined to get it perfect.

Simon stood in the doorway, watching him. His heart swelled with love at the sight of his alpha so focused, so careful, building a place for their pup to sleep. But as he lingered, that warmth spread through him in a different way — a need that made his cheeks warm and his body ache for closeness.

He chewed his lip, hesitating. Wille was so deep in thought, so serious with his work. But Simon wanted him — wanted that connection, that heat between them. And suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.

Simon turned and slipped away down the hall to their bedroom. His hands trembled slightly with anticipation as he undressed, leaving his clothes folded neatly on a chair. He reached for a silk robe he had bought a long time ago — soft, dark blue, wrapping it around his bare body. The tie cinched loosely at his waist. He took a breath, cheeks pink, excitement fluttering in his chest.

Padding quietly back toward the nursery, he leaned against the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. “Wille?” he said, voice soft, almost shy.

Wille didn’t look up at first, too caught up in lining up two pieces of the crib. “Mmm?”

Simon smiled to himself and tried again, this time with a little more playfulness. “Do you have a minute for something?”

That got Wille’s attention. He glanced up, and his eyes widened as they fell on Simon, standing there in nothing but the robe, a sweetly innocent look on his face.

“I just… I wanted your opinion on this robe.” Simon’s lips curved into a teasing smile, though his cheeks flushed deeper.

Wille froze. The tool slipped from his fingers, landing on the rug with a soft thump. His gaze darkened with heat in an instant.

“Simon…” His voice was a growl now, low and rough.

Simon laughed, turning on his heel and darting toward the bedroom. “Catch me if you can!”

Wille was after him in seconds, chasing him down the hallway, catching him just as Simon reached the bed. They tumbled onto the mattress in a flurry of laughter and kisses. Wille’s hands slid into the robe, pushing it open, groaning at the sight of his omega bare beneath it.

“You’re trouble,” Wille breathed, kissing along Simon’s throat, his shoulder. “The sweetest kind of trouble.”

Simon’s laughter turned into gasps and moans as Wille’s mouth and hands roamed his body. Before long, Simon straddled Wille, riding him with a hunger that surprised even himself. His hips rocked in a rhythm that had them both breathless, his head thrown back, eyes half-lidded with pleasure.

Wille gripped his hips, guiding him, worshipping him with his touch, his gaze. “God, Simon, look at you…”

Simon came hard — once, twice, then a third time, his body trembling, his breath hitching as he clung to Wille. And when Wille finally came, the omega cried out softly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the connection.

They stayed like that, tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, hearts pounding as one.

After a long moment, Simon collapsed forward, resting his head against Wille’s chest, breathless and blissed out. “I missed this,” he whispered. “Missed us like this.”

Wille kissed the top of his head, stroking his back. “Me too. You have no idea.”

As they lay there, Wille’s hand wandered over Simon’s belly, and he paused. His palm smoothed over the soft curve — and his heart stopped for a second. “Simon… look.” His voice was full of wonder.

Simon lifted his head, eyes wide as Wille helped him up and guided him to the mirror. Beneath the soft light, was the faintest swell of a bump.

Simon’s hand flew to cover Wille’s. His breath hitched. “Is that…?”

Wille’s eyes shone. “That’s our baby.”

Tears welled in Simon’s eyes. “Oh, Wille…”

The joy between them was so overwhelming that when they returned to the bed, they came together again, slower this time, filled with reverence and tenderness. Wille moved within him as if savoring every second, and Simon met him with equal need, as if trying to capture this perfect moment forever.

And when they fell asleep that night, they did so wrapped around each other, hearts full, dreaming of the life they were building together.

…

Sunlight streamed softly through the sheer curtains, painting warm stripes across the bedroom floor. The air was quiet, still heavy with the comfort of the night before. Simon blinked awake, snuggled beneath the duvet, the steady rhythm of Wille’s breathing in his ear. He was wrapped up in Wille’s arms, held so close he could feel the alpha’s heartbeat under his cheek.

For a long moment, Simon stayed still, savoring the peace. The events of the night before played over in his mind — the laughter, the teasing, the heat of their bodies coming together. The way Wille’s hands had cradled his belly with such wonder, as if Simon carried the most precious thing in the world.

Simon’s hand drifted down, resting lightly on the soft curve. A tiny swell, barely there, but real. Our baby. His heart ached in the best way. He thought of the future — of tiny fingers wrapped around his, of Wille holding their child with that same look of pure devotion. And yet beneath the joy, a nervous flutter stirred. Because part of building that future meant facing things they’d left behind.

Wille stirred beside him, mumbling sleepily as his arms tightened around Simon. “You’re thinking too loud,” he whispered, voice rough from sleep.

Simon smiled, turning his face up for a kiss. “Sorry.”

Wille kissed him softly, then sighed. “What’s on your mind?”

Simon hesitated, fingers tracing little circles on Wille’s chest. “I was just thinking about… everything. Last night. Us. And…” He drew a breath. “Your parents.”

Wille tensed just slightly, enough for Simon to notice. His thumb smoothed over Wille’s skin. “I don’t want to push you. I just… I think you should contact them.”

Wille was quiet for a long moment, eyes on the ceiling, his jaw working as if weighing the words before speaking them. Finally, he nodded. “You’re right, I just been trying to push it away. But deep down I want them to know that this is happening. I’m just scared I guess.”  

Simon kissed his shoulder, voice soft but steady. “I’m here. Every step.”

Wille glanced at him, a flicker of gratitude and love in his eyes. “Will you stay with me while I call?”

“Of course.”

They got up together, showered, dressed, and ate a quiet breakfast. There was a strange tension in the air — not bad, but heavy with the weight of what Wille was about to do. After clearing the dishes, they moved to the living room. Wille sat on the couch, his phone resting on the coffee table in front of him like it was something dangerous.

Simon sat beside him, tucking himself close, his hand resting over Wille’s. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Wille nodded, took a deep breath, and picked up the phone. His fingers trembled slightly as he scrolled to the contact, pressing the call button before he could second-guess himself. Simon held his hand tighter, grounding him.

The call connected. There was a brief pause before a familiar, formal voice answered.

“Jan Olof.”

Wille’s heart squeezed at the sound of the man who had served his family for as long as he could remember. “Jan Olof… it’s Wille.”

There was a heartbeat of silence on the other end, and then Jan Olof’s voice softened, the formal edge fading. “Your Highness— forgive me. I mean, Wilhelm. It’s good to hear your voice.”

Wille swallowed hard. “You too. Um… I’m calling because… well, there’s something important thing that I need to tell my parents.”

Jan Olof hesitated just a second. “I see. Your mother has a rather full schedule at the moment, but I will do my very best to arrange a meeting with Their Majesties. May I ask— is everything well?”

Wille glanced at Simon, his heart steadying under the warmth of Simon’s gaze. “Yes. Everything’s good.”

“I understand. Let me make some inquiries and get back to you. I’ll call you shortly.”

“Thank you, Jan Olof.” Wille’s voice was thick with emotion. “Really. Thank you.”

When the call ended, Wille let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His shoulders sagged, the tension slowly ebbing. Simon slid his arms around him, pulling him close.

“I’m proud of you,” Simon whispered, his lips brushing Wille’s temple. “That wasn’t easy.”

Wille turned, pressing his forehead to Simon’s. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Simon smiled, gentle and true. “You’ll never have to find out.”

They stayed like that for a while, quiet in each other’s arms, hearts beating in sync as they waited — together — for the next step in their journey.

…

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet that morning, the kind of quiet that comes not from peace, but from anticipation. The soft hum of the city beyond their windows felt far away, as if the world outside had little to do with the storm that churned inside their home.

Wille stood near the window, fingers gripping his phone so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. He kept glancing at it, as if willing it to ring — and dreading that it might. His heart raced, his mind a whirl of memories and fear, of old wounds that still hadn’t healed.

Simon was near, always near. He moved around Wille gently, folding a blanket on the couch, tidying up aimlessly, watching him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t press, didn’t speak — just made sure Wille felt his presence, solid and sure.

When the phone finally vibrated in Wille’s hand, the sound seemed to echo through the room. His breath caught. Simon froze where he stood, eyes locking on his alpha.

Wille’s thumb trembled slightly as he answered. “Jan Olof?” His voice was quieter than he meant it to be.

Simon crossed the room and stood close, his hand resting lightly on Wille’s back, grounding him.

“Yes, I… I appreciate you getting back to me,” Wille said, throat dry. He listened, and as Jan Olof spoke, his expression shifted from tense to surprised.

“A lunch?” he echoed, as if he hadn’t heard right. “At the castle?”

Simon’s brows rose, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“In two days… I—” Wille’s instinct was immediate. He was already shaking his head, the familiar protective instinct flaring to life. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I—”

Before he could say the words, Simon stepped in. His hand slid from Wille’s back to his chest, resting right over his heart. He looked up at Wille, eyes soft but full of quiet determination.

Say yes, Simon mouthed, his lips forming the words silently, but with so much strength in them.

Wille hesitated, torn. The fear was right there — the fear of rejection, of dragging Simon into something painful. But Simon’s eyes held him steady.

“Okay,” Wille said at last, voice low, almost a whisper. “Yes, we’ll be there. Thank you, Jan Olof.”

When the call ended, Wille let the phone fall to his side. His head bowed, eyes shut tight.

“I was going to say no, I don’t want them to hurt us again - I only wanted to tell them over the phone. This feels like a lot.” he confessed. His voice cracked.

Simon slid his arms around him, pulling him close, resting his head against Wille’s chest. “I know,” he whispered.

Wille swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Simon. For what I’m asking of you. For what we’re about to go through.”

Simon leaned back just enough to look at him. His hands found Wille’s and guided one of them down, placing it gently over his small, growing belly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Simon said, voice steady despite the ache in his heart. “The baby and me — we love you so much. I’ll do anything for you, Wille. Anything.”

Wille felt the sting of tears behind his eyes. He rubbed his thumb gently over Simon’s belly, overwhelmed with love, with fear, with gratitude.

…

They moved to the couch, sitting close, hands still linked, Wille’s fingers never straying far from Simon’s stomach.

“What do we even say to them?” Wille asked, his voice heavy. “How do I tell them about the baby, and not have them look at me like I’ve failed them once again?”

Simon shook his head. “You haven’t failed anyone. If they can’t see that — that’s on them, not you.” He squeezed Wille’s hand. “We tell them the truth. We’re happy. We’re building a family. That’s what matters.”

Wille sighed, leaning his head against Simon’s. “You’re stronger than I am.”

Simon smiled softly. “We are strong together my love.”

“I hate that I’m like this,” Wille admitted. “So soft about it all. So scared.”

Simon turned and kissed his cheek, his temple, his jaw. “Don’t ever apologize for that. I love that side of you. I love all of you.”

…

The days leading up to the lunch felt endless and too short all at once.

Simon tried to distract himself with practical things. He spent hours standing in front of the wardrobe, holding shirts and jackets against himself, frowning at the mirror. He smoothed fabrics over his belly, now showing just enough to make him self-conscious.

“Too casual?” he asked Wille once, holding up a soft button-down. “Too formal? Too… obviously pregnant?”

Wille tried to focus, but his mind was elsewhere. “You look perfect in anything,” he murmured, not really seeing.

Simon huffed a laugh. “You’re no help at all.”

…

Wille’s moods swung wildly. One minute, he’d seem almost calm, convinced they could do this. The next, he’d pace the apartment, hands in his hair, muttering that maybe they should cancel, maybe it was a mistake.

At night, sleep wouldn’t come for him. Simon would wake to find him staring at the ceiling, or out the window, lost in thought.

Sometimes Simon would soothe him with soft words, a hand resting over his heart. Other times, he’d guide Wille’s focus back to him in more intimate ways — with kisses, with slow touches, with quiet pleas. He’d go down on Wille, gentle and patient, or let Wille knot him, knowing the way his alpha would collapse into exhausted sleep after, arms tight around his omega.

Simon did it not just to ease Wille’s tension, but to remind him: they were here, they were together, and they could face whatever came.

…

The morning of the lunch dawned pale and cool, the sky streaked with soft clouds. Wille stood at the mirror, adjusting his jacket over and over, unable to get the collar quite right.

Simon came up behind him, slid his arms around his waist, rested his chin on Wille’s shoulder.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

Wille stared at their reflection. “I don’t feel perfect.”

“You don’t have to,” Simon said. “You just have to be you. That’s more than enough.”

Wille closed his eyes, let Simon’s warmth steady him.

“Let’s do this together,” Simon said, fingers lacing with Wille’s. “For us. For the baby.”

Wille kissed his forehead. “For us,” he agreed, voice quiet but certain.

And together, they stepped out to face what waited.

…

A sleek black car waited just outside, engine purring softly.

“Jan Olof sent it,” Wille said, his voice low. “He thought we’d appreciate… not having to think about transport.”

Simon squeezed Wille’s hand, his thumb brushing gently over his mate’s knuckles. “That was kind of him.”

Wille managed a small nod, but his stomach churned. He couldn’t tell if it was dread or gratitude that made his chest so tight.

They climbed into the backseat of the car, the doors clicking shut with a soft finality that made Wille’s heart skip. The driver greeted them politely, adjusting the rearview mirror just enough to give them privacy.

As the city slipped past the windows, Wille stared out, watching familiar buildings blur into the stately outskirts of the royal grounds. His reflection in the glass looked pale, drawn — a boy who’d once belonged to that world, now returning as a man with everything to lose.

Simon, ever attuned to him, reached across the seat and took Wille’s hand again, their fingers weaving together. He rested their linked hands gently over his small but undeniable bump, the warmth of Wille’s palm steadying him.

“You okay?” Simon asked softly.

Wille didn’t answer right away. He turned to look at Simon — really look at him. His omega, glowing in ways that had nothing to do with the pregnancy. Strong. Steady. His anchor in this storm.

“I’m scared,” Wille admitted. “Not of them. Not really. But of… bringing you into this. Of them hurting you. Judging you.”

Simon’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in his alpha’s voice. He shook his head, leaning in, brushing his lips lightly over Wille’s cheek. “They don’t have that power,” he whispered. “Not unless we give it to them. And I won’t.”

Wille let out a long breath, trying to believe that. “Thank you,” he murmured. “For doing this. For being here.”

Simon smiled softly. “Always.”

…

The drive felt both endless and far too short. Before they knew it, the familiar gates of the royal estate loomed before them, opening smoothly as the car approached. The castle rose in the distance, proud and imposing, steeped in memories Wille wasn’t sure he wanted to face.

Simon felt his alpha’s hand tighten around his. He turned, offering a reassuring smile. “We’re okay,” he said quietly. “We’re together.”

The car came to a stop beneath the grand portico. Jan Olof was there to greet them, dignified as ever, though his smile when he saw them was genuine.

“Your Highness,” Jan Olof said softly, out of habit more than anything, and then corrected himself. “Wilhelm. Simon. Welcome.”

Wille managed a nod, his throat too tight for words. Simon answered for both of them. “Thank you for arranging this. And the car — that was thoughtful.”

Jan Olof’s eyes softened as he gestured toward the entrance. “They’re waiting in the east dining room. I’ll take you in.”

The walk through the castle felt surreal. The walls Wille had once known so well — the corridors where he’d played as a child, the rooms where he’d dreamed of a different future — now seemed like a museum of another life.

Simon walked close beside him, quietly taking it all in, sensing the weight of every step for his mate. He knew how hard this was for Wille, how deep the scars ran.

At the doors to the dining room, Jan Olof paused, looking at them both. “I hope this goes well.”

Wille gave him a grateful look. Then, drawing in a breath that felt too big for his chest, he reached for the handle.

Simon caught his hand for just a second more. “I love you,” he said, low enough that only Wille could hear. “Whatever happens — I love you.”

Wille swallowed hard, nodding. “I love you too.”

And together, they stepped inside.

...

The east dining room was exactly as Wille remembered it — grand but cold. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, the light catching on polished silverware and fine china. The long table gleamed, set perfectly as if for a state dinner rather than a small, intimate lunch between estranged family members.

Kristina and Ludvig rose as they entered. The queen, poised as ever, offered a small nod. Her eyes were hard to read, pale blue like her son’s, but distant. Ludvig gave a smile that felt practiced, worn from years of duty rather than warmth.

“Thank you for coming,” Ludvig said, his voice deep but courteous. “Please, sit.”

They settled into their seats. The silence stretched uncomfortably for a few beats. The only sound was the quiet clink of cutlery as servants placed napkins and poured water into crystal glasses. Simon felt the weight of the moment, the sheer formality of it all suffocating. His hand drifted toward Wille’s beneath the table, fingers seeking the comfort of their familiar touch. Wille grasped his hand firmly, his thumb rubbing circles over Simon’s knuckles, a silent promise of solidarity.

Kristina sat straight-backed, her gaze resting on Simon for a moment, cool and assessing, before flicking away. She said nothing.

It was Ludvig who tried to bridge the chasm. “So,” he began, forcing a note of casualness that didn’t quite land. “You’re both well? Settled in your life? I understand you work in law, Wilhelm?”

Wille nodded stiffly. “I do. I specialize in omega rights. And Simon teaches music. He’s very talented.”

Simon offered a small, polite smile, but his stomach was already twisting. The room felt too warm. Or maybe it was the tension. Or maybe it was both.

“That sounds… fulfilling,” Ludvig said.

Kristina still hadn’t spoken.

Before Wille could answer, the staff glided in, placing plates before them. The dish was elegant — a delicate portion of fish, resting on a bed of herbs and vegetables. The scent hit Simon the moment the plate was set down.

His stomach lurched.

No, no, not now.

He tried to breathe through it, tried to focus on Wille’s voice as his alpha spoke quietly to Ludvig about their apartment, about their life — anything to anchor himself. He took a small sip of water, willing himself to calm down, to get through this meal.

But the smell. The texture. The richness of the sauce.

It was too much.

His face paled, his palms grew clammy, and before he could stop himself — before he could even excuse himself — he gagged once, twice, and then vomited onto the pristine tablecloth.

The room froze.

For a moment, the only sound was the faint, horrified gasp of a server and Simon’s shaky breath as he wiped at his mouth with trembling hands, mortified beyond words. His eyes were wide, glassy with shame.

“I—I’m so sorry,” Simon stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to grab at a napkin, to clean up, his hands fumbling and clumsy. “I didn’t mean— I just—”

“No,” Ludvig said, his voice surprisingly calm. He lifted a hand to halt Simon’s panicked movements. “There’s no need. Perhaps you’d like to freshen up? The restroom is just down the hall to the right.”

Simon nodded quickly, eyes on the table as he rose. “Yes. Yes, I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

He hurried from the room, his heart pounding, cheeks burning with humiliation.

…

Wille half rose, ready to follow his mate, but Kristina’s voice stopped him cold.

“Wilhelm,” she said quietly, her tone edged in frost. “Is that truly the mate you’ve chosen? The one you gave everything up for? He can’t even sit through a simple meal without… ruining it.”

Something inside Wille snapped. His alpha surged to the surface — protective, fierce, unyielding. He turned to face his mother, his jaw clenched, his voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t,” he said, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare speak about him like that.”

Kristina blinked, as if she hadn’t expected him to challenge her so directly.

“I gave everything up because this life — my life with him — is everything. I thought maybe today, you could see that. I thought maybe you’d care enough to try. But if all you can do is sit there and judge him for being human and overwhelmed in your cold, perfect world.”

“Wilhelm—” Ludvig began, but Wille shook his head.

“No. I came here to share something joyful. I wanted you to be part of this. And all you can do is look down on the person I love most in this world. The person carrying your grandchild!. Yes, Simon is pregnant! Now you know.”

His voice cracked slightly on that last word. The weight of it all — the years of distance, the hope that maybe, just maybe, today would be different — it crashed over him in a tidal wave of disappointment.

Ludvig and Kristina looked at him with big eyes, the news settling in on them both. 

“I thought maybe you would be happy for me. That maybe you wanted to know. But you still judge me for my life.” 

Wille stood, his chair scraping back sharply against the floor.

“I’m done. We’re done.”

And with that, he turned and strode from the room, his heart pounding, his breath tight in his chest. 

…

Outside, in the quiet of the courtyard, Wille drew in deep breaths of cold air, trying to steady himself. He paced, ran his hands through his hair, felt the sting of angry tears.

Simon finally appeared, Jan Olof had brought him down to Wille, his face still pale but his eyes searching, Wille pulled him into his arms without a word. Simon went willingly, clinging to him, feeling the tension in his alpha’s body.

“Let’s go home,” Wille murmured.

Simon nodded, pressing his face against Wille’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Wille said fiercely. “Nothing. You’re perfect. Let’s go.”

And together, they left the castle behind.

…

Chapter Text

The drive from the palace was quiet at first, tension clinging to the air like a storm that refused to break. The car sped through the dim streets, but inside it felt like time stood still. Simon kept glancing at Wille, watching his mate’s clenched jaw, the way his hands gripped his knees like he was holding himself together.

Finally, Simon couldn’t stand it anymore. He reached over, threading his fingers through Wille’s. “Love... what happened? After I left the room?”

Wille didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes on the passing city lights, his chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths. Then, his voice came low, strained.

“I told them.” He swallowed hard. “I told them you’re carrying my child. That I thought they’d want to know. That I believed... maybe they’d care. They didn’t say a word. Not one. Just sat there. Silent. Like—like it didn’t matter at all”

Simon’s heart ached at the rawness in Wille’s voice. He squeezed his hand, but Wille shook his head bitterly. “I don’t know why I thought it could be any different. I’m so disappointed in them, Simon. I don’t ever want to see them again. I’m done hoping.”

Simon leaned closer, resting his head against Wille’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Wille. I had hoped too.”

Wille’s jaw softened a little, but his eyes stayed dark with hurt.

…

Later that night, they lay together in bed. Simon cradled Wille against him, feeling the tension still tight in his alpha’s body even as he drifted into an uneasy sleep. Simon ran his fingers gently through Wille’s hair, his own heart heavy. He had wished for a different outcome too. He had wanted this to be a joyful memory for them. But instead, it felt like another scar.

As he watched Wille sleep, brow furrowed even in dreams, Simon felt a fresh wave of love and protectiveness. I’ll help him through this. We’ll get through this together.

…

In the days that followed, Wille tried. He smiled more, kissed Simon’s temple when they passed in the kitchen, curled up beside him on the sofa in the evenings. But Simon saw it—he saw the flicker of sadness in his mate’s eyes when he thought Simon wasn’t looking. The way his laughter didn’t quite reach as far. The quiet moments where he drifted off, lost in thought.

Simon didn’t push. He simply loved him, hoping that time would help mend what their visit had broken.

…

A few days later, Simon woke up feeling off. A lingering nausea that had him retreating to the bathroom more than once before noon. When Wille saw how pale he looked, he cupped Simon’s cheeks and kissed his forehead gently.

“Stay home today, love,” Wille said softly. “Please. Just take it easy. Take care of yourself—and our baby.”

Simon smiled, tired but warm. “Okay. I will.”

Wille left reluctantly, looking back more than once as he grabbed his keys. And Simon did as he promised. He stayed curled on the couch under a soft blanket, sipping tea and dozing in and out of sleep.

Until the knocking started.

At first, Simon thought he imagined it. Then it came again—firm, insistent. He groaned, pulling the blanket tighter around him as he shuffled to the door. Who could that be?

When he opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

There on the doorstep stood the Queen and King of Sweden. Kristina and Ludvig. Dressed simply but regally, their faces serious—uncertain.

Simon’s mouth fell open. He blinked, speechless, clutching the blanket around his shoulders like a shield.

Kristina’s voice broke the silence. Soft, hesitant. “Simon… May we come in?”

Simon stood frozen, heart pounding. After a moment, he stepped back and opened the door wider.

..

Simon stepped back, heart racing, as Kristina and Ludvig entered the cozy apartment. The Queen glanced around, taking in the warm, lived-in space—the soft gray sofa with its knitted throws, the framed photos on the shelves, the baby books stacked on the coffee table. Ludvig followed silently, his gaze flickering to Simon, to the gentle swell of his belly beneath the oversized T-shirt and the blanket draped over his shoulders.

Simon cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “Um... please, sit. I’ll make tea.”

He fled to the kitchen, fingers trembling as he filled the kettle, willing his heart to slow down. Why are they here? What do they want? The last meeting replayed in his mind—the coldness, the silence, Wille’s devastated expression.

When he returned with the tray, Kristina and Ludvig sat stiffly on the sofa. The Queen accepted her cup with a soft “Thank you.” Ludvig nodded his thanks too, his posture formal.

There was an awkward stretch of silence, filled only by the gentle clink of porcelain.

Finally, Kristina spoke, her voice quiet. “Simon... I wanted to say that we owe you both an apology. Our behavior at the palace—It was unkind. We’ve... we’ve struggled to understand at times, but that is no excuse for hurting you. Or Wilhelm.”

Simon stared at her, shocked by the vulnerability in her eyes. She wasn’t the cold, distant monarch he’d imagined all these years. In this moment, she was simply a mother, unsure, trying.

“I don’t know what to say,” Simon admitted, voice soft. “Thank you, I suppose. It means a lot that you came here.”

Kristina’s lips trembled into the ghost of a smile. “We want to do better. If you’ll let us.”

Ludvig finally spoke, his deep voice breaking through the tension. “We don’t want to be shut out of our grandchild’s life. If... if there’s still room for us.”

Simon swallowed the lump in his throat. He hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know what to say. But he knew one thing—Wille needed this, whether he admitted it or not.

…

Kristina’s fingers toyed with the delicate handle of her teacup, her eyes shifting from the steam rising between them to Simon’s face. The silence that had lingered between them started to ease, ever so slightly, as she ventured carefully into new territory.

“How far along are you now, Simon?” she asked, her voice soft, as though afraid to break the fragile air of civility that had grown between them.

Simon adjusted the blanket draped over his lap, offering a tentative smile despite the nervous thrum in his chest. “About fourteen weeks,” he said quietly. “Due in early June.”

Kristina nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lowering for a moment, as if picturing the tiny grandchild growing inside him. “And… you’re feeling well?”

Simon hesitated, deciding how honest to be. “Mostly, yes. A little tired. Some sickness still lingers… but it’s worth it.”

There was something genuine in her eyes as she replied, “You’re doing beautifully. It shows.”

The unexpected warmth of her words made Simon’s throat tighten with emotion. He was about to respond when the familiar sound of the door unlocking made him turn his head.

Wille stepped into the apartment, his shoulders already sagging from the weight of a long day. He froze the second he spotted his parents seated in his living room. His entire body tensed. Without hesitation, his protective alpha instincts surged forward — he closed the space between himself and Simon in moments, placing himself squarely in front of his mate.

“What are you doing here?” Wille demanded, his voice low but sharp, every muscle in his frame coiled as if ready to shield Simon from harm. His eyes flicked over his parents, wary, mistrusting. He glanced down at Simon, softening just a fraction. “Are you okay?”

Simon reached up, placing his hand gently on Wille’s arm. His touch was calm, grounding. His voice matched. “Wille… it’s okay. They came to make peace.”

Wille’s brows drew together, the skepticism plain in his expression. His gaze flicked from Simon’s earnest face back to his parents. “Peace?” His tone was heavy with disbelief.

Kristina sat straighter, her hands resting on her knees. “Yes. We should have come sooner. We were wrong, Wilhelm. Both of us.” Her voice cracked slightly at the weight of the words. Ludvig nodded his agreement, more reserved but sincere.

Ludvig spoke next. “Your mother even brought a gift,” he said, as if to reassure Wille this visit was different.

Kristina reached beside her to where she’d set down her bag. From it, she produced a small, elegantly wrapped box tied with a pale blue ribbon. She held it out, at first toward Wille, but he shook his head gently, his gaze softening only when it turned to Simon.

“He’s the one carrying,” Wille said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. His hand hovered near Simon’s belly for a second. “He should have it.”

Kristina’s hands trembled slightly as she redirected the gift to Simon. “Of course,” she said softly.

…

Simon accepted the box with care, fingers working at the neat bow, unwrapping it with a reverence that mirrored the gravity of the moment. When he opened the lid, nestled inside was a small, well-loved teddy bear — its fur faded, its stitched nose slightly worn.

Wille let out a quiet, surprised laugh, his cheeks flushing with color. “Mr. Snuggles…” he said, the name slipping out with a mixture of nostalgia and embarrassment.

Simon couldn’t help it; the sound of his alpha’s flustered tone brought a peal of warm laughter from his lips. The tension in the room eased a little more, as if that small bear had somehow bridged the gap between past and present.

Kristina smiled, her eyes misting over. “He never went anywhere without that bear for years. Once, on a state trip to Denmark, we had to turn the motorcade around because we’d forgotten Mr. Snuggles at the summer house. He cried the whole way back until it was in his arms again.”

Wille groaned softly, though the corner of his mouth lifted into a reluctant smile. “Mamma…”

Simon grinned, running his fingers over the worn bear. “It’s perfect,” he said sincerely.

Beneath the bear, folded with care, was a small bundle of baby clothes. Simon unfolded them gently, recognizing the fine stitching and soft cotton. Tiny shirts, a pair of little blue booties, a pale cap.

“Those were yours and Erik’s,” Kristina said, her voice catching slightly on Erik’s name. “I thought… maybe the baby would like them.”

Wille stared at the clothes, his throat thick. He reached out, briefly touching one of the shirts. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Really.”

Simon added, his voice warm, “Thank you both. This means a lot to us.”

…

After more soft conversation, Kristina and Ludvig began to rise, the visit reaching its natural close.

“We don’t want to overstay,” Kristina said. “But… if you wouldn’t mind, we’d appreciate updates. About the baby. About you both.”

Simon stood with them, heart full. He hesitated a moment, then made a choice. Moving to the kitchen counter, he retrieved one of their recent ultrasound prints. He crossed to Kristina, holding it out gently.

“This is for you,” he said. His voice was steady, sincere. “Thank you for coming today. Please — come back soon.”

Kristina took the photo as though it were the most precious of treasures. “We will,” she promised, her voice soft with emotion. “And thank you for giving us a chance.”

…

As the door closed behind them, Simon turned to Wille, who hadn’t spoken much since they entered. His alpha’s eyes were still wide, stunned by the encounter.

Simon stepped into his arms, resting his head on Wille’s chest. “You did good,” he whispered.

Wille’s arms came around him, holding tight. His voice was raw. “I didn’t think they had it in them.”

Simon smiled gently against his heart. “Sometimes people surprise you.”

Together they stood there, the little teddy bear cradled between them — a small sign of hope that maybe, just maybe, healing was possible.

...

Chapter Text

The morning after Kristina and Ludvig’s visit, the air in the apartment felt lighter. It was as if a long-held tension had finally eased, even if just a little.

Sunlight pouring through their bedroom windows as Simon stood at the mirror, smoothing a hand over his shirt, where a small swell curved beneath the fabric. Wille came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist and resting his chin on his mate’s shoulder.

“Ready?” Wille asked, his voice soft with excitement and nerves.

Simon nodded, leaning back into him. “I’ve been ready since I woke up. I just want to see our baby again. And… find out who’s in there.”

Wille kissed the side of Simon’s neck. “Our little pup. Let’s go meet him — or her.”

…

The drive to the clinic felt longer than usual, though neither of them spoke much — they simply held hands tightly the whole way. When they arrived, Vera greeted them with her usual warm smile and led them into the scanning room.

Simon lay back on the exam bed, pulling up his shirt while Wille settled into the chair beside him, their fingers still intertwined. The familiar cool gel touched Simon’s skin, and then came the soft, rhythmic sound of their baby’s heartbeat. Both Simon and Wille stilled, hearts full at hearing that strong, steady sound.

“There we go,” Vera said as she moved the probe gently. The image of their baby appeared on the screen — so much bigger, more defined. “Everything looks good so far.”

“Do you want to know the sex?” Vera asked, glancing at them both.

Simon glanced at Wille, his heart hammering with anticipation. Wille grinned and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Vera smiled. “Well, congratulations — it’s a boy.”

Simon gasped softly, tears stinging his eyes. Wille’s face broke into a wide, joyful smile, and he leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to Simon’s lips. His hand slid protectively over Simon’s belly. “Our boy,” he whispered against Simon’s mouth. “Our beautiful boy.”

Simon laughed quietly through his tears. “Our son…”

…

When the excitement calmed a little, Vera wiped away the gel and gave them both a moment. Then she glanced at them kindly. “I wanted to check in about the birth plan we talked about last time. Did you have a chance to look it over?”

Simon nodded and reached into his bag, pulling out the folded papers. “We went through it together.” His voice trembled slightly with emotion, but he handed the plan to her.

Vera unfolded it and skimmed through, nodding. “Natural birth — that’s great. And you’re open to using water for pain relief, possibly a water birth if it feels right at the time?”

“Yes,” Simon confirmed, glancing at Wille for support. “I want to try to work through the pain with as little intervention as possible, but… we marked that we want all options open, in case I need it.”

Vera smiled gently. “That’s a very good plan. Flexible, but thoughtful.”

She glanced down the list. “And for the birth support — you noted you want it to be just the two of you?”

Simon blushed slightly, but nodded. “Yes. Only us.”

Vera’s gaze softened even more. “Of course. That’s a beautiful choice.”

Then she looked at Wille. “And Wilhelm — would you like to cut the cord when Simon has given birth to your baby boy?”

Wille blinked, looking at Simon. “What do you think? Is that okay?”

Simon’s cheeks flushed more deeply, but he smiled, warmth filling his eyes. “You can if you want to. I’d like that.”

Wille nodded, emotion thick in his throat. “Then yes. I’d like to.”

Vera beamed at them both. “You’re going to be amazing parents.”

…

They left the clinic hand in hand, their hearts full. The car ride home was filled with soft conversation about names, about what their son might look like, about all the hopes and dreams that felt suddenly closer now that they knew it was a boy that was growing inside Simon.

That night, as they curled up together on the couch, Wille’s hand never left Simon’s belly. He whispered softly to their baby, telling him about the world, about how loved he already was, about how he couldn’t wait to meet him.

Simon watched him, his heart so full it almost hurt. And as he drifted to sleep against Wille’s chest, their son safe inside him, he knew — they were ready for whatever came next

A couple of days later. The soft glow of the afternoon sun filled the nursery as Simon gently placed Mr. Snuggles — the well-loved teddy bear Kristina had brought — into the crib Wille had built. The little bear looked almost comically small nestled among the pale blue sheets.

Simon crossed his arms, leaning against the crib’s edge, and chuckled quietly to himself. When Wille walked in, wiping his hands on a cloth after hanging shelves, Simon smirked and glanced at him.

“I still can’t believe you had a teddy bear named Mr. Snuggles,” Simon teased, his eyes sparkling with affection.

Wille groaned good-naturedly, his ears pink. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never,” Simon said with a grin, his dimples showing.

They stood for a moment, just looking around at the room they’d poured so much love into. The walls were painted a soft cream, the curtains a pale blue-grey. The crib stood proudly by the window, the handmade mobile of stars and moons Wille had crafted swaying gently in the breeze. A rocking chair waited in the corner, and little clothes were folded neatly on open shelves.

With a satisfied sigh, Simon lowered himself onto the nursery floor, crossing his legs beneath him. Wille joined him, settling close enough that their knees brushed. Together they took it all in.

“It’s starting to feel real,” Simon murmured. “Like… he’s going to be here. And he’ll sleep in that crib. Play on this rug.”

Wille’s heart swelled at Simon’s words. He reached out, taking his mate’s hand in his. “Do you… have any names in mind?” he asked softly, almost hesitantly.

Simon hesitated, then smiled shyly. “I always liked the name Leo.”

Wille blinked, his chest tightening with emotion. “Leo,” he echoed, as if tasting the name on his tongue. “Simon… I love that. I love it.”

“Yeah?” Simon’s smile grew, his cheeks flushing.

“Yeah.” Wille squeezed his hand. “Leo it is — at least for now.”

...

Chapter Text

That night, the house was quiet except for the hum of the city beyond their windows. When Wille entered their bedroom, he paused in the doorway. There was Simon, standing sideways before the full-length mirror, his T-shirt hitched up, one hand cradling the gentle curve of his now very visible baby bump. His other hand rested lightly on his hip as he tilted his head, studying his reflection.

Wille’s breath caught. His heart felt like it might burst with how beautiful Simon looked — glowing, soft, expectant.

“You’re beautiful,” Wille said, his voice husky with emotion.

Simon turned, startled, and flushed. “Stop it,” he murmured, though his lips curved in a bashful smile.

But Wille had crossed the room in a few strides, wrapping his arms around Simon from behind, his hands spreading protectively over the swell of his belly. He kissed the side of Simon’s neck, nuzzling close.

“I want to make love to you,” Wille whispered, his voice low, desire lacing his words. “Right here. Against the mirror. I want you to see how perfect you are. How perfect we are.”

Simon shivered at his words, leaning back into his alpha’s warmth. “Wille…”

“Tell me what you want, älskling,” Wille breathed.

Simon’s blush deepened. “I want that. I want you.”

The next moments were filled with slow, tender touches. Wille carefully guided Simon, helping him balance as they explored this new, beautiful closeness. The mirror reflected them — Simon’s flushed cheeks, Wille’s adoring gaze. Their movements were slow at first, full of whispered promises, before building to something more urgent, more consuming.

When it was over, they stayed pressed together, Wille’s arms wrapped protectively around Simon’s waist, their foreheads touching as they caught their breath.

…

A few days later, the apartment buzzed with excitement. Sara, August, Alma, and Linda filled the space with laughter and chatter. Simon had spent the morning baking a cake — a vanilla sponge with soft white icing, hiding a secret inside.

When it was finally time, Simon cut into the cake, pulling out the first slice — and the room erupted in cheers as they all saw the pale blue filling inside.

“A boy!” Sara cried, pulling Simon into a tight hug, careful of his belly.

Alma clapped her little hands, shouting, “Baby boy! Baby boy!”

August grinned and squeezed Wille’s shoulder. “You two are going to be great dads,” he said genuinely.

Linda had tears in her eyes as she hugged them both. “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered.

The apartment felt filled with love — the kind that made Simon’s chest ache in the best way.

…

Later that afternoon, once their guests had left and the apartment was quiet again, Wille picked up the phone. He dialed Jan Olof, who answered right away.

“Wilhelm. I’m glad you called. Would you like to speak to Her Majesty?”

“Yes, please,” Wille said, his voice steady.

There was a brief pause, and then Kristina’s familiar voice came on the line. “Wilhelm?”

“Hi, Mamma.” He glanced at Simon, who stood at his side, offering a supportive smile. “I just wanted to let you know… it’s a boy. We’re having a son.”

There was a pause — then Kristina’s voice softened. “A boy. Oh, Wilhelm… that’s wonderful news. Thank you for telling me.”

Wille swallowed the lump in his throat. “We wanted you to know.”

“I hope we can see you both again soon,” she added quietly. “And meet him, when he comes.”

“We’d like that,” Wille admitted, surprising even himself.

As he hung up, Wille looked at Simon, who wrapped his arms around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

…

A month later 

…

It started innocently enough — with a message from Felice. She sent Wille a flurry of excited texts, brimming with emojis: 🎈👶💙 BABY SHOWER PLANS!!! It’s time, Wille! We HAVE to do this for Simon!

Wille sighed as he read the messages, leaning back on the couch. He loved Felice dearly, but he also knew Simon — and Simon hated surprises. Wille chewed his lip, considering his reply.

Felice, I really don’t think Simon would want a surprise… he typed.

Trust me! she shot back. He’ll love it once he sees everyone. We all want to celebrate him. I promise, it’ll be perfect!

Wille groaned quietly, rubbing his temples. There was no stopping Felice once she had an idea. Within hours, she had roped in everyone: Sara, August, Linda, Rosh, Ayub, Maddie — even a few of Simon’s colleagues from work.

The plan was set: Wille would take Simon out for a few hours under the pretense of stroller shopping. While they were gone, Felice and the others would decorate the apartment, set up food, and get everything ready.

…

That Saturday, the sky was bright, the air crisp as Wille and Simon stepped out together. Simon seemed in great spirits, linking his arm with Wille’s as they walked towards the baby store.

“You seem quiet today,” Simon remarked after a while, glancing at his alpha with curious eyes.

Wille shook his head quickly. “I’m fine,” he said, forcing a smile.

Simon stopped walking for a moment, making Wille pause too. “Wille… what’s up? You’re not acting like yourself. You love shopping for this baby usually. You’ve been dreaming about stroller features for weeks,” Simon teased gently.

Wille’s heart ached at how well his omega knew him. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Simon’s face. “I promise, nothing’s wrong. Let’s just find the perfect stroller for Leo, hmm?”

Simon studied him a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. But you’re telling me later if something is bothering you.”

In the store, Simon was all focus — testing the handles, checking how easily they folded, looking at storage space. Wille tried to keep up the enthusiasm, but his mind kept drifting: was Felice getting everything set up in time? Would Simon be okay with the surprise?

Finally, Simon found one he loved: sleek black with caramel leather accents, sturdy but stylish. “This is it,” he said, his eyes shining. “This is Leo’s ride.”

Wille smiled for real then, seeing Simon’s joy. They made the purchase, arranging delivery, and headed home.

…

Simon was chatting happily about how he couldn’t wait to take Leo out in the stroller when Wille unlocked the apartment door.

The door swung open — and Simon froze.

The entire apartment had been transformed. Blue and silver balloons bobbed on strings. A huge Congratulations Simon & Wille! banner hung over the windows. The table was laden with snacks, cupcakes with tiny baby footprints, and a cake shaped like a onesie. Gifts were piled high in the corner.

And surrounding it all — everyone.

“SURPRISE!” the crowd yelled together.

Simon blinked, stunned. For a split second, Wille’s heart leapt in worry. What if Simon hated it? What if this was too much?

But then Simon’s face broke into the biggest, brightest grin Wille had seen in months. His omega’s eyes sparkled with tears — but the happy kind.

“You guys…” Simon whispered, overwhelmed.

Felice bounced over, hugging him tightly. “I told Wille you’d love it!”

Simon laughed, hugging her back. “I do. I really do. Thank you.”

Wille let out the breath he’d been holding, sliding his arm around Simon’s shoulders. “You’re okay?”

Simon looked up at him, his cheeks flushed with happiness. “I’m more than okay. This is amazing.”

…

The afternoon was filled with warmth and laughter. Simon unwrapped gifts — soft blankets, tiny clothes, baby books. Rosh and Ayub gave him a baby hoodie. Linda gifted a baby monitor and a soft Swedish wool hat. Sara and August’s present was a baby carrier in soft grey linen.

Maddie had brought a little silver rattle.

There were silly games — like guessing how big Simon’s bump was with pieces of string, and a hilarious round of “pin the diaper on the baby” with a poster Felice had made.

Simon beamed through it all, touched that so many people wanted to share this with them.

At one point, Wille slipped behind him, resting both hands gently on Simon’s belly. “See? They all love you. And him,” he whispered.

Simon leaned back against him, feeling safe, surrounded by love.

…

When the guests were gone and the apartment was quiet again, Simon and Wille sat together on the couch, surrounded by gifts and balloons that had started to droop.

Simon rested his head on Wille’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“I didn’t do this,” Wille reminded him.

“No… but you let it happen. You know how much it means to me that everyone’s excited for Leo.”

Wille kissed the top of his head. “He’s already so loved.”

...

Chapter Text

Simon stood in front of his class, hands gently resting on his large belly. His students — a small group of eager young faces — sat cross-legged, watching him intently as he spoke.

“So,” Simon said, voice warm but a little tired, “I wanted to tell you that today will be my last day for a little while. I’m going to take some time off because…” He patted his belly gently. “Because our baby is almost ready to be born.”

There was a beat of silence — and then the entire class let out a collective, heartfelt “Awww!”

One of the children raised her hand. “We’ll miss you, Simon!”

Simon felt his heart clench with emotion. He smiled, blinking away the sting of tears. “I’ll miss you too. But I promise, I’ll come back — and maybe I’ll even bring the baby when I do.”

The children buzzed with excitement at that, asking a flurry of questions — boy or girl? What’s his name? Will he be cute? — and Simon answered as best he could, soaking in the love from the little ones he adored.

...

A few weeks later it was the end of May by now, Simon found himself walking into Vera’s clinic alone. Wille had called him, frustrated and apologetic, stuck in a meeting he couldn’t leave.

Simon waddled slightly as he made his way to the exam room. His body ached in places he didn’t know could ache, and he felt utterly drained — like his energy had seeped out along with the last of his patience.

Vera greeted him with a kind smile, helping him up onto the exam table.

“Well, Simon,” she said as she ran her hands expertly over his belly, listening with her Doppler. “Baby’s head is down, engaged. Everything looks great. You’re right at the finish line now.”

Simon let out a long breath. “Vera… is there anything I can do to help this along? I’m so tired. I don’t think I’ve slept more than an hour at a time in a week.”

Vera chuckled sympathetically. “I hear that a lot at this stage. Well — you can try long walks, see if gravity helps. Some people swear by spicy food. And… well,” she smiled knowingly, “sometimes being knotted helps stimulate labor.”

Simon flushed slightly but nodded. “Okay. I’ll try anything at this point.”

...

Over the next few days, Simon did everything he could think of.

He went on long, slow walks with Sara, their arms linked as she kept him company. They strolled through parks and quiet streets, Simon stopping every now and then to catch his breath or soothe an ache in his back.

When the walks didn’t bring anything on, Felice arrived at their door one evening, beaming mischievously and holding a bag from her favorite spicy restaurant.

“Don’t kill me if this backfires,” she warned with a grin as Simon sat down to try fiery curries and extra-spicy noodles.

Simon laughed, though the laughter soon turned into hiccups and fanning his mouth. Wille kept refilling his glass of milk, smiling fondly at how determined Simon was.

But the days turned into a week… and still, nothing.

...

It was the middle of the night when Simon finally reached his limit. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, tears of exhaustion pricking at his eyes. The baby rolled and shifted inside him, and Simon groaned softly, pressing his hand to his belly.

He glanced at Wille, sleeping peacefully beside him, and felt a wave of envy. Simon was beyond tired, beyond sore. The idea of enduring another sleepless night felt impossible.

Frustrated, overwhelmed, Simon nudged Wille’s shoulder. When that didn’t wake him, he almost kicked his alpha’s leg, desperate for attention.

“Wille,” he whispered, voice trembling, “Wille, please…”

Wille stirred, blinking sleepily, immediately sensing something was wrong. “Simon? What’s going on?”

Simon could hardly get the words out, tears sliding down his cheeks. “I need you to… to knot me. Now. Please. I can’t take this anymore. Vera said… she said it might help get things going…”

Wille pushed himself upright, alarmed. “Baby, are you okay? You’re crying.” He cupped Simon’s face gently.

Simon shook his head, breath hitching. “I’m just… tired. I’m so tired, Wille.”

Understanding flooded Wille’s face. He leaned in, kissing Simon’s forehead softly. “Okay. Okay, love. We’ll try.”

They shifted carefully, Wille helping Simon get as comfortable as possible, though nothing really was at this point. His omega’s body felt heavy and sore, his belly so big between them.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispered. “This probably isn’t even sexy at all…”

Wille smiled gently, brushing Simon’s hair back. “You’re always beautiful and sexy to me.”

Simon tried his best, urging Wille along as they moved together. But there was no real pleasure in it for him this time — he just wanted relief. He gripped Wille’s shoulders tightly, whispering, “Please… please just knot me, Wille.”

Wille did his best as his omega asked, holding him close as his knot finally swelled, locking them together.

And that’s when Simon felt it — a sudden pop, and a strange warmth.

He gasped, looking down, though his view was blocked by their joined bodies. When Wille’s knot eventually went down and he eased back slightly, Simon saw it — the unmistakable wetness spreading beneath him on the sheets.

His water had broken.

Simon’s eyes widened. “Wille…”

Wille followed his gaze, and for a second they just stared at each other. Then Wille grinned, adrenaline kicking in.

“It’s happening,” he said, voice full of wonder.

Simon let out a shaky laugh, half relief, half nerves. “It’s happening.”

...

Chapter Text

Wilhelm fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking with equal parts adrenaline and awe. Simon lay stunned on the bed, naked, damp, his arms wrapped protectively around his round belly as if trying to hold everything together.

Wilhelm pressed the number for their midwife, Vera. It barely rang once before she picked up.

“Wilhelm! Everything okay?”

He exhaled shakily, glancing back at Simon. “I think… I think his water just broke.”

There was a pause, then a warm laugh on the other end. “Congratulations. That’s a big moment. How’s Simon doing?”

Wilhelm watched as Simon blinked slowly at the ceiling, as if not quite present. “He’s… kind of in shock. Quiet. He’s holding his belly, just… lying there.”

Vera’s voice softened. “That’s normal. It’s a lot to process. Now listen closely—contractions may not start immediately, but they’ll come. You’ll need to time them when they do. When they are 15 min apart you’ll call me again and then you’ll go to the hospital. For now, the most important thing is rest. Especially for Simon. You’ll both need all the energy you can get.”

“Right. Okay. Rest.” Wilhelm nodded, even though she couldn’t see it.

“And Wilhelm?” Vera added, her tone almost maternal. “You’re doing great. Just be there for him.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly before ending the call.

He returned to the bed, gently crawling in next to his mate. Simon didn’t say anything when Wilhelm’s arms wrapped around him, but he turned slightly into the embrace.

“Vera says we should try to get some sleep,” Wilhelm whispered against his temple. “There’s still some time before things really get going.”

Simon blinked slowly again, then spoke, voice thin. “I don’t know if I can. My body feels… weird.”

Wilhelm kissed his damp curls, letting his fingers brush over Simon’s belly in slow, grounding strokes. “Let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”

Simon nodded faintly, but his breathing was still shallow and his muscles tense.

Wilhelm hesitated, then offered gently, “What if we take a warm shower first? Just to help you relax. Then I’ll change the sheets and make the bed fresh for us.”

Simon finally moved his head to look at him. “Will you please come with me?”

“Always.”

...

They stood under the gentle stream of warm water, steam curling around them like a cocoon. Wilhelm stood behind Simon, arms wrapped loosely around his omega’s waist, one hand resting just above the swell of his belly. Simon leaned back into his chest, eyes closed, letting the water run over his shoulders.

“Feels better,” he murmured after a while.

“Good,” Wilhelm said softly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “You’re doing so well.”

They stayed there for a long time, not speaking, just holding each other beneath the hush of falling water. When Simon’s legs began to tremble slightly, Wilhelm helped him out, dried them both gently, and guided him back to the bedroom.

The sheets were fresh after Wille’s quick work after the shower, the duvet fluffed and pulled back. Simon climbed in slowly, still a little dazed, and settled on his side. Wilhelm slid in behind him and curled around his body protectively, his hand back on Simon’s belly.

Within minutes, Simon’s breathing evened out. He’d finally slipped into sleep.

...

It was still dark when Wilhelm blinked awake. Something was different. He reached out—Simon wasn’t lying down anymore.

Instead, his omega sat on the edge of the bed, hunched slightly, one hand on the small of his back, the other gripping the mattress. His breaths came short and steady.

Wilhelm sat up quickly. “Simon?”

Simon didn’t answer right away, just kept breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Wilhelm moved closer, placing a hand gently on his back. “Are they starting?”

Simon nodded slowly, eyes wide in the low light. “I think… I think that was a contraction.”

Wilhelm’s heart thudded, but his voice stayed calm. “Okay. That’s good. That’s a good thing. Let’s start timing them.”

Simon gave a breathy laugh, half-disbelieving. “This is real. It’s really happening.”

Wilhelm kissed his shoulder again, grounding them both. “Yeah,” he said quietly, “it is. And we’re going to get through it together.”

Wilhelm shifted carefully, sitting up beside Simon on the edge of the bed. The soft gray light of early morning filtered through the curtains, wrapping the room in a quiet calm.

Simon looked up at him, still catching his breath from the recent contraction. His hand was steadying itself as he tapped the screen of Wilhelm’s phone.

“I already started the app,” Simon said, his voice a little hoarse but steady. “I put in the time when it started.”

Wilhelm smiled, reaching out to cover Simon’s hand with his own. “Good job.” He took the phone, checking the app’s interface where the timer was running. “I’ll keep an eye on it and log the duration. Just tell me when the next one starts, okay?”

Simon nodded and leaned forward to press a light kiss against Wilhelm’s cheek. “I will.”

They both sat quietly for a moment, letting the stillness settle around them like a warm blanket. Then, unexpectedly, Simon’s belly gave a loud, rumbling growl.

Wilhelm chuckled softly, his eyes bright with affection. “Hungry?”

Simon’s face flushed a soft pink as he gave a small, embarrassed smile. “A bit.”

“It’s important,” Wilhelm said gently. “You’ll need your strength.”

The two of them rose slowly and moved toward the kitchen, the house still peaceful in the early dawn. Wilhelm busied himself with a simple brunch—fluffy scrambled eggs, buttery toast, and a bowl of fresh fruit, the vibrant colors bright against the pale plates.

Simon sat at the table, rubbing his hands together to warm them as he took tentative bites. Though the contractions were mild for now, a low tension lingered in his belly.

As he finished his toast, a sudden contraction swept through him. His breath caught, and his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the table.

Wilhelm was instantly behind him, hands steady and reassuring on Simon’s hips. He began to massage the small of Simon’s back in slow, deliberate circles, the warmth of his touch soothing the ache.

“That helps,” Simon whispered between breaths, leaning back into Wilhelm’s chest, his skin flushed with effort.

Wilhelm lowered his lips to Simon’s temple. “One step at a time. You’re doing amazing.”

Simon closed his eyes, focusing on the steady rhythm of Wilhelm’s heartbeat, the security of his presence grounding him.

They stayed like that a little longer, wrapped in warmth and quiet strength, the soft morning light and simple kitchen smells a calm before what was to come.

…

Early morning light filtered through the curtains, pale and golden, wrapping the living room in a hush that made everything feel a little softer. The world outside was just starting to stir, but inside, time had slowed to something almost sacred.

Simon sat curled on the couch, a thick, warm blanket pulled up over his legs, one hand resting on the swell of his belly. He could still feel the baby shifting — lazy rolls, the occasional nudge against a rib — unaware or unbothered by the slow build of labor that had finally begun.

Across from him, Wilhelm was crouched on the living room floor with the hospital folder spread out again, flipping carefully through its pages like he hadn’t already read them three times in the last month.

Simon watched him for a few seconds, eyes fond, lips twitching. “Are you seriously reading that again?”

Wilhelm looked up, caught, cheeks tinged pink. “It’s just— I want to make sure we’re not forgetting anything.”

Simon snorted softly. “You could probably recite it by heart at this point.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Wilhelm muttered, turning a page. “There’s a whole section on skin-to-skin contact and the optimal ambient temperature of the delivery room—”

“—You’re adorable,” Simon interrupted, reaching for his water bottle. “Also slightly terrifying.”

Wilhelm grinned sheepishly but didn’t deny it. He set the folder down and stood, stretching his arms above his head before walking over to join Simon on the couch. He sat beside him, one hand resting automatically on Simon’s thigh, grounding them both.

There was a quiet beat between them. The last contraction had been about 35 minutes ago, and Simon could feel another one slowly building in the distance, like the tide beginning to shift. But for now, there was still peace.

“Should we tell people?” Simon asked, voice low.

Wilhelm turned to him. “The group?”

Simon nodded. “Feels weird not to. They’ll want to know.”

Wilhelm gave him an encouraging look. “Go ahead.”

Simon unlocked his phone and opened their group chat, titled Baby Watch 🍼 — a name Felice had insisted on weeks ago. He hesitated for a moment, then typed:

Morning  everyone 💕 My water broke a few hours ago. Contractions have started but are still 30–35 min apart. Nothing dramatic yet. Just hanging out and waiting. Will keep you posted!

He hit send, then placed the phone on the coffee table.

It didn’t take long.

Felice: SHUT UP IT’S HAPPENING
Sara: I’m crying into my tea
Ayub: We love you so much. You’re gonna crush this, Simon.
Rosh: Literally vibrating. Keep breathing, keep loving. We’re here.

Simon’s face softened as the screen lit up with reaction emojis and more messages. “They’re excited.”then his phone began buzzing. The screen lit up: Mamma.

He answered immediately. “Hi.”

“Oh baby,” Linda’s voice came through, warm and trembling with love. “Are you okay?”

Simon nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Yeah. I’m okay. Just… tired. And it feels weird. Not bad yet, just… like I’m waiting to jump off a cliff or something.”

Linda let out a small, teary laugh. “That’s normal, sweetheart. Your body’s doing something huge. Of course it feels strange.”

“The contractions aren’t bad. They’re still far apart.”

“Good. That gives you time. Just try to rest. Eat something if you can. Let Wilhelm take care of you.”

Simon looked at Wilhelm, who had moved back to the hospital bag, fussing gently over what looked like a pacifier container. “He’s doing great,” Simon said softly. “He keeps pretending he’s not anxious but he’s already packed the hospital bag three times.”

“I’m not surprised,” Linda said. “He adores you.”

Simon went quiet.

Linda spoke again, voice softer now. “Simon… I just wanted to tell you how proud I am. Of everything. Of the person you are. Of the parent you’re becoming. I wish I could be there holding your hand, but I know you’re in good hands. I’m with you anyway. In every breath, every moment.”

Simon blinked quickly, tears gathering. “I know. I feel you here.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They stayed on the line a few seconds longer before Linda whispered, “You’re going to meet your baby soon. Can you believe it?”

Simon let out a shaky breath. “No. But I’m ready.”

After he hung up, the apartment felt still again — but not empty. There was something beautiful hanging in the silence now. The knowledge that this was really happening. That they were on the edge of it.

Wilhelm looked up from the hospital bag. “Anything else you want packed?”

Simon hesitated, then said, “Yeah. Mr. Snuggles.”

Wilhelm raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

Simon shrugged. “He’s important. I want him there.”

“You want our son to meet my childhood teddy bear on day one?”

“Yes,” Simon said simply. “Because you grew up with him. And I want our son to grow up with something that meant something to you. I want him to know how loved he is. From the very first minute.”

Wilhelm didn’t say anything — just nodded once, he went into the nursery and returned shortly now carefully tucking the bear into the top of the bag like he was handling something sacred.

But before Simon could say anything more, a new contraction surged through his abdomen — stronger, deeper, and longer than before.

He gasped, grabbing the arm of the couch, eyes squeezing shut.

Wilhelm was at his side in an instant. “Breathe, love. I’m right here.”

Simon matched his rhythm, trying to ride the wave. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The pressure peaked, sharp and full, then slowly ebbed away.

Simon leaned back with a shaky exhale. “That one… that one was different.”

Wilhelm nodded. “They’re getting closer.”

Simon reached out, resting a hand on Wilhelm’s chest. “Thank you. For being you.”

Wilhelm leaned down and kissed his forehead, then his lips, lingering.

And as the sun rose fully outside, washing the apartment in warm gold, they sat there together — full of love and nerves and the deep, quiet knowing that everything was about to change.

And neither of them would face it alone.

…

The contractions were still far apart—nineteen minutes on average—but Simon was tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could solve. His entire body ached. His lower back throbbed in a low, persistent rhythm, and every few contractions seemed to squeeze deeper into him, stretching his patience thinner and thinner.

He was draped over the couch like a cat trying to melt into the cushions. One arm lay over his eyes while the other rubbed circles over the side of his belly in an almost subconscious motion. His legs were half-covered by the oversized blanket. His breath came in quiet sighs, slow and strained.

Wilhelm came in from the kitchen, carrying a glass of water. “How’s it feeling now?”

Simon groaned. “Like someone’s trying to crack open my pelvis with a crowbar. And they keep getting distracted mid-swing.”

Wilhelm set the glass on the coffee table and crouched beside the couch. “Want me to time the next one?”

Simon peeked at him from under his arm. “Not yet. Just… tell me it’s not going to be like this forever.”

Wilhelm kissed his knee through the blanket. “Not forever. Just long enough to help us meet our son.”

Simon didn’t smile. His eyes closed again. “You say that like it’s a prize. I love him, I really do. But he’s overstaying his welcome. I’d like to evict him now.”

Wilhelm reached up and pushed Simon’s curls back from his forehead. “Do you want a foot massage?”

Simon cracked one eye open. “Do I want a foot massage?”

Wilhelm tilted his head with a soft smile. “Bad question?”

“More like a stupid question,” Simon muttered. “I demand a foot massage. It’s part of the package deal, isn’t it? I carry your child, I’m giving birth to your child—I’m entitled to royal-level pampering.”

Wilhelm laughed and gently lifted the blanket. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

He took one of Simon’s feet in his hands and began rubbing his thumbs in slow, deep strokes along the sole. Simon made a quiet sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a groan.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Never leave me.”

Wilhelm smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his foot before switching to the other one. “You’re doing so well, baby. We’re getting there.”

Simon shifted, letting his head roll toward Wilhelm. “I don’t feel like I’m doing well. I just feel like I want to cry and throw things and then maybe cry some more.”

Wilhelm looked up, eyes full of quiet warmth. “Then do all that. I’ll still think you’re amazing.”

Simon looked away, blinking hard. “Don’t say things like that unless you want me to cry for real.”

“I don’t mind.” Wilhelm kissed his ankle. 

They stayed like that for a while—quiet, breathing, connected.

Eventually, Simon sat up slowly, wincing as his body shifted under the weight of his belly. “Okay. I have to pee. Again. I think the baby’s doing gymnastics on my bladder.”

Wilhelm helped him up, brushing the blanket off his legs. “Want help?”

“No, I’ve got it,” Simon said. “Just be ready for the next foot when I get back.”

He shuffled down the hall, one hand at the small of his back. The apartment was warm, familiar. Every step reminded him that the comfort of home was about to be replaced by sterile lights, monitors, and strangers. The thought made his stomach twist—but not as much as what he found in the bathroom.

He pulled down his underwear and paused.

There—on the fabric—was blood.

Not much. Just a streak. But it was dark, unmistakable.

His heart stopped. For a second, he couldn’t breathe.

“Wille?” he called, his voice shaking.

It only took a second before Wilhelm appeared in the doorway. “What? What is it?”

Simon turned slowly, showing what he just noticed “There’s blood.”

Wilhelm’s expression shifted instantly. His movements were calm, but he crossed the room fast, eyes dropping to the fabric.

“It’s not a lot,” Simon said quickly, his voice tight. “But it wasn’t there earlier. I didn’t do anything. I just sat down. It just—” His voice cracked. “What if something’s wrong?”

Wilhelm looked up and cupped his cheek. “Hey. Breathe. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” Simon whispered.

“I know,” Wilhelm murmured. “Let’s call Vera. Okay?”

Simon nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Okay.”

Wilhelm stepped out, grabbing his phone and returning to the bathroom. He put it on speaker so Simon could hear too.

Vera picked up on the second ring. “Wilhelm! I was just thinking of you two.”

“Hi. Uh—we just noticed some blood,” Wilhelm said, keeping his tone even. “Not a lot. Just a streak in Simon’s underwear.”

“Okay,” Vera said calmly. “That’s very common around this time. It’s usually a sign that the cervix is starting to change—especially if he’s lost part of the mucus plug. Has there been any fluid? Or just the blood?”

“No fluid,” Wilhelm said. “Just the blood. Contractions are about nineteen minutes apart.”

Vera paused, then continued gently. “Then you’re in early labor, which fits perfectly. You can absolutely stay home a little longer—but if the blood makes Simon anxious, we’re happy to have you come in and check everything. Just for peace of mind.”

There was a long pause. Wilhelm looked to Simon, whose eyes were glassy, his hands pressed against the bathroom counter.

“I want to go,” Simon said quietly. “I need to know he’s okay.”

Wilhelm nodded. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Good,” Vera said warmly. “We’ll be ready for you.”

When the call ended, Simon stood still for a long moment. “I know it’s probably nothing,” he said. “But the second I saw it… I just felt panic. Like something broke.”

Wilhelm stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling him in gently. “You’re not broken. You’re okay. And so is he.”

Simon leaned back against him, his whole body sinking into the safety of Wilhelm’s embrace.

After a while, they moved back into the living room. Wilhelm zipped up the hospital bag, double-checked the chargers and snacks, and made sure everything was ready to go. Simon changed into something loose and warm, a soft sweatshirt that hung low over his belly. He moved slowly, every step now cautious and deliberate.

At the door, they paused together.

Simon looked around the apartment one last time. The half-drunk cup of tea. The blanket still on the couch.

“This is the last time it’ll be just us here,” Simon said quietly.

Wilhelm stepped beside him and reached out his hand.

“You ready?” he asked.

Simon looked at him, his hand, his eyes, then slowly took it.

“Ask me again.”

Wilhelm smiled. “Are you ready for us to become a family of three?”

Simon exhaled a shaky breath. “Yes,” he said. “Let’s go meet him.”

And together, they stepped out into the hallway, their fingers intertwined, hearts full and trembling. The door closed behind them with a soft click, and the quiet of their home gave way to the world waiting ahead.

…

Chapter Text

The car was quiet—too quiet, considering what they were heading into.

Wilhelm gripped the steering wheel with both hands, knuckles tight, trying to keep his eyes steady on the road. He didn’t want to go too fast, but every red light felt like a personal attack. Every slow driver in front of them might as well have been a villain in a movie. But he didn’t say any of that. He just kept driving.

Beside him, Simon sat curled up in the passenger seat, both hands resting protectively over his belly. He wore one of Wilhelm’s sweatshirts, sleeves pulled down over his hands, his hood up like he was bracing himself against the weight of it all. His face was pale and quiet. Not panicked. But tense.

They’d only been in the car for ten minutes, but it felt like an hour.

Another red light. The car idled.

Simon let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t like this.”

Wilhelm glanced over. “The traffic?”

Simon shook his head slowly. “This part. The not-knowing. Not knowing if it’s really happening yet. Not knowing if he’s okay. Not knowing how bad it’s going to get.”

Wilhelm reached over and gently placed a hand over Simon’s thigh. “We’re doing exactly what Vera told us. We’re going in. They’ll check everything. And I’m with you every step.”

Simon nodded but didn’t speak for a moment. He kept one hand resting over his stomach. The baby shifted under his palm.

“I thought I’d feel more excited,” he admitted quietly. “But mostly I feel like I might throw up.”

Wilhelm’s thumb stroked slowly over the fabric of Simon’s joggers. “That’s allowed.”

Simon turned his head toward the window, eyes tracking the passing streetlights. “I thought about this so many times. Us driving to the hospital. I pictured it being dramatic. Like movie-level chaos. But now it just feels... heavy.”

Wilhelm smiled faintly. “There’s still time for chaos.”

Simon huffed out a short laugh. “Don’t jinx it.”

They stopped at another light. Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening the contraction timer. He hesitated.

“That last one was fifteen minutes ago,” he said softly. “We should be close to another one.”

Wilhelm looked at him carefully. “Are you in pain now?”

Simon shook his head. “Just pressure. Tightness. But not bad. It’s manageable.”

They drove on in silence for a moment, the city slowly thinning around them as they neared the hospital district. The sky was starting to dim with evening, washing everything in shades of blue and violet.

Wilhelm spoke again, softer now. “I remember when we found out. When you showed me the tests.”

Simon turned to him, a flicker of a smile breaking through. “You looked like you got struck by lightning.”

“I felt like it.”

They both laughed, the sound soft but genuine.

Simon’s breath caught for a second. Then he reached over and wrapped his fingers around Wilhelm’s wrist.

“I’m scared, Wille,” he whispered. “What if I can’t do this?”

Wilhelm pulled his hand from the wheel and took Simon’s fully in his own. “You can do this. I’ve never been more sure of anything. And when you forget—because you might—I’ll be there to remind you. Every minute.”

Simon closed his eyes for a long second. When he opened them again, there was a glint of moisture.

“I’m going to ruin your hoodie,” he murmured.

Wilhelm smiled. “It’s yours anyway.”

They turned the final corner toward the hospital, the building glowing warm and tall against the blueing sky. Simon shifted a little in his seat and winced faintly.

“Okay. Contraction’s starting.”

Wilhelm quickly pulled over to the side of the road near the entrance, parking in the short-term zone. He turned in his seat to face Simon, whose hands were clenched gently on his thighs, breathing slow and focused.

“You’ve got this,” Wilhelm murmured, his palm pressing softly into Simon’s lower back.

“I hate this part,” Simon muttered through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to do this for the next—God, however long.”

“You’re already doing it,” Wilhelm said. “And you’re doing it so well.”

Simon didn’t speak, just focused on breathing through it. The contraction passed within a minute, easing slowly, leaving him tired but upright.

He let out a long breath. “Okay. One down, a thousand more to go.”

Wilhelm kissed his forehead. “I’ll count with you.”

Together, they climbed out of the car. Wilhelm grabbed the hospital bag from the backseat and looped the strap over his shoulder. Simon steadied himself against the open door for a second, catching his breath.

They stood side by side, staring at the automatic doors ahead.

“Once we go in there…” Simon started.

“I know,” Wilhelm said.

Simon took a long, shaky breath. Then he reached for Wilhelm’s hand and laced their fingers together tightly.

“Let’s go,” he whispered.

And they walked forward together, step by slow step, toward the start of everything.

…

The sliding doors to the hospital’s maternity wing parted with a soft hiss as Wilhelm and Simon stepped inside. The late summer sky outside had dipped into twilight, leaving the world tinted in deep blue. But the fluorescent lighting inside was warm, calm, and quiet — a bubble of stillness amid the rising storm of nerves swirling between them.

Simon shifted beside Wilhelm, one hand resting on his belly. He looked pale but focused, cheeks flushed slightly from the latest contraction they’d timed in the car.

Wilhelm guided him gently up to the reception desk, where a kind-looking nurse sat, her glasses perched low on her nose. She looked up with a smile the moment they approached.

“Checking in?” she asked, voice kind and efficient.

“Yes,” Wilhelm said. “Simon Eriksson.”

Simon exhaled softly as the nurse typed into her computer.

“Ah, yes — we have you here. Your midwife, Vera Lindgren, is expecting you. If you’ll just follow that hallway straight down, Exam Room Two is prepped for you.”

“Thank you,” Simon murmured, his voice tight with nerves.

Wilhelm offered a grateful nod, then gently took Simon’s hand as they walked together down the hallway. Their sneakers squeaked faintly on the polished floor. The soft hum of hospital life filled the air — quiet voices, distant footsteps, the faint beeping of machines behind closed doors.

Exam Room Two was lit softly, more muted than Simon expected — a small mercy, considering how raw his body felt. There was a padded exam bed, a monitor tucked against the wall, and a few comfortable chairs scattered near the window.

They had barely stepped inside before the door opened behind them and Vera entered with her usual calming presence.

“There you are,” she said warmly, closing the door behind her. “Hi, Simon. Wilhelm.”

“Hi,” Simon said, managing a nervous smile.

Wilhelm helped Simon change into a hospital gown and then sit down on the exam bed while Vera washed her hands and pulled on gloves.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Tired,” Simon admitted. “The contractions are stronger now. Still spaced out, but… I don’t know. It feels different.”

“Let’s take a look,” Vera said, already moving efficiently. “We’ll start by checking the baby’s heartbeat, and then I’ll do a quick scan and a cervical check to see where you’re at.”

Wilhelm moved to stand beside Simon, lacing their fingers together as Vera applied a small amount of gel to Simon’s belly and placed the Doppler against his skin. After a few seconds, the room filled with the fast, steady rhythm of their baby’s heartbeat.

Simon closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. The sound never failed to settle something in him.

“He sounds perfect,” Vera said with a smile, wiping away the gel. “Let’s follow that up with a quick scan just to confirm positioning.”

She pulled over the small ultrasound machine and began her work. The monitor lit up with the blurry, moving image of their son — head down, curled in tight, his heartbeat flickering visibly.

“He’s doing exactly what he should.” she confirmed.

Wilhelm squeezed Simon’s hand.

“Alright,” Vera said, turning off the machine. “Last thing — internal check. Is that okay?”

Simon nodded, lips pressed together.

She helped him ease back slightly, offering calm instruction as she checked for dilation. Simon winced but kept his breathing steady, Wilhelm murmuring softly by his ear.

Then Vera smiled.

“Well,” she said, sitting back. “I have good news. You’re already at six centimeters.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

Wilhelm straightened slightly. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Vera said. “You’ve done a lot of the work already. That’s why the bleeding earlier happened — your cervix is really changing. You’re in active labor now.”

Simon laughed — a shocked, disbelieving sound. “I thought it was just... early labor dragging on forever.”

“Nope,” Vera said with a grin. “You’ve been progressing beautifully. I’m going to have you moved to a birth suite. It’s more spacious and private — you can settle in there for the next stretch. Once we reach ten centimeters, we’ll be ready to welcome your son into the world. But for now, you’re doing exactly what you need to.”

Simon nodded slowly, absorbing the words. His lips trembled slightly, overwhelmed with the news and the exhaustion threading through him. “Okay.”

Vera touched his arm gently. “You’re doing so well, Simon. We’ll get you comfortable and monitored in the next room.”

Wille reached down and stroked Simon’s cheek. “You’re already halfway there,” he whispered.

Simon gave him a watery smile. “Don’t say halfway. I need to believe we’re at least almost done.”

Wilhelm chuckled softly and kissed his forehead. “Fine. Three-quarters.”

“Deal.”

A nurse came in with a wheelchair, though Simon insisted on walking, and Wilhelm stayed close at his side as they followed her out of the room and down the corridor toward the birth suite — their pace slow, deliberate, heavy with meaning.

Everything was shifting now.

Their baby was on his way.

…

The birth suite was quiet, calm, and surprisingly homey.

Muted tones softened the walls, and a tall window let in the last purple hues of the summer evening. The bed in the center looked more like something from a boutique hotel than a hospital — wide, adjustable, layered with crisp white sheets and a stack of fresh towels nearby. A recliner stood in the corner, clearly meant for Wilhelm, along with a table stocked with water bottles, wipes, and snacks. Low lighting hummed gently overhead.

Simon stood still in the doorway for a long moment, hand resting on the top curve of his belly. He looked around slowly, then turned his head to Wilhelm with wide, unreadable eyes.

Wilhelm stepped up behind him, resting a hand on his back. “It’s nice, right?”

Simon nodded. “It’s… real now.”

Wilhelm offered a small, steady smile. “Yeah. This is where he’s coming into the world.”

Simon slowly stepped into the room. A nurse was waiting for them and gently explained how to use the adjustable bed, where the bathroom was, where to find fresh linens. Vera would be back shortly to check in, she said, and then left them to settle.

The moment the door closed, the silence wrapped around them.

Simon exhaled slowly and made his way to the bed. “I can’t believe I’m already six centimeters.”

“I can,” Wilhelm said, walking toward the small couch by the wall and dropping their hospital bag onto it. “You’ve been working through so much today.”

Simon sat down carefully, rubbing a hand over his thigh. “Do you think it’ll happen fast now?”

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm admitted, crouching in front of him and unlacing his shoes gently. “But no matter how long it takes, I’m here. We’ll get through it.”

Simon stared at him as he pulled the shoes off. “You’re really good at this.”

“At taking off your shoes?” Wilhelm teased.

“At this,” Simon murmured. “All of it. You’re calm. Steady. Making me feel like I can do this.”

Wilhelm rested his hands on Simon’s knees and looked up at him. “Because you can do this.”

Simon swallowed hard. “What if something goes wrong?”

Wilhelm’s gaze softened. “Then we deal with it. We trust Vera. We trust the team. And we trust your body, because look how far it’s already carried him.”

Simon nodded, the emotion catching tight in his throat. “I feel like I’m at the edge of a cliff.”

Wilhelm reached up and cupped his cheek. “Then I’m your rope. And I’m not letting go.”

Simon leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

A low contraction started to build — deeper than before, heavier — and Simon tensed a little. Wilhelm could see it in the way his shoulders hunched forward and his breathing quickened.

“Breathe through it, love,” Wilhelm said, already moving to stand behind him on the bed. “You want to lean forward? Or onto me?”

Simon nodded, shifting slowly so Wilhelm could sit behind him. He leaned into his alpha’s chest, arms curled around his belly while Wilhelm massaged his lower back with careful pressure.

“Here?” Wilhelm asked, pressing his thumbs into the small of Simon’s back.

“Mmm—yes, right there,” Simon breathed, voice tight but grateful.

They stayed like that until the wave passed. Simon slumped slightly, head falling back against Wilhelm’s shoulder. “God, that one was longer.”

Wilhelm looked at the contraction timer on his phone. “Nine minutes since the last.”

Simon groaned. “No wonder. That one felt like it was doing something.”

Wilhelm pressed a kiss into Simon’s hair. “That’s good. Let it do its job.”

They took a few minutes after that to drink some water, rearrange the blankets on the bed, and take stock of what they had. Wilhelm pulled out their phone chargers, snacks, and Simon’s favorite lip balm. He even found the Bluetooth speaker they’d packed.

“I made a playlist,” he said, holding it up like it was a treasure.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “You made a playlist?”

Wilhelm grinned. “Birth Suite Vibes. You’ll love it.”

Simon snorted. “You’re such a sap.”

“You married me.”

“I did.” Simon glanced toward the door and then added, “And I’m really glad you’re the one here. For all of this.”

Wilhelm softened. “Me too.”

Another contraction started to build, and this time Simon shifted off the bed to stand, bracing himself on the edge of the mattress while he breathed. Wilhelm stood behind him again, pressing slow, even pressure into his hips just like they learned in the birth class. Simon was too deep in the contraction to comment — but when it passed, he let out a shaky breath and whispered, “That class wasn’t a total disaster, I guess.”

Wilhelm chuckled. “Still think I was just showing off with the diaper demo?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Simon said. “You did it one-handed like you were auditioning for a parenting magazine.”

Wilhelm smiled and kissed the back of his neck. “I just want you to be impressed.”

Simon turned slightly and kissed him, slow and full of quiet gratitude.

There was a knock on the door just as they broke apart, and Vera stepped back inside, clipboard in hand.

“Contractions picking up?” she asked, already scanning Simon’s expression.

“They’re definitely getting closer,” Wilhelm said.

“Let’s do a quick check again in a little while, but for now — keep moving, keep breathing. If you feel like getting in the tub for a while, just let me know.”

Simon nodded. “Thanks.”

Vera left again, giving them space — and the silence settled again, heavier this time. More real.

Simon sat back on the bed, breathing deep.

“I think I’m really doing this,” he whispered.

Wilhelm sat beside him and took his hand.

“You are,” he said. “And I’ve never been more proud of you in my life.”

Simon let the words wash over him, and for the first time that evening, his eyes brimmed with quiet, overwhelmed tears.

Not from fear.

But from knowing they were really, truly almost there.

…

The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp near the recliner and the glow of the city lights filtering through the window. The rest of the hospital had gone hushed, reduced to a steady hum of distant footsteps and soft beeps in the hall. Somewhere down the corridor, a baby cried. Then silence again.

Simon couldn’t sleep.

He’d tried.

After settling into the birth suite hours earlier, he’d curled into the nest Wilhelm had made on the hospital bed: extra pillows at his back, soft blanket tucked around him, warm socks, sips of water between contractions. Wilhelm had stayed curled beside him the entire time, letting Simon rest against his chest, whispering calm encouragement into his hair.

But now it was past midnight, and the contractions weren’t letting him rest.

They were deeper now. Low and dragging, like a thick chain being pulled through his body. His belly tightened with each one, his breath stuttering until he found a rhythm again. The space between them had shrunk. No longer twenty minutes. No longer even ten.

Wilhelm stirred when Simon shifted and winced again, his brow furrowing as the next wave built inside him.

“Babe?” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Simon’s hand shot out blindly, grabbing Wilhelm’s wrist as he breathed in, deep and sharp. “Okay. Okay. It’s another one.”

Wilhelm was instantly awake. He slid upright in bed, helping Simon sit forward just as the contraction crested. Simon leaned over his knees, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, face pale and focused.

Wilhelm moved behind him, pressing steady palms into Simon’s hips. “Breathe, baby. Just like we practiced. That’s it…”

The silence was filled with the sound of Simon’s breathing — hard, open, trying not to panic. It felt like pressure was blooming in his lower spine now, expanding through his hips like heat.

It passed. Slowly. Reluctantly.

Simon slumped forward, arms trembling, and let out a low groan.

Wilhelm looked at the app again. “That one lasted a minute. They’re six minutes apart now.”

Simon nodded but didn’t speak right away. He reached for his water bottle and took a sip with shaking fingers.

“I feel like I’m losing track of time,” he said hoarsely.

Wilhelm wiped the sweat from his hairline with a cool cloth. “That’s okay. You don’t have to know what time it is. I’ll keep track of everything. You just breathe.”

“I’m trying,” Simon whispered, resting his hand over his belly. “But it’s starting to feel like… like everything’s stretching inside me. Like my body’s not mine anymore.”

Wilhelm kissed his temple. “It’s still yours. It’s working. Every ache is him moving closer.”

Simon blinked, eyes shiny. “It just hurts so much more now.”

“I know,” Wilhelm murmured. “You’re doing so well.”

Simon turned to face him then — cheeks flushed, hair damp, eyes tired but steady. “Can we try the bath?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Wilhelm was already on his feet.

He helped Simon up gently, keeping an arm around his waist as they walked together toward the private bathroom. Simon leaned heavily into him with each step, breath catching in his chest.

The bathroom was small but clean, with a wide tub built into the wall. Wilhelm turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was warm, not too hot. He added a few drops of the calming lavender oil they'd packed, the scent blooming into the air like a sigh.

Simon undressed slowly, leaning against the tiled wall as Wilhelm helped him step into the water. Once inside, Simon let out a soft gasp as the heat enveloped him.

“Oh my god… okay. That’s… better.”

He leaned back against the curved edge, arms resting on either side, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Wilhelm knelt beside the tub, one hand on Simon’s forearm, the other gently trailing over the surface of the water.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered.

Simon cracked an eye open. “You’ve said that at least five times tonight.”

“Then I’ve said it five times too few.”

Simon smiled faintly, but it faded quickly when another contraction began to build. He tensed, breath hitching, then curled forward slightly, gripping the side of the tub.

Wilhelm rubbed his arm, murmuring steady, grounding words as the wave passed.

When it was over, Simon leaned his forehead against Wilhelm’s shoulder, water dripping from his skin. “I think I’m scared now.”

Wilhelm turned his face and kissed the side of Simon’s head. “That’s okay too. You don’t have to be brave. You just have to be you. And let me carry whatever part you can’t.”

Simon was quiet for a long moment, letting the water calm his muscles again. Then, softly: “Don’t let go of me.”

“Never,” Wilhelm said instantly.

They stayed like that for a while — Simon in the tub, Wilhelm beside him, their fingers linked underwater, the clock ticking somewhere in the background. Every contraction brought their baby closer. Every breath was a countdown.

And though the pain was growing sharper, the room remained wrapped in something sacred — fragile and strong and wholly theirs.

The quiet before the final storm.

…

The night had deepened, the shadows folding into the corners of the birth suite as Simon lay curled back on the bed, Wilhelm never far from his side. The contractions were relentless now — sharper, closer, pulling at every fiber of Simon’s body until it felt like he was stretched thin.

Wilhelm kept his hands busy — massaging, holding, steadying — whispering reminders of strength and calm between Simon’s labored breaths.

After what felt like an eternity wrapped in waves of pain and quiet support, Vera returned, clipboard in hand and a reassuring smile. She moved with practiced grace, sitting beside Simon as he braced himself once more.

“Ready for another check?” she asked gently.

Simon nodded, swallowing hard.

Wilhelm held Simon’s hand tightly as Vera began her exam, her expression focused.

A moment later, she pulled off her gloves and met their eyes.

“Well,” she said, voice warm but brisk, “you’re at ten centimeters. Fully dilated. You’re ready.”

Simon’s breath hitched, a flood of relief and exhaustion washing over him. His eyes searched Wilhelm’s.

“We’re really here,” Wilhelm whispered, voice thick with emotion. “This is it.”

Simon nodded slowly, mouth dry but smiling through the pain. “Finally.”

…

The room buzzed with quiet urgency as Vera and a nurse moved swiftly but calmly around the birth suite, laying out fresh linens, adjusting monitors, and preparing the tools they might need. The soft hum of machines blended with the steady beeping of the fetal monitor, tracking their son’s heartbeat.

Wilhelm stayed close to Simon’s side, hand never leaving his omega’s. His eyes were filled with steady reassurance as he brushed damp hair back from Simon’s forehead and whispered, “You’re almost there, love. I’m right here.”

Vera crouched near the bed, meeting Simon’s gaze. “Alright, Simon. When this next contraction comes, I want you to push for me, okay?”

Simon swallowed hard, a knot of fear tightening in his chest. “I… I don’t know how to push,” he admitted quietly, voice trembling.

Vera’s smile was gentle but confident. “You’ll know when it’s time. Your body knows what to do.”

The seconds stretched taut. Then the familiar tightening curled low in Simon’s belly, sharp and insistent. His breath hitched and Wilhelm squeezed his hand, grounding him.

“Here it comes,” Vera said softly. “When you feel the pressure, take a deep breath, hold it, and push. Like you’re having a bowel movement — it’s your body’s instinct.”

Simon nodded, eyes squeezed shut as the contraction rolled through, fierce and unrelenting. He gathered every shred of strength, gripping Wilhelm’s hand so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“Push, Simon. Push,” Vera encouraged.

He did.

The muscles around his pelvis burned as he bore down, sweat sliding down his temples. The nurse leaned in, voice calm but excited. “I can see the head!”

Wilhelm’s thumb stroked Simon’s palm, voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well, baby. Almost there.”

Another contraction surged through Simon, deeper, stronger. His body clenched, every fiber trembling as he pushed again, driven by a raw mixture of pain and hope.

Then, a sudden shift — a wet, warm sensation as their son crowned, the miracle of life making its way into the world.

Vera’s voice was soft but clear. “One more push, Simon. You’re doing perfect.”

Simon summoned his last reserves, muscles tightening and releasing in one powerful surge.

With a final, exhausted cry, their son was born.

Vera lifted him quickly but carefully, gently drying him with a warm towel. Then, before Simon could catch his breath, she laid the tiny, wriggling newborn directly onto Simon’s bare chest.

“Looks who’s here, Simon,” Vera whispered with a smile.

Simon gasped, tears streaming down his cheeks as he felt the warmth of their son against him. The baby’s tiny fingers curled instinctively around Simon’s hand, his delicate face scrunching as he adjusted to the new world.

Wilhelm leaned over, kissing Simon’s damp forehead. The proud alpha full of tears in his eyes “Our boy.”

Simon’s laugh broke through his tears, a mix of pure joy and disbelief. “Leo…”

As their son rested against Simon’s chest, tiny breaths syncing with his own, the room held a sacred quiet — a perfect, fragile beginning to their new life as a family.

…

...

Chapter Text

The room smelled faintly of lavender, warm towels, and the unmistakable sweetness of newborn skin. Simon’s arms trembled, not from exertion anymore, but from awe — the kind of awe that left your lungs full and empty at once.

Leo was pressed against his chest, he was in a soft hospital blanket but still skin-to-skin, his little body curled instinctively into Simon’s warmth like he knew exactly where he belonged. His breaths came out in tiny huffs, warm puffs against Simon’s collarbone, and his fist had found a home just beneath Simon’s chin.

Simon stared down, his eyes wide and glassy. He had imagined this moment. Dreamed of it. But nothing could’ve prepared him for the weight of it — not Leo’s physical weight, though he felt solid and real against him, but the emotional one. The love that clutched his chest so tightly he could hardly breathe.

Wilhelm sat beside him on the edge of the bed, his hand resting gently on Simon’s thigh. His eyes were locked on Leo too, wonder and pride etched in every line of his face.

“He’s…” Simon whispered, voice wrecked with emotion. “He’s perfect.”

“He really is,” Wilhelm said, barely more than a breath.

Simon touched the baby’s cheek, just a brush of his knuckles. Leo made a soft noise, his lips puckering and his nose twitching like he was dreaming already. Simon’s laugh cracked apart halfway through, wet with tears.

Wilhelm leaned in, kissing the side of Simon’s face. “You did it. You really did it.”

“I still can’t believe he’s here,” Simon said. “He was inside me, and now… he’s right here.”

“You’re incredible,” Wilhelm murmured.

They sat like that for a long moment — the three of them wrapped in stillness and afterglow. Time seemed to stretch, suspended around them, cradling their little family in something sacred.

Then came the gentle knock and quiet entrance of a nurse.

“Simon?” she said softly, clipboard hugged to her chest. “When you’re ready, I’d like to take him for just a moment to get his measurements.”

Simon’s arms instinctively tightened around Leo. His whole body tensed.

He looked down at his son, then up at the nurse, then at Wilhelm and Vera standing nearby. A silent alarm was ringing inside him, some primal need to hold on — just a little longer. Not yet.

The nurse didn’t move closer. She waited.

Vera stepped in with calm reassurance. “He’ll be in good hands and back with you before you know it, I promise. Just a couple minutes.”

Wilhelm shifted, sensing the hesitation. He rested a hand on Simon’s knee again, grounding him. “I’ll stay close.”

Simon swallowed hard. He knew it was silly — it was just a routine check, and it needed to happen. But the thought of letting Leo out of his arms, even for a second, made his chest ache.

Still, he nodded slowly and whispered, “Okay. Just… please be careful.”

The nurse smiled gently. “Always.”

She stepped forward and lifted Leo from Simon’s arms with practiced tenderness. The moment he was gone, Simon’s arms felt hollow, his chest too light. He reached instinctively for Wilhelm’s hand, lacing their fingers.

Wilhelm brought it to his lips and kissed it.

Vera approached again, her voice a gentle nudge. “Simon, you’ll start to feel a mild contraction soon — it’s time for the placenta.”

Simon blinked like he was waking from a dream. “Right. Okay.”

She guided him gently to adjust his posture, and just as promised, another wave came — not as intense as the labor contractions, but enough to pull a sharp breath from his lungs. A few pushes later, and Vera helped Simon deliver the placenta, setting it aside with practiced efficiency.

“Well done,” she said, nodding. “You’re really done now.”

Simon let out a shaky breath, his body sinking deeper into the pillows. But before he could fully settle, Vera spoke again, more gently this time.

“You’ve got a small tear,” she said, placing a soft hand on his thigh. “It’s nothing serious, but it’ll be best to stitch it up now to help you heal well. I’ll have one of the nurses come in and take care of that shortly.”

Simon nodded without really responding. He didn’t care. All he could think about was the sound of Leo’s tiny cry from across the room.

A few minutes passed, and the nurse returned, baby in arms, wrapped up again and squirming gently.

Simon lit up, arms outstretched immediately.

“He did great,” the nurse said. “He weighs 3.3 kilos and is 50 centimeters long. Strong little lungs, too.”

Simon cradled Leo against his chest again, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath the whole time. The baby calmed the moment he was back in his papa’s arms, nestling into Simon’s skin as if nothing else existed.

Wilhelm, sitting now in the nearby chair, leaned in closer. He smiled at the way Simon curled around their son, his face flushed and tear-streaked but glowing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so… Glowing,” Wilhelm said quietly.

Simon looked up, his lashes damp. “I didn’t know I could love someone this much.”

Wilhelm reached out, brushing a finger gently across Leo’s cheek. “I’ll never stop thanking you for him.”

Simon looked at him for a moment — raw, open — and whispered, “Thank you, too. For holding me through all of this.”

Wilhelm leaned forward and kissed him, soft and slow, with the weight of everything they had just lived through behind it.

Leo slept between them, his small chest rising and falling with quiet trust.

They stayed like that in the soft glow of the birth suite — Simon aching but whole, Wilhelm holding them both with steady pride, and Leo completing the circle that was now a family.

…

The soft lull of the birth suite had deepened into a hush. Outside the windows, the sun had climbed just enough to bathe the room in warm golden light. Simon rested on the bed with Leo tucked peacefully against his chest, their breaths rising and falling in unison. Wilhelm sat nearby in a chair, quiet and alert, never letting his eyes stray far from them.

It had been a couple of hours since Leo entered the world, and the three of them had sunk into that rare in-between time — too full of everything to speak, too overwhelmed to move. But now, the knock at the door stirred them gently.

Another nurse entered, kind and efficient, carrying a small medical tray.

“Hi again, Simon. I’m here to take care of those stitches,” she said with a gentle smile. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”

Simon tensed slightly, eyes flickering to Leo — fast asleep on his chest — then to Wilhelm.

Wilhelm sat up straighter.

Simon looked at him with a soft expression. “Do you… want to hold him?”

Wilhelm’s mouth parted in surprise. “Me? Now?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah. I think it’s time.”

For a moment, Wilhelm froze — his heart jumping in his chest. “I mean—yes. Of course I want to.”

The nurse smiled at the two of them. “Skin-to-skin would be ideal. Babies love it — it helps regulate their body temperature and heartbeat.”

Wilhelm nodded, suddenly more focused. He stood quickly and pulled off his hoodie and T-shirt in one go, folding them over the chair with shaking hands. He looked both nervous and moved beyond words, like he’d just been handed something sacred.

The nurse stepped in gently to assist. “Here, let me help you take him.”

Simon kissed Leo’s soft temple once, murmured something quietly against his tiny ear, and then let the nurse carefully lift him and transfer him to Wilhelm’s arms.

Leo barely stirred, but his body shifted slightly as he nestled against his other father’s bare chest. Wilhelm looked down at his son with awe, one large hand supporting Leo’s back, the other resting lightly over his legs.

Simon leaned back on the bed, biting his lip as he watched them. “You look… right. Like he’s always belonged there.”

Wilhelm blinked down at the baby. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified to hold something. He’s so small.”

“He’s yours,” Simon whispered. 

As the nurse began the stitching, Simon gritted his teeth — not from pain, but from effort. He tried to focus on Wilhelm, on Leo. The sting of the needle, the slight pulling sensation — it faded into the background while he watched his alpha cradle their child.

Wilhelm had sat back down now, his arms a protective shell around the newborn. He moved in slow, careful motions, rocking slightly even though Leo wasn’t crying.

“Still with me, Simon?” the nurse asked gently.

“Yeah,” Simon said, breathless. “I’m good. Just… watching.”

She gave a warm smile. “Almost done.”

A few more moments passed. When she finished, she cleaned up and quietly excused herself. “I’ll be back with some breakfast for both of you. You’ve earned it.”

The door clicked softly behind her, and for a moment it was quiet again.

Simon lay back against the pillows. His body ached — in strange places and familiar ones. His mind was fogged from hormones and exhaustion, but his heart… his heart was painfully full.

Wilhelm turned slightly in the chair, Leo still pressed warm and sleepy to his chest. “How are you feeling?”

Simon’s lips parted. No words came.

Instead, the tears did.

At first just one or two, slipping down his cheeks in silence. Then more. His shoulders trembled as a sob escaped him — not of pain, but of something deeper.

Wilhelm was up in an instant, still holding Leo securely as he stepped close to the bed. “Hey… hey, are you okay? Is it pain? Should I call someone?”

Simon shook his head quickly, wiping his eyes. “No. No, I’m okay. I promise.”

Wilhelm crouched beside the bed, worry etched in every line of his face. “What is it?”

Simon’s voice broke as he spoke, his hand reaching out to brush Leo’s back. “It’s just… seeing you like that. With him. I’m so happy. I didn’t know I could feel this much.”

Wilhelm’s throat bobbed. “Oh, Simon…”

“I’m just so in love with both of you,” Simon whispered, the tears falling freely now. “That’s all it is.”

Wilhelm leaned in, pressing a kiss to Simon’s lips, then his cheek, then his brow. “Then we match. Because that’s exactly how I feel.”

Simon laughed through his tears, tired but soft. “I think we’re going to be okay.”

Wilhelm rested his forehead gently against Simon’s. “More than okay.”

Leo stirred between them, his tiny mouth opening in a yawn, as if adding his own sleepy agreement.

And in that moment — between the tears, the warmth of new skin, and the hush of early morning — a family bloomed quietly into the world.

…

The soft clink of cutlery on porcelain was the only sound filling the warm birth suite, accompanied by the distant hum of the hospital hallway outside. A small breakfast tray sat on the movable table between Wilhelm and Simon — soft rolls, scrambled eggs, fruit, and two mugs of hot tea they kept forgetting to sip.

Simon sat propped up in bed, the blankets tucked around his waist, his arms full of something far more important than the food: Leo.

Their son lay bundled in his swaddle, blinking sleepily, his little mouth opening and closing as he nuzzled toward Simon’s chest.

“I think he’s getting hungry,” Simon said softly, his eyes never leaving Leo’s face.

Wilhelm leaned forward, smiling. “That’s our cue.”

Earlier, the nurse had explained that they’d be bottle-feeding for now, and had left a tiny sterilized bottle of formula in the room fridge. Wilhelm moved across the room quietly, retrieving it and shaking the bottle gently in his hand before passing it to Simon.

Simon accepted it carefully, holding it like it was made of glass. Leo squirmed gently in his arms, his nose wrinkling with a soft fussing sound.

“Hey, little one,” Simon murmured, “Ready for your first meal?”

With Wilhelm's help adjusting Leo’s position, Simon guided the bottle to their baby’s mouth. Instinct kicked in almost immediately — Leo latched around the teat with surprising strength, suckling eagerly.

Simon let out a breathless laugh. “Oh my god, he knows what he’s doing better than I do.”

Wilhelm pulled his chair closer to the bed and watched in amazement. “I think he might be part alpha with that grip.”

They ate their own breakfast slowly between bottle feedings and soft kisses exchanged across the duvet. The food helped restore some energy, but the real nourishment came from the small, perfect family wrapped in the quiet.

A soft knock on the door pulled them gently back into the world. Vera stepped in with her ever-calm presence, her hair pulled up.

“Hello,” she greeted, voice warm. “I wanted to stop by before heading home.”

Simon looked up from Leo, and his face lit up. “Vera.”

She smiled as she walked closer, eyes falling on the bundle in Simon’s arms. “Well, look at him.”

Simon tilted Leo slightly so she could see his face. “His name’s Leo.”

“Perfect,” Vera murmured. “Absolutely perfect.”

Wilhelm stood and shook her hand. “Thank you for everything, really. We couldn’t have asked for better.”

Simon nodded, blinking back fresh tears. “I mean it, Vera. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

But Vera shook her head gently. “You did do it. All of it. I was just there to support you. You were incredible, Simon. You should be proud of yourself. Truly.”

Simon flushed, overwhelmed again, but smiled. “I’ll try. It still doesn’t feel real.”

“It will,” Vera said. “Let it sink in slowly. Don’t rush anything. Just enjoy your baby now. These moments are the ones that matter.”

With one last squeeze to Wilhelm’s shoulder and a fond glance at the tiny boy in Simon’s arms, she said her goodbyes and quietly slipped out.

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving them in soft silence again.

Wilhelm returned to his seat, reaching for his phone for the first time in hours. The screen lit up — dozens of messages waiting. His face softened.

“Our group chat is exploding,” he said with a small laugh.

Simon smiled sleepily. “Oh yeah. Just a minor detail.”

Wilhelm scrolled briefly, glancing at the messages from Felice, Sara, his mom, even August. They were all asking for updates, all impatient.

“Should we tell them?” Wilhelm asked, holding up his phone. “Or do you want to keep him to ourselves a little longer?”

Simon looked down at Leo, still sucking rhythmically on the bottle, his little fingers curled around one of Simon’s.

“No,” he said. “Let’s tell them. He deserves the whole world.”

Wilhelm reached out, adjusting a strand of Simon’s hair before holding up his phone. “Okay, stay right there. You look perfect.”

Simon laughed quietly. “I look like I’ve been hit by a bus.”

Wilhelm grinned. “You look beautiful.”

He snapped the picture — Simon leaning back in the bed, hair messy, eyes soft, feeding Leo with the bottle as sunlight pooled around them. It wasn’t polished, but it was real. Intimate. Radiant with love.

Wilhelm typed the message slowly, smiling the whole time:

“He’s here. Meet Leo. 3.3 kg, 50 cm of absolute perfection. Simon and baby are doing amazing 💛”

He hit send.

And in that moment, everything settled into place — like this new life had always been waiting for them to arrive.

…

Chapter Text

Simon paced slowly along the length of the hospital room, his fingertips dragging lightly across the cool windowsill as he walked. His steps were deliberate but smooth, steadier than the day before. His body still ached in places, but it no longer felt foreign. Every shift in his hips, every stretch of his back, reminded him that he was coming back to himself.

Leo was fast asleep in his bassinet nearby, swaddled tightly and breathing softly. The little rise and fall of his chest was the only movement in the quiet room.

Wilhelm watched Simon from where he stood by the bed, his eyes full of warmth. “You’re looking good,” he said, voice soft.

Simon turned toward him, smiling. “It’s weird, but… walking feels like freedom. I feel like me again. Like I’m slowly crawling out of the fog.”

Wilhelm closed the distance between them in a few quiet steps. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Simon’s lips before brushing his nose against the curve of his omega’s neck and inhaling deeply.

Simon stilled, warmth blooming through him as he felt his alpha scent him.

“I love you so much,” Wilhelm whispered, his voice husky against Simon’s skin.

Simon smiled, his eyes fluttering closed as he tilted his head just enough to kiss Wilhelm back, soft and lingering. “I love you too.”

A soft sound broke the moment — a hiccup or a sigh.

They both turned their heads immediately toward the bassinet, instinctively alert.

Leo remained asleep, one fist peeking out of his blanket, his mouth puckered in a sleepy pout. Whatever noise he’d made, it hadn’t disturbed him for long.

Simon laughed quietly. “He already knows how to keep us on edge.”

Wilhelm chuckled and reached for his phone as it buzzed quietly in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and a smile tugged at his mouth. He quickly locked the phone again and slid it back into his jeans.

Simon raised an eyebrow, curious. “Who was that?”

“Just a co-worker,” Wilhelm said, a little too casually. “Congratulating us.”

Simon narrowed his eyes playfully. “A very funny co-worker?”

Wilhelm shrugged with a grin. “The best kind.”

Simon gave him a look but let it slide.

“I’m going to head down to the café,” Wilhelm said, changing the subject smoothly. “I’m in serious need of coffee. Want anything?”

Simon stretched and settled back on the edge of the bed. “Some apple juice would be amazing.”

“Apple juice it is.” Wilhelm bent to kiss Simon again — one last brush of affection. “Be right back.”

The door clicked softly behind him as he left.

Simon leaned forward slightly, watching the tiny bundle still sleeping just a few feet away. “Just us again, huh?”

He stood and reached into the bassinet, brushing a hand across Leo’s little forehead.

“You’re probably going to wake up soon,” he murmured gently. “But don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Leo stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering but not fully opening.

Simon eased back down onto the bed and began humming quietly, his voice low and sweet as he sang a little lullaby — the same one his mother had sung to him when he was small. The familiar tune filled the room with warmth.

“You don’t even know it, but you’ve changed everything already,” Simon whispered. “I’m going to tell you that every day until you’re old enough to roll your eyes at me.”

The door creaked open again, and Simon smiled to himself without turning around. “Wow, that was fast. They just throwing coffee at people today?”

There was no answer.

Something made Simon glance up.

His breath caught.

“Mamma?”

Linda stood in the doorway, her cheeks flushed from the walk through the hospital halls. Her eyes were wide, glistening, her hands tucked close to her chest.

Simon stood slowly, mouth falling open. “Wille…”

She nodded, her voice soft. “He called me earlier. Said you wouldn’t mind if I came.”

Simon blinked quickly, his throat thick. “Of course I don’t mind.” His gaze flicked back to the bassinet. “Do you want to meet your grandson?”

Tears spilled over Linda’s lashes. “More than anything.”

Simon reached into the bassinet and carefully lifted Leo into his arms. The baby stirred, letting out a sleepy squeak but didn’t wake. Simon smiled and turned, cradling his son close to his chest as he stepped toward her.

“This is Leo,” Simon said, voice trembling.

Linda reached out, hands shaking slightly. “Hej, lilla vän…”

She took the baby into her arms with the reverence of someone holding a miracle. Her tears fell freely now as she cradled him, rocking instinctively as she looked down into his tiny face.

Simon wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his gown. 

Linda smiled, even as she cried. “He’s got your eyes. He's beautiful.”

The moment hung suspended in quiet awe — three generations in a sun-drenched room.

The door opened again, and Wilhelm returned, carrying two coffees and a bottle of juice in a cardboard tray.

“Well, I how is everything going in—” He stopped when he saw them. His smile widened instantly.

“Looks like someone beat me to the introductions.”

Simon looked up at him, eyes shimmering. “You did this?”

Wilhelm set the drinks down and walked over, wrapping an arm around Simon’s waist.

“I thought you’d want her here,” he said softly.

Simon leaned into him. “You were right.”

Wilhelm looked at Linda, who was now whispering something to Leo in Swedish, her face soft with wonder. Then he looked back at Simon.

“Now we’re all here.”

Simon nodded, heart full. “Yeah. We are.”

…

The afternoon sun streamed lazily through the windshield as Wilhelm turned the car down the familiar street. It had only been a few days since they’d left for the hospital, but everything felt new. The world outside looked softer somehow — quieter, as though it, too, was holding its breath for their return.

In the back seat, little Leo slept soundly, swaddled in his blanket and nestled safely in his car seat. Simon craned his neck around for the hundredth time just to get a glimpse of him.

“Still sleeping,” he whispered, almost reverently.

Wilhelm chuckled as he eased the car into a parking spot. “That’s got to be the tenth time you’ve checked.”

“I know,” Simon said, grinning sheepishly. “I can’t help it.”

Wilhelm reached over and squeezed his hand. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

But it was real — all of it. The baby, the long labor, the late-night feedings already beginning. And now this: their very first trip home as a family of three.

Simon exhaled slowly as Wilhelm carefully unbuckled the car seat and lifted it out. They climbed the stairs to their apartment in quiet anticipation, hearts full and bodies still exhausted.

Wilhelm paused at the door.

“You ready?” he asked.

Simon gave a tired but genuine smile. “Let’s go home.”

The second Wilhelm pushed open the door, Simon’s senses were immediately hit with something unexpected — the scent of coffee and cake. Then came voices and movement, and suddenly—

“SURPRIIIIISE!”

Simon froze in place, mouth falling open.

Standing in their living room were Sara, August, and Alma — their faces lit up with joy, surrounded by balloons, a handmade sign that read “WELCOME HOME LEO,” and a table full of cake, flowers, and wrapped presents. Little Alma, was waving two tiny Swedish flags like her life depended on it

Simon blinked. “Wait, what the hell—? How do you—?”

Sara was already crossing the room toward him, her arms open.

“I knew you were going to say something about the spare key,” she laughed, hugging him tight before he could finish his sentence. “And no, you’re not getting it back.”

Simon blinked hard against the sudden sting in his eyes, his chest tightening.

“Sara,” he whispered. “I—”

She pulled back slightly, cupping his cheeks. “Congratulations. You did it, baby brother.”

He swallowed, overwhelmed. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” She looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Now show me that baby.”

Wilhelm had stepped forward, setting the car seat gently on the floor and lifting Leo into his arms. He adjusted the tiny bundle carefully, and Alma ran up on tiptoes to peek.

Simon stood still for a moment, taking it all in: the decorations, the smell of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls, the warmth of his sister’s arms still lingering around his shoulders, and the fact that they had come here, that they were waiting — not just to meet Leo, but to welcome all three of them home.

He pressed his hand to his mouth and blinked again. “You guys… you didn’t have to do all this.”

August approached with a rare smile and a gentle pat to Simon’s shoulder. “Of course we did.”

“I mean, I cried like a child just reading your update in the group chat,” Sara added, wiping at the corner of her eye. “We couldn’t wait.”

Wilhelm knelt down to show Leo to Alma, who was bouncing with excitement beside her parents. “Do you want to say hi to your cousin?”

“Hi, Leo,” she whispered. “I’m Alma.” Alma smiled big looking at Leo. “Can I be his best friend?”

Wilhelm smiled, full and unfiltered. “That would mean the world to me, Alma.”

Simon sat down on the couch and just watched them all — his sister, his niece, August handing over a coffee and offering to cut cake, and Wilhelm holding their baby like he’d done it a thousand times already.

His chest ached, in the best way. Like it couldn’t contain everything inside it.

Sara sat beside him, sliding a plate of cake into his hand. “I know it’s a lot right now.”

Simon nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “But it’s perfect.”

“We’re so proud of you,” she said, kissing his temple. “You’re doing amazing.”

Leo let out a soft sound in Wilhelm’s arms — a squeaky sigh — and everyone turned to look.

“He makes that same noise when he stretches,” Simon said, smiling down at his son.

Alma leaned over and whispered, “He’s so cute.”

Wilhelm shifted Leo to his chest, sitting beside Simon and resting one hand over his knee. They sat like that for a while — surrounded by love, in the quiet hum of voices, laughter, and soft baby breathing.

The chaos of birth, the hospital, the sleeplessness — all of it faded into the background. What remained was this: warmth, joy, and the unbelievable fact that they were home.

Not just as Simon and Wilhelm.

But as pappa, daddy, and Leo.

…

The apartment had gone still, the kind of silence that only came after a long, full day. Outside, the city moved on, but inside their home, the world had narrowed to three steady heartbeats — slow, gentle, and close.

Simon lay in their bed, head propped against a pillow, arms tucked protectively around the tiny bundle nestled against his chest. Leo was sound asleep in his little sleeper, his fists balled tightly near his chin, his lips parted just slightly. His tiny breaths rose and fell against Simon’s skin.

Wilhelm sat beside them, freshly showered, soft cotton shirt clinging to his chest, one arm draped over Simon’s legs. His eyes flicked between them — his omega and their pup — and his expression was equal parts awe and disbelief.

“He’s so small,” he whispered, as if speaking too loud might wake the baby.

Simon smiled, his fingers grazing over Leo’s back. “And somehow, already the center of everything.”

They were both too tired to do much else. But there was no rush now. No contractions. No fluorescent lights. Just their bed, the hum of the heater, and the warmth of their son between them.

“I know we said bassinet,” Simon said softly, glancing at Wilhelm, “but I kind of want him here. Just for tonight.”

Wilhelm leaned over and pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple. “He belongs right here. Between us.”

Simon’s voice cracked with emotion. “I still can’t believe he’s ours.”

Wilhelm looked at both of them — his family — and whispered, “Thank you for him.”

They drifted off slowly, bodies curled around the tiniest part of their hearts.

And that night, in the quiet glow of home, they didn’t dream.

They didn’t need to.

...

The Next Day

The morning passed in a haze of gentle wake-ups, tiny bottles, soft lullabies, and Simon bouncing Leo around the living room to calm him down after a little crying fit. They were back in bed when the knock came at the door.

Felice stood there with a giant grin, a pink box in her arms and two gift bags hanging off each wrist.

“I brought brunch from our favorite spot, gifts, and very emotional energy,” she said as Simon hugged her tight with one arm.

Wilhelm greeted her with a tired but warm smile. “You came with all the essentials.”

Felice stepped into the apartment like it was sacred space, her voice dropping to a soft hush the moment she saw Leo curled up in Simon’s arms.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, pressing her hand over her heart. “Is this him?”

Simon beamed. “Felice, meet Leo.”

He walked over gently, holding the baby out just enough for her to see. Leo blinked sleepily, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before settling back down against his pappa’s shoulder.

“He’s… perfect,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “You made this. You really did.”

Simon laughed softly, cradling Leo closer. “Yeah. With a bit of help.”

Wilhelm stepped in beside them, and for a moment, Felice just stood and looked at them all together — the family they’d fought so hard to become.

“Okay,” she sniffled. “Enough crying. I brought something ridiculous.”

She handed Simon a tiny baby bodysuit. In bold, block letters across the front, it read: “I ❤️ my daddies.”

Simon burst out laughing. “You’re insane.”

“And sentimental,” she said proudly. “I’m both.”

Wilhelm watched Simon laughing, holding Leo with one arm and showing off the onesie with the other. There was something in that image that hit him square in the chest — seeing Simon like this, proud and playful, so full of love as he introduced their son to his friends.

It was everything Wilhelm had ever wanted to see. Everything he’d ever dreamed of.

...

The Day After

Their doorbell rang again just after lunch.

This time it was Ayub, Rosh, and Maddie — arms full of snacks, gifts, and a tiny bouquet of baby-blue flowers.

“Where’s the star of the show?” Ayub asked as he stepped in, glancing around.

Simon emerged from the hallway, cradling Leo with practiced ease. “Still center stage.”

Rosh let out a soft whistle. “He’s so cute it’s almost rude.”

Maddie smiled gently. “He has your eyes, Si.”

Simon looked down at Leo, then over at Wilhelm. “I think he’s both of us.”

They sat and talked for over an hour — about parenthood, sleep deprivation, baby poop, and the surreal experience of bringing a new life home. The apartment buzzed with laughter and stories, and Leo, as if sensing he was adored by all, barely fussed once.

When they left, Simon saw them to the door, holding Leo close and promising that next time they could hold him for longer.

...

That Evening

The house had gone quiet again.

Wilhelm stepped out of the bedroom with two folded towels in his arms when he stopped in his tracks.

There on the living room sofa lay Simon — stretched out, fast asleep, one arm around a pillow. And on top of him, resting against his chest like he’d belonged there all along, was Leo. His eyes looking around the room. 

Wilhelm’s chest tightened.

He walked over slowly, kneeling beside the sofa.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, brushing Leo’s back with a gentle hand.

Simon stirred slightly but didn’t open his eyes.

Wilhelm leaned in, pressing a kiss to Simon’s forehead, then gently reached for their son.

“Come here, little bear,” he whispered as he lifted Leo into his arms.

Leo wriggled slightly, but once Wilhelm tucked him close against his chest, he settled again — his ear pressed to his alpha father’s heartbeat.

Wilhelm sat on the armrest, eyes never leaving Simon.

“You’re so lucky,” he murmured to Leo. “You have him.”

Leo let out a soft sigh, like he agreed.

Wilhelm smiled, pulling a soft blanket over both of them. He glanced at Simon again — his beautiful, strong, incredible omega — and leaned down once more to press a kiss to the top of his head.

And in that soft, flickering moment, nothing else existed.

Just them. Just love.

And everything they were becoming.

…

It was Saturday afternoon when the text came in.

Kristina: We’re five minutes away. So excited to meet our grandson.

Wilhelm read the message twice before slipping his phone into his back pocket. He stood in the middle of the living room, smoothing down the front of his sweater for no reason in particular. His nerves were starting to show — even if he didn’t want them to.

Simon was in the nursery, swaying gently by the window with Leo in his arms. The baby had just finished a bottle and was already falling back into that milk-drunk daze, his tiny mouth slightly open against his pappa’s collarbone.

“Is it them?” Simon asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Wilhelm nodded. “They’re almost here.”

Simon took a breath. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous. Maybe because it was still a little surreal that royalty would be walking into their modest apartment. Maybe because even though they’d visited the palace many times by now, this moment felt more intimate — more defining. This was their home. And this was Leo.

Wilhelm stepped in and kissed Simon’s temple gently. “They’re going to love him. And you. More than they already do.”

Simon gave a quiet smile. “I know. It’s just… a big moment.”

Wilhelm looked at his family — Simon in soft sweatpants and a hoodie, Leo swaddled close to his chest — and felt a pressure rise in his throat. This was everything. This was the legacy he cared about.

A few minutes later, the intercom buzzed.

Simon adjusted Leo, who let out a tiny yawn.

Wilhelm buzzed them in.

By the time the knock came, both of them were standing just inside the doorway. Simon shifted Leo carefully to Wilhelm’s arms before opening the door.

There stood Queen Kristina and King Ludvig, not in state attire or regal posture, but in soft, cozy coats, smiles warm, eyes full.

Kristina stepped forward first, her arms open, expression radiant. “May we come in?”

Simon nodded. “Of course. Welcome.”

Ludvig gave him a quick, affectionate hug. “Congratulations, Simon. Truly. We’ve been counting the hours.” 

They went into the living room when Simon noticed Kristina’s eyes were already on Leo, who blinked slowly up at her from Wilhelm’s arms.

“Oh my…” she whispered. “Look at him.”

Wilhelm stepped forward, adjusting the baby so his mother could see him properly. “Mamma, Pappa… this is Leo.”

Kristina reached out with careful fingers and grazed Leo’s cheek. “Hello, my darling boy. We’ve been waiting to meet you.”

Simon stood slightly behind Wilhelm, his heart unexpectedly full at the sight of Kristina so softened — so visibly moved.

“He looks so much like you did,” Ludvig said, eyes on Wilhelm, a hint of pride in his voice. “But I think I see Simon in him too.”

Wilhelm turned slightly so Simon could stand closer. Simon stepped up beside him, resting his hand gently on Leo’s back as he leaned into Wilhelm’s side.

“You want to hold him?” Wilhelm asked.

Kristina’s eyes sparkled. “Please.”

Wilhelm passed Leo gently into her arms, guiding her hands with the same care he used every time he lifted his son. Kristina held Leo like she’d been waiting her whole life to do so — with reverence and wonder and joy.

“Oh, my love,” she whispered to the baby. “You are everything.”

Simon watched from the side, quietly touched. He hadn’t expected it to feel this emotional — this healing. But it did. The Queen of Sweden stood in his living room, cradling their child as if he was the most precious thing she had ever held. And for a moment, none of it felt like royalty or roles. Just family.

Ludvig was next, and though his hands were clearly more tentative, he still managed to hold Leo with that quiet reverence that men like him usually reserved for crown jewels.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this quiet,” Simon whispered with a grin.

Wilhelm laughed. “It’s the king voice. Deep and soothing.”

They all sat down after that — coffee already brewing, soft cookies on the table. Kristina tucked Leo into the crook of her arm as they talked. She asked about the birth. The first nights. If Simon was resting enough. If Wilhelm was taking care of both of them.

When Simon nodded that he was, she turned to her son and smiled. “I can see it. You’re glowing, Wille. Both of you.”

“Simon’s the one who did all the work,” Wilhelm said, his voice thick. “He brought him into the world.”

Simon blushed but smiled proudly, his fingers brushing lightly against Wilhelm’s.

Later, when Leo stirred again, Kristina gave him back — whispering, “Go back to pappa now, little prince.”

Simon took him in his arms without hesitation. He bounced slightly on his feet, soothing Leo without even thinking about it.

“He’s already a natural,” Ludvig said, quietly impressed.

Kristina looked at them — at Simon holding Leo, at Wilhelm reaching out to touch them both. And when she spoke next, her voice was tender.

“Thank you for giving us this. For giving him this. A home full of love.”

Simon blinked hard, overwhelmed by how much that meant coming from her.

“Thank you,” he whispered back. “For being here.”

They stayed a while longer, talking and laughing and watching Leo doze off again in Simon’s arms. There were gifts, of course — a pale blue blanket embroidered with Leo’s initials, a silver rattle from the royal collection, and a photograph Kristina had framed of Wilhelm as a newborn, looking exactly like Leo did now.

When they finally stood to leave, Kristina kissed both of them on the cheek, pausing longest with Leo.

“I love you, my darling boy,” she whispered.

Ludvig gave Wilhelm a hug — something that didn’t happen often — and squeezed Simon’s shoulder before stepping out.

Once the door closed behind them, Simon sank down on the couch and looked at Wilhelm, who was watching him closely.

“That went… better than I imagined,” Simon said softly.

“They love him,” Wilhelm replied. “They love you.”

Simon smiled, looking down at Leo now sleeping in his arms again.

“I think they really do.”

Wilhelm leaned in, kissed Simon’s cheek, then his son’s forehead.

“Of course they do,” he said. “How could they not?”

And in that quiet evening glow, the new little family sat together — complete, whole, and deeply loved.

…

Chapter Text

A couple of weeks later. 

…

The night started well enough.

Leo had fallen asleep after his last bottle, bundled snugly in his soft forest-green sleeper, his tiny lips parted in that perfect “O” shape that made Simon’s chest ache with affection. They’d swaddled him, rocked him gently, and placed him in the bassinet beside their bed.

The apartment was quiet, the lights dimmed, and for a brief moment, everything felt under control.

Simon lay curled against Wilhelm’s chest, their legs tangled together, the weight of exhaustion already pulling at his limbs.

“Maybe he’ll give us four hours tonight,” he whispered, half a joke, half a prayer.

Wilhelm chuckled low in his throat. “I’ll take three. Honestly, even two and a half sounds luxurious right now.”

But Leo had different plans.

12:47 a.m.

The first wail cut through the silence like a siren. Simon was up instantly, already shifting out of bed before Wilhelm could fully open his eyes.

“I’ve got him,” Simon mumbled, already leaning into the bassinet.

Leo was red-faced and squirming, his arms flailing, his cries sharp and desperate. Simon lifted him, rocking gently, whispering soft sounds. But it wasn’t just hunger — it was everything. The newness, the discomfort, the tiny chaos of a baby trying to make sense of the world.

“I’ll get the bottle,” Wilhelm said, already padding into the kitchen.

They did their dance — one feeding, one burping, one rocking.

By the time Leo finally settled again, it was nearly 2:00 a.m.

Simon dropped into bed with a groan, face buried in the pillow. “Do we still love him?”

Wilhelm fell in beside him. “So much it hurts.”

2:43 a.m.

The next round came even faster.

This time, it was Wilhelm who jumped up, pulling Leo into his arms while Simon sat on the edge of the bed, eyes bleary, trying to figure out if his shirt was on backwards. It was.

“I think it’s gas,” Wilhelm said, bouncing gently.

Simon nodded. “He sounds like a tiny goat.”

Wilhelm managed a half-smile as he sat in the rocking chair with Leo pressed to his shoulder, rubbing slow circles into his back.

When Simon returned from heating up another bottle, Wilhelm glanced at him. “Do you want to cry or should I?”

“I think I already did,” Simon muttered, yawning.

3:15 a.m.

Bottle. Diaper. Sway. Repeat.

Simon sat on the edge of the bed holding Leo against his chest, both of them wrapped in a blanket. His head lolled back against the wall, his eyes slipping shut between Leo’s hiccups.

Wilhelm walked in with a glass of water and crouched in front of him. “Baby, let me take him.”

Simon shook his head, eyes fluttering open. “No. I’ve got him.”

“Si—”

Simon looked down at their son and then back at Wilhelm. “He needs both of us tonight.”

Wilhelm softened. He sat on the floor beside Simon, his head resting against his omega’s thigh, his fingers gently stroking the inside of Leo’s swaddle.

They stayed like that until Leo finally gave in to sleep again, his small body going limp and warm.

4:30 a.m.

Back in bed, Simon exhaled slowly. “Remember when we used to sleep in until eleven?”

Wilhelm laughed, though it was more of a croaky sigh. “I don’t even remember what silence sounds like.”

Leo stirred in his sleep.

Both of them froze.

Then… nothing.

Wilhelm rolled onto his side to face Simon. “He’s magic, isn’t he?”

Simon nodded, smiling despite the bone-deep fatigue. “The kind that makes you want to rip your hair out and cry at the same time.”

They lay like that, whispering nonsense, touching fingers in the dark, clinging to each other and the miracle lying beside them in the bassinet.

Even in the exhaustion, even in the chaos — they were in this. Together.

And that, somehow, made it all beautiful.

…

The weeks that followed were a blur.

Days bled into nights. Mornings arrived with little warning. Bottles, burps, diapers, crying — repeat.

Sleep came in short, fragmented pieces, tucked between 3 a.m. feedings and 5 a.m. bouncing sessions in the living room with Leo tucked against one of their chests, refusing to lie flat unless cradled just right.

Simon had never known a love so deep, or an exhaustion so absolute.

And yet, somehow, they made it work.

They were a team. A good one. Even when tempers flared or the house looked like a bomb had gone off or someone forgot to restock the formula — they circled back to each other. To love. To shared glances over Leo’s head when he smiled in his sleep. To whispered “I’ve got you”s and late-night kisses in the kitchen.

But the real shift came on a Monday morning, three weeks after the birth.

Wilhelm was standing at the door, fully dressed in jeans and a sweater for the first time in days, keys in his hand and a deep, reluctant crease between his brows.

Simon sat on the couch, still in sweats, hair damp from the quickest shower imaginable, Leo nestled against his shoulder, already dozing off after a feed.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Wilhelm asked, hovering.

Simon smiled gently. “I’m okay.”

“I can ask for one more day,” Wilhelm said. “Just to ease into it.”

Simon chuckled. “You’ve said that three days in a row.”

Wilhelm sighed and walked over, kissing Leo’s head, then Simon’s. “I hate leaving you both.”

“I know,” Simon whispered, his voice warm. “But we’ll be here when you get back.”

Wilhelm lingered one second longer, then forced himself out the door. It felt unnatural — stepping back into the world, leaving behind the cocoon of their family. But life hadn’t stopped just because they’d been reborn as parents.

Simon watched the door close, then looked down at the tiny boy curled into him.

Just the two of them now.

He exhaled slowly and stood, padding across the apartment with Leo still resting on his chest. He walked in circles until Leo settled fully, then gently placed him in the bassinet.

A small victory.

Simon collapsed on the couch, eyes burning, body sore.

And then — as if on cue — Leo started crying again.

...

Hours Later

By 2 p.m., Simon had changed four diapers, walked the length of the apartment at least thirty times, been peed on, and managed only one cold piece of toast for lunch. The laundry was half-finished, and Leo refused to be put down unless Simon was standing.

He hadn’t even brushed his hair.

Wilhelm called during his break, voice soft with guilt.

“How are my boys?”

Simon gave a tired chuckle. “One’s crying and the other’s wearing spit-up, but we’re surviving.”

Wilhelm’s breath caught on the other end. “I miss you. I miss him.”

“We miss you too,” Simon whispered.

“Want me to pick up dinner?”

Simon’s shoulders sagged with gratitude. “God, yes.”

...

That Night

By the time Wilhelm stepped back into the apartment, Simon was pacing with Leo again, whispering tuneless lullabies, doing everything he could not to cry with his son.

The second Wilhelm walked in, Simon’s shoulders dropped.

Wilhelm didn’t even take off his coat. He crossed the room in three steps and reached for their son.

“Let me take him.”

Simon didn’t hesitate. The moment Leo was in his alpha’s arms, Simon sagged back onto the couch, covering his face with both hands.

Wilhelm rocked slowly, humming, pressing his cheek to Leo’s head. “You did amazing today.”

Simon peeked out through his fingers. “I cried. Twice.”

“Still amazing.”

Leo calmed quickly in Wilhelm’s arms, as if his little world clicked back into place.

Simon watched them, heart aching with relief and love. “I don’t know how single parents do this. It’s… so much.”

“I know,” Wilhelm said, gently. “That’s why we’re doing this together.”

He sat beside Simon, one arm around him, the other cradling their son. They leaned into each other, Leo in the middle — breathing soft and even now.

It wasn’t easy.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was theirs.

…

Two months in, and their world had changed completely.

Leo was beautiful. Sweet. Curious. Warm. He was also utterly relentless.

Every night was a battle.

He didn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time — and some nights, not at all. Not even close. As soon as Simon would lay him down, he’d squirm and scream until he was back in his arms. And during the day? He catnapped in ten-minute bursts that ended just as soon as Simon dared to breathe too deeply.

Simon never stopped moving. Not for long. Not even to sleep.

And he told himself it was okay. He could handle it. This was what being a parent meant, right?

Besides, Wilhelm had work. A demanding job. Responsibilities. Simon didn’t want to be a burden — didn't want to take away what little peace his alpha could still hold onto. So every night, he’d gently wave Wilhelm back toward bed when Leo began to cry. He’d tiptoe out of the room, whispering to his son in the soft light of the living room.

“I’ve got you,” he’d say, again and again. “Just let Papa sleep, okay?”

But two months of sleepless nights and chaotic days started to show.

The apartment, once tidy and warm, was now cluttered with laundry baskets, bottles, baby clothes, and half-eaten meals. The air always smelled faintly of formula and reheated coffee. Simon felt like a ghost in his own skin — still moving, still holding it together, but not really there.

He hadn’t showered in three days. He’d worn the same hoodie for five. Leo had spit up on it twice that morning, and Simon hadn’t even noticed until he passed a mirror.

...

Wilhelm came home later than usual that Thursday.

His eyes were tired, shoulders tense from too many hours at his desk. He dropped his keys onto the counter and exhaled. “Simon?”

He stepped into the living room, dodging a pile of laundry. The floor was a mess. Dishes crowded the kitchen sink. Simon sat on the couch, bouncing Leo in his lap with the distant expression of someone barely present.

“Hey,” Wilhelm said gently.

Simon looked up. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. “Hey.”

“How’s today been?”

Simon gave a short, bitter laugh. “Great. Perfect. Magical. Your son slept for ten minutes total. I haven’t had time to eat. Or sit. Or fucking breathe.”

Wilhelm walked toward him. “Okay. Let me take him so you can—”

“I’ve got him.”

Wilhelm blinked. “Okay. I just thought—”

“I do this all day, Wille. All day, every single hour.”

Leo started to cry — a sharp, overtired wail that pierced the room like a siren. Simon stood, bouncing him a little harder than usual. “Here we go again,” he muttered, turning away.

Wilhelm’s voice followed. “Si, just calm down.”

Simon froze.

“Calm down?”

“Simon—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Simon spun back around. “You get to leave. You get to shower and eat and talk to adults! I’m stuck here — with a baby who doesn’t sleep, in a body that still doesn’t feel like mine, in a house that looks like a war zone—”

“I’m trying to help—”

“Then help!” Simon shouted, tears springing to his eyes. “Help without making me feel like I’m failing!”

The silence that followed was sharp and heavy. Leo’s cries echoed through the room, and Simon pressed him closer to his chest, heart pounding. They stood like two strangers for a second, Simon walked away with Leo heading towards the nursery. 

Wilhelm stood left behind “I didn’t know it was this bad.”

…

The water was hot. Too hot, really — scalding where it touched his skin. But Simon didn’t adjust the temperature. He stood still beneath the stream, arms wrapped around his middle, forehead pressed to the tiled wall.

It was the only place he could cry without anyone noticing.

And he hated that it had come to this.

The day had been long, loud, and overwhelming. And now, in the quiet aftermath, with Leo finally asleep and the apartment dim and still, all that remained was the echo of his failure. Because that’s what it felt like — like failing. Like being a parent everyone else seemed to know how to be. Like being a partner who’d snapped instead of leaned in. Like being a version of himself he barely recognized anymore.

Simon pressed a palm flat to his soft belly, to the stretch marks that hadn’t faded, to the body that had once made him proud. Now, it just felt foreign. Heavy. Too much.

He swallowed hard and shut off the water.

...

Steam clung to the mirror, fogging his reflection until he swiped it with a towel. And then there he was.

Red eyes. Damp curls sticking to his forehead. His body no longer round with pregnancy, but still soft. Changed. Tired.

He hated the way he looked.

Not because he didn’t understand what his body had done — he knew the miracle of it. He knew Leo was worth every mark. But knowing didn’t erase the shame. The anger. The ache of not fitting in his own skin.

He sighed.

...

When he stepped into the bedroom, the lights were low. Wilhelm was already under the covers, shirtless, propped on one elbow reading something on his phone. Leo was fast asleep in the bassinet beside their bed, tiny breaths rising and falling like a lullaby.

Simon crossed the room quietly and opened a drawer, pulling out a clean pair of sleep pants and a baggy t-shirt. Then he turned without a word and walked back toward the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him.

He didn’t want Wille to see him change.

Didn’t want the chance to catch his alpha’s eyes glancing too long. Or worse — not glancing at all.

When he returned, he slipped into bed without saying a word, curling onto his side with his back to Wilhelm. The space between them felt colder than it should have.

Wilhelm spoke gently. “Simon… can we talk?”

Simon didn’t answer.

“I just… I want to understand what’s going on,” Wille tried again, his voice cautious, searching. “If this is too much — if you need help, or if you want me to take more time off—”

“I just want to sleep,” Simon muttered. “That okay with you?”

Wilhelm was quiet for a second. “Of course. I just—”

Simon reached over and shut off the lamp on his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Wille.”

Darkness settled in the room. Still and heavy.

Wilhelm lay back slowly, staring at the ceiling, heart aching. The sound of Simon’s soft, uneven breaths told him everything he needed to know — that his omega was unraveling silently, right beside him, and he hadn’t known how to stop it.

He turned his head, looking toward Simon’s back in the dark.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Simon didn’t respond.

And soon, the only sounds in the room were Leo’s breathing and the quiet, restless silence of everything left unsaid.

…

Wilhelm had never felt so helpless.

It had been weeks since Simon had really spoken to him. Not just the polite, clipped replies, or the perfunctory “he needs a bottle” or “he just went down for a nap.” No eye contact. No warmth. No shared laughter. Not even exhaustion-borne tenderness.

Only walls.

And Wilhelm was doing everything he could — cleaning, waking up with Leo, cooking meals Simon didn’t eat. But nothing reached him. Nothing cracked the shell.

Simon didn’t answer texts from their friends. He hadn’t spoken to Felice in two weeks, and ignored Ayub and Rosh’s messages. He hadn’t even opened the group chat since Leo’s birth announcement. Sara had dropped by once after Wilhelm quietly called her and asked her to. Simon never came to the door. He’d been home.

The worst part?

Wilhelm could see how much Simon hated himself. He saw it in the way he shrank when Leo cried, in the flinch when Wilhelm offered to help, in the growing shadows under his eyes. It was like Simon was slowly disappearing inside himself.

And Wilhelm was running out of ways to pull him back.

…

It was supposed to be a small win.

Simon had left the house with Leo. Just a quick trip to the shop for milk and wipes — nothing big. But to Wilhelm, it felt huge. He hadn’t pushed him to go. He hadn’t even suggested it. Simon had simply said, “I’ll take Leo to the store,” and walked out the door.

Wilhelm tried not to hover. He stayed by his phone, though, just in case.

…

Felice hadn’t planned on going to that shop either — but she’d needed a few things and was chatting on the phone with her mother when she saw him: Simon, pushing the stroller, pale and thin, wearing a hoodie that hung off him in a way that didn’t feel like him.

“Simon!” she smiled and waved, tucking her phone under her chin. “Hey! You look—wow, Leo’s gotten so big!”

Simon startled, then turned with a tight smile. “Felice. Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just doing some quick shopping. He needed air,” Simon said, motioning toward the stroller.

She walked with him a little, talking gently, filling the space. He nodded, responded, trying to seem normal. Trying to seem fine.

Then her phone rang again. “Sorry—one sec—it’s work,” she said, stepping slightly aside to answer.

That’s when Leo began to cry. Sharp. Loud. Unrelenting.

Simon turned immediately, unbuckling him with fumbling hands. “Hey, hey—it’s okay—shh, Leo, come on, baby, please…”

Felice turned back, just in time to see the panic rise in Simon’s eyes. Leo’s cries were louder now, echoing off the tile and fluorescent lights. Simon rocked him, then tried to bounce him gently, then harder. Still screaming.

People were looking. An older woman frowned. A cashier made a comment under her breath.

And something inside Simon snapped.

“I—I can’t—” he whispered. His breathing picked up, shallow and fast.

Felice blinked. “Simon?”

Simon stepped back—stumbling—and then—

He ran.

Out the door. Through the entrance.

Without Leo…

Felice stood frozen for a second, staring at the stroller. Still full. Leo was screaming.

Her heart stopped.

“Simon?” she shouted. “SIMON!”

Nothing.

Frantic, she pulled her phone from her pocket and hit Wilhelm’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“Felice?”

“Wille—something’s wrong. I just ran into Simon at the shop and—he—he left. He ran out, and Leo is still here. He left Leo.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Wilhelm’s breath caught.

“I’m coming.”

…

Chapter Text

Wilhelm arrived in seven minutes.

Felice stood near the entrance with the stroller, rocking it gently, eyes scanning the street again and again. “I’ve checked the aisles, the parking lot—he’s gone, Wille.”

Wilhelm crouched, scooping Leo into his arms, holding him tightly to his chest. “Hey, shh, Daddy’s got you… you’re okay now, bub.”

Leo’s cries slowed. Hiccups.

Felice’s eyes were glassy. “Wille, I’ve never seen him like that. He was so—blank. And then just... gone.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard. He kissed Leo’s head. “It’s not him. It’s the exhaustion. It’s everything. He needs help.”

Felice nodded. “You need to find him.”

“I will,” Wilhelm said, pulling out his phone again. His hands were shaking, but he’d never been more sure of anything in his life“I’m going to bring my omega home.”

…

Wilhelm’s hands trembled as he placed Leo into Sara’s arms.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “He just needs some cuddles and a bottle. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Sara studied his face. “Wille? What’s going on?”

He hesitated. “Nothing to worry about. Just… I need to find Simon. He had a bit of a breakdown today.”

Sara nodded slowly, brows pinched, but didn’t press. “Call me if you need anything okay, I’ll take care of Leo.” 

He gave a strained smile. And then he was gone.

…

Wilhelm had never driven this fast in his life.

His hands gripped the steering wheel like he could strangle time itself. His heart was beating so hard it hurt. All he could hear were Felice’s words echoing in his head.

“Wille… I think something’s wrong. Simon ran out of the store. Without Leo.”

Wilhelm had stared at the phone like it would tell him she was joking. That maybe Simon had just walked out for a second, that he would come back. That this wasn’t real.

But it was real.

And now he was driving on autopilot, barely breathing, the sky dimming into gray as he turned down a familiar road.

The sea was ahead — their old spot. The place they'd always gone when they needed quiet. When they needed each other. Wille was almost 100 precent sure he would go there. 

And there he was.

Simon sat hunched on the low rock ledge near the shore, arms wrapped around his knees, hoodie drawn up like he could hide from the world inside it. He didn’t move when the car door slammed. Didn’t look up as Wilhelm approached.

Wilhelm slowed when he got close, his voice tight and controlled. “Simon.”

Nothing.

He stood there for a second, the wind catching the edges of his coat. His stomach twisted.

“You didn’t answer your phone.”

Still no response. Wilhelm felt the heat rise in his chest — fury, panic, heartbreak. All of it.

“You left Leo.”

Simon flinched.

“You left our baby,” Wilhelm said louder, closer now. “In the middle of a supermarket. In a stroller. Crying.”

Simon still didn’t move. Didn’t look up.

Wilhelm was shaking now. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Finally, Simon turned his head slightly. His eyes were glassy, rimmed with red. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough,” Wilhelm snapped. “That’s not—God, Simon, do you understand what could have happened?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Simon said hoarsely, almost too quietly to hear. “He was screaming. And I couldn’t… I couldn’t think. I just needed to get out. I thought—I thought I had him.”

Wilhelm’s hands were fists at his sides. “You didn’t even realize you’d left him.”

Simon let out a strangled sob and buried his face in his arms. “I know. I know. I know.”

“I should be furious,” Wilhelm said, his voice cracking now. “And I am. But I’m also so fucking scared I can barely breathe.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Simon whispered. “I’m trying, Wille. I’m trying so hard. But I’m drowning.”

Wilhelm crouched down in front of him, eyes burning. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I wanted to be enough,” Simon cried. “I thought if I could just push through, if I didn’t complain—if I just kept going, then maybe it would get easier. Maybe I’d start to feel like myself again.”

Wilhelm’s heart shattered.

“And?” he asked gently.

Simon lifted his head. “I feel like I’ve disappeared. I look in the mirror and I see someone I don’t know. I hate my body, I hate that I’m not strong enough, I hate that Leo cries when I hold him, and I hate that I left him.”

His voice broke, and the sobs came again — deep, soul-wrecking sobs that echoed off the rocks and the waves.

“I’m failing him,” Simon gasped. “And I’m failing you.”

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, Simon tried to pull away but it was to late, the alpha was pulling him tight to his chest. 

“You’re not failing me,” Wilhelm whispered fiercely. “You’re not failing anyone. You’re in pain. And I didn’t see it. I didn’t help you. I just kept going to work, assuming you were okay, because that’s what you always do. You carry everything and never ask for help. So if anything I was the one failing you.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” Wilhelm said. “Simon, I love you. I love all of you. You’re Leo’s papa. You’re the strongest person I know. But you can’t do this alone anymore. And you don’t have to.”

Simon was trembling against him, clutching at the back of his jacket like he was afraid to let go. “I thought you’d leave. I thought you’d take Leo and go.”

Wilhelm pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “I will never leave you. Ever. But you have to let me help now.”

Simon nodded through tears. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Wilhelm echoed, brushing his thumbs across Simon’s wet cheeks. “We’re going to get help. We’ll talk to someone. Figure out what support looks like. But right now, we’re going home. We’re going to hold Leo and remind ourselves that we’re still a family.”

“I’m scared,” Simon whispered.

“I know,” Wilhelm said softly. “But we’ll do this scared. Together.”

Simon leaned into his arms again, and Wilhelm held him there, gently rocking him as the wind rolled in from the sea.

…

The apartment door clicked shut behind them, and Simon felt like he was walking into a dream — or maybe a memory. Nothing had changed: the same low lights glowing in the hallway, the faint smell of baby powder and warm laundry hanging in the air, the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. But Simon… Simon didn’t feel like the person who had lived here.

He hesitated just inside the doorway, arms limp at his sides, eyes locked on the living room.

That’s where Sara stood, gently bouncing Leo in her arms.

The moment she saw them, her lips parted in quiet relief. She looked between Wilhelm and Simon, and for a second, she didn’t speak. Then she pressed a long kiss to Leo’s forehead, whispered something soft, and walked over to Wilhelm.

Without a word, she handed Leo carefully into Wilhelm’s arms.

Only then did she turn to Simon.

And suddenly, she was there — arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders, pulling him close like she could squeeze the pain out of him. Simon’s chin crumpled against her shoulder. He didn’t cry — not yet — but he sagged into her, letting himself be held.

“I love you,” Sara whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re not alone. You hear me? Never alone.”

Simon nodded, jaw trembling. “Thank you.”

She stepped back, hands still gently gripping his arms, her eyes full of tears she wasn’t letting fall. “I’ll call you later, okay? Just… be with your boys now.”

Simon nodded again. And then she was gone.

The silence left behind was heavy.

Wilhelm turned toward him, Leo in his arms.

Simon looked at them both like he was seeing them from behind glass. “He probably hates me,” he whispered, his voice flat and broken. “I left him. I left him.”

Wilhelm’s heart cracked open all over again.

“He doesn’t hate you,” he said softly. “He just wants his papa.”

Simon blinked fast, trying to hold it together.

Wilhelm leaned in slightly and gently tapped Leo’s tiny hand. “Look, baby,” he said sweetly, “look who’s here. Papa’s home.”

Leo stirred faintly, a little squirm and sigh as if in recognition.

Then, with slow and careful movements, Wilhelm reached out and slid Leo into Simon’s arms — one hand steadying their son, the other resting lightly on Simon’s elbow, grounding him.

Simon froze.

Leo let out a soft breath… then reached one tiny fist toward Simon’s chest, like he knew exactly where he belonged.

Simon’s arms locked around him instinctively. A choked sound slipped from his throat, and he crumbled into the couch, holding his baby like something sacred.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry, baby boy. I never meant to go. I never meant to leave you.”

Leo’s only response was to nuzzle deeper into the crook of his papa’s arm.

Wilhelm knelt beside them, arms around both of them now. “He forgives you. I do too. And now we move forward. Together.”

Simon buried his face into Leo’s soft hair, breathing him in. “I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

“I didn’t either,” Wilhelm said quietly, pressing a kiss to Simon’s shoulder. “But there’s no one else I’d rather learn this with.”

They sat there for a long time — the new, fragile shape of their family curled together on the couch. Simon’s hands stopped shaking. Leo slept, warm and safe in his papa’s arms. And Wilhelm… he watched over both of them, silently promising to never let go.

…

The sun poured in through the windows the next morning — warm and golden, softening the edges of the room. It was still early. The kind of early where everything was quiet, where the world hadn’t woken up yet. Just the three of them, tucked into their cocoon of blankets and safety.

Simon stirred first.

Leo was nestled on his chest, one tiny hand curled against Simon’s collarbone, his little mouth parted in sleep. Simon hadn’t dared to move in over an hour. He’d just laid there, one hand slowly stroking the soft slope of his baby’s back, soaking in the rise and fall of his breathing.

His eyes were puffy from crying. His heart still tender. But for the first time in weeks, Simon didn’t feel like he was failing.

He looked over.

Wille was half-sitting against the headboard, one leg stretched out, the other bent. His head tilted toward them, eyes closed, one hand resting lightly on Simon’s hip, like a tether — like a promise.

Simon whispered, “Wille?”

The alpha blinked awake immediately. He looked down, saw them both, and smiled. Not the kind of smile you give to cover up exhaustion or worry — a real one. A soft, proud one.

“You okay?” he asked, voice raspy with sleep.

Simon nodded. “I think… yeah. I’m okay.”

Wille leaned over, kissed the top of Simon’s curls, and then Leo’s fuzzy head. “How’d he do last night?”

“He slept.” Simon laughed quietly. “Like a champ. Which is unfair after the past two months, but I’ll take it.”

“You both needed the rest,” Wille said. “Especially you.”

Simon looked down at their son again. “I forgot how good this could feel. Just… this.”

Wille’s hand found his again. “Let’s not forget it again.”

A little while later, Wille got up and made coffee. Real, strong, sweet coffee — the kind they hadn’t had in what felt like forever. He also managed to fry two eggs and butter a couple slices of toast, balancing it all on a tray like he was presenting a gift.

Simon was sitting up in bed now, Leo swaddled and snoozing beside him in the bassinet.

“God,” Simon said, smelling the coffee, “I didn’t know I could love you more than I already did.”

Wille grinned, placing the tray between them. “Well, good morning to you too.”

They ate slowly, sipping coffee, watching Leo stretch and yawn in his sleep.

For the first time in what felt like ages, there was no tension. No fear coiled in Simon’s chest. Just peace.

Halfway through his toast, Simon spoke. “I think I want to talk to someone.”

Wille looked at him gently. “Yeah?”

Simon nodded. “I don’t want to feel like that again. And I don’t want to hide it when I do.”

Wille reached over and took his hand. “I’m proud of you. And I’ll help however I can.”

They stayed like that for a while — hand in hand, the smell of coffee in the air, Leo breathing softly in the background. A new kind of quiet. Not emptiness. Not pressure.

Just space.

Space to feel. Space to heal.

And as the sunlight crept higher on the wall and Leo began to stir again, Simon leaned his head against Wille’s shoulder and whispered, “We’re going to be okay.”

And Wille, brushing his thumb along Simon’s knuckles, whispered back, “We already are.”

...

Chapter Text

The clinic was quiet, nestled off a side street in the older part of town — just a modest building tucked between a bakery and a bookstore. Wille parked the car outside and glanced over at Simon in the passenger seat.

“You okay?” he asked softly, one hand still on the gearshift, the other finding Simon’s wrist gently.

Simon nodded, but his fingers were tugging at the hem of his sleeve. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know what to say in there.”

“You don’t have to say everything today,” Wille said. “You just have to be honest.”

Simon looked out the window, then back at Wille. “You’re coming in with me?”

“If you want me to,” Wille said without hesitation. “I’ll sit on the floor and play with Leo if I have to.”

Simon huffed a laugh and leaned over, pressing a small kiss to his alpha’s cheek. “Thanks.”

The counselor’s office smelled like lavender and old wood. Soft armchairs, warm lighting. There were toys in a corner and a little kettle with peppermint tea. Leo was fast asleep in his car seat beside Wille’s chair, snoring faintly.

The counselor was a gentle-eyed woman named Ingrid who wore cozy cardigans and took notes with a purple pen.

They talked.

Simon didn’t say everything. But he said enough.

How he hadn’t recognized himself. How terrifying it was to feel like he was failing the people he loved. How alone he’d felt even in a room full of support. How tired.

Ingrid listened. Asked simple questions. Let silence fill the spaces where tears pressed close.

Before they left, she said, “This is a start, Simon. And you're already doing better than you think.”

…

Later that week, they were at Vera’s clinic for Leo’s two-month check-up.

Vera greeted them both with a warm smile and waved them into her exam room. “Look who got even cuter,” she cooed, scooping Leo up expertly.

Leo made a soft gurgling sound in reply, batting his hands like he knew he was being admired.

The check-up went smoothly — weight, reflexes, heartbeat, all perfect. “He’s thriving,” Vera said with a smile. “Clearly very loved.”

Then she turned to Simon. “And how about you, papa? Let’s do a quick look.”

Simon hesitated, but nodded. Wille squeezed his hand as Vera led him behind the curtain for a quick physical postpartum check. It was brief, and kind — and thankfully, everything looked good.

“You’ve healed well,” she told him. “Now take care of your heart too.”

Simon smiled a little. “Trying.”

…

The warmth of the room didn’t match the way Simon felt inside.

He sat in the corner of Ingrid’s office, legs crossed beneath him on the worn but soft gray couch, hoodie sleeves bunched at his wrists. The air smelled of peppermint tea and dusted lavender — comforting, yet not enough to soothe the tight knot sitting in his chest.

Ingrid gave him time, as always. She didn’t rush him. Just waited with that soft, patient expression that made Simon feel seen and safe, even when he didn’t have the words yet.

“I don’t know why I feel so… detached,” Simon finally said, voice rough. “From everything. From him. From myself. I used to know who I was. Now I feel like a ghost in someone else’s skin.”

Ingrid nodded, jotting something in her purple notebook. “How long have you felt this way?”

“Since the birth, mostly. It was like…” Simon exhaled slowly. “I came home with Leo, and the rest of me didn’t come with.”

She nodded again, kindly. “Let’s talk about that for a second. You mentioned body image at our last session. Can you tell me more about how you see yourself now?”

Simon hesitated, fingers fidgeting in his lap. “I hate mirrors. I hate the way my clothes fit. I can feel the stretch marks, the softness. I know it’s normal, I know it is — but I don’t feel attractive. Or desirable. I feel… wrong.”

He swallowed. “And I think I’ve been avoiding Wille because of it. I haven’t let him see me. Not really. I don’t even change clothes in the same room anymore.”

Ingrid let that breathe for a moment before she asked, “When was the last time you were physically intimate with him?”

Simon blinked, a little stunned by the bluntness of it. He cleared his throat. “Before Leo was born.”

“Have you talked about it?”

“No,” he admitted. “I’ve been scared to. Because I’m afraid of what he might say.”

She tilted her head slightly. “Simon… your bond with Wille isn’t just about love. It’s a biological part of you. You’re an omega — touch and closeness are essential to your sense of self. When that disappears for too long, your mind starts to twist the story: that you’re not wanted. Not loved. Not enough.”

Simon looked down, jaw tight.

Ingrid’s voice was gentle. “Wille might be waiting for you to come back to him — and he’s likely blaming himself for not reaching for you sooner. Maybe what you need now isn’t perfection. It’s permission. To let him in.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. But as he left her office later, the words sat with him — humming low in his chest like a reminder.

…

The scent hit Simon the second he opened the front door: warm tomato and garlic, fresh herbs, and something sweeter—like roasted vegetables or maybe bread. But more than that, it smelled like home. A calm, gentle kind of home.

He toed off his shoes and stepped inside, blinking slowly. The apartment looked… good. Not just tidied, but lovingly reset. The counters were wiped down, toys and tiny onesies neatly folded in the corner basket, and even the living room pillows had been fluffed.

It was quiet, too. Soft music floated from the speaker—jazz, maybe, something with gentle piano and no lyrics. Simon moved through the hall slowly, peeking into the living room where he found Leo, fast asleep in his bassinet, his tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm.

Then he saw Wille, standing in the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants and a faded t-shirt, finishing plating two simple bowls of pasta.

“Hi,” Simon said, barely above a whisper.

Wille turned immediately, smiling like it had been days instead of just a couple hours. “Hey. You’re home.”

Simon gave him a look. “You cleaned.”

“I cooked, too,” Wille added proudly. “Nothing fancy. Pasta, veggies. And I even remembered to put the garlic bread in before sitting down.”

Simon let out a soft, tired laugh and stepped closer, heart warmed by the effort. “Everything smells amazing.”

“You look... lighter,” Wille said gently, watching him. “How was the session?”

Simon didn’t answer right away. He followed Wille to the couch, where two bowls waited, a folded blanket already arranged to drape over their legs. They sat down side by side, Leo peacefully snoring a few feet away.

“Good,” Simon said finally, once he took the first bite. “Hard. But good.”

Wille waited patiently, letting the silence sit between them like a friend rather than a burden.

“Ingrid asked me how I’ve been feeling about my body,” Simon said, swirling his fork. “And how it’s affected us. She brought up intimacy, and how a lot of omegas struggle after giving birth. That… sometimes, they don’t feel desirable anymore. Like their identity has shifted, and not in a way they recognize.”

Wille put his fork down slowly. “Do you feel like that?”

Simon nodded, then glanced at him. “Yeah. I do. I’ve been avoiding you—not just physically but emotionally—because I thought maybe you didn’t want me like you used to. And I didn’t want to admit that I was the one pulling away.”

Wille reached over, hand resting gently over Simon’s thigh. “I’ve never stopped wanting you, Simon. I never will.”

Simon’s throat tightened. “She said it’s important for omegas to feel claimed again after birth. Desired. That even small steps toward intimacy help them reconnect with themselves.”

Wille nodded slowly. “So what are you thinking?”

Simon looked at him earnestly. “I want to try. Not everything at once, obviously. But I want to find my way back to feeling close to you. Like an omega. Like your omega. I want to feel wanted again.”

A pause.

Then Wille smiled, slow and sure. “Then maybe you should take the lead. I’ll follow.”

Simon let out a breath and leaned in closer, burying his face against Wille’s neck and scenting deeply at his gland. Wille’s scent—grounded, warm, woodsy—filled his nose and quieted his anxious thoughts.

“I missed this,” Simon whispered.

“I’ve missed you,” Wille said.

They stayed like that for a moment, their bowls forgotten. Simon tilted his head and brushed a kiss to Wille’s jaw, and Wille turned his head slightly to return the kiss. It was soft, hesitant—new again in a way that made Simon’s chest ache.

“I love you,” Simon said against Wille’s skin. “Thank you for today. For everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” Wille murmured.

Just as he reached out to cradle Simon’s face, Leo let out a sharp, sudden cry from the bassinet.

Simon made to stand, but Wille pushed him gently back onto the couch. “No. Sit. Finish your dinner. Let me handle him.”

“You sure?”

Wille was already standing, walking over to scoop their son into his arms. “Absolutely. You deserve to relax.”

Simon watched his alpha cradling their baby, softly humming under his breath as Leo calmed in his arms.

The house was clean, dinner was warm, their baby was safe, and for the first time in a long while—Simon felt like himself again.

Not completely. But enough.

They were getting there.

…

Chapter Text

Things were finally beginning to settle. Slowly, softly, but surely.

Simon could feel it in the way his breath came easier when he woke up in the mornings. In the way the ache in his chest no longer pulsed every time Leo cried. In how he started laughing again — not just small polite chuckles, but real, deep laughter that reached his belly. It wasn’t a miracle recovery, it wasn’t overnight, but after weeks of therapy sessions, gentle routines, and the quiet, steadfast presence of his alpha, things were shifting.

Wilhelm had started working from home two, sometimes three days a week. It gave Simon time to nap, shower without rushing, or just sit on the balcony with a coffee while Wilhelm handled Leo’s feedings or playtime. It made a difference. Some mornings, Simon would wake up to the sound of soft music playing from the living room and Leo’s babbles echoing as Wilhelm cooed back at him, and something in Simon’s heart would unclench just a little more.

A month into his new rhythm, Simon finally had the energy to visit his old class at school. He hadn’t realized how much he missed them — his students, his colleagues, the silly chaos of it all. He brought Leo with him, proudly showing off his son. He still remembered the way one of his co-teachers, Johanna, had gasped as she leaned over the stroller.

“Oh my god, Simon, he’s gorgeous. I swear, if you don’t watch him closely, I might just steal him.”

Simon had laughed, full and open, pressing a kiss to Leo’s soft little cheek. “You’ll have to fight me first,” he’d joked, and the moment had stayed with him all day. He felt like himself again. A newer version maybe, with eye bags and formula stains, but himself nonetheless.

Back at home, things between him and Wilhelm had started shifting too. They weren’t rushing anything. No pressure, no expectations. But little things — small touches, fingers brushing when they passed each other, casual kisses that lingered longer than before — were finding their way back.

One night, curled up on the couch after putting Leo to bed, Simon leaned his head on Wilhelm’s shoulder while a movie played quietly in the background. His fingers toyed with the hem of Wilhelm’s hoodie, and Wille’s arm came around to hold him tighter.

Wilhelm chuckled softly, brushing his nose against Simon’s hair. “We’re really out here cuddling like teenagers,” he teased. “Like first base stuff.”

Simon snorted, not even lifting his head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” Wilhelm said, tightening his grip affectionately, “I love it. Missed this.”

So had Simon.

When Leo turned eight months old, Simon started noticing Wilhelm differently again. Or perhaps, noticing more. Like how his alpha would step out of the shower, hair damp and towel slung low on his hips, steam clinging to his skin in ways that made Simon flush and look away — only to sneak another glance moments later. Or how Wilhelm would gently lift Leo up, talking to him softly in that special voice only used for their son, his muscles flexing just slightly under the weight of him, and Simon would bite back a smile. Even the simple way Wilhelm opened doors for him — steady, considerate — had Simon blushing like he was seventeen again.

He felt it in his body, too. A slow, warm stir. He was leaking again. Just a little, just enough to notice.

And he didn’t feel scared this time. He felt ready.

…

Simon had managed to sleep for more than three hours in a row the night before — a small miracle, really — and Leo, for once, hadn’t screamed bloody murder during his morning change. Instead, he’d blinked up at Simon, wriggled his little fists, and made a sound that was almost like a laugh. Simon had frozen, holding the damp wipe mid-air, and just stared.

And then Leo smiled.

It was lopsided and gummy, but it was a real smile. Simon's heart had squeezed so tight in his chest he thought it might burst. He grabbed his phone and filmed the second little noise Leo made, a happy squeaky coo, and immediately sent it to Wille with the caption: He smiled at me. Like, really smiled.

Wille had texted back seconds later: Of course he did. He loves you.

It still made Simon a little emotional. His omega heart was finally beginning to relax again. The storm had started to clear. He could feel it in his limbs, in the way he didn't flinch at every cry, in the way he could make Leo laugh by dancing a little around the nursery while singing terribly off-key.

He was healing.

Later that afternoon, Simon got Leo dressed in a soft beige knit set and packed up the stroller. He was going to visit Sara. They hadn’t seen each other properly since everything, and Sara had been sending gentle texts every couple of days. “No pressure,” she’d always write. “Just want to know you’re okay.”

Sara opened the door the second he rang the bell. “There you are,” she said with a wide smile before crouching down in front of Leo in his stroller. “And there’s my little gentleman.”

Simon stood awkwardly for a second before Sara reached up and hugged him tightly. He let himself sink into it.

“You look better,” she said as they walked inside.

“I feel better,” Simon admitted. “Not perfect. But better.”

They set Leo down in his travel bassinet in the living room, where Alma was already hovering with interest.

“Careful, Alma,” Sara said, but Alma had already crouched beside her cousin and whispered, “Hi, baby,” with all the gentleness in the world.

Simon laughed. “She’s obsessed.”

“She really is. And she’s been begging August to take her out with him today. He’s walking the outer trail so she’s finally getting her way.”

As if on cue, August called out a goodbye and left with Alma wrapped in a tiny scarf and boots far too big for her. The house quieted. Simon and Sara sat on the couch with mugs of lukewarm coffee and the kind of silence that came from long familiarity.

After a moment, Simon cleared his throat. “Can I ask you something a little weird?”

Sara raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Go on.”

“It’s about… you know, after Alma. How long it took before you and August—” He hesitated, cheeks flushing.

Sara blinked, then grinned. “You mean started having sex again?”

Simon groaned and hid his face behind one hand. “God, don’t say it like that.”

“You asked!” She laughed, leaning back with a smirk. “Why?”

Simon rubbed his face. “Because I’m starting to feel… I don’t know. Horny again.”

Sara burst into laughter, and Simon turned redder. “Stop laughing at me,” he muttered.

“I’m not laughing at you,” she said, still smiling. “It’s just so classic omega postpartum moment. You crawl through the darkness and then one day, boom, your body’s like, ‘Hey, remember knotting?’”

Simon groaned into his hands.

Sara nudged him. “No shame. It means your hormones are leveling out again. Honestly, I was the same. I didn’t even think about August like that for months. Then one day, we were cleaning out the stables — I was sweaty and pissed off — and he said something stupid about hay bales and I just… yeah. Almost jumped him.”

Simon peeked through his fingers and laughed. “Seriously?”

Sara nodded proudly. “I ripped his shirt. He still teases me about it.”

Simon leaned his head against the back of the couch. “I’m not there yet. But… I’ve started noticing Wille more. The way he moves around the house. The way he smells when he gets out of the shower. And I keep thinking about how it was before.”

Sara gave him a warm smile. “That’s good, Si. That’s really good. Maybe you should do something about it, then.”

Simon looked at her, incredulous. “What, like, seduce him?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because I still feel like a saggy balloon. My stretch marks have stretch marks. And I don’t know, I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to jump into bed, you know,” Sara said gently. “Start small. Let him hold you. Kiss you. Touch your skin. You’re his omega. He wants you. Even like this.”

Simon swallowed. “He says that. And I think I’m finally starting to believe him.”

She squeezed his hand. “Then trust him. And trust yourself.”

Just then, Leo let out a soft coo. Simon reached for him, lifting him with practiced ease. He rocked him gently as Leo blinked sleepily up at him, then rubbed his face into Simon’s chest and sighed.

Simon kissed the top of his son’s head.

…

The morning sun filtered gently through the kitchen windows as Wilhelm zipped up his overnight bag. His hand hovered over the handle, hesitating even though the decision had already been made. Just one night. Just one meeting, out of town. It wasn’t far, and Simon had reassured him a dozen times. Still, he hated the idea of being away.

Simon stood by the door, Leo balanced comfortably on his hip, cheeks flushed from a recent nap and his soft hair a mess of baby curls. Simon wore one of Wille’s old hoodies, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and he looked so completely like home that Wilhelm's stomach turned.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” Wilhelm asked, looking between them with that alpha concern that never really left his face since Leo had been born.

Simon nodded. “We’ll be fine. Leo’s fine. Linda’s even dropping by this afternoon, remember?”

Wille sighed, his shoulders drooping slightly as he looked at them. “Maybe it’s just me who won’t be.”

Simon softened, stepping close. He wrapped one arm around Wilhelm’s waist, and Leo grabbed at Wilhelm’s lapel with his chubby fingers.

“We’ll miss you too, papa,” Simon murmured, pressing a kiss to Wilhelm’s cheek.

Wilhelm kissed them both—Leo first, then Simon—and hugged them tightly like he didn’t want to let go. His voice was low when he finally whispered, “Text me. Pictures. Videos. Anything.”

Simon smiled, brushing hair off Wilhelm’s forehead. “Go. We’ll be here when you get back.”

…

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows, painting soft stripes of gold across the living room floor. Leo lay on his playmat near the couch, surrounded by colorful toys, his little hands batting at a crinkly elephant while he babbled happily to himself.

Simon sat nearby, legs tucked beneath him on the rug, sipping lukewarm tea from a chipped mug. Across from him, his mom, Linda, relaxed into the corner of the couch with a blanket draped over her legs, watching her grandson with a dreamy smile.

“He’s so full of life already,” she murmured, her voice warm. “And those cheeks, honestly. You just want to eat him up.”

Simon laughed, eyes on Leo as the baby rolled over and made a determined grab for a squeaky giraffe. “One of my colleagues actually joked about stealing him the other day. Said he was too cute to be real.”

Linda snorted. “I mean, she’s not wrong. He’s perfect.”

Simon smiled, leaning forward to tickle Leo’s side, rewarded with a squeal and flailing arms. Things had slowly begun to shift for the better. His therapy sessions were helping, making the fog lift just enough to let in some light. Wilhelm working from home part-time gave Simon the space to nap, shower, or just breathe. And the visit to his class a few weeks ago—showing off Leo to his students and co-workers—had felt like a little piece of himself clicking back into place.

His phone buzzed on the low table, vibrating softly against the wood. He picked it up, thumb brushing over the screen. A message from Wilhelm lit up:

Wilhelm: “I miss your scent.”

Simon blinked, and heat instantly bloomed across his cheeks. His heart fluttered a little. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way his alpha always seemed to know exactly what to say to make Simon feel wanted.

Linda tilted her head, eyeing him. “Wille?”

Simon nodded, grinning like a teenager. “Yeah. He just said he misses me.”

Linda’s eyes twinkled. “Just you?”

Simon bit his bottom lip and gave a little laugh. “And my scent.”

Her smirk grew. She leaned forward, grabbed her keys from the table, and tossed them gently toward him. He caught them, brows raised.

“Go,” she said simply. “Get in the car and go see him. Have some proper Wilhelm and Simon time.”

Simon flushed even deeper. “Mamma.”

She laughed and waved a hand. “What? I’m not blind. You’ve been glowing all day, and now you’re pink like a teenager. Go be with your alpha.”

He hesitated, glancing toward Leo.

“I can take care of my grandson,” she said easily, lowering herself to the floor beside the baby. “I’ve done it before, remember? You were a fussy little thing. Leo’s an angel compared to you.”

Simon chuckled, shaking his head. “I just… are you sure? You’re okay for the night?”

Linda looked up at him, her hand gently stroking Leo’s belly as the baby giggled. “I have snacks. I have a cozy couch. I have this adorable baby to keep me company. You go get your man.”

Simon hugged her, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Thank you.”

She reached up to squeeze his arm. “Always.”

With a kiss on Leo’s head and a whispered be good, Simon headed upstairs to pack a small bag. He threw in a clean T-shirt, toothbrush, and—at the last moment—a pair of black briefs Wilhelm liked a little too much. He took a shower and dressed more like himself, he even styled his hair. 

He was so ready to go see his alpha.

…

Chapter Text

The hotel lobby smelled of warm mahogany and something floral. Simon hesitated just a moment before stepping up to the reception desk, fingers tightening slightly around the strap of his overnight bag. He knew Wilhelm had a meeting this afternoon—probably still out with the clients. But he also knew where he was staying, and after that text about missing his scent, Simon couldn’t stay away.

The receptionist was a tall, sharp-looking beta woman in her mid-forties, and her polite smile faltered slightly when Simon asked for Wilhelm’s room number.

“I’m sorry, sir. We can’t give out that information unless the guest has notified us in advance that they’re expecting company.”

Simon sighed. “Right, of course. I just thought… I mean, he’s my mate. My alpha.” He winced, realizing how desperate he sounded. “We just had a baby. He’s just eight months old. And Wilhelm—he’s been amazing. I’ve been struggling a lot since the birth. Postpartum stuff. Depression. He’s been holding it all together for me, for us. And now I’m finally doing better and I just… I wanted to do something for him. To surprise him. He texted me this morning and said he missed me—.”

He stopped, realizing he was rambling. The receptionist’s expression softened just a bit. And then, from behind her, a young male omega stepped forward—clearly overhearing the whole thing. He was maybe early thirties, neat and gentle in demeanor. His voice was kind when he asked, “Is it Wilhelm Eriksson room you’re searching for?”

Simon blinked and nodded. “Yes.”

The omega smiled knowingly, glancing at the beta beside him, who nodded and stepped aside. He opened a small drawer and handed Simon a key card. “Room 714… And I’ve been there, too,” he added softly. “It gets better. And alphas like that… you hold on to them.”

Simon blinked, overwhelmed. “Thank you. Really, thank you so much.”

…

The elevator ride up was quiet and tense. Simon’s heart pounded as the numbers climbed. When the doors opened, he made his way to the room, unlocked it, and stepped into a surprisingly cozy, modern space. He exhaled slowly. The bed was crisp and untouched. Wilhelm’s suit jacket was draped over a chair beside his bag standing on the floor.

Simon set down his bag and went straight to the bathroom. He’d brought what he needed. The idea had formed in his head the moment Linda tossed him the car keys and told him to “go get some Wilhelm-and-Simon time.”

He shaved his legs slowly, carefully. Then lotion. Then the black briefs Wilhelm had always said made him go feral. He slipped into the soft white dress shirt he’d swiped from Wilhelm’s closet—it was too big and smelled like him. Simon inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a second.

By the time he was done, he felt… ready. Nervous, but ready. He curled up on the bed, intending to scroll his phone a bit, maybe light a candle. But the stress of getting there, the intimacy of the preparations, the softness of the pillows—he drifted off before he could stop himself.

…

When Wilhelm walked into the hotel room an hour later, the first thing he saw was his omega asleep in his bed.

He froze in the doorway. His whole body went still.

Simon was on his side, one hand tucked under his cheek, the other resting lightly on his stomach. The shirt was open just enough to reveal skin and soft cotton briefs. His legs, smooth and bare, stretched out under the blanket. Wilhelm’s mouth went dry.

He closed the door quietly behind him, dropping his keys onto the table. He approached the bed slowly, like if he moved too fast, the moment might disappear. His eyes roamed over Simon’s face—softer in sleep, peaceful. The gentle rise and fall of his chest. The faint scent of lotion and Simon’s natural sweetness clung to the air.

Wilhelm knelt beside the bed and reached out, brushing a few curls back from Simon’s forehead.

Simon stirred, blinking slowly. “Mmh… this wasn’t how I planned to seduce you,” he mumbled.

Wilhelm chuckled, heart aching with adoration. “You’re seducing me just fine by just laying there like that.”

Simon blinked again, then stretched like a cat. The shirt shifted. Wilhelm’s eyes darkened.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Simon said, sitting up slightly. “I was trying to be all sexy and—”

Wilhelm leaned forward and kissed him.

It was deep and slow, reverent. His fingers slid into Simon’s hair as the omega clutched his arms, pulling him closer.

“You came all this way,” Wilhelm whispered against his mouth. “That’s already everything.”

They kissed again, softer, before Simon pulled back and rested his forehead against Wilhelm’s.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Wilhelm said. “You look incredible.”

Simon flushed. “If you keep saying things like that, maybe you’ll get past first base tonight.”

Wilhelm’s eyes flashed, and he growled softly, the sound curling through Simon’s spine. He leaned in, scenting Simon—and paused.

“You’re leaking.”

Simon bit his lip. “A little.”

Wilhelm’s eyes dropped to his mate’s neck. “Are you sure?”

Simon nodded, eyes heavy with want. “Please,” he whispered. “Just… go slow. It’s been a while.”

Wilhelm kissed him again, then gently pushed him back onto the bed. “Slow is the only way I want you right now.”

His fingers trailed along Simon’s thighs, reverent. Simon’s breath hitched. The alpha kissed his way down his neck, his chest, his stomach. He took his time. The scent of arousal in the room thickened.

Simon whimpered softly as Wilhelm opened him with careful, practiced fingers—checking at every step, whispering reassurance and praise. Simon gasped, eyes fluttering, body arching as he was stretched open.

When Wilhelm finally slid inside, he did so slowly, holding Simon’s gaze. The first push had Simon gripping the sheets, and Wilhelm paused, kissing his mate’s temple, waiting for the signal to continue.

“You feel so good,” Simon murmured, voice trembling. “I forgot how full you make me feel.”

Wilhelm groaned softly, forehead pressed against Simon’s. “I love you so much.”

They moved together slowly, building up the rhythm like rediscovering a forgotten dance. Simon wrapped his legs around Wilhelm’s waist, letting him in deeper. His moans turned into broken whispers of Wilhelm’s name.

When Wilhelm knotted him, Simon cried out, clinging to him, panting against his neck. It was overwhelming and perfect and exactly what they’d both needed. They lay tangled in the sheets afterward, slick and warm, hands wandering over bare skin, kisses exchanged between sleepy smiles.

“I missed this,” Simon murmured.

“Me too.”

“You still smell like home,” Simon whispered.

Wilhelm smiled. “You are home.”

Simon giggled softly. “And to think I almost didn’t come.”

“Remind me to thank my mother-in-law next time I see her.”

Simon laughed again, then pressed a kiss to Wilhelm’s shoulder, sighing contentedly.

…

The hotel room was filled with the lingering scent of sex and the softness of tangled sheets. Simon lay curled in Wilhelm’s arms, both of them still catching their breath. The quiet hum of the air conditioning, the dim city lights seeping in through the window, and the deep, shared peace between them made the moment feel suspended in time.

Eventually, Simon stirred. "I’m starving," he murmured, stretching like a cat against Wilhelm’s side.

Wilhelm chuckled, brushing a hand through Simon’s curls. "Let’s get room service. Anything you want."

Simon smiled, his cheeks flushed with the afterglow. "Everything. I want fries. And pasta. And maybe something sweet."

A few minutes later, they were sitting up in bed, both wearing hotel robes, surrounded by plates of food. Simon picked at his pasta while Wilhelm polished off a burger, occasionally feeding Simon a fry between bites.

They ate with the easy intimacy of people who knew each other’s cravings and rhythms, who could be quiet or silly without effort. Simon let his foot brush against Wilhelm’s calf beneath the duvet.

Halfway through a bite of chocolate cake, Simon paused. "I should call mamá. Just to check on Leo."

Wilhelm nodded. "Of course. She’s probably having a great time with him."

Simon reached for his phone and dialed. Linda answered on the third ring.

"Hola cariño," she said cheerfully. "How’s your romantic getaway going?"

Simon laughed softly. "It’s been… really good. I just wanted to check on Leo. Is he okay?"

"He’s sleeping like a little angel. Everything’s fine, Simon. Enjoy this time."

Simon exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. "Thanks, mamá. For everything."

"Of course. You needed this. Wilhelm needed this. And Leo is safe and happy."

Simon smiled so wide it ached a little. "Give him a kiss from us?"

"Already did. I’ll give him another. Now go. Eat. Love. Sleep. Don’t worry."

"Te quiero."

"Te quiero, hijo."

When he hung up, Wilhelm was watching him with a soft expression. "He’s okay?"

Simon nodded. "Sleeping."

Wilhelm grinned. "Sounds like him."

Simon leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Wilhelm’s cheek. "Now where were we?"

Wilhelm held up a fork with a piece of cake on it. "Feeding you dessert in bed."

Simon grinned. "My alpha."

And as Wilhelm fed him, their fingers brushing, their smiles lazy and full, the night wrapped around them like a warm, soft promise of everything they were building together.

Home, wherever they were.

...

Chapter Text

The house had grown quieter in its chaos. Not because things were calmer, but because Wilhelm and Simon had grown used to the sounds — the small feet padding across the floors, the babbling, the soft hum of lullabies playing on a loop through the baby monitor. The days blurred together, measured in Leo’s milestones: his first laugh, his first time crawling, his first time pulling himself upright using the edge of the couch, grinning like he’d just conquered Everest.

Then came the moment neither of them were truly prepared for.

It was a late afternoon. The sunlight painted long streaks across the hardwood floor, catching golden dust motes in its path. Simon sat at the electric piano, fingers idly pressing chords into a gentle tune he’d been working on for weeks. His back was slightly turned, fully immersed in the music.

Wilhelm had just come out of the hallway, a glass of water in one hand, pausing when he caught sight of something.

Leo — thirteen months old and stubborn like both of his fathers — had pulled himself upright using the side of the bookshelf. He stood there for a heartbeat, his eyes trained not on the furniture or on his father who watched in stunned silence, but on Simon at the piano.

And then he moved.

One step. Wobbly.

A second. Arms stretched out for balance.

“Simon,” Wilhelm breathed, too softly for him to hear.

A third.

Simon felt something — not the music, but the weight of presence — and turned just as Leo made it halfway across the room, letting out a gurgled squeal of joy, falling into his lap.

Simon gasped, catching their son, then looking up at Wilhelm with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“He walked,” Wilhelm said, his voice cracking, his hand against his heart.

Simon looked down at Leo, who was shrieking in delight and clapping his own hands. “You did,” he whispered, pressing kisses into Leo’s curls. “You walked to me.”

It was a moment they would remember for the rest of their lives.

...

Two months later, another miracle followed.

Leo was fifteen months old. It was a Saturday evening, and they were having dinner at Sara and August’s place. Alma was six now—quick-witted, energetic, and deeply obsessed with being the best big cousin in the world.

Leo was seated in his little chair at the table, wearing a tiny bib and making a mess of mashed potatoes and soft vegetables. Alma sat beside him, her expression one of exaggerated seriousness as she pointed dramatically to herself.

“Say it,” she said, poking her chest. “Al-ma. Say Alma. Come on, Leo. You can do it. Say Alma.”

Wilhelm had barely taken a sip of water when Leo suddenly paused in his chaotic food-smearing, turned toward Alma, and—clear as day—said:

“A-ma.”

Silence fell. For half a second, the entire table froze.

Then Alma gasped so loudly she almost tipped her chair over. “He said my name! HE SAID MY NAME!”

She shot up like a firecracker, arms flailing, face split with a giant grin. “Leo said Alma! Everyone heard that, right? Right?!”

Simon was already halfway out of his chair, rushing to unbuckle Leo and pull him into his arms. “You said your first word! My clever boy, you said your first word!”

“Alma!” Leo repeated, beaming.

Alma shrieked with glee, bouncing in place. “He loves me! He said me first! Take that, grown-ups!”

Sara laughed, wiping her eyes, while August just shook his head in disbelief.

Wilhelm looked at Simon, and Simon looked back at him with that soft, melting expression that still hit Wilhelm like a tidal wave. In a world that had felt so dark not long ago, Leo had become a thousand tiny sunrises—bright, unstoppable, full of wonder.

...

Leo’s fourth birthday dawned bright and sunny, on the early day of June in Stockholm.

Kristina and Ludvig had insisted on hosting it at the palace, despite Simon’s gentle protests that a simple backyard party would have been more than enough. But as their car pulled up to the royal estate and the gates opened onto the sprawling palace gardens, Simon’s breath caught.

The place had been transformed.

Towering arrangements of pastel balloons arched over the entrance, while colorful streamers crisscrossed between trees like a fairytale canopy. A full-size bouncy castle, shaped like a medieval fortress, stood in the center of the lawn. Long tables were lined with elegant yet playful decorations, and a string quartet played a child-friendly version of Leo’s favorite pop songs in the background. Palace staff dressed in soft tones floated around with trays of tiny pastries and fruit juices served in crystal tumblers.

Simon turned to look at Wilhelm, who was holding Leo in his arms. “They said small,” he whispered with a dry smile.

Wille huffed a laugh. “This is small for them.”

Leo, wide-eyed and squirming with excitement, was already pointing at the bouncy castle and kicking to be let down. Simon set him loose, and the toddler dashed off into the sea of decorations, his dark curls bouncing behind him like he was chasing the wind.

Within minutes, the garden was filled with friends and family. Felice arrived first, followed by Sara and August with Alma, and then Ayub and Rosh carrying an oversized, gift-wrapped box between them.

The celebration was grand, a whirlwind of cheerful chaos. Games were organized by palace staff, including a puppet show that made Leo scream with laughter and a “royal treasure hunt” that ended in golden-wrapped chocolate coins. Kristina and Ludvig stood by, smiling proudly as they handed over a tower of gifts—each more extravagant than the last. A custom-made miniature piano, a carved rocking horse from Austria, and a tiny electric car that Leo immediately tried to drive through the rose garden.

Wille, ever the grounding force, had baked Leo’s cake himself that morning. A simple vanilla sponge with blueberries and cream, decorated with edible musical notes and tiny animal figurines. It sat in contrast to the towering display of desserts from the royal kitchens, and yet it was the first thing Leo asked for when it came time to sing.

The whole crowd gathered around the cake table. Simon held Leo in his arms while Wille leaned close to help steady him. Everyone sang loudly and off-key, and Leo giggled between puffs as he tried—twice—to blow out all four candles. When he finally succeeded, everyone cheered, and Leo threw his hands up in victory.

The party carried on into early evening. Some guests lounged on picnic blankets, others gathered near the heaters sipping champagne. Children sprawled out in the grass, tired and sticky with cake.

Simon stood off to the side, sipping sparkling water and watching the scene unfold.

“Look at them,” Linda said softly as she joined him.

Simon followed her gaze to the bouncy castle. Wille was inside with Leo, both of them bouncing and laughing like they were the same age. Leo squealed when Wilhelm picked him up and swung him around, his laughter echoing through the garden.

Simon smiled, something warm blooming in his chest.

"I can't tell who enjoys it more - Leo or Wilhelm, He's an amazing father.” Linda added, her voice gentle.

Simon hummed. “He’s perfect.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the laughter from the castle blending with the soft notes of the quartet. Then Linda turned slightly, her tone casual—but something curious flickered behind her eyes.

“Have you two ever thought about having another?”

Simon turned to her, surprised.

The question floated between them, unexpected and weighty, soft as the breeze that rustled the decorations overhead.

Simon opened his mouth to answer—

...

..

.

Chapter Text

The car was quiet on the way home, the kind of soft silence that only came after a long day. Leo was slumped in his car seat behind them, his little head tilted to the side, mouth slightly open as he snored softly. Simon sat in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the darkened Stockholm streets, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Wilhelm glanced over at him now and then. Simon had been quieter than usual since the party ended, and it hadn’t gone unnoticed. The first half of the day, Simon had laughed and played along with Leo’s wild energy, helping unwrap gifts and blowing out candles. But something had shifted during the cleanup, and it lingered still.

By the time they pulled into the driveway of their home, Simon still hadn’t said much. Wilhelm cut the engine and glanced back at their son, smiling softly. “He’s out cold.”

Simon nodded. “He was hyped up on sugar and attention all day. I would’ve been surprised if he wasn’t.”

Wilhelm chuckled under his breath and climbed out. He carefully unbuckled Leo, the little boy still completely out of it, his cheek resting against Wilhelm’s shoulder as he was carried upstairs. Simon watched from the hallway, arms folded, letting the silence follow him as he walked toward the kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a glass bottle of sparkling water, the cold condensation slick on his fingers. The familiar hum of the kitchen appliances felt grounding somehow. He took a sip, leaning against the counter, listening to the soft creak of footsteps as Wilhelm returned.

“He’s out,” Wille confirmed, stepping into the kitchen. “Didn’t even stir when I changed him into his pajamas.”

Simon gave a small smile. “He earned it.”

Wilhelm moved closer, brushing a kiss to his omega’s temple before sitting down at the kitchen island across from him. He studied Simon’s face in the warm light. The small lines between his eyebrows. The way he seemed present and distant all at once.

“You alright?” Wilhelm asked gently. “You seemed… I don’t know, far away, the last part of the party.”

Simon hesitated, letting the rim of the glass touch his lips without drinking. Then he sighed, setting it down.

“My mom asked me something,” he said finally. “Earlier today...”

Wilhelm tilted his head. “Yeah? What did she say?”

“She asked if we’d thought about having more kids.” Simon looked up, meeting Wilhelm’s eyes. “If we wanted to give Leo a sibling.”

Wilhelm blinked, a soft smile curling at his mouth. “And… what did you say?”

Simon exhaled slowly. “I told her I don’t know.”

The smile faltered.

Wille didn’t say anything at first, but Simon caught the way his scent shifted — subtle, but telling. The warm notes of vanilla and pine dimmed slightly, like a breeze brushing past a flame. He reached across the counter, catching Wilhelm’s hand and squeezing gently.

“It’s not a no,” Simon said quickly. “It’s just… I’m finally starting to feel like myself again. Like I’m Simon again. Not just Papa, or someone people look at and see exhaustion or struggle. I’ve only just started sleeping through the night again. I can go out without worrying if my body will betray me. I can sing again.”

Wilhelm looked down at their joined hands, thumb brushing over Simon’s knuckles.

“I get that,” he said quietly.

“I love Leo. More than anything. And I want to give him everything. But right now… having another baby — going back to the beginning — I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Simon’s voice softened, eyes searching Wille’s face. “I just need you to know it’s not that I don’t want it someday. Just… not now.”

Wilhelm nodded, the ache in his chest easing a little.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said. “Really.”

Simon leaned in, wrapping his arms around his alpha and resting his cheek against Wilhelm’s shoulder. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Wille said, kissing Simon’s hair, then gently scenting him. “And I’ll be honest too, okay? I do want Leo to have a sibling one day. I really do. But not if it costs us what we’ve rebuilt. I’m here. For you. For us. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Simon closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warm press of Wilhelm’s body, into the safety of his arms, into the steadiness of being held and not rushed.

They stood like that for a while, in the quiet glow of their kitchen — a mated pair choosing, once again, to meet each other with honesty and care.

…

Simon stirred as he heard the bedroom door creak open. He blinked against the morning light pouring through the curtains and sat up slightly, hair tousled and eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Happy birthday to you…” Wille’s voice came first—soft and off-key—followed by a high, excited “Happy birthday, Pappa!” from Leo.

Simon couldn’t help the smile that broke across his face as he sat up fully. His alpha and their little boy entered the room together, Wille balancing a tray of breakfast while Leo carried something behind his back, wobbling with excitement.

They both sang the rest of the song, Leo louder than anything, and Wille’s smile full of warmth as he placed the tray in front of Simon on the bed. “Surprise,” Wille grinned.

Leo climbed up beside Simon immediately, bouncing on the mattress. “Pappa, I made you something!”

“You did?” Simon beamed, leaning down to kiss Leo’s curls. “I can’t wait to see.”

Leo presented a folded piece of paper, covered in bright markers—Simon, Wille, and Leo drawn with stick legs and big, round heads. Simon had little hearts drawn over his head, and Leo proudly pointed at them.

“That’s you, with all the love!”

Simon’s heart tightened, full and soft. “It’s perfect, baby. Thank you so much.”

Wille kissed Simon’s cheek and reached into his back pocket. “And from me,” he said, holding out a small, wrapped box.

Simon raised an eyebrow but took it. “You really didn’t have to—”

“Just open it,” Wille cut in, eyes shining.

Inside, nestled in a velvet pouch, was a sleek silver bracelet. Delicate but masculine, with a small engraved charm in the shape of the letter L.

“For Leo,” Wille said.

Simon looked up at him, his eyes misty. “I love it.”

He leaned forward and kissed his alpha gently, right in front of their grinning son.

...

Later that night

The neon lights of the karaoke bar bathed the crowd in blues and purples. Music pulsed from the speakers as Simon and Wille walked in, hand in hand, greeted immediately by their friends.

Felice, Ayub, Rosh, Sara, and August had already claimed a booth in the back, drinks lined up on the table, and the energy high.

“Birthday boy!” Felice shouted as Simon arrived. She hugged him tightly, Ayub raising a glass toward him.

“You ready to show off those pop star vocals, Eriksson?” Rosh teased.

Simon laughed, settling into the booth beside Wille. “I came here to celebrate, not perform.”

“Coward,” Sara said, raising a brow.

The teasing continued as the group bantered, ordered drinks, and sang along with the brave souls already up on stage. Eventually, the pressure began to build.

“Come on, Simon!” Rosh called out. “It’s your birthday!”

Ayub leaned in. “We’ll chant if we have to.”

Simon laughed and shook his head, mock horrified. “You guys are the worst.”

“If you don’t go,” Wille said, slinging an arm around Simon’s shoulder, “then I’ll do it.”

Simon’s eyes widened in mock panic. “No. No. Anything but that.”

Wille smirked. “You sure? Because I’m about to break out some Celine Dion.”

“Alright, alright, fine,” Simon said, leaning in to kiss Wille quickly. “I’ll go. Not for me—for humanity.”

The group cheered as Simon stood up. Wille gave his mate’s bum a soft pat on the way out. “Good luck, rock star.”

...

Simon stood under the spotlight, mic in hand. The opening synths of "Alejandro" by Lady Gaga filled the room. He rolled his shoulders back, took a breath, and let it all go.

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PrgFKKPx0U&list=RD6PrgFKKPx0U&start_radio=1 - Simon version as well)

By the chorus, the room had come alive. Simon was in his element—seductive, powerful, electric. The entire bar stood up, arms waving, singing along as he danced and played to the crowd. For those few minutes, he wasn’t just a dad or a mate—he was a star again, fully himself.

When the song ended, cheers erupted like thunder. Simon returned to the table, flushed and breathless, only to be embraced by his friends.

“That was iconic,” Felice said, fanning herself.

“Seriously, Gaga who?” Ayub added.

Simon was laughing, his body buzzing with joy and adrenaline, when a familiar voice behind him said—

“Happy birthday, Simon.”

He turned around. And froze.

Marcus.

His ex.

They hugged awkwardly. Marcus smelled different now. Older. Less familiar.

“You remember my birthday?” Simon asked, voice a little wary.

“Course I do.” Marcus smiled. “You look… really good.”

“Thanks,” Simon said, stepping back slightly. Wille moved in closer behind him, just enough for Simon to feel the presence of his alpha.

Marcus didn’t seem to notice—or pretended not to. “I, uh, actually work with a music label now. We’ve been signing a few Scandinavian artists lately. If you’re thinking of getting back into music, I might be able to help connect some dots.”

Simon’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Wille stiffened. He didn’t say anything, but Simon could feel it—the change in his scent, the way his hand subtly curled into a fist.

Marcus’s eyes flicked between them. “Anyway,” he said, reaching into his coat and pulling out a business card. “You’ve still got the voice, clearly. If you’re interested, call me.”

He handed Simon the card, smiled at them both—tight-lipped—and disappeared into the crowd.

Simon looked down at the card, then up at Wille. His alpha wasn’t saying anything, but his jaw was tense.

Simon tucked the card into his pocket and slid his hand into Wille’s.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Wille gave him a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just wasn’t expecting… that.”

Simon pulled him in closer. “Neither was I.”

…

Chapter Text

Later that night they make it through the apartment door in a tangled, laughing mess — Wilhelm practically carrying Simon while trying not to trip over their own shoes. Wille nudges the door shut with his heel, holding his omega upright as Simon’s weight sags happily into his side.

“You,” Simon says with drunken conviction, jabbing a finger into Wille’s chest, “have given me the best birthday.”

Wille smiles, steadying him. “Yeah?”

“And I,” Simon declares, voice lowering like it’s a promise, “am going to thank you. Properly. Right now.”

“Is that so?” Wille chuckles, guiding them down the hallway toward their bedroom.

“Yep. You deserves a reward.” Simon wriggles out of Wille’s arm and blocks the doorway, swaying only a little. “Stand there and watch.”

Wille leans against the frame, already amused. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m dedicated,” Simon corrects, grabbing the hem of his shirt. He tries for a smooth pull-over, but the fabric gets stuck halfway, muffling his laugh until Wille tugs it off for him.

Simon throws it aside like it was all intentional. “See? Seduction.”

“Sure,” Wille says, trying not to grin too hard.

Simon fumbles with his belt, letting it fall with a clatter. He turns, making an attempt at a hip roll that would be far more enticing if he didn’t almost lose his balance halfway through. “I want you to ruin me so bad I can’t walk tomorrow.”

“That’s bold talk from someone who can barely stand,” Wille teases. “But… I need to pee before I do anything.”

Simon squints at him, then waves a hand magnanimously. “Fine. But hurry.”

He stumbles over to the bed, shoving his jeans halfway down his hips before collapsing onto the mattress. He arranges himself — or tries to — in what he clearly believes is a deeply alluring pose: one knee bent, head propped on his hand, the rest of him stretched out like a present.

When Wille returns from the bathroom a minute later, his “present” is snoring softly, one arm flung over his face.

Shaking his head, Wille gently shifts him properly onto the pillow, helps him out of his jeans and pulls the duvet over him. “I love you.”

...

Morning after

Simon blinks awake to find Wille lying beside him, scrolling on his phone. The omega groans, rubbing his eyes. “Guess I, uh… passed out on you.”

“You did,” Wille teases. “Mid-striptease. One minute you’re promising that I’ll get to ruin you, the next you’re drooling on the duvet.”

Simon groans, reaching out to shove him lightly. “Stop.”

Wille smirks. “Just saying — drunk Simon talks a big game.”

Simon shuts him up with a kiss — quick at first, then deeper, his hand sliding over Wille’s hip. Wille responds immediately, rolling onto his side to face him, the heat between them rising fast.

“When’s Mom bringing Leo back?” Simon murmurs.

Wille glances toward the clock. “In three hours.”

Simon grins. “Plenty of time.”

Wille moves in close, his thigh pushing between Simon’s. “You’ve got me half-hard already,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

“Then let’s fix that.” Simon moans at the touch of Wille hard against him.

Simon’s leg hooks around Wille’s hip, pulling him in close, grinding lazily in the half-light of their bedroom. The warmth between them is already building, slow kisses turning into open-mouthed drags of lips and teeth. Wille’s hand finds the small of Simon’s back, sliding lower, fingers dipping under the waistband of his boxers to cup the curve of him.

Simon lets out a low sound — not quite a moan, but enough to make Wille’s pulse jump.

“Boxers off,” Wille mutters, voice rough.

Simon obliges, wriggling out of them in one smooth, impatient move. Wille’s come off just as fast, flung somewhere toward the foot of the bed. For a beat, they just look at each other — hair messy, eyes heavy, skin flushed — then Wille leans in and claims his mouth again, hard.

His body presses Simon into the mattress, chest to chest, hip to hip. The heat between their bare skin is almost too much. Simon’s nails scrape up Wille’s back, urging him closer, harder.

Wille reaches down, guiding himself against him, the first deep push making them both groan. There’s no teasing, no drawn-out rhythm — just Wille setting a sharp, relentless pace, hips snapping forward with intent.

The bed starts to rock under them. Simon arches up to meet every thrust, head tipping back, jaw slack as little sounds spill out of him. Wille’s grip on his hip tightens, fingers digging in, anchoring him in place while he drives into him again and again.

“God, Wille—” Simon’s voice is breathless, almost breaking.

“Yeah?” Wille leans in, lips brushing Simon’s ear. “Feels good?”

Simon nods frantically, words lost to the rhythm overtaking them.

They’re both already close — the urgency, the raw need, the leftover frustration from the night before twisting tight in their guts. Wille’s thrusts get harder, faster, his breathing ragged in Simon’s ear. Simon drags him closer with his legs, clutching at his shoulders, riding the rhythm until it crests over both of them.

It hits quick — Wille spilling with a low, guttural sound, Simon shuddering beneath him, clutching him through every pulse of it.

For a moment, they just lie there, tangled together, catching their breath in the heat of the morning sun spilling across the bed.

...

Later, they sit at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand. Simon’s hair is still damp from the shower, and Marcus’s business card lies in front of him.

“What are you thinking?” Wille asks.

Simon taps the card. “What if I called him? Just to get a meeting with his company.”

Wille feels the familiar flicker of jealousy but takes a slow breath, walking over to stand behind Simon. “If it’s what you want, you should do it.”

He wraps his arms around his omega’s shoulders, scenting him in and pressing a kiss to the mark on his neck. Simon leans back into him with a small smile.

...

Chapter Text

The studio building loomed taller than he expected, glass panels catching the glow of the evening streetlights. The faint hum of traffic outside mixed with the distant thump of bass bleeding through the walls as Marcus pushed open the heavy door and gestured for him to follow.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and equipment dust. The reception was dimly lit, a contrast to the bright, sterile hallways Simon was used to from his own school’s music department. He trailed behind Marcus down a narrow corridor lined with framed platinum records, each one shouting success in gleaming silver and gold.

Marcus stopped in front of a door labeled Studio B and pushed it open.

“Hey, you made it,” a tall man with a shaved head and a warm smile greeted them immediately. “This must be Simon?”

Simon nodded, trying to keep his shoulders loose even though the weight of unfamiliar eyes was already on him.

“Yeah,” Marcus said easily, clapping him on the back. “Told you he had something special.”

The room was a soft chaos—laptops open, cables spilling across the floor, two women leaning over a table stacked with fabric swatches, a guy in a beanie scrolling through what looked like album covers on his iPad. The low, steady beat from the speakers cut off when the tall man raised his hand.

“Alright, let’s hear it,” he said, nodding toward the mic stand set up in the corner.

Simon glanced at Marcus, who gave him an encouraging nod. His throat felt dry, but as soon as he stepped up to the mic and the first chords of the backing track played, the familiar comfort of music took over. He sang — not performing for a crowd, not overthinking every note — just letting his voice spill out the way it always did when he was alone.

When he finished, the room was quiet for a beat. Then the tall man grinned.
“Okay… wow.”

The woman with the fabric swatches looked up. “That voice with the right push could blow up online.”

The beanie guy nodded. “We could make you into something big. Not just a singer — a pop icon.”

Simon blinked. “A pop icon?”

“Yeah,” the tall man said, gesturing broadly. “Start with a killer cover—something recognizable, but you twist it, make it yours. Then we shoot a video, put it on YouTube. Build the buzz from there.”

The fabric woman was already rifling through the swatches again. “We should think image from the start. Wardrobe, styling—maybe something bold, unexpected. Colors that pop.”

Another producer chimed in, talking over her. “And we should get you in front of a camera for a quick teaser clip before the full release—”

Simon tried to cut in, “I—uh, I was thinking—” but his voice got swallowed as they layered ideas over one another.

The woman with the fabrics leaned toward him, holding up a shimmering jacket. “This could be so striking on camera.”

Simon stared at it, his brain stalling for a second. It wasn’t that he disliked the attention — but the way they were talking, it was like they already had a whole version of him built in their heads.

Marcus must have noticed the hesitation in his eyes, because he stepped forward, resting a steadying hand on the small of Simon’s back. The touch was warm, grounding.

“Let’s slow down,” Marcus said smoothly. “We’ll figure it all out from scratch… if Simon wants to do this.”

The room went quiet for just a moment, all eyes on him.

Simon looked at Marcus, searching his face, and then gave a slow, almost cautious nod.

…

The apartment was quiet except for the faint sound of laughter drifting from the kitchen. Simon slipped off his shoes, his bag hanging loosely from his shoulder, and followed the sound until he stopped in the doorway.

There they were—his whole world framed in the warm glow of the late afternoon light. Wilhelm was leaning over the counter, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted in flour as he helped Leo scoop sugar into a mixing bowl. Leo was on his booster chair, his little legs swinging, hair sticking up in messy tufts that caught the light.

Simon didn’t say anything. He just stood there, letting the sight sink into him—their home, their boy, the love that filled every corner of the room.

Then Leo looked up. His whole face lit up in that way only children could manage, pure joy sparking in his eyes.
“Papa!” he squealed.

Before Simon could even take a step, Leo scrambled down from the chair, nearly toppling the mixing bowl in his rush. Simon crouched down, arms open just in time to catch the small body that collided into his chest.

Leo buried his face into Simon’s neck, inhaling deeply, little fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
Simon chuckled softly. “Are you scenting me, bug?”
Leo nodded without looking up, still pressed close.
“It’s cute,” Simon said over Leo’s head, his voice warm with amusement.

Wilhelm came over, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before leaning down to press a quick kiss to Simon’s lips. “Leo wanted to bake a cake to celebrate your meeting,” he said, his smile easy and proud.

Leo pulled back just far enough to look at Simon. “Papa’s a poster!” he declared with excitement.
Simon laughed, shaking his head. “A poster, huh? Guess we better make this cake then.”

The three of them moved back to the counter, Wilhelm helping Leo crack the last egg while Simon measured the flour. There was laughter when some of it ended up on Simon’s shirt, Leo giggling like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

By the time the cake was in the oven, the kitchen smelled sweet and warm, and they settled at the table with mugs of tea while they waited.

When the cake was ready and cut into generous slices, Simon finally told them about the meeting. “It went well,” he said, almost sounding surprised. “They loved my sound and want me to make something with them.”

“That’s amazing, Simme,” Wilhelm said, his hand finding Simon’s across the table.

Simon nodded, smiling. “They want to start with a cover of a song, just to see if people like it.”

Wilhelm squeezed his hand. “Many start like that. It’s smart.”

Simon smiled again, but his mind drifted back to the meeting—people throwing ideas over his head, barely listening when he tried to speak. All he could really do was agree, even if it wasn’t quite what he imagined.

He pushed the thought aside when Leo held out his plate. “Papa, more cake?”

Simon looked at his son, at the crumbs on his cheeks and the bright curiosity in his eyes, and smiled. “Of course, bug.”

…

Simon stood in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning on the counter with one hip, toothbrush moving in slow, absent-minded circles. The low hum of the electric bristles filled the space, but his head wasn’t in the room at all.

It was still at that meeting — the polished glass table, the bright studio lights, the way the air smelled faintly of coffee and expensive cologne. And Marcus. Always Marcus. Not in an overbearing way, at least not openly, but just enough that Simon felt it. The way he’d leaned in when Simon spoke, eyes fixed on him like every word mattered. And then, while talking about possible cover songs, Marcus’s hand had landed at the small of Simon’s back — warm, steady, a little too familiar. It had lingered there for just a second too long, enough to make Simon’s skin prickle.

He’d told himself it was nothing — just part of the whole “win them over” phase, a producer making an artist feel supported, comfortable. He was new to this world. This was the stage where you smiled, nodded, and said yes to everything, giving them what they wanted so you could earn the right to make it your own later. That’s what he kept telling himself anyway. But now, standing here with toothpaste foam in his mouth, the memory still clung stubbornly.

The sound of the shower curtain easing open pulled him out of it. Warm, humid steam drifted in, curling into the cooler air. Simon glanced sideways and froze for a second.

Wille stepped out of the shower, towel riding low on his hips, droplets of water catching in the light and sliding down the long lines of muscle in his chest. His hair was damp and pushed back, leaving a few stray locks clinging to his forehead. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get dressed.

Simon’s eyes betrayed him, tracing the line of Wille’s torso down to the faint trail disappearing under the towel. Wille caught him staring, and a slow smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Like what you see?” Wille asked, voice low and rough from the heat of the shower.

Simon spat into the sink, rinsing his mouth. “It’s not bad,” he replied casually, turning just enough to flash a teasing grin, “for an old alpha like you.”

Wille stilled for a second, eyebrows raising in mock offense. “Old?” he repeated, letting the word hang in the air. “You’re going to regret that.”

The towel hit the counter in one movement, and before Simon could step back, Wille had crossed the space in two long strides. Strong arms swept under him, lifting him effortlessly. Simon yelped, kicking half-heartedly.

“Wille—!”

“Old?” Wille repeated again, carrying him out of the bathroom and tossing him gently onto the bed. He leaned over him, his weight warm and solid, and immediately went for Simon’s sides, fingers dancing in merciless tickles.

Simon squirmed, laughing breathlessly, pushing at his shoulders. “Okay! Okay, I take it back!”

“Too late,” Wille murmured, his grin softening as his hands stilled. He dipped his head, brushing his lips over Simon’s — slow at first, like he was tasting the moment, then deeper.

Simon melted against him, the teasing giving way to something heavier, something familiar. Wille’s mouth moved to his jaw, his throat, and Simon’s hands slid up into damp hair, pulling him closer. The scent of Wille’s skin — soap, steam, and something warm and purely him — filled Simon’s senses.

It happened easily, the kind of rhythm that came from years of knowing each other’s bodies. Wille’s touch was sure, his weight a grounding presence over Simon’s. The moved as one, Simon loving the feeling of his alpha inside of him. The rest of the world faded — until it didn’t.

“Pappa?”

The single word cut through the air like a bucket of cold water. Wille froze, his head snapping toward the bedroom door.

Leo stood there, pajamas rumpled, hair sticking up in every direction, eyes heavy with sleep. He held onto the doorframe like it might help keep him upright. “I can’t fall asleep,” he mumbled.

In an instant, Wille pulled the duvet up and over them both, hiding as much bare skin as he could. He shifted quickly off Simon, the movement a little too sudden, leaving Simon wincing at the loss.

Simon forced a small smile, adjusting the duvet tighter around himself. “Did you try counting sheep?” he asked gently.

“They’re already sleeping,” Leo said, dead serious, eyes big and earnest.

Simon couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, shaking his head. Wille reached over to the nightstand, grabbed Simon’s boxers, and handed them over under the duvet. Simon slipped them on discreetly before standing and padding over to his son.

“Come on,” Simon said, crouching to take Leo’s hand. “Let’s see if a story will help.”

Leo’s fingers curled trustingly into his, and together they headed for the hallway.

Behind them, Wille stayed on the bed, running a hand over his face and then through his hair — part exasperated, part amused. From the hallway, the sound of Simon’s voice began, low and soothing, weaving the kind of story that would eventually guide their son back into dreams.

…

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun angled low through the café’s tall windows, washing the tables in gold and shadow. Dust motes floated lazily in the light, and the soft clatter of cups and saucers mingled with the hum of quiet conversation. The smell of roasted coffee beans was rich and comforting, underscored by the faint sweetness of cinnamon rolls cooling on the counter.

Wille sat at a small round table tucked near the back, his coat draped over the spare chair. His cappuccino sat in front of him, the foam long since settled, a pale heart slowly dissolving into the cooling milk. He’d barely taken a sip.

Across from him, Felice stirred her tea with deliberate slowness, her manicured nails catching the light as she twirled the spoon. She was watching him — not in a prying way, but with that soft, perceptive look she’d honed over years of friendship.

“So…” she began, her tone casual but her eyes searching. “How’s everything at home?”

Wille let out a breath that seemed to carry the weight of the last few weeks. He slouched slightly in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… up and down,” he said finally. “Feels like Marcus is everywhere these days. Not literally in the house, but… he’s always calling or texting Simon. Every time I turn around, it’s another update about the single, the video, the cover song. It’s constant.”

Felice lifted an eyebrow, her spoon clinking softly as she set it aside. “And how are you handling that?”

He gave a humorless little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly? I feel like I’m doing most of the parenting solo right now. Leo’s been asking where Simon is more than usual. I miss him too. But… I don’t want to make this about me. I trust him, Felice. I know this is his dream, and he’s worked so hard for it. I just—” He paused, searching for the word that didn’t sound selfish. “…miss having him around. Miss being just us.”

Felice’s expression softened. “Have you actually told him any of that?”

Wille shook his head, eyes fixed on the untouched cappuccino. “No. I don’t want him to feel guilty for chasing something he’s wanted for so long. I keep telling myself it’s just temporary how I’m feeling. Simon is actually picking up Leo today which he hasn’t in a long time – Leo is so excited about that.”

…

At the Studio

On the other side of the city, Simon stood in the center of a recording booth, a pair of studio headphones snug over his ears. The final, pulsing beat of Madonna’s Sorry faded into silence, leaving only the sound of his own quickened breathing. He knew he was supposed to pick up Leo from daycare later, so a small part of him was already watching the clock.

Through the glass, he could see the producers — heads tilted together, exchanging quick nods and satisfied smiles. One of the sound engineers raised both thumbs. The red “recording” light blinked off.

The door swung open and applause filled the small space. A couple of the crew whistled; someone clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s the take,” a voice said from the doorway.

Marcus stepped forward, grinning like he’d just watched his favorite team score. “You crushed it. Seriously, that was perfect.”

Simon felt heat rise in his cheeks, brushing a stray curl back from his forehead. The praise was warm, heady — a little overwhelming.

“Come on,” one of the producers said, pushing back from the console. “We’re grabbing drinks to celebrate. You’ve earned it.”

Simon glanced at the wall clock. Nearly three. “Uh… I don’t know. I should—”

Marcus closed the space between them, lowering his voice just enough that it felt like a private conversation despite the bustle around them. “Just one drink. This is your moment, Simon. You worked for this. Enjoy it.”

Simon hesitated, chewing lightly on his bottom lip. Then he nodded. “Okay. Just one.”

…

Back at the Café

Felice was mid-story about one of her clients when Wille’s phone buzzed sharply against the table. He glanced at the screen, expecting a text — but the daycare’s number flashed across it instead.

He answered immediately. “Hello?”

The voice on the other end was polite but edged with concern. “Hi, we were wondering when someone will be here to pick up Leo. It’s nearly six.”

Wille froze, glancing instinctively at the clock over the café counter. 5:58. His chest tightened. Leo had been waiting for over an hour past pickup — and Simon was the one supposed to get him today.

“I’m on my way,” he said, already grabbing his coat. His tone was sharper than he meant, urgency threading through every word.

Felice frowned. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Time for that talk after all,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before striding toward the door.

…

At the Bar

The bar was sleek and dimly lit, all amber glow and glassware so thin it felt dangerous to hold. Low music thumped under the chatter of the group, the air humming with the kind of energy that follows a good day’s work.

Simon sat wedged between Marcus and one of the sound engineers, a tall glass sweating in front of him. Someone had already replaced his empty with a second before he’d even realized he’d finished the first. The laughter was easy, and the earlier praise still warmed his chest like sunlight.

He was halfway through a story — or maybe just laughing along to someone else’s — when his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down.

First, the time. 6:07. Fuck.

Then, the message.

We need to talk.
—Wille.

The buzz of alcohol and accomplishment drained out of him in an instant. His stomach dropped, guilt rushing in to fill the space, he forgot to pick up Leo. He pushed his chair back so quickly it scraped against the floor.

“I—uh—have to go,” he said, already reaching for his jacket.

“Come on, it’s early!” someone called, but Simon was already weaving through the crowd toward the door, Wille’s words echoing in his head like a warning bell.

…

That evening, when Simon walked through the front door, the house felt heavier than usual, like the air itself was holding its breath. The faint clink of dishes came from the kitchen.

Wille stood at the sink, his back rigid, rinsing plates with sharp, mechanical movements. Water hissed against porcelain. He didn’t turn around.

“You forgot.”

Simon froze in the doorway, his chest tightening. “Wille—”

“You promised him, Simon.” Wille’s voice was low but taut, like it was holding back something sharper. He turned, eyes blazing in the dim kitchen light. “You told Leo you’d be there. He was the last kid at daycare. Everyone else was gone. He was crying so hard he could barely breathe.” His jaw flexed. “I walked in, and you know what he did? He looked up at me and… he deflated. Like I wasn’t the one he wanted. He kept asking where you were. Over and over.”

Simon’s stomach dropped. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time—”

Wille’s hand slammed the dishcloth onto the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet. “No. Don’t apologize to me. I’m not the one who waited in an empty daycare wondering why you didn’t show up. You owe him an apology.”

The words hit like a slap. Simon nodded stiffly, throat dry, and without another word turned toward the hallway.

Leo’s bedroom door was half open, warm lamplight spilling into the dim hall. Inside, Leo sat cross-legged on the rug, a small fleet of toy cars lined up in neat rows. He didn’t look up when Simon stepped in.

Simon crouched down beside him. “Hey, buddy.”

Leo picked up a car and rolled it forward without meeting his eyes. His voice was small. “You didn’t come.”

The guilt burned in Simon’s chest. “I know,” he said softly. “I promised I would, and I broke that promise. I’m really sorry, Leo. I messed up.”

Leo’s lip trembled. “I waited.”

Simon reached out, resting a hand gently on his son’s shoulder. “I know you did. And it wasn’t fair. It’ll never happen again, next time when I say I’ll be there… I really will be there.”

Leo was quiet for a long moment before setting the car down and leaning against Simon’s arm. “Okay.”

Simon pulled him close, holding him tight and breathing in the faint, familiar scent of his hair. “I love you so much, you know that?”

Leo nodded into his chest. “Love you too.”

Simon stayed there on the floor with him, the toy cars forgotten, holding onto that small but fragile thread of trust — one he knew he couldn’t afford to fray again.

…

Simon stayed beside Leo, the soft lamplight spilling across the room, casting long shadows over the little toy cars and books scattered around the floor. He didn’t move; he just lay there, feeling the warmth of his son curled against him, the gentle rise and fall of his chest grounding him.

“Pappa,” Leo murmured sleepily, pressing closer. “Don’t go yet.”

Simon brushed a hand through his son’s hair, smiling softly. “I’m not going anywhere, buddy. I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Minutes stretched, and Simon let himself sink into the stillness, listening to Leo’s breathing deepen. It was the kind of quiet that made the world outside seem distant, irrelevant. He cherished it, savoring the closeness, the trust, the small, fragile bubble of intimacy they shared.

Eventually, he knew he had to leave, and quietly, as not to disturb his son, Simon slipped from the bed. He padded softly to the living room, careful not to creak the floorboards. The house felt tense in a different way now — heavier.

Wille was there, hunched over a stack of papers and files, the light of his laptop painting his face in sharp angles. His expression was hard, focused. Simon could sense the anger still simmering beneath the surface.

“Wille…” Simon started, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

Wilhelm didn’t look up. He didn’t move. “Don’t.” The single word was low, clipped, carrying the weight of his frustration.

Simon stopped, hands dropping to his sides. “I… I just wanted—”

“Simon,” Wille interrupted, finally lifting his gaze. His eyes were intense, unreadable. “I don’t want to talk about it right now I have work to do.”

Simon swallowed, a knot tightening in his chest. He knew he’d hurt both his son and his mate, and the guilt pressed down like a weight he couldn’t lift. “I… I understand,” he said quietly.

Wille didn’t reply. He turned back to the papers, tapping a pen against the edge of the table, the sound sharp in the quiet living room. Simon remained standing there for a moment, watching him, feeling the tension radiate like electricity in the air.

After a long pause, Simon moved to the sofa, sinking down carefully, still keeping an eye on Wille. He could feel the anger, the disappointment, but he also saw the care beneath it — the way Wille had been there for Leo, the way he always carried the weight of family on his shoulders. Simon hated that he’d added to it.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. “I’ll make it right,” he whispered, more to himself than to Wille.

The minutes ticked by, heavy and slow. Wille’s typing and occasional muttered notes were the only sounds, punctuating the thick silence between them. Simon’s thoughts drifted to Leo, curled up and sleeping, and to the promise he’d made — to be there, to not let his son wait again.

Finally, he shifted slightly, reaching for the blanket on the back of the sofa, wrapping it around himself. He stayed alert, aware of every movement Wille made, respecting the distance, knowing the words would have to come later. For now, he would wait — quietly, patiently, letting the weight of the evening linger, a lesson in trust, responsibility, and the fragile balance of their little family.

Sleep eventually began to tug at him, exhaustion from the day catching up. His eyes fluttered closed, the blanket on the sofa pulled snug around him. He didn’t notice the gentle pause of Wille’s typing, the alpha watching his mate sleep.

Finally, Wille set his papers aside, walking quietly across the living room. He scooped Simon up carefully, cradling him against his chest. Simon murmured softly in his sleep but made no move to resist.

Wille carried him to their bedroom, the familiar weight in his arms grounding him, a mix of exasperation and tenderness knitting the tension of the evening into quiet resolve. He laid Simon gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around him and pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

…

Chapter Text

Simon woke slowly, blinking against the pale morning light slipping in through the curtains. Normally, there was warmth at his back—a steady arm draped over his waist, a nuzzle into his hair, Wilhelm’s low hum as he woke with him. But today, the space beside him was cold. The sheets were untouched.

For a moment, Simon just lay there, breathing into the pillow, letting the ache spread in his chest. His omega side stirred uneasily, restless without its alpha’s grounding scent. He curled his fingers in the blanket, trying not to feel the emptiness.

Finally, he pushed himself up, padded down the hall, and followed the faint sound of a voice. He found Wilhelm in the kitchen, in his suit pants and shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up. He was standing at the counter, AirPods in, one hand slicing fruit, the other scrolling through a document on his phone.

His alpha’s voice was calm, professional. “Yes, I’ll look into the contract clauses again before noon. No—tell them we’re not moving forward until the figures match.”

Simon lingered in the doorway, watching the strong lines of his alpha’s shoulders, the sharp contrast to the distance still lodged between them from last night. It wasn’t right. They never let things linger like this. He stepped forward quietly, arms slipping around Wille’s middle.

Wilhelm startled slightly but didn’t pull away. For a fleeting second, Simon pressed his cheek to his back, breathing in his scent, relief trickling through him. But then Wilhelm let out a soft exhale, turned his head just enough to offer Simon a smile that felt more like an apology than warmth. “One second,” he murmured, pressing a finger against his AirPod before muting the call.

“Can you go wake Leo?” he asked, voice low but firm, as though he couldn’t quite bear to meet Simon’s eyes.

The words cut more than Simon wanted them to. He loosened his hold, stepping back slowly, giving Wilhelm what he asked for. “Sure,” he whispered, masking his hurt.

By the time they sat down together at the table, Leo bouncing in his chair with excitement over his toast, the boy tilted his head curiously between them. “Are you mad at each other?”

Simon’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate. “Of course not,” he said warmly, turning to their son with a practiced softness. “Right, Si?”

Simon forced a smile and nodded, even though every fiber of him knew Wilhelm was still holding something back. He let his alpha do the talking, not trusting his voice to come out steady.

Just as the tension started to ease, Simon’s phone buzzed on the table. Magnus’ name lit up the screen. His stomach tightened. He hovered for a moment before swiping it away. Today, he wanted to choose his family. He smiled at Leo instead. “Hey, should I bring you to daycare today?”

Leo’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Yes, Papa! Please!” He bounced in his chair, clapping his little hands.

Simon chuckled, some of the heaviness lifting. “Okay, då. We’ll go together.”

But Wilhelm’s phone buzzed next. He picked it up without hesitation, his tone clipped, professional again. “Yes? …Alright, I’ll be there shortly.” He hung up quickly, pressing a kiss to Leo’s hair. “I’ll pick you up later this afternoon,” he promised.

Then he grabbed his jacket, nodded at Simon, and was gone.

Simon sat there a moment longer, the weight in his chest heavier than before. His omega coiled uncomfortably inside him, hurt by the absence of Wilhelm’s grounding touch, his avoidance, the way work seemed to always take precedence.

...

Later that day at the studio, Simon tried to distract himself with fittings for the music video. Normally, playing with clothes and colors lifted his mood, but today the reflection in the mirror looked flat, disconnected. He didn’t feel like himself.

“Wow,” Marcus said, stepping closer, eyes scanning Simon’s frame. “That looks incredible on you.”

Simon forced a polite smile. “Thanks.”

But Marcus didn’t stop there. He moved closer, almost brushing against him, one hand smoothing down the fabric of Simon’s shirt as if he had the right. “Other alphas are going to drool over you in this.” His tone was low, edged with something that made Simon’s omega bristle.

Simon stiffened, about to step back and say something, when the door opened and another producer walked in. The moment broke. Marcus stepped away casually, like nothing had happened, leaving Simon’s chest tight and unsettled.

...

That evening, after dinner and bedtime stories, Simon finally slipped out of Leo’s room, leaving his son asleep under the covers. He found Wilhelm in bed, laptop balanced on his knees, eyes focused on documents glowing in the dark.

Simon leaned against the doorway, watching. His omega was restless, desperate for something it hadn’t had all day—his alpha’s closeness. And maybe, Simon thought, maybe the only way to reach him was to stop waiting.

Slowly, he began to undress, piece by piece, until only his boxers remained. He padded across the room quietly, his body humming with a mix of nerves and longing.

Wilhelm finally looked up, brow furrowing. “What are you doing?”

Simon smiled softly, climbing onto the bed and settling beside him. “Your omega needs his alpha’s attention,” he murmured. He took Wilhelm’s hand, guiding it down his chest, letting it rest against the heat straining in his briefs.

Wilhelm’s jaw clenched. For a moment, Simon thought it was working—Wilhelm closed his laptop, set it aside, and pulled Simon onto his lap. Their mouths met, kisses deepening, teeth grazing, breaths mingling.

Simon sighed into it, relief flooding through him. But then Wilhelm shifted, pressing his nose against Simon’s neck, ready to scent him—only to freeze.

The tension snapped like a cord pulled too tight. Simon felt it instantly: his alpha’s arousal faltered, the hardness beneath him fading.

“What—” Simon pulled back, blinking in confusion.

Wilhelm sighed, eyes heavy with something sharp and tired. He gently moved Simon off his lap, stood, and grabbed his laptop. His voice was low, almost flat. “Marcus’ scent is all over you.”

The words hit like ice water. Simon’s chest squeezed painfully. “Wille, I—”

But Wilhelm didn’t stay to listen. “I have work to do,” he muttered, and walked out, leaving Simon sitting there in the dim light, heat fading from his body, ache settling deep in his chest.

…

The days stretched long, heavy with silence between them. Wilhelm left early for court, disappearing in suits and sharp ties, and Simon lost himself in finishing the edits for his music video. Neither dared to touch the fragile middle ground they’d been walking, both too afraid of pushing too hard.

That afternoon, Linda picked Leo up from daycare, the boy beaming as he ran into her arms. By the time Simon arrived, his son was happily drawing at the table while his grandmother poured juice into a glass. Linda studied her boy the moment he stepped through the door, the way his shoulders seemed heavier than usual, his eyes ringed with tiredness that no amount of makeup could mask.

“Älskling,” she said softly, touching his cheek. “Is everything okay?”

Simon swallowed, the answer perched on his lips, threatening to spill. For weeks he had held it in — the arguments, the loneliness, the gnawing ache of Wille’s anger, the guilt over Leo. His mouth opened. “Mamma… I…”

But then Leo looked up with a proud little smile, waving his crayon, and Simon closed his mouth again, his throat tight.

…

Later that night, the dam finally broke in a different way.

The living room smelled faintly of beer when Simon stepped inside. Wilhelm sat hunched on the sofa, one hand wrapped around a bottle, the other pressing into his temple as if the day at court had carved itself into his skull.

Simon hesitated, then walked over, standing in front of his mate. His voice was quiet, almost fragile. “I love you Wilhelm”

Wilhelm lifted his gaze slowly. His eyes were tired, guarded, but not empty. He gave the smallest nod.

Tears burned in Simon’s eyes, spilling despite him trying to hold them back. “There’s nothing going on with Marcus,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “There never will be. I belong to you.”

Something in Wilhelm shifted, though his jaw still worked, his shoulders stiff. Simon, trembling now, pushed down the collar of his shirt. His fingers traced the faint mark Wilhelm had left on their wedding night, the bond etched in his skin, the claim of his alpha. “You put this here,” he whispered, his eyes wet. “You claimed me. And it never faded. I carry you with me, always.”

Wilhelm’s breath caught, his eyes glassy as he stood abruptly, the bottle set down with a dull clink. “I just… hate his scent on you,” he admitted, voice low, raw.

Simon reached up, cupping his mate’s face, his thumb brushing over Wilhelm’s cheekbone. “Then scent me over. Like old times. Replace it.” His voice shook, but there was strength in it too. “And when you’ve done that… I’ll want you to fuck me so hard I’ll feel you all day tomorrow. Mark your territory.”

Wilhelm blinked, stunned, his chest heaving. His gaze darted to the hallway. “What about Leo—”

“Linda’s got him tonight,” Simon cut in, his voice soft but certain. “.She knew I needed this.”

For the first time in weeks, silence didn’t feel like a wall. It felt like a choice, heavy with want, heavy with need.

Wilhelm leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Simon’s, the start of an unraveling neither of them could hold back much longer.

…

The following week the video finally went online. Simon had been refreshing the page for hours, nerves fluttering in his stomach despite how many times Wille had reassured him that it was brilliant. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that once it was out there, the whole world would have a piece of him.

Wille had insisted they mark the occasion. “It’s not every day your omega puts his music out into the world,” he had said with a soft grin, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple. So that evening their closest friends came over—Rosh, Ayub, Felice, Sara, and Linda, who had promised to wrangle Leo whenever he got too excitable.

They crowded into the living room, snacks covering the coffee table, the big TV ready for its moment. Simon sat curled up in the corner of the couch, shoulders tight, while Wille settled close, a hand grounding on his thigh.

“Ready?” Wille asked.

Simon laughed nervously. “Not at all.”

“Perfect,” Rosh said, grabbing the remote. “That’s when it hits hardest.”

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxfKHfK2ZmQ&list=RDYxfKHfK2ZmQ&start_radio=1 - The video). 

The opening notes of the song filled the room, and Simon’s voice floated out, raw and honest. For a moment there was only stillness, everyone watching as the video unfolded—images Simon had agonized over, the message he wanted to share. When it ended, a beat of silence stretched…and then the room erupted.

Rosh leapt up first, pulling Ayub with her. “We are dancing, come on!” The music was restarted, volume up, and suddenly everyone was on their feet. Even Linda swayed, laughing as she scooped Leo into her arms and spun him around.

Leo squealed with delight, his little feet bouncing when Wille held him up so he could “dance” between them. Simon couldn’t stop smiling as he watched, his heart tugging painfully with love. He joined in, his voice blending with the recording still playing through the speakers, and Leo’s eyes lit up like he realized his pappa’s voice was both in the room and on the TV.

“See?” Wille murmured close to his ear when they caught their breath between verses. “He knows it’s you.”

Simon’s throat tightened. “Yeah.”

The night blurred into laughter, clinking glasses, and dancing until they were out of breath. At some point, Linda carried a very sleepy Leo into his bedroom, tucking him under the blankets with a soft kiss. When she returned, she found Wille standing behind Simon, arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the video replayed once more on the big screen.

Everyone else had gone home by then, leaving only the two of them in the warm, dim living room.

Simon leaned back against his alpha’s chest, his head tipping so Wille’s lips brushed against the place where his mating mark lay hidden. Wille pressed a slow kiss there, reverent, his hand splayed wide over Simon’s stomach as if anchoring him in place.

“I’m proud of you,” Wille whispered. His voice carried weight, not just pride in Simon’s music but in everything he had become—an omega who loved deeply, who had fought through so much, who was still here beside him.

Simon closed his eyes, letting the words sink into him like sunlight. “Thank you,” he breathed.

And Wille kissed his mark again, sealing it with all the love he couldn’t always say out loud.

Chapter Text

The buzz from Simon’s cover hadn’t slowed down. Every morning when he opened his phone, there were new comments, new likes, new reposts. Clips of his voice spread across TikTok, people dueting him, fans begging for more. Some wanted an album, others wanted him to perform live again. And every now and then, one would write: we can’t wait to hear something original from you. Those words burned brighter than all the hearts and fire emojis. They scared him too, but in the best way — like standing on the edge of a cliff and knowing he had wings.

The house was full of flowers, congratulatory cards piling up. Simon tried to make them look casual. When a bouquet from Marcus arrived — bright lilies and roses — Simon had immediately slipped the little cream-colored card into his back pocket before Wille could notice. He’d read it once, quickly, alone in the kitchen.

"Congratulations, Si. You’ve got something real here. Proud of you."
—M.

His stomach had twisted at the familiar way Marcus signed it. He didn’t want Wille to see that. Didn’t want to risk that conversation. So when Wille asked, Simon shrugged, smiling.
“From the whole production team, I think.”

He tossed the card into the trash, heart beating fast, and told himself it was fine. Better Wille never knew.

…

A week later, Simon found himself sitting at Sara’s table, Leo’s laughter ringing from the living room. Leo was sprawled on the rug with Alma, their small bodies bent over toy horses and action figures. Alma’s voice carried, bossy in that big-sister way, and Leo followed her lead happily.

It felt good, watching him so carefree. Like proof that no matter what storms Simon feared, Leo had roots strong enough to keep him grounded.

“Coffee?” Sara asked, breaking his thoughts.

“Always,” Simon grinned, accepting the mug.

Before he could take a sip, movement caught his eye. August came up behind Sara, pressing a kiss to her neck, his hand resting low and casually on her stomach. His voice was soft but teasing.
“Did you tell him yet?”

Simon blinked, frowning, before following the touch of August’s hand. His gaze locked on Sara’s belly. Not visibly round, not yet. But something in her face gave it away — the blush that rushed across her cheeks, the way her lips pressed together.

Simon’s breath caught.
“…Wait.” His eyes widened. “Are you pregnant?”

Sara hesitated. Then she gave the tiniest nod, biting back a smile.
“It’s still early. We don’t want to make it… public yet.”

A laugh bubbled out of Simon, warm and bright. He stood, wrapping her in a hug so tight she squeaked.
“Fan vad fint! Congratulations, Sara! You’re gonna be amazing.”

Her blush deepened, but she hugged him back, her eyes glistening a little.

Later that day, Simon returned home with Leo, who burst through the door like a storm. Felice was perched on the sofa with Wille, both mid-conversation. Leo squealed with joy, launching himself onto her.
“Felice! Felice! Come, I want to show you something in my room!”

Felice laughed, caught off guard but delighted. “Okay, okay! Lead the way, little man!”

Simon and Wille exchanged a look, both laughing as Leo practically dragged Felice down the hall. The house felt alive in that moment, filled with love and noise.

Simon, suddenly tired, dropped himself onto Wille’s lap with a sigh. Wille chuckled, looping an arm around him and pressing a kiss to his temple.
“Everything go well at Sara’s?”

Simon nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. He leaned back against Wille’s chest.
“She’s pregnant.”

Wille’s face lit up, eyes softening instantly.
“That’s wonderful.”

Simon nodded again, but this time the smile faltered as something shifted deep inside him. A quiet stare into a space he couldn’t name. He was happy for her — so happy. But beneath it, a small ache had started to stir, something tender and unspoken.

He pressed closer to Wille’s chest, hiding his face there, as if his alpha’s warmth could soothe the unease before it grew too loud.

…

The thought lingered long after Simon had told Wille about Sara’s pregnancy. It should have ended there — Wille had smiled, kissed him, said it was wonderful — and Simon had agreed. But the ache didn’t leave. It sat heavy in his chest, and when he tucked Leo into bed that night, watching his son curl up against the blanket with his thumb in his mouth, Simon felt it even sharper.

Leo was four. Four years of laughter and scraped knees and tiny arms wrapped tight around their necks. Four years of their family becoming real, solid, unshakable. And now, knowing Sara was going to have a baby, Simon couldn’t stop imagining what it might be like again — not just the chaos and exhaustion, but the sweetness of a newborn, the way Wille’s eyes had softened the first time he’d held Leo.

He lay awake beside Wille, listening to the steady beat of his alpha’s heart under his ear. His hand rested on Wille’s chest, fingers curling slightly, restless.

“Can’t sleep?” Wille murmured into his hair.

Simon shook his head but didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know how to bring it up. Instead, he mumbled, “Leo was so little once. Feels like forever ago.”

Wille hummed, pressing a kiss to his hairline. “Yeah. He’s growing up too fast.”

Simon’s throat tightened. He wanted to say I want another one. With you. I want that again. But he bit it back. Wille’s warmth around him was too steady, too calm, and Simon didn’t want to disturb it. Not yet.

The next morning, as Leo tugged Wille out into the garden to play football, Simon lingered in the doorway, watching them. Wille’s laugh carried across the grass as Leo ran clumsily after the ball, arms waving. The sight made Simon’s chest ache all over again, sharp and longing. He wanted more of this. Another tiny pair of feet in the house. Another bond to weave between them.

Later, when Felice dropped by for coffee, Leo sat proudly on her lap showing her a drawing he’d made. Wille busied himself in the kitchen, and Simon sat back in his chair, just watching. Felice caught his eye at one point, her smile softening.

“You’re glowing, Simon,” she teased.

He laughed it off, shaking his head. But deep down he knew it wasn’t Felice’s comment — it was the ache blooming into something undeniable. Sara’s news had awakened it, and now it wouldn’t leave him alone.

That night, lying in bed again, Simon shifted closer to Wille, pressing kisses along his jaw. Wille smiled sleepily, pulling him close.

“Everything okay?” Wille whispered.

Simon hesitated, then let his forehead rest against Wille’s. “Yeah. Just… thinking too much.”

Wille chuckled softly. “About what?”

Simon swallowed. Not yet. Not tonight. But soon.

…

The clinic smelled faintly of antiseptic and the familiar sharpness of hand sanitizer. Simon sat on the edge of the exam table, legs swinging a little in the air while he scrolled through his phone. He’d already sent Wille a text saying the appointment was routine, nothing to worry about. He knew Wille sometimes still got nervous about him being at the doctor — old memories.

The door opened, and Vera walked in with her usual warm smile. “Simon! Always a pleasure.” She set down her clipboard and gestured to the chair beside the desk. “How have you been? How is Leo?”

“Good,” Simon said, hopping down and moving to sit opposite her. “Really good, actually.” He fished his phone out of his pocket again, unlocking it with a grin. “Leo started football last month.”

Vera leaned closer as Simon swiped to a video. Four-year-old Leo darted clumsily across a field, jersey a little too big, curls bouncing. “He’s getting so big,” she said softly, smiling in a way that reached her eyes. “You must be proud.”

“I am,” Simon said, warmth bubbling up inside him. “He’s… everything.”

The small silence that followed sat comfortably between them, until Vera cleared her throat. “So, yearly check-up. Blood pressure, bloodwork, the usual. How’s your health been otherwise? Any concerns?”

Simon hesitated, chewing his lip. This was the moment. He hadn’t even told Wille he wanted to bring it up yet. “Actually… there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

Vera nodded encouragingly. “Go on.”

Simon inhaled slowly. “I’ve been thinking about having another baby. With Wille. And I wanted to know what my options are, if there’s anything I should be doing now.”

Vera’s eyebrows rose slightly, not with surprise so much as interest. She leaned back in her chair, folding her hands over her clipboard. “Well, first of all — I think that’s wonderful. And from what I can see here”—she tapped his chart—“you’re in excellent health. No complications carried over from your first pregnancy. Your bloodwork looks good from last year, and assuming it comes back the same today, biologically speaking, there’s no reason you couldn’t start trying right away.”

Simon’s heart skipped at the clarity of her words. “Really?”

“Really,” Vera said firmly. “I’d recommend starting folic acid again, making sure you’re eating balanced, but you know that drill already. The rest is about timing, communication, and what feels right for both of you.”

Simon nodded, his fingers tightening a little around the phone still in his hand. He thought of Wille at home, of Leo’s laughter filling their apartment, of the way Wille had carried him to bed last week when he’d fallen asleep on the couch. He thought of Sara’s blush when she admitted her pregnancy, and how something had stirred in him ever since.

“Thank you,” Simon said quietly, though the words didn’t seem big enough. “I just needed to know it’s possible.”

Vera smiled again. “It’s more than possible. It’s entirely within reach. The only question left is — are you ready?”

Simon bit the inside of his cheek, warmth and nerves twisting together in his chest. “I think I’m getting there.”

…

Simon didn’t tell anyone. Not even Sara, though his chest still buzzed with excitement when he thought of her secret swelling inside her belly. He carried his own secret now. The small, steady decision of stopping his birth control a week ago. The tiny pill that had been part of his daily routine for years, slipped quietly out of his life without ceremony. He wanted Wille to know — but not yet. He wanted to see his alpha’s face when he shared it, to watch the joy bloom in his eyes like sunlight breaking over a horizon.

For now, Simon carried it inside him, close to his heart.

At the studio, his whole body felt alive in a way he hadn’t in a long time. His first original single was finally coming together, and every beat of Moving Like That seemed to lift him higher. When he stepped into the booth, headphones snug against his ears, he closed his eyes and let himself feel. No heaviness, no shadows. Just the pulse of rhythm, joy, and something wild sparking in his chest. He could almost hear Leo’s laugh woven into the music, that same contagious lightness.

His voice rode the beat, strong and smooth, and when he finished, the sound engineer whistled low.
“That’s it, Simon. That’s the one.”

Simon laughed, running a hand through his curls, sweat beading at his temples. He felt like he could dance out of his skin.

It wasn’t until later, when Marcus arrived to drop by with his usual casual smile, that Simon realized his choice was already betraying him. The moment Marcus leaned in for a hug, Simon saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. That subtle omega-alarm, the way another alpha could always sense when something in the air shifted. Marcus’s nostrils flared, catching the difference in Simon’s scent — sweeter, warmer, underpinned with that raw edge of fertility no alpha missed.

Marcus smirked, tilting his head as though about to make a comment, but Simon stepped back, breaking the contact. His own smile tightened.
“Studio’s busy today,” Simon said lightly, brushing it off. “I’ve got to get back in.”

Marcus didn’t press, though the glint in his eyes said he knew.

...

That evening, when Simon came home, the world was soft and quiet in the apartment. The city hummed outside the window, Leo’s toy cars were scattered across the rug, and Wilhelm sat curled into the sofa, a book resting on his thigh.

Simon leaned in to kiss him hello, and Wille’s arms immediately slid around him, pulling him down into his lap. The alpha buried his face against Simon’s neck, inhaling deeply. The breath lingered, then hitched. Wille drew back just enough to meet his eyes, brows furrowing.

“You smell…” Wille’s voice was low, searching. His thumb brushed over Simon’s jaw as if that would steady the odd current between them. “Different.”

Simon’s heart skipped, heat curling in his stomach. He could feel it too — the hum in his body, the way his omega was responding to the quiet change inside him. But he only smiled, sliding his fingers into Wille’s hair and pressing a kiss to his temple.

“I’m happy,” Simon said simply, truth layered in every word. “That’s all.”

Wille studied him, clearly unconvinced but softened by the glow in Simon’s expression. His hand moved to rest over Simon’s heart, feeling the steady beat. He kissed Simon slow, lingering, as if that would tell him the rest.

Simon let him wonder. For now, the secret was still his — but soon, it would be theirs.

…

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn spilled softly across the kitchen, painting the countertops in gold. Simon sat alone at the table, a cup of tea warming his hands, though it did little to calm the fire already crawling under his skin. His body felt strange, unfamiliar in its intensity—a heat rising, a warmth spreading from his core outward. He had woken earlier than usual, restless, sensing the subtle but undeniable signs of his heat beginning.

This wasn’t supposed to happen today. He had planned to surprise Wille on their anniversary next week, after going off his birth control, timing everything so his heat would appear a few days later. Everything had been carefully planned. But now… his body had betrayed him, racing ahead without waiting for him to be ready.

Simon’s thoughts swirled with equal parts excitement and anxiety. He couldn’t risk Wille smelling him like this too soon, not while his scent was so potent, so insistent. He had to call for help, make sure Leo was taken care of, and somehow navigate the morning without alarming anyone—especially his alpha.

He picked up his phone and dialed his mother’s number, trying to keep his voice steady despite the racing of his heart.

“Mom,” he said softly when she answered.

“Simon? Are you okay, mi amor?” Linda asked immediately, concern heavy in her tone.

“I’m fine,” he assured her quickly, though the truth was a little more complicated. “I… I just really need your help today. It’s important.”

There was a brief pause on the line, then Linda’s voice softened. “Of course, darling. What’s going on?”

Simon took a deep breath, feeling the warmth in his cheeks spread. “I… I stopped taking my birth control, and my heat… it’s starting today. I had planned to surprise Wille on our anniversary, but it came earlier than I expected. That’s why I need you to pick up Leo and keep him for a couple of days.”

A sharp intake of breath came through the phone. “Oh, Simon! That’s incredible! And Wille… he doesn’t know?”

Simon chuckled softly, a mixture of nerves and excitement. “Not yet but he will soon. I wanted it to be a surprise. But now… well, my body decided it couldn’t wait.”

Linda’s excitement was palpable, her voice brimming with joy. “I’m grabbing my keys right this second. Crossing my fingers for a Wilmon baby number two!”

Simon laughed quietly, the tension in his chest easing slightly. “Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate it.”

He hung up and took a deep, steadying breath before heading to Leo’s room. His son was still half-asleep, curls falling softly over his forehead, little hands reaching out to rub his eyes. Simon crouched down beside him, brushing a gentle hand over his cheek.

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, keeping his voice soft. “Grandma’s coming to pick you up soon. You’ll even get to have a sleepover with her.”

As soon as Leo realized he was going to see Grandma, his excitement made it easy for Simon to get him dressed and ready. Soon, Leo was bouncing out the door with Linda, already chattering and laughing, and Simon felt a pang of relief mixed with longing. Linda gave him a bright, knowing look as she left. “Have fun,” she called over her shoulder, closing the door behind them.

Simon returned to the quiet of the apartment, feeling the heat intensifying as he walked toward the bedroom. Wille lay sleeping, soft and unguarded, sunlight falling across his face. Simon’s chest tightened with longing as he observed his alpha, the rhythm of his breathing steady and calm, completely unaware of the storm brewing within his mate.

Simon climbed carefully onto the bed, straddling Wille’s hips, letting his hands trail across his chest. Wille stirred, eyes opening slowly, dark and half-lidded with sleep.

“Everything okay?” Wille’s voice was thick, groggy, and still heavy with sleep.

Simon tilted his head, smirking, letting a teasing glint show in his eyes. “It is… if you agree to make a baby with me today.”

Wille’s eyes snapped open fully, taking in Simon’s flushed cheeks, the fire in his gaze. “What did you just say?”

Simon leaned down, pressing a gentle, deliberate kiss to Wille’s lips, letting his hands wander just enough to tease. “I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary. I stopped taking my birth control. I planned it so my heat would start after our anniversary —but surprise. It’s started today.”

Wille’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened with intensity, hunger, and protectiveness. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, voice low and commanding, each word vibrating through Simon’s body.

Simon nodded firmly, pressing another kiss to Wille’s mouth. “I want this. I’ve thought about it a lot. I want another baby with you. I know you want it too. I just… I can’t wait any longer.”

Wille’s protective instinct flared instantly. His hands gripped Simon’s hips, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush, a tangible heat radiating between them. The alpha’s lips found Simon’s again, hard, claiming, teasing, marking him as his own.

“Then let’s put a baby in you,” Wille growled, his voice low, husky with need.

Simon shivered at the words, his body responding instantly, desire flaring hotter than any controlled plan could manage. Wille’s hands were everywhere—possessive, protective, loving—and Simon melted into the pressure, every nerve alive, every thought narrowed to the single, overwhelming need to be with his alpha.

Their kisses deepened, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more desperate, as if each touch could convey the weight of what they both wanted. Wille’s hands traced the lines of Simon’s body, worshipping him, grounding him, claiming him, while Simon’s own hands found the plane of Wille’s chest, clutching, pulling, needing contact.

Simon’s breath hitched as he leaned into Wille’s warmth. “I need you,” he whispered against Wille’s lips, voice trembling with heat and anticipation.

Wille’s teeth grazed Simon’s shoulder, marking him, scenting him, claiming him. “I’ve got you,” Wille said, voice low and possessive. “All of you, Simon. Mine.”

The morning light filtered through the curtains, catching the sheen of sweat on their skin, the evidence of passion and need. Simon’s heat, unchecked and rising, made every touch feel magnified, every kiss a fire, every caress a promise.

Simon’s mind swirled with desire, with the thought of their second child, with the feeling of being utterly and completely held by his alpha. Wille’s presence was magnetic, grounding, possessive—exactly what Simon needed as the heat coursed through him.

And when Wille finally pressed Simon fully down, lips meeting, bodies entwined, it was more than passion—it was a declaration, a promise, a mutual need made flesh. Each movement, each shiver, each whispered word cemented their bond, building toward the inevitable, their heat and love converging in one overwhelming moment.

Simon clung to Wille, feeling the full intensity of the alpha protecting, claiming, loving him, and in return, giving himself freely, vulnerably, urgently. The world outside ceased to exist. There was only them, their fire, their heat, their love, and the promise of the family they were creating together.

…

Chapter Text

The room was heavy with warmth, the kind of warmth that only came from hours of skin pressed against skin, from scent and sweat tangled together until they couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Simon lay draped against Wille’s chest, still catching his breath, his cheek pressed to the familiar curve of Wille’s collarbone. The rhythm of Wille’s heart beneath his ear calmed him, steady and grounding, and yet his body still pulsed with the aftermath of his heat-driven need.

The sheets clung to them, sticky and damp, but neither of them moved. Not yet. Wille had one hand splayed across Simon’s back, fingers lazily tracing up and down the ridge of his spine as if he never wanted to stop touching him. His other hand threaded through Simon’s curls, the tender tugging almost enough to lull Simon into sleep again.

“Do you remember,” Simon murmured, voice hoarse and rough with exhaustion and heat, “when you proposed to me?”

Wille let out a soft laugh, muffled by Simon’s hair. “How could I forget? I think I almost killed you that night.”

Simon chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated against Wille’s chest. “You definitely almost did.” He lifted his head just enough to look at Wille, eyes bright even in the dim light of their bedroom. “Who puts a ring in a champagne glass when they know their omega gulps down drinks like water?”

Wille groaned, covering his face with his free hand. His ears flushed pink, just as they always did when Simon brought up the story. “I thought it was… romantic.”

“It was reckless,” Simon teased, biting back a grin. “I almost choked in front of everyone. My mom was about to call an ambulance while you were fumbling to pat my back.”

“You weren’t supposed to down it in one go!” Wille protested, half-laughing, half-mortified. “I thought you’d take little sips. You’re supposed to sip champagne, Simon.”

Simon grinned.

“The worst part,” Wille said, his voice quieter now, fondness overtaking the embarrassment, “was when I had to fish the ring out of your mouth while you were coughing. That was not how I pictured giving it to you.”

Simon’s laugh was muffled against Wille’s skin, shaking both of their bodies. “I still said yes,” he whispered after a moment, softer, almost shy.

Wille tilted his head down and kissed Simon’s curls. “You did.” His hand stroked over Simon’s back again, lingering at the small of it, grounding. “Even though everything went wrong, you still said yes.”

Simon hummed, remembering the way Wille had looked that night — panicked, flushed, terrified he’d ruined everything. And still, even with champagne burning his throat, even with a ring slipping clumsily between Wille’s shaking fingers, Simon had known there was no one else he wanted.

They lay in silence for a few moments, the memory wrapping around them, before Simon’s voice broke it again. “Our wedding was better, though.”

Wille’s lips curved into a smile against Simon’s temple. “The best day of my life.”

Simon pulled back enough to meet his gaze, eyes soft and full. “Mine too.” He hesitated, chewing at his lip, and then added, “I don’t think I ever told you… how nervous I was that day. Not about marrying you — never about that. But about…” His hand drifted unconsciously to his neck, fingertips brushing over the faint scar where Wille’s mating mark lay.

Wille blinked, startled. “About the mark?”

Simon nodded, his throat working as he swallowed. “You didn’t notice, because I tried to be strong. But that morning, before the ceremony, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it would hurt. About how permanent it was. About giving myself to you in a way that couldn’t ever be undone.” He laughed, but it was soft, shaky. “I wanted it, Wille. I wanted it so badly. But I was terrified too.”

Wille’s heart clenched. He pushed himself up on one elbow, his other hand cupping Simon’s face so gently it almost made Simon ache. “Baby… why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon shrugged a little, eyes flickering down. “Because you looked so sure. So steady. I didn’t want to make you doubt.”

Wille’s thumb brushed across Simon’s cheekbone, tender, reverent. “I wish I’d known. I would have told you over and over that it was your choice, that I wasn’t taking anything from you — you were giving me something I’ll never deserve.” His voice broke, thick with emotion. “That day was the most sacred moment of my life, Simon. Not because I got to mark you. Because you let me.”

Simon’s chest tightened, eyes burning as he listened. He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, breathing in Wille’s scent, strong and steady and uniquely his. “I don’t regret it. Not for a second. It’s just… sometimes even the things we want the most can be scary.”

Wille kissed him then, slow and lingering, a promise on his lips. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”

The air thickened again between them, the warmth of Simon’s heat lingering, the mingling of their scents wrapping around them in a cocoon. Simon shifted, rolling onto Wille, straddling his hips. His omega instincts hummed, his body aching for more, even though they had already given each other so much.

Wilhelm’s hands slid instinctively to Simon’s waist, fingers tracing the dips of muscle and soft skin. “You’re insatiable,” he murmured, voice low and affectionate.

“You love it,” Simon teased, grinding his hips down just enough to make Wille’s breath hitch. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as bad.”

Wille’s laugh turned into a groan as Simon moved again, the friction sparking heat between them. His alpha rose beneath the surface, sharp and ready, but he kept it slow, careful, his hands steady on Simon’s sides. “You’re so beautiful like this,” Wille whispered, leaning up to capture Simon’s mouth.

The kiss was languid at first, their lips brushing, tasting, remembering. Then Simon deepened it, biting gently at Wille’s lip, demanding more. Wille obliged, his tongue sliding against Simon’s, their mouths hot and hungry.

Simon pulled back, pupils blown wide, breath coming in short pants. “Take me again,” he whispered, his voice trembling with need and certainty.

It took nothing for Wilhelm to harden again, his cock already slick from being inside minutes before. Simon ground down on him, fingers gripping Wille’s shoulders, his breath coming fast. Their kiss broke, Simon panting against his mouth, his forehead pressed to Wille’s.

Wilhelm’s hands slid down to Simon’s hips, guiding the omega’s movements, pressing him closer until Simon finally lifted, reached back, and slid Wilhelm inside again with one slow, greedy push. Both of them groaned at once, the stretch immediate, the heat of Simon’s body pulling Wilhelm deeper with every inch.

Simon rocked against him, deliberate and unhurried at first, savoring the way Wilhelm’s hands splayed across his waist, the way the alpha’s jaw clenched watching him move. But need crept in fast, the rhythm breaking, hips slamming down harder, skin slapping against skin. Simon threw his head back, his throat exposed, flushed, sweat shining along his collarbone.

Wilhelm sat up to meet him, one hand tangling in Simon’s curls, the other firm on his back. Their mouths crashed together again, kisses messy, groans swallowed. Simon’s fingers dug into Wilhelm’s shoulders, his body trembling with every thrust, the heat of his cycle making him so tight around Wille that it felt like too much.

Wilhelm couldn’t hold back. He rolled them, pressing Simon into the mattress, driving into him deeper now, steady and forceful. Simon clawed at his back, legs wrapped tight around him, his voice breaking in little gasps of Wille’s name. The bed rocked with every thrust, the air thick with the scent of their bond, the undeniable pull of alpha and omega.

Wilhelm buried his face in Simon’s neck, kissing the mark there, teeth grazing over the scarred crescent. Simon shuddered, nails dragging down his spine. “Do it—please—” Simon gasped, his voice wrecked, body arching beneath him.

Wilhelm thrust harder, faster, until his knot began to swell, stretching Simon with each push. Simon cried out at the burn of it, clutching at Wille’s hair, his whole body shaking. Wilhelm pressed deeper, holding him down, groaning against his throat as the knot pushed fully in, locking them together.

Simon’s cry broke into a moan, his body convulsing as pleasure tore through him, spilling hot between their stomachs. Wilhelm followed with a guttural sound, his release pulsing deep inside, the knot holding every drop in place.

They stayed tangled like that, shuddering through the aftershocks, skin slick, breaths ragged. Wilhelm kissed his neck again, softer this time, murmuring wordless sounds into Simon’s skin. Simon’s hands finally loosened, sliding down Wilhelm’s back, and he exhaled, a tremor still in his chest.

…

 Eventually, Wille kissed the hollow of Simon’s throat and whispered, “Shower?”

Simon hummed. His body ached in that blissful, wrung-out way, muscles heavy but restless. “Yeah… I think I need one.”

Wille pushed up on one elbow, watching Simon try to roll out of bed. His legs shook, the kind of unsteady that always made Wille bite his lip, remembering exactly why. He slipped an arm around him, pulling Simon upright and into his chest before they stumbled toward the bathroom together.

The moment the warm spray hit their skin, Simon pressed his forehead against the tiles, sighing as water rushed over him. Wille moved in close behind, palms spreading over his omega’s hips, sliding slow and easy as if washing him was an excuse to touch. His thumbs skimmed the grooves of Simon’s waist, the dip of his spine, water dripping from their hair and running down over slick skin.

Simon laughed low when Wille kissed the back of his neck. “You’re not really helping me get clean.”

“I am,” Wille murmured, voice rough against his wet skin. His mouth dragged lower, tasting the faint salt of sweat beneath the shower spray. “I’m just… thorough.”

Simon’s hands braced against the wall when Wille pressed closer, letting the water pound around them while Wille’s hips found his, sliding against the soft swell of heat that hadn’t faded yet. Simon groaned, the sound lost in the steam, his body arching back until Wille caught his mouth with a kiss — messy, wet, desperate. The water drowned their moans as Wille filled him again, movement slowed by the slick drag of wet skin, the hot mist wrapping them in fog while Simon clung to him, gasping every time Wille’s rhythm deepened.

By the time they stepped out, both were shaking, laughing breathlessly as they grabbed towels that did little to hide the new marks on their bodies.

In the kitchen, Simon tried for normalcy, hair dripping as he opened the fridge. “I should make us something to eat before I collapse again.”

But Wille trailed after him, towel slung low on his hips, watching the way Simon bent to grab a carton of eggs. He moved in without warning, sliding arms around Simon’s waist, pressing his damp chest to Simon’s back. Simon stiffened, eggs almost slipping from his hand, before Wille’s teeth grazed his shoulder.

“Wille…” Simon’s voice was more plea than protest.

“I can’t stop,” Wille admitted, lips dragging up his neck. “Not when you smell like this.”

Simon set the eggs down with a thud, palms flat on the counter. “We’ll never eat if you keep—” His words broke into a gasp when Wille ground against him, towel falling away.

The kitchen filled with the sound of slick skin, Simon’s breath catching as Wille bent him over the counter, one hand braced by the sink, the other gripping Simon’s hip tight. The mundane backdrop — fridge humming, half-open cupboards, a plate still on the side from breakfast — made the intensity sharper, the raw contrast of home and heat. Simon clawed at the smooth surface, head dropping forward as Wille drove into him, their bodies colliding in a rhythm that left the counter shuddering.

Simon cried out when Wille knotted again, body seizing tight around him, the shock of fullness stealing his breath. Wille wrapped his arms around Simon’s chest, pinning him against the counter as he held on, both of them trembling with the force of release.

When it was over, Simon sagged against him, still laughing softly, shaking his head. “We’re not going to eat for a while, are we?”

“Eventually,” Wille muttered into his neck, still inside him, unwilling to let go. “But right now, I just want you.”

And Simon, despite the hunger curling low in his belly, despite the ache in his legs and the damp towel forgotten on the floor, couldn’t bring himself to want anything else either.

…

When Simon’s heat ended, the couple found themselves once again in the shower. Wille holding Simon against him under the spray of water. His whole body looked soft and spent, every muscle a little heavy from days of heat and the rhythm they’d fallen into. Wilhelm stood behind him, sleeves of his own skin damp as he carefully worked shampoo into Simon’s curls, slow and tender.

“Lean back a little,” Wilhelm murmured, fingers spreading through the thick hair, massaging his scalp in gentle circles. Simon obeyed with a low hum, closing his eyes. He looked every bit the tired omega—sated, worn out, body aching—but Wilhelm thought he’d never been more beautiful.

“You okay?” Wilhelm asked, voice low over the rush of the water.

Simon’s lips curled faintly. “Mhm. Just tired… everything aches.” He let out a breath. “Feels good, though. You’re good at this.”

Wilhelm smiled faintly, rinsing the suds from his hair, letting the water run clean. His palms slid down the back of Simon’s neck, over his shoulders, squeezing gently before wrapping around him in a hug from behind.

“Wille?” Simon asked softly, voice half-lost in the water.

“Yes, älskling?”

“Do you think…” He hesitated, his hands curling loosely in Wilhelm’s forearms. “…do you think we made a baby this time?”

Wilhelm’s throat tightened. He pressed a kiss into the damp curve of Simon’s shoulder and slid one hand forward, resting it over Simon’s lower stomach. His thumb rubbed a slow circle there, protective, hopeful.

“I hope so,” Wilhelm whispered. His voice carried both certainty and longing. “God, I hope so.”

Simon’s fingers pressed over his, squeezing lightly, before leaning his head back against Wilhelm’s chest. They stood that way for a while, letting the water wash over them until Simon’s breaths grew heavier, his body sagging with exhaustion.

When they finally stepped out, Wille wrapped Simon in a thick towel and kissed his temple before guiding him into their bedroom. The sheets were a mess, tangled and damp with sweat, scented through with their pheromones. Wille quickly pulled them off, replacing them with fresh linen while Simon put on a fresh pair of boxers and an old t-shirt. When Wille was done making the bed, the omega crawled into it. He barely lasted long enough to curl onto his side before sleep claimed him.

Wille stood for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Simon’s chest, his hand twitching with the urge to reach out. But he let him rest. Quietly, he slipped from the room.

The apartment felt too big without Simon and Leo’s warmth in it, too still. He moved slowly, picking up empty glasses, folding the blanket draped across the sofa, straightening up the little chaos that always accumulated when they let everything else go. His body was heavy with the same exhaustion, but he felt light at the same time, filled with something soft.

Finally, when everything looked a little more in order, Wilhelm sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone. He scrolled to Linda’s number and pressed call.

She picked up quickly, her voice warm and familiar. “Hej, Wilhelm.”

“Hi,” he said softly, already smiling. “How’s Leo?”

“He’s good,” Linda said, and Wilhelm could hear the laughter of a child in the background, muffled but bright. “He’s in the garden right now, running around with a ball. He hasn’t stopped since breakfast.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes for a second, relief washing through him at the image. “That sounds like him,” he said with a laugh. “Always energy.”

“Yes,” Linda chuckled. “He’s happy. You don’t need to worry.”

“I know,” Wilhelm said, though he always would. He hesitated before adding, “Would it be okay if I came to pick him up tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Linda said warmly. “He’ll be so excited to see you both.”

“Thanks,” Wilhelm said, softer this time. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will,” Linda promised.

When the call ended, Wilhelm sat there a moment longer, staring at the phone, the faint echo of Leo’s laughter still ringing in his ears. Then he got up, dimmed the lights, and went back upstairs. Simon was still curled under the blanket, hair damp against the pillow, breathing even. Wilhelm slid in beside him, careful not to wake him, and rested one hand gently over his stomach again.

“I hope so,” he whispered into the dark, pressing a kiss to Simon’s hair before finally letting himself sleep.

…

Chapter Text

The baby shower was a blur of pastel balloons, pink ribbons, and the kind of joy that stuck like honey to every corner of the room. Simon stood in the middle of it, clutching a glass of sparkling water like it might steady him, his lips stretched into a smile that didn’t quite belong to him. Sara looked radiant, glowing in that unmistakable way only pregnancy ever seemed to grant, her hands resting protectively over her bump as friends and family crowded around her with laughter and excitement.

Simon clapped along with the rest, cheered when the cake showed pink filling, kissed his sister’s cheek when she opened gifts for tiny dresses and soft onesies. He hugged her and said all the right words. Of course he did.Because he loved Sara, and he was happy for her — he was.

It was just that the smile hurt. His cheeks ached with the weight of keeping it there. Seven months. Seven months of waiting, trying, crying, sometimes fighting. Seven months of wishing and praying and feeling like his body was betraying him. Seven months of Wille whispering “it’ll happen, älskling” into his hair while Simon pretended he believed it.

Now Sara stood there, her second baby already so loved, her life multiplying with the kind of ease that Simon felt had slipped through his fingers. He clapped again, feeling the sound hollow in his palms, and wished he could crawl out of his own skin.

He excused himself for air at one point, stepping toward the quieter edge of the room where the noise dulled into background blur. That was when Linda slipped beside him, her perfume light and familiar, her presence steady as ever. She didn’t ask questions. She just wrapped one arm around his shoulders in a side hug, squeezing softly.

Simon’s breath hitched.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Linda said quietly, her words for him only. Her eyes flicked across his face with that uncanny ability she had — to read him like a book even when he thought the pages were sealed shut.

“I’m fine,” Simon whispered, even though his throat was raw with the effort of lying.

Linda pressed a kiss to his temple, a motherly thing that undid him in ways he didn’t want to show here. “I know.”

That was all she said. And it was enough.

He kept his smile in place until the end, hugged Sara again, congratulated her, told her he couldn’t wait to meet his niece. The drive home was silent, heavy with the kind of exhaustion that wasn’t physical but bone-deep.

When he pushed open the door to their house, the quiet nearly buckled his knees. Wille was still out with Leo at soccer practice, the two of them probably laughing, shouting, living in that uncomplicated father-son bubble Simon loved to watch from the sidelines.

He dropped his jacket on the chair, kicked his shoes off with less care than usual, and drifted toward the bedroom as if pulled by a string. The room smelled faintly of their laundry detergent, of Leo’s shampoo that lingered after rushed morning baths.

Simon sat on the bed heavily, his chest aching in that sharp, invisible way. His eyes caught the edge of something on the shelf — Leo’s baby book.

He reached for it with careful fingers, like it might burn him. The leather cover was soft, worn from years of opening and closing. He pulled it into his lap and opened the first page.

Tiny handprints. A lock of baby hair Wille had tucked in with almost reverent care. Notes in neat handwriting: First smile. First word. First tooth. 

Simon’s throat closed around a sob before he could stop it. He traced the photos with trembling fingers, his son’s gummy grin beaming up at him, captured forever. All that joy. All that promise.

He bent over the book, pressing his forehead to the page, tears soaking into the edges.

Seven months. Seven empty, aching months.

And still — nothing.

…

The sterile smell of the clinic always made Simon uneasy. It was too clean, too sharp, like it wanted to scrub away any trace of vulnerability. He sat in the waiting room with his hands clasped tightly in his lap, thumbs rubbing a nervous rhythm against each other. The glossy posters on the walls—smiling parents cradling infants—felt like cruel reminders of what he and Wille had been reaching for these past seven months, only to come up empty.

When Vera finally called his name, he rose slowly, almost reluctant to follow her into the consultation room. She gave him a soft smile, her usual calm presence filling the space with warmth.

“So,” she began gently once they’d sat down, “how have things been?”

Simon let out a long breath, dragging his fingers through his hair. “Not good. I mean—physically, I’m fine. But mentally… it’s like we’re just stuck. We’ve been trying for seven months, Vera. Seven months, and still nothing.”

Vera nodded, her pen still as she focused entirely on him. “I hear you. That can feel like a very long time.”

Simon’s throat tightened. He wanted to sound collected, logical, but the truth was pressing too heavy on him. “It’s not just the waiting. It’s that—last time, with Leo, it wasn’t easy either. It took months, I know. But this time…” His voice cracked, and he pressed the heel of his hand against his eye. “This time it feels different. Like something’s wrong with me. Like maybe it’s not going to happen again.”

Vera leaned forward slightly, her tone even and reassuring. “Simon, it’s natural to feel that way when it doesn’t happen right away. But remember, seven months isn’t unusual. Every cycle is different, and stress can play a huge role too.”

“I know, I know,” Simon whispered, but his chest ached with doubt. “I just… I feel broken. Like my body’s betraying me. Wille tries not to show it, but I can see it in his eyes when another month passes and there’s nothing.”

Vera placed her pen down, her voice soft but firm. “You are not broken. What you’re feeling is valid, but it doesn’t mean your body is failing. There are steps we can take—tests, support options, adjustments in timing. You don’t have to carry this worry alone.”

Simon swallowed hard, his hands trembling in his lap. He thought of Leo’s baby book at home, the tiny handprints pressed in ink, the milestones carefully noted, the love etched into every page. That had felt like a miracle. This felt like a punishment.

“What if it never happens again?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if Leo was our only chance?”

Vera’s expression softened even more. “Right now, nothing suggests you won’t be able to conceive again. Sometimes, it just takes longer than we want.”

Simon nodded, but the knot in his stomach remained. He left the appointment with pamphlets in his hand and Vera’s reassurances in his ears, but the heaviness didn’t lift.

…

One late afternoon sun slanted low over the field, warming the grass and casting everything in a golden glow. Simon stood on the sidelines, arms loosely folded across his chest, watching Leo chase the ball with more determination than skill. His little legs pumped hard, his curls bouncing with every step, cheeks flushed red with excitement.

It was the first time Simon got to watch his son play soccer, really play, not just kick a ball around in their yard. He should have been able to just enjoy it, should have been able to soak in the sight of his boy laughing, running, shouting with the other kids. But his gaze kept drifting.

There, along the sidelines, so many parents stood together—mothers with their bellies round and full, fathers with hands protectively splayed over those swells, couples leaning into each other, chatting about schools and snacks and futures. It was everywhere, almost impossible to ignore. Pregnant couples, blooming families.

And him. Now eight months of trying. Eight months of hormones and calendars and arguments muffled into pillows at night so Leo wouldn’t hear. Eight months of wanting, and nothing to show for it.

He sighed, deep and heavy, his chest sinking as he dragged his eyes back to his son.

A warm weight settled around his shoulders. Wille, who had been a few steps behind talking to one of the other parents, slipped his arm across Simon’s back and tugged him closer. Simon let himself lean into it just enough to feel the comfort of Wille’s scent, grounding and steady. Wille didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. He knew.

Simon tilted his head slightly, offering the faintest smile that didn’t reach his eyes, then went back to watching Leo. His boy was so alive, so happy, and Simon forced himself to focus on that. On the good.

But before the quiet could swallow them both, a couple of teenage girls approached the fence, giggling nervously. They weren’t watching the soccer game. Their wide eyes were fixed on him.

“Excuse me—” one of them blurted, clutching a notebook in both hands like it was a treasure. “You’re Simon Eriksson, right? We—we love your music. Could we maybe get an autograph?”

Simon blinked, startled, but then the familiar warmth of recognition—fans—softened his features. He smiled, really smiled this time, even though exhaustion tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Of course,” he said gently, reaching for the notebook. He scribbled his name with a practiced flourish, then looked up when the second girl asked, breathless, “When’s your album coming out?”

The question cut sharper than expected. His deadline was looming, the last song still unwritten, but he didn’t want to let them see his frustration. So he pulled at his smile a little tighter and said, “It’s just missing one last number. Hopefully in the next couple of months.”

The girls squealed in unison, bouncing on their feet. Simon laughed softly despite himself, shaking his head at their energy as he handed the notebook back.

“Thank you so much!” they chorused, before scampering off with stars in their eyes.

Simon exhaled, a little dazed from the sudden encounter, when Wille leaned in with that crooked smirk that always gave him away.

“You love that, don’t you?” Wille teased, his voice low and amused, his arm still snug around Simon’s shoulders. “Your fans. They look at you like you’re some kind of rock god.”

Simon rolled his eyes, though his cheeks warmed. “Shut up.”

Wille chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Simon’s hair before straightening again. “It’s cute. You’re cute. Watching you try not to blush when they squeal like that—it’s the highlight of my day.”

Simon shook his head, fighting a smile as he nudged Wille with his elbow. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” Wille said, utterly unbothered, eyes tracking Leo sprinting after the ball again.

And just like that, Simon’s sigh came easier. The field still brimmed with reminders of what they didn’t have yet. But right there, next to Wille, with Leo chasing the ball in front of him and his husband’s arm steady around his back, Simon let himself breathe.

…

Simon carried Leo into his room, the boy’s curls damp from the shower, smelling faintly of soap and sunshine. He tucked him under the covers, smoothing the blanket over his little chest.

“Papa?” Leo’s small voice broke the silence.

Simon glanced down. “Mm?”

“Are you okay?”

The question hit him harder than expected. For a moment, he couldn’t answer. His throat tightened, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the sting in his eyes. He forced a smile. “Yeah, baby. I’m okay.”

Leo frowned softly, studying him in the way children did, too perceptive for their own good. Then he reached out a hand. Simon leaned down, letting his son’s little fingers brush his cheek before Leo released a contented sigh and shifted closer. Their scents twined for a second—warm, grounding, familiar. Simon let the bond of it settle over him like a blanket before Leo’s breathing evened out, heavy with sleep.

He lingered for a while, watching him, listening to the quiet. Then, after kissing his curls one last time, Simon slipped out of the room and padded toward the bedroom he shared with Wilhelm.

When he opened the door, he froze. The lights were dim, and candles flickered on every surface, casting soft glows across the walls. Their bed was turned down, the air carrying a faint trace of Wilhelm’s cologne mixed with melted wax.

Simon smirked despite himself. “What are you up to?”

Wille turned, caught in the act of adjusting the last candle. His lips curved into that boyish grin that never failed to melt Simon. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, flipping it around to show Simon the screen. “Calendar reminder,” he said, tone a little sheepish. “It’s… you know. Try-for-a-baby time.”

The smirk slid right off Simon’s face. His chest tightened. He bit the inside of his cheek, then looked away. “I’m actually… kind of tired tonight.”

Wille’s smile faltered instantly. He inhaled slowly, then exhaled, as if steadying himself. Without a word, he moved toward the candles, reaching to snuff out the flames one by one.

“Wille—” Simon’s voice cracked. He crossed the room quickly, stopping him before he blew out another. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s been a lot lately.” His shoulders slumped with the weight of it.

Wilhelm shook his head gently, turning to face him. “Don’t be sorry. You don’t owe me anything.” His voice was soft, honest, the kind of tone he only used when he wanted Simon to know he meant every word.

Simon’s chest ached. He stepped closer, sliding a hand up his alpha’s chest until it rested over his heart. The steady thump beneath his palm calmed him. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes shining.

Wilhelm’s gaze softened. “I love you too.”

Simon leaned in and kissed him—slow, lingering, not about heat but about reassurance. Wilhelm kissed him back with equal gentleness, one hand resting at Simon’s hip, grounding him, patient as ever.

For a moment, the weight of calendars and deadlines and expectations faded, leaving just the two of them, lips pressed together in the glow of half-burnt candles.

…

The faint grey light of dawn slipped into the bedroom, brushing over Simon’s face as he blinked awake. His body felt heavy, not fully rested, but his mind was sharp, carrying the weight of last night’s refusal. The guilt was immediate. They hadn’t tried. He’d said no. He’d been too tired, too overwhelmed—and now it sat in his chest like a stone.

He turned his head to see Wilhelm still asleep beside him, mouth parted, lashes resting against his cheeks, his body warm and relaxed in the sheets. Simon’s throat tightened. They were supposed to be trying. What if this month slipped away too?

“Wille,” he whispered, nudging at his alpha’s shoulder. His voice was hoarse, urgent. “Wake up.”

Wilhelm stirred with a low hum, his eyes blinking open slowly, still dazed with sleep. “Mm? What’s wrong?”

Simon leaned closer, pressing his lips to Wille’s ear, almost desperate. “Knot me. Please. Before Leo wakes up.”

It took a second for Wilhelm’s brain to catch up, but when it did, his pupils darkened. He shifted quickly, rolling over Simon, his scent thickening in the air, heat sparking between them. “You’re sure?” he rasped, voice rough with sleep and surprise.

Simon nodded quickly, tugging at Wille’s shirt, already pressing his hips up. “Yes. Don’t think. Just—just do it.”

Wilhelm didn’t need more permission. His hands moved fast, pulling Simon’s shorts down, pushing his own boxers low enough to free himself. The urgency pulsed between them, messy and unprepared. Wilhelm kissed him hard, swallowing Simon’s quick, shaky breath as he pressed forward, guiding himself in.

Simon hissed at the stretch, sharp and almost too much this early, when his body hadn’t been eased into it. His fingers clawed at Wille’s shoulders, back arching. “Fuck—slow,” he gasped, though his legs locked around Wilhelm’s waist, holding him there.

“I know, I know,” Wilhelm panted, kissing the side of his face, his jaw, his temple, but still rocking into him, shallow at first, then deeper, need driving him. “Sorry, baby—”

“It’s okay,” Simon breathed, eyes squeezed shut, teeth catching his lip at the sting. It hurt, but it was also right. Necessary. He wanted it, even if it was rough around the edges. “Just—don’t stop.”

Wilhelm groaned, forehead pressed to Simon’s, his thrusts picking up, the pace sloppy and urgent, the bed creaking quietly under them. Their scents tangled, thick in the air, sweat already clinging to their skin. Simon clung to him, breath quick, body trembling with each push deeper, stretching around him until his body gave in, adjusting, wanting.

The sound of their breath, their bodies meeting, filled the room—quiet but desperate. Simon bit into Wille’s shoulder to muffle a sound, not wanting Leo to wake. Wilhelm grunted low, holding Simon tighter, his hips driving harder until the swell of his knot pressed insistently at Simon’s rim.

“Now, Wille,” Simon whispered, broken, pleading. “Please—just—”

With a final deep thrust, Wilhelm pushed his knot inside, locking them together. Simon cried out against his neck, the mix of pain and relief washing over him, grounding him. Wilhelm held him close, arms trembling, chest heaving, whispering against his hair. “Got you. Got you, baby.”

Simon clung back, eyes wet though he wasn’t crying, heart pounding. He felt full, tethered, claimed. The quickness of it, the ache, the sting—it didn’t matter. What mattered was this. Trying. Not wasting another chance.

They stayed tangled like that, breathing into each other, the morning light growing brighter around them. And even with the ache between his thighs, Simon felt lighter than he had the night before.

…

After Simon had cleaned up and slipped into sweatpants, he padded into the kitchen to get Leo ready for kindergarten. His body still ached a little, the quickie leaving him sore in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He tried to hide it, moving carefully, but of course Leo noticed everything.

“Papa, why are you walking like that?” Leo asked, brows furrowed as he swung his little backpack onto his shoulder.

Simon froze mid-step. “Like what?” he tried, forcing a casual tone.

“Like you got hurt,” Leo said seriously. “Did you fall?”

From behind them, Wilhelm leaned against the doorway, already grinning, his shoulders shaking with the effort not to laugh.

Simon shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare.”

That was all it took—Wille burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. 

Leo turned back and forth between them, suspicious. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Simon said quickly, his ears pink. He went to adjust Leo’s jacket zipper, but his son pulled back.

“Papa, tell me,” Leo demanded, his serious little face making Wilhelm laugh even harder.

“I—” Simon stammered, glaring at his alpha who was now wiping tears from his eyes. “It’s not something for you to worry about.”

Leo squinted at him. “But you’re limping.”

Simon sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Sometimes grown-ups just… get sore, okay?”

Wilhelm couldn’t resist adding, through laughter, “Especially when they wake up very early.”

Simon gasped, swatting at his chest. “Wilhelm!”

Leo giggled now too, even though he didn’t fully understand, but he loved that his parents were laughing together. “You two are weird,” he declared, shaking his head before heading to the door.

Simon muttered under his breath, cheeks flaming. “This is all your fault.”

Wille leaned in, kissing his cheek sweetly. “Worth it,” he whispered, still smirking.

Simon rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his chest betrayed him.

Chapter Text

Simon sat at the bathroom counter, staring down at the plastic stick lying between his trembling fingers. Negative. Again. He didn’t even need to wait the full two minutes—it was already there, clear as day, one single line that mocked him. His shoulders sagged, and he swallowed back the burn in his throat before forcing himself to throw the test in the trash. He washed his hands, splashed some cold water on his face, then pushed himself out to the living room where Wille was scrolling on his phone.

Wille looked up instantly, reading Simon’s face before Simon even spoke. “No?” he asked quietly.

Simon shook his head. “No.” His voice cracked.

Wille set his phone aside and held his arms open without hesitation. “Come here.”

Simon dropped into his lap, burying his face in Wille’s chest. Wille wrapped him tight, his hand rubbing steady circles on Simon’s back, the strength of his alpha scent wrapping around him like a shield. “It’s okay,” Wille murmured into Simon’s hair. “We’ll keep trying.”

Simon pulled back just enough to search Wille’s eyes. “Would you… maybe… be up for getting your sperm tested?”

For the first time that evening, Wille froze. His jaw flexed, his scent flickering with unease. He hated hospitals, Simon knew that—sterile rooms, the clinical way they looked at him like just another number. But after a beat, Wille nodded. “Of course. If that’s what you want. I just… Hate hospitals.”

“I know.” Simon reached up and cupped his cheek. “I’ll go with you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

…

A week later, they sat side by side in the clinic waiting room. Simon’s hand was laced tightly through Wille’s, his thumb brushing over his knuckles while Wille bounced his leg, restless. Eventually, a nurse came out, calling his name, and Simon squeezed his hand one last time before letting him go.

The nurse led Wille down a hall, explaining the process. A sterile room. A small plastic cup. A flat-screen mounted in the corner. “Whenever you’re ready, you can just leave the sample in the hatch,” she said, smiling professionally before closing the door.

Wilhelm sat on the small chair in the sterile white room, elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging. The plastic cup sat on the counter, empty, mocking him. He had tried—he really had—but every time he touched himself, his body just locked up. The thought of nurses outside, the cold walls, the knowledge that this wasn’t for pleasure but for testing—it all smothered whatever spark he tried to summon. His chest felt tight, shame creeping into every corner.

A soft knock came at the door.
“Wille?” Simon’s voice, low, careful. “Are you okay?”

Wilhelm squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to say yes, to protect Simon from this embarrassment, but the words stuck. He finally managed, voice rough:
“I… I can’t. I can’t get it up.”

There was a pause outside. Then Simon again, gentle as ever:
“Will you let me in?”

Wilhelm hesitated, his pulse hammering, then dragged himself to the door and unlocked it. Simon slipped inside and shut it quickly, like he was guarding a secret. His mate’s eyes softened immediately, taking in Wilhelm’s tense shoulders, his flushed face.

Simon stepped closer. “Baby… it’s okay.”

Wilhelm shook his head. “It’s not. I can’t even do this right. And if they can’t test my sperm—” His words cracked. “What if it’s me, Si? What if I’m broken?”

Simon lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “You’re not broken. You’re just… nervous. This isn’t exactly the sexiest setup.” His mouth curved into a tiny smirk, trying to lighten the weight in the room.

Wilhelm let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t say.”

Simon leaned in, voice dipping lower, steadier. “Do you want me to help?”

Wilhelm groaned softly, dropping his forehead to Simon’s shoulder. “I can’t let you touch me… they need it clean. Just me.”

“Who says I have to touch?” Simon whispered, and stepped back slowly. His fingers toyed with the button of his jeans before sliding it open, the zipper parting with a quiet rasp. Wilhelm’s eyes widened, his breath catching as Simon’s hands slipped inside to free himself, already stroking lazily.

“Simon…” Wilhelm rasped, his throat tight.

Simon smirked, stepping back just far enough to lean against the wall, one hand on his cock, the other pressing flat against his stomach. “You know what I’m imagining right now? That I’m bent over, begging you to knot me and you of course start to fuck me.” His voice dropped, husky, deliberately slow.

Wilhelm’s hand twitched at his side, and almost against his will, he reached down, wrapping it around himself. His cock hardened quickly, all the tension from before replaced by a heat so sharp it made his knees weak.

Simon’s gaze darkened, watching him intently, biting his lip. “Mmh… that’s it. I love watching you, Wille. You’re so fucking gorgeous when you’re desperate.” He worked himself faster, head tipping back against the wall, breathing out Wilhelm’s name like a prayer.

Wilhelm’s strokes grew rougher, hips jerking. The image, the scent of his mate aroused, the filthy words spilling from Simon’s lips—it unraveled him.

“Si… fuck…” Wilhelm groaned, clutching the cup with his free hand, barely in time. His release hit fast and hard, spilling hot against his palm before he shoved the cup under, catching the rest. His body shook with the force of it, his teeth gritted, the sound of Simon’s moans still painting his ears.

When it was over, he leaned back, panting, the plastic cup now half full in his hand. He glanced at Simon, who was still stroking himself lazily, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

Simon licked his lips, eyes warm, soft. “See? Not broken.”

Wilhelm barked a shaky laugh, still breathless, still trembling. He put the lid on the cup carefully, then set it aside before crossing the room in two steps, cupping Simon’s jaw and kissing him deeply, hungrily.

…

The results came back a few days later, and both of them sat nervously in Vera’s office. Simon’s fingers were tight around Wilhelm’s hand, their joined palms a little sweaty. Wilhelm stared straight ahead, his jaw tense, as if bracing for the worst.

Vera smiled gently at them. “Wilhelm, your sperm count is a little lower than what we usually see in alphas your age. Not dangerously low, but it could make conception more challenging if you try naturally.”

Simon felt Wilhelm’s grip tighten. His alpha’s knuckles whitened, and Simon turned to look at him, heart clenching at the quiet panic in Wilhelm’s eyes.

“So… is it bad?” Wilhelm asked, his voice low, almost hoarse.

“Not bad,” Vera reassured, her tone calm and steady. “But it does mean we might need to help the process along. I’d recommend we start you both on a fertility treatment plan. Simon, we’d give you hormone supplements to stimulate ovulation more strongly. With that, you still try naturally for a while, and we see how your bodies respond.”

Simon nodded quickly, almost too quickly, wanting Wilhelm to hear the hope in Vera’s words. “That sounds good. That sounds really good.” He squeezed Wilhelm’s hand tighter.

“And if the hormones don’t do enough,” Vera continued carefully, “the next step would be insemination, and eventually IVF if necessary. But that’s only if the earlier steps don’t bring results. You still have very good chances.”

Simon turned fully to Wilhelm then, brushing their joined hands against his thigh. He saw the way Wilhelm’s throat bobbed, the way he swallowed hard, his eyes a little glossy even though he was trying to mask it.

“Wille,” Simon whispered, leaning closer, “this isn’t bad news. We can do this. I’ll take the hormones, we’ll try, and we’ll keep trying. We’re not alone in this.”

Wilhelm let out a shaky breath, finally turning to look at Simon. His omega’s face was soft but strong, full of love and certainty. He closed his eyes for a moment, then pressed Simon’s hand to his lips.

“Okay,” he murmured. “If you’re in, I’m in.”

Simon smiled faintly through the ache in his chest. “Always.”

…

The first time Simon stood in the bathroom with the little needle in his hand, he had to take a few deep breaths before he could bring himself to do it. Vera had shown him exactly how — pinch the skin, steady the hand, push slowly. It wasn’t that it hurt much, more that the idea of doing it to himself still made his stomach twist.

He rolled up his t-shirt, staring at the faint marks already blooming across his lower belly from the last few days. He muttered to himself, You’re doing this for a reason. You want this. You and Wille both want this.

Just as he raised the syringe, the bathroom door creaked open.

“Papa?” Leo’s small voice broke the silence.

Simon turned quickly, his heart jolting. His little boy stood in the doorway in his pajamas, hair a mess from sleep, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. But his gaze quickly sharpened when he saw the needle in Simon’s hand. His expression froze.

“Papa, are you sick?” Leo asked, voice trembling just a little.

Simon immediately put the syringe down on the counter and crouched down to Leo’s level, reaching for his hands. “No, no, mi amor, I’m not sick,” he assured gently, smiling to soften the moment. “This is… this is medicine, but not because something’s wrong with me. It’s to help me and pappa give you something.”

Leo tilted his head, eyes wide. “What?”

Simon smoothed a hand over his curls, hesitating for just a second. Then he said softly, “We’re trying to make you a brother or a sister. Sometimes, omegas like me need a little bit of help from medicine to make it happen. That’s what this is for.”

Leo’s eyes lit up instantly, his earlier fear gone. “Really? A sister like Alma’s getting?”

Simon chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe a brother. We don’t get to choose.”

Leo’s excitement bubbled over so fast it almost made Simon laugh. “Then take more medicine, Papa! Take a lot! Then the baby will come quicker, right?”

Simon blinked, caught off guard, then started laughing softly, pulling his son into his arms. “If only it worked like that, älskling,” he murmured into Leo’s hair. “It takes time, even with the medicine. We have to be patient.”

Leo pulled back with a pout. “It’s not fair. I want one now.”

Simon kissed his forehead and tapped his nose gently. “I know, sweetheart. You’re going to be the best big brother when it happens. And your pappa and I are doing everything we can to give you that.”

Leo seemed to think about it, then sighed like a little grown-up. “Okay. But you promise?”

“I promise,” Simon said firmly. Then he let Leo watch him as he did the injection, showing him it didn’t hurt, that it was safe. Leo clutched his hand the whole time, his eyes fixed in awe, like Simon was doing something magical.

When it was done, Leo whispered seriously, “Now the baby can come.”

Simon smiled softly, heart swelling with both hope and fear. He scooped Leo up in his arms, whispering, “Maybe, älskling. Maybe.”

…

The hormones hit Simon harder than he had expected. At first it was just the fatigue—he could barely keep his eyes open in the afternoons, drifting off even with Leo babbling around him. But then came the sudden waves of sadness, crashing down on him without warning. One moment he’d be fine, folding laundry, and the next he’d find his eyes stinging with tears and his throat closing up, unable to explain why.

It scared him, sometimes. Not because he regretted what they were doing, but because he felt like he wasn’t himself. The hormones stirred something raw in him, stripping away the calm he tried so hard to hold onto.

Wilhelm noticed, of course. He always did. His alpha became his anchor through it all. When Simon got overwhelmed, Wille would pull him into his chest, wrapping him up and grounding him with steady hands and soft kisses pressed to his hairline. When Simon woke up in the night restless, Wille would rub circles into his back until he fell asleep again. He never once made Simon feel like a burden.

One afternoon, Simon sat at the piano, exhausted and staring blankly at the keys. His fingers hovered without pressing down, his chest heavy. He almost closed the lid and walked away. But then, like a whisper, a melody slipped into his head. Fragile at first, but growing clearer, richer. His heart quickened as he sat upright and started to play.

The words followed—raw, aching, hopeful. He sang softly under his breath, his voice cracking, and suddenly he knew: this was it. The last song. The missing piece for his album.

For hours he worked, lost in the current, pouring every bit of longing, every ounce of love and fight and fear into it. The fatigue melted away, replaced by an urgency he hadn’t felt in months. By the time he leaned back, the rough demo was saved, and his chest felt lighter than it had in weeks.

He kept it to himself. Not because he didn’t want Wilhelm to know, but because he wanted this to be theirs. A surprise. Something he could give his husband after everything Wille had given him.

A week later, Simon called Wille and asked him to come to the studio in his lunch break. “I want to show you something,” he said, keeping his voice carefully casual. Wille had no idea what was waiting for him.

When Wille stepped inside, Simon didn’t hand him headphones or point him toward the soundboard. Instead, he was already sitting at the piano, eyes lifted, waiting. “Sit,” Simon said softly, nodding toward a chair. Wille obeyed, curious, a little nervous, his heart already picking up speed.

And then Simon began to sing.

His voice filled the room—not just notes, not just words, but everything they had been through together. Every sleepless night with Leo. Every quiet tear Wille had brushed away from Simon’s cheek during the hormone swings. Every time Simon had leaned against him, exhausted but refusing to give up. His voice trembled at first, then soared, wrapping around Wille’s chest until he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

By the time the final chord faded into silence, Wille was already crying. Not quietly, not discreetly—his whole body shook with it. He covered his face with his hands, overwhelmed. Simon stood and crossed the room quickly, pulling him into his arms.

“It’s yours,” Simon whispered against his hair. “The song. It’s for you.”

Wille broke completely then, clutching Simon to him, his tears soaking into Simon’s shirt. “I don’t deserve you,” he choked, his voice rough and broken.

Simon just smiled through his own tears, kissing the side of his alpha’s head. “You deserve everything.”

(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aRzD5BSrjW8&list=RDaRzD5BSrjW8&start_radio=1)

…

Chapter Text

The clock on the kitchen wall ticked too loudly. At least it felt that way to Wilhelm as he sat hunched at the table, his laptop open in front of him but completely untouched. His coffee had gone cold an hour ago. He should have been working on a case. But his focus had been scattered for weeks. Months, if he was being honest.

Upstairs he could hear Simon humming faintly through the walls as he rehearsed. His voice was beautiful, raw, and heavy with emotion—always had been. Usually, Wilhelm found comfort in listening. But lately, even that sound twisted something in his chest.

He pressed his thumb against the rim of the cup, staring at the black surface of the coffee. The doctor’s words echoed in his head, words that never seemed to leave him. Lower than average sperm quality… not impossible, but more difficult… Vera’s calm, clinical tone had been meant to reassure them. Instead, Wilhelm had carried it like a stone lodged in his ribcage.

He hadn’t told Simon how much it haunted him. Not fully. He tried to be strong, to focus on Simon’s treatments, the hormones, the optimism Vera insisted on. But every negative test they had taken since had tightened the knot in Wilhelm’s stomach. Every month that passed without the faint blue line felt like proof that the problem wasn’t Simon at all—it was him.

The door creaked. Simon padded down into the kitchen, barefoot in sweatpants, his hair messy from rehearsal. He carried a half-empty bottle of water and looked tired, though he offered Wilhelm a faint smile.

“Hey,” Simon said softly. “You didn’t eat yet?”

Wilhelm shook his head. “Not hungry.”

Simon opened the fridge, pulling out yogurt and berries. His movements were clipped, like he was forcing himself not to say something. Wilhelm recognized that silence. It had been hanging between them a lot lately—words unsaid, irritation swallowed down until it boiled over in little arguments about things that didn’t matter.

“You need to eat,” Simon said finally, setting the bowl down in front of Wilhelm. “Coffee isn’t food.”

Wilhelm’s chest tightened. It was said with care, but it still carried an edge. He stared at the yogurt, then at Simon. “I’m fine.”

Simon sighed and sat down opposite him, rubbing his face. He looked pale under the kitchen light. The hormones were taking their toll—mood swings, exhaustion, aches. Vera had warned them, but seeing it firsthand was different. Simon tried to carry it with grace, but Wilhelm noticed the small tremors in his hands, the dark circles under his eyes.

And still—still Simon was the one comforting him.

“You’re not fine,” Simon muttered. “Neither of us are.”

The truth stung. Wilhelm clenched his jaw, fighting the words rising in his throat. It’s my fault. I’m the problem. He wanted to say it, to admit what he felt so Simon would understand why he was withdrawing. But every time he opened his mouth, something stopped him. Because what if saying it out loud made it real?

Instead, he reached across the table and took Simon’s hand. Their fingers threaded together easily, automatically, as if even in silence their bodies remembered how to connect. Simon’s thumb stroked the back of his hand, absent, tired.

“I hate this,” Simon whispered.

Wilhelm swallowed hard. “Me too.”

…

The following weeks blurred into a pattern. Simon rehearsed for his release party, meetings with his manager piling up, his face plastered on posters across Stockholm. At home, Wilhelm balanced looking after Leo and working on an important case. They moved around each other with a tenderness edged with strain—soft kisses at bedtime, quick hugs in the morning, but rarely the easy laughter that once filled their apartment.

Their arguments were never explosive. They came in sighs, in misinterpreted tones, in sharp looks across the dinner table.

“You forgot the doctor’s appointment this morning?” Simon said one evening, exasperation curling in his voice.

“I had Leo all day home sick while I had to work on the case as well, Simon. I can’t do everything,” Wilhelm snapped back before regretting it instantly. Simon’s face fell, and guilt crashed down on Wilhelm so hard it made him dizzy.

Other nights, it was Simon who broke first, slamming a cupboard door too loudly or brushing off Wilhelm’s attempt at comfort with a clipped I’m fine.

But beneath it all was love. That was what made it so painful. Because when Wilhelm tucked Leo into bed and caught Simon watching him with soft, tired eyes, he knew they still wanted the same future. They just didn’t know how to get there without breaking apart in the process.

…

On the day of Simon’s release party, the tension peaked.

Simon stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom, tugging at the collar of his shirt. His curls had been styled, his outfit chosen carefully with his stylist, but now he just looked… small. Nervous. His hands shook slightly as he adjusted the buttons.

Wilhelm leaned against the doorway, watching him. For a moment, he forgot the fights, the tension. All he saw was Simon—his Simon—bathed in the soft light spilling through the curtains, beautiful in a way that made Wilhelm’s heart ache.

“You look…” Wilhelm’s voice caught, and he forced it steady. “You look beautiful.”

Simon’s eyes flicked up to meet his in the mirror. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “You have to say that. You’re my alpha.”

Wilhelm walked in, sliding his arms around Simon’s waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “No. I say it because it’s true.”

Simon exhaled, leaning back against him, but only for a moment. Then he pulled away gently, adjusting his jacket again. “I’m nervous.”

Wilhelm reached for his hand. “You’ll be amazing. You always are.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. His reflection looked back at him, haunted by something Wilhelm couldn’t reach. Finally, Simon forced a brighter smile and whispered, “Let’s just get through tonight.”

Wilhelm squeezed Simon’s hand tighter. He didn’t say I love you. He didn’t have to. But the words lingered in the air anyway, unspoken, heavy as a prayer.

…

The car ride to the venue was quiet. Too quiet. Simon had his hands folded in his lap, knuckles white against the fabric of his trousers, and his gaze fixed on the blur of Stockholm’s city lights outside the tinted window. He didn’t say much, only breathed in shallow bursts, his reflection in the glass betraying the strain behind his eyes.

Wille sat beside him, equally silent, but his hands twitched against his thighs, as if itching to reach out. He wanted to take Simon’s hand, to ease the tension cutting sharp edges into his husband’s beautiful face. But his chest still carried the ache of their earlier arguments — the whispered accusations, the silence that followed, the frustration that neither of them deserved but both of them carried.

Leo wasn’t with them tonight. He was with Wille’s parents at the castle, excited to play in rooms that smelled like history and childhood. That left the two of them alone.

When the car pulled up in front of the venue, flashes of cameras exploded against the windows like bursts of lightning. The muffled roar of fans and press waiting behind the barriers reached them, a constant reminder of what tonight was supposed to be: a celebration. A release party. A triumph.

Simon took a deep breath, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready?” he asked, though his voice cracked slightly.

“Always,” Wille replied softly, though his heart twisted when Simon didn’t meet his gaze.

The doors opened, and they stepped into the night, into the noise, into the spotlight that Simon had learned to wear like a second skin. Reporters shouted questions, cameras flashed, and Simon’s smile seemed to grow wider with every step. He was good at this — good at making it seem effortless, at carrying the weight of expectation on his shoulders.

But Wille saw the way his husband’s hand trembled when he waved. He saw the tightness in Simon’s jaw, the quick glances he cast toward him as if checking — maybe for reassurance, maybe to anchor himself. Wille tried to give it, standing tall, his hand brushing Simon’s lower back briefly before they were swept inside.

The venue was alive with music, chatter, clinking glasses, and the soft hum of success. Simon was immediately pulled away, ushered toward interviewers, cameras, and industry faces. Questions flew at him, microphones shoved toward his mouth.

“How does it feel, releasing this album after such a personal journey?”

“What was your inspiration for the final track? It’s so raw.”

“Do you and your husband plan to celebrate privately afterward?”

Simon smiled, laughed lightly, answered with grace — the picture of charm. But Wille could see through it. His omega was tired. His voice carried just a hint of strain. And every time Simon glanced toward him across the room, Wille knew: he wasn’t the only one feeling frayed at the edges.

Still, Wille played his part. He stood with their friends, with Felice and Sara, nodding when spoken to, trying to look proud — and he was proud, endlessly so — but he couldn’t keep the sadness from seeping into him. Couldn’t keep the thought from circling in his mind: He deserves more. He deserves better than an alpha who can’t give him what he needs.

Simon noticed. Even when people swarmed him, even when hands shook his, even when champagne was pressed into his palm, his eyes kept finding Wille across the crowd. He saw the slump of his husband’s shoulders, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, the way he looked like he was fading into the background of a night that should have been theirs.

By the time Marcus appeared, Simon was already frayed.

“Congratulations,” Marcus said smoothly, appearing at his side with a glass of champagne. He looked almost the same as before — self-assured, polished, his smile practiced — but his eyes carried a spark of something Simon couldn’t name.

Simon accepted the glass with a polite smile, though he didn’t sip. “Thanks.”

“You look…” Marcus tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking over Simon in a way that made him uncomfortable. “Nervous.”

Simon sighed, shoulders slumping. “I am.” He didn’t mean to admit it, but the word slipped out before he could stop it. Maybe because Marcus wasn’t Wille. Maybe because for a moment, he felt like he didn’t have to keep the performance up.

“Everything okay?” Marcus asked, his voice lower now, like they were sharing something secret.

Simon hesitated. The room felt too loud, too bright, too crowded. He needed air. “I’m… I’m gonna step outside for a minute,” he said, setting the champagne glass down on a passing tray.

“Mind if I join?” Marcus asked, already following before Simon could answer.

The corridor outside the party was dimmer, quieter, a relief compared to the chaos inside. Simon leaned against the wall, closing his eyes briefly, trying to breathe.

“Are you okay?” Marcus said softly.

“Yeah,” Simon admitted. His voice felt smaller here, like it wasn’t meant for the big rooms filled with cameras. “It’s… a lot.”

And then, maybe because Marcus tilted his head like he was really listening, maybe because Simon was too tired to hold everything in, the words began to spill. “Wille and I… we’re trying. For another baby. And it’s not—” He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “It’s not happening. And I just… I feel like I’m failing him.”

Marcus hummed sympathetically. “That’s… rough. I’m sorry.”

Simon nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know why he said it, why he let Marcus see the cracks he worked so hard to hide. Maybe because Marcus wasn’t supposed to matter. Maybe because he was just an old part of his life that didn’t hold the same weight anymore.

But then Marcus stepped a little closer. His voice dropped lower. “You know… You do have other options, right?”

Simon blinked, confused — and before he could ask, Marcus leaned in.

It was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it was a kiss.

Simon froze. His mind screamed no, his body went rigid, but his lips moved before he realized what he was doing — responding, weakly, confused, tired, and desperate for some kind of comfort.

And then—

The door opened.

Simon pushed Marcus back immediately, his heart lurching into his throat. His eyes flew wide, and standing there, framed in the doorway with shock and devastation carved into his face, was Wille.

His mate.

His alpha.

The only one who mattered.

…

For a moment, Wilhelm couldn’t breathe. He stood frozen in the doorway, the heavy bass from inside the party muffled by the thick walls, but it was drowned out anyway by the rushing in his ears. His mate. His Simon. Lips pressed against another man’s.

Marcus.

Something inside him cracked — not sharp and fast, but deep and heavy, like a stone being dropped into water and sinking until it reached the very bottom.

Simon pulled back instantly, his eyes wide, horrified. “Wille—” he gasped, voice shaky, but Wilhelm couldn’t hear it properly. Couldn’t process anything beyond the image burned into his mind.

Every insecurity, every fear that had been gnawing at him these last months — that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t give Simon what he wanted, that Simon would grow tired of waiting, of the endless treatments, the hormones, the disappointment — all of it roared up at once, choking him.

His hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “What the fuck is this?” he finally managed, his voice low, hoarse, and trembling with a dangerous mix of anger and pain.

Simon shook his head quickly, taking a step toward him. “No, Wille, it’s not— I didn’t— I swear I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” Wilhelm snapped, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run a marathon. His eyes burned, and it took everything in him not to let the tears fall right then. Not here. Not in front of Marcus.

Marcus, for his part, looked smugly apologetic, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “It was just a mistake,” he said smoothly, clearly enjoying the fracture his presence caused. “We were talking, that’s all.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Wilhelm growled, his alpha presence flaring so intensely that even Marcus paled slightly.

Simon’s throat bobbed, his eyes filling with tears. He moved closer, reaching out a hand as if to touch Wilhelm’s arm. “Please, Wille, listen to me. I didn’t want that, I didn’t ask for it, it just—”

Wilhelm stepped back before Simon could touch him, the movement sharper than he intended. The rejection in Simon’s face nearly broke him, but the hurt was too fresh, too raw. “You kissed him back.” His voice cracked at the end, the betrayal cutting him open like glass.

Simon’s tears spilled over. “I—I was confused, I’m tired, I wasn’t thinking. Wille, I don’t want him, I only want you.”

But Wilhelm’s chest felt like it was caving in. “How am I supposed to believe that,” he whispered, barely audible, “when I just saw it with my own fucking eyes?”

The silence between them was unbearable. Inside, the party kept going, laughter and music spilling faintly through the doors, as if the world hadn’t just shifted beneath Wilhelm’s feet.

Finally, his voice steadied, colder now. “I can’t— I can’t do this right now.” He turned, his hands shaking, and stormed back into the party, not daring to look back.

Simon’s broken whisper followed him: “Wilhelm, please—”

But Wilhelm didn’t stop.

…

Chapter Text

The party was still going strong, voices and laughter spilling through the open doors of the venue, the low thump of bass rattling faintly against the windows. Simon’s song had been the highlight of the night—his raw, trembling voice carrying through the studio, turning every word into something unforgettable. Everyone inside had cheered, hugged him, toasted his future. But outside, things felt different.

Simon stumbled after Wille, weaving past clusters of guests, calling his name in a whisper that barely carried over the music. “Wille, wait—please.”

But Wilhelm didn’t turn. His shoulders were tight, back rigid, every step carrying him closer to the exit. He didn’t storm off—not the dramatic kind of anger that explodes and burns out quickly. No, this was quieter, heavier. The kind of hurt that sat deep in the chest.

When he finally pushed open the door, the night air hit them both—cold, sharp, filled with the glow of flashing cameras. Neither of them had noticed that journalists had gathered outside, waiting for a glimpse of Simon and his alpha husband.

Wilhelm stopped short, blinking against the lights. Simon nearly ran into him, his hand reaching instinctively for Wille’s arm, but Wille didn’t lean into the touch. He just steadied himself, expression settling into the polite, detached mask he had learned too well.

The reporters surged closer, their voices overlapping:

“Simon, why do you look like you’ve been crying?”
“Wilhelm, how proud are you of Simon tonight?”
“Is there something wrong between the two of you?”

Simon froze, deer-in-headlights, his eyes still wet and cheeks blotchy from trying not to sob earlier. Wille exhaled through his nose, his jaw working once before he forced a smile. The cool, composed kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“He’s emotional,” Wille said evenly, looking right at the nearest microphone. “Because tonight… tonight his dream came true. He’s worked for this moment all his life, and now he’s here. Sometimes emotions just… overwhelm you. But I couldn’t be prouder of him.”

Simon’s throat tightened at the words, because even if Wille was hurt, even if he was angry, he was still protecting him. Still standing as his shield.

The reporters murmured, some satisfied, some still pressing, but Wille moved with practiced ease—raising a hand in a calm gesture, signaling he wouldn’t say more. “We’ll answer questions another day. Tonight is Simon’s night.”

He turned, gently guiding Simon by the small of his back, away from the lights. Simon’s voice cracked when he tried again: “Wille…”

“Not now,” Wille said quietly, almost under his breath, as he scanned the street for a taxi. His tone wasn’t harsh, but it was firm, final.

Simon’s chest ached. He had seen this side of Wille before, the part of him that retreated behind walls of calm when he couldn’t trust himself to speak. It was always scarier than when he actually yelled.

Finally, Wille flagged a cab down, raising his arm sharply. The yellow light blinked, and the car pulled over. He opened the door but didn’t step in yet.

Simon swallowed hard. “Please… don’t go home angry.”

Wille looked at him then—really looked at him for the first time since leaving the studio. His eyes were darker, glassy in the streetlight, but his face stayed impassive. “I’m going to my parents’ place. To Leo. You should go back inside.”

Simon shook his head, tears threatening again. “I don’t care about the party if you’re not with me.”

“You should,” Wille said quietly. “All of this—you worked for it. You earned it. We’ll talk in the morning, when I’m not… like this.”

Simon’s chest twisted, but he understood. He had pushed too hard, and Wille’s walls were up now. There would be no breaking them tonight.

So he just whispered, brokenly, “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between them, fragile, trembling like the space in Simon’s chest.

Wille blinked, and for a heartbeat Simon thought he might say it back. But instead his jaw tightened, and he only gave the faintest nod before sliding into the cab.

The door shut with a muted thud. The car pulled away, and Simon was left standing on the curb, the echoes of camera shutters clicking behind him, his own words still hanging unanswered in the night.

…

The cab rolled slowly up the long driveway, headlights casting pale light over the familiar stone walls of the palace. Wilhelm sat hunched in the back seat, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt, his hands fisting in his coat as if that could hold him together. The image wouldn’t leave him: Simon’s lips pressed against Marcus’s. Simon hadn’t pulled away immediately. He had kissed him back. That truth gnawed at Wilhelm’s chest until it was almost unbearable.

He paid the driver quickly and stepped out, pulling his collar higher against the cold. The palace loomed above him, every window lit warmly. It should have felt like home, safe. Instead, it felt like a cage tonight.

Inside, the guards greeted him in surprise but didn’t ask questions as he strode past. He must have looked a mess — still dressed from Simon’s release party, tie loosened, eyes red.

He found his parents in the sitting room, both of them glancing up at once when he entered.

“Wilhelm?” Kristina rose from her armchair, concern flickering instantly in her eyes. “What are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you this early.”

Ludvig looked up from his papers, just as startled. “Is everything alright?”

Wilhelm swallowed, forcing his voice to stay even. “Yeah. Just… I had a headache. Needed some air. I know Simon’s with his crew and our friends, so I thought I’d come here. If it’s alright, I’d like to stay the night if that’s okay, I know Leo is asleep now.”

His mother’s brows furrowed. She didn’t press — she never pressed when she sensed he was holding on by a thread. Still, she walked over and brushed a hand over his shoulder, her voice gentler now. “Of course you can. Leo insisted on sleeping in your old room tonight — said he wanted to sleep where his father once did.”

The words hit Wilhelm harder than he expected. His son, safe and sleeping in the room he’d once occupied as a boy. The thought should have comforted him. Instead, it only underscored the ache twisting through his chest.

“Thank you,” Wilhelm managed, his throat tight.

Kristina studied him for a moment longer. She could see he was worked up, that something was eating at him. But she knew her son well enough not to push. “Get some rest,” she said softly. “Tomorrow will feel clearer.”

Wilhelm nodded, though he doubted it. He turned and made his way down the familiar corridor, past portraits of long-dead kings and queens staring down at him with judgmental eyes. His shoes echoed on the marble, too loud in the silence.

When he finally reached his old room, he paused in the doorway. Leo was curled up in the big bed, clutching his stuffed fox, his small chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. For a moment, Wilhelm just stood there, staring. His son. His whole world.

And yet tonight, everything felt like it was slipping away.

Wilhelm shut the door quietly, lowering himself into the armchair by the window. He didn’t undress, didn’t even take off his shoes. He just sat there in the dark, listening to Leo’s steady breathing, trying to swallow the storm raging inside him.

He wanted to be angry at Simon. He wanted to rage. But beneath the fury, there was only hurt — deep, jagged hurt. And guilt. Because hadn’t he been the one telling himself lately that he was the problem? That Simon’s body couldn’t carry another child because his own wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable of giving him what he needed?

Now Marcus’s face haunted him. Marcus, leaning close. Marcus, taking what should never have been his.

Wilhelm pressed his palms to his eyes until they burned. He had left before it could explode, before he could say words he couldn’t take back. But here, in the quiet of the palace, he was still breaking.

And he didn’t know how, or if, they could fix this.

…

The party kept moving around Simon like waves crashing against rocks. Lights flashed, music thumped, voices blurred into one another — but all he could feel was the hollow ache in his chest where Wilhelm had been. He forced himself to smile for producers, shake hands, nod when someone congratulated him on his new album. He had worked so hard for this night, but it felt like everything had cracked apart the moment Wilhelm had walked away.

When Felice found him, she didn’t even have to ask. She just appeared beside him, her eyes narrowing in quiet concern, her hand brushing his arm.

“Where’s Wille?” she asked softly, almost careful.

Simon swallowed, trying to keep his face straight, but his throat was too tight. He couldn’t even answer properly. He shook his head, forcing a weak smile.

Felice didn’t press. She studied him for another beat, then just asked, “Do you want to go home?”

Simon’s lips trembled, but he nodded. Relief swept through him when she simply said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

They started making their way out of the venue, Felice walking close beside him like a shield. Simon was just about to exhale, ready to escape into the cool night air, when Marcus suddenly appeared, blocking their way.

“Simon, wait,” Marcus said quickly, his expression strained. “Please, let me explain—”

But Simon didn’t let him finish. All the pain, humiliation, and guilt boiled over. He turned sharply and slapped Marcus across the face, the sound sharp even against the music behind them.

Felice froze, her eyes wide.

Simon’s voice cracked as he shouted, “I’m done! I’ll find another label! You’ll never have me, Marcus!”

His chest heaved, anger spilling out with every word. Then he yanked down the collar of his shirt, baring the bond mark Wilhelm had left on his neck, glowing faintly against his skin.

“I’m Wille’s!” he yelled, his voice breaking with fury and grief.

The words hung in the air like fire. Marcus’s face paled, his mouth opening but no words coming out. Simon didn’t wait for a reply. He turned on his heel, Felice still stunned but quickly following. Together, they pushed out of the venue, away from the crowd, away from Marcus, away from the shame.

By the time Simon got home, the silence of the house was suffocating. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the weight of it all came crashing down. He dragged himself into their bedroom, his body heavy, the bedroom that still smelled like Wilhelm. Their bed was unmade, their son’s toys were scattered on the floor. Everything screamed family, screamed love — and he had ruined it.

His knees gave out, and he collapsed onto the mattress. Hot, ugly sobs tore through him as he clutched Wilhelm’s pillow to his chest.

“I fucked up,” he whispered into the fabric, his tears soaking it through. “I fucked up so badly.”

The crying shook his body until he was gasping for air, his throat raw. He missed Wilhelm, he missed Leo, he missed the warmth of belonging. The emptiness of the room hollowed him out.

And then, suddenly, a wave of nausea slammed into him. He lurched off the bed, stumbling into the bathroom, and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. He retched violently, his body convulsing as bile burned his throat. Tears blurred his vision, mixing with sweat and spit as he clung to the porcelain bowl.

When it was over, he sagged against the cold tiles, his whole body trembling. He felt like shit — inside and out. His chest hurt, his stomach twisted, and he couldn’t tell if it was from guilt, heartbreak, or something else entirely.

But all he could think, over and over, was Wilhelm’s face as he left.

And the emptiness he had left behind.

…

Simon woke the next morning with a pounding headache, his body heavy as if it was reminding him of all the mistakes from the night before. He rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow, eyes raw and swollen from crying. For a second, he thought maybe it had all been a bad dream. Maybe Wille had stayed. Maybe he hadn’t walked away. Maybe Marcus hadn’t ruined everything.

But the other side of the bed was still cold. Empty.

Simon groaned, pulling the blanket over his head, wanting to block out the sunlight leaking through the curtains. That’s when his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He reached for it with sluggish fingers, not even checking the name before answering.

“Simon?” August’s voice came through, shaky but full of something Simon recognized immediately—joy. “It’s me. I just… I wanted you to know… she’s here.”

Simon sat up quickly. “What?!” His voice cracked, caught between exhaustion and disbelief.

“Sara’s given birth,” August said, a smile so wide it carried even through the phone. “A little girl. A healthy, beautiful baby girl. We… we named her Rose.”

For a second, Simon forgot about the party, about Marcus, about Wille’s retreating back. His chest swelled with something warm. “Oh my god,” he whispered, and then louder, “Congratulations, August. Really. I’m so happy for you and Sara. And Rose—what a perfect name.”

August let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Thanks. And… congratulations to you too. The album—it’s incredible. I’m proud of you.”

Simon swallowed, throat thick. “Thank you. I’ll come by as soon as you’re home, okay? I want to meet her.”

“You’ll love her,” August promised. “And she’ll love you.”

When the call ended, Simon let the phone fall into his lap. His hands trembled slightly, the emotions of the night before crashing back down on him. He rubbed at his eyes, wanting to stop the tears before they came again.

But then he caught sight of his lock screen as the phone went dark.

It was Wille.

A photo from one of their rare free days together—Wille leaning in, pressing a soft kiss against Simon’s cheek while Simon smiled into the camera, eyes alight with something only Wille could draw out of him. They looked… happy. Completely, utterly happy.

Simon’s breath caught. His chest tightened painfully, and the tears spilled freely this time. He pressed the phone against his heart like it might hold him together, but it only made him crumble further.

“I’m so sorry,” Simon whispered to the empty room, voice breaking. “I fucked up, Wille. I don’t want anyone else. Only you.”

He curled back into the bed, clutching the phone to his chest, silent sobs shaking through him. Somewhere in the city, Sara and August were beginning their life as parents. A tiny new soul, little Rose, had come into the world—pure, innocent, untouched by heartbreak.

And here Simon was, staring at a picture of the man he loved, feeling like he’d destroyed everything.

…

The ringing of Wille’s phone cut through the silence of the room. He glanced at the display, hesitating for just a second before answering.
“Felice?” he asked, his voice still heavy from the sleepless night.

On the other end, she didn’t waste any time. “Wille, what happened last night?”

He ran a tired hand through his hair, staring at the carpet. His chest tightened. “Marcus… and Simon… they kissed.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, even though he knew how it had played out.

There was a long silence from Felice’s end. He thought the call had dropped before she finally exhaled sharply. “Oh. Okay. Well then, it makes sense now.”

Wille frowned, his grip on the phone tightening. “Makes sense? What do you mean?”

Her voice was steady, but there was a trace of satisfaction in it. “That explains why Simon slapped the shit out of Marcus. In front of everyone. And then told him he was done, broke off his record deal, and yelled that he’d never have him.”

Wille froze, eyes widening as he sat upright in bed. “He—he did what?” His voice cracked slightly in disbelief.

Felice sighed softly. “Look, you know Simon. He would never… that kiss wasn’t him. It was Marcus. He pushed, like he always does. And Simon… Simon made sure everyone knew where he stands. He ended it right there. With Marcus, with the label, everything. And Wille—he said it loud enough for everyone to hear—he told Marcus he’s yours.”

Wille pressed his hand over his mouth, trying to steady the rush of emotions—guilt, relief, love. He had left. He had walked out without giving Simon the chance to explain. “I know it was Marcus,” Wille said finally, his voice low. “I just… everything felt too much. I panicked. That’s why I left.”

“I get that,” Felice said gently. “But maybe you should tell Simon that. Today. Don’t let him sit with it too long.”

Wille nodded even though she couldn’t see him. His eyes drifted to the door, where small footsteps pattered closer. “Yeah. I’ll go home in a bit. With Leo. We need to talk.”

“Do you want me to take Leo for a couple of hours?” Felice offered after a pause. “Might be easier to get things out without him running around.”

Before Wille could answer, Leo appeared in the doorway, his hair messy from sleep, eyes bright with curiosity. “Papa?” he chirped, toddling over.

Wille crouched down, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear. “Hey, buddy. Do you wanna hang out with Auntie Felice for a while?”

Leo’s entire face lit up as he clapped his hands and bounced on his toes. “Yes! Feliiiice!” he squealed in excitement.

Felice laughed on the other end. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Wille managed a small smile despite the heaviness still sitting in his chest. “Alright. I’ll bring him over soon.”

When he hung up, he pulled Leo into a hug, pressing his face into his son’s soft curls. For the first time since last night, a fragile sense of hope tugged at his heart.

…

When Wilhelm finally makes it home, his heart is already pounding in his chest. He left Leo with Felice for a few hours, promising his son he’d be back soon. The apartment feels strangely quiet when Wille steps inside. He calls out for his omega but gets no answer. A knot tightens in his stomach as he moves through the rooms until the sound of retching from the bathroom makes his blood run cold.

He finds Simon curled on the cold tile floor, dressed in sweats, his skin pale and clammy, eyes red from crying. He looks so small, so broken, that Wille’s chest aches. Simon lifts his head when Wille enters, and the moment his eyes find him, he starts crying harder. His whole body jolted. Tears welled up again as he scrambled clumsily to his knees, arms reaching toward Wille like a drowning man grasping for air.

“Don’t—don’t leave me,” Simon choked, his voice ragged, his chest heaving. “Please, Wille, don’t take Leo from me. I swear—I swear I’ll never be that stupid again. I’ll never let anything happen, I’ll—” His words broke off into another sob, shoulders shaking. “I’d rather die than lose you both.”

Before Wille could answer, Simon gagged suddenly and lurched over the toilet, retching until his whole frame trembled. Instinct overrode shock—Wille dropped to the floor beside him, one hand bracing against Simon’s back, the other gently gathering curls away from his damp face. He whispered steady, low words while Simon gasped and coughed.

“Easy… I’ve got you. Breathe.” His hand rubbed small circles against Simon’s spine, grounding him through every heave.

Simon clung to the porcelain, shaking, tears spilling down his cheeks, and still the words spilled from him between breaths, desperate, panicked. “Don’t leave me—don’t—please—”

Wille pressed his lips to Simon’s temple, his own throat tight, and held on like he’d never let go.

“I’m not going anywhere, älskling,” he murmured firmly, right into Simon’s ear. His hand never stopped stroking his back. “Never. I’ll never leave you.”

…

Chapter Text

Simon finally calmed when Wille bent down and pressed his scent against his neck, strong and grounding, filling every shaky breath Simon took until his trembling began to ease. Wille whispered soft reassurances against his skin, slow strokes over his back, and when Simon’s body stopped fighting him, he carefully helped him to bed.

Simon’s eyes were red, his curls damp against his forehead, but he still clutched Wille’s wrist like it was the only thing anchoring him to the world. “Don’t leave me,” Simon whispered hoarsely, voice breaking.

“I won’t,” Wille promised, brushing his thumb over Simon’s hand. “I just need to make one call, okay? Just one.”

Simon’s grip tightened, panic flickering back into his eyes. Wille leaned down immediately, pressing his forehead against Simon’s until the omega’s breathing steadied again. “I’ll be right here.” He kissed his temple, then with his free hand fumbled for his phone, calling Felice.

“Hi Felice, I know I ask a lot of you, but could you drop by with Leo later?” Wille asked quietly when she picked up. “Simon’s really sick, and I can’t leave him.”

Felice’s voice softened right away. “Of course. Take care of Simon. Bye.”

When Wille hung up, he found Simon still holding onto him tightly, refusing to let go. His mate’s eyes shimmered with tears, wide and vulnerable. “I didn’t kiss Marcus. I didn’t want it, Wille. I swear. I’m so sorry.” His chest rose too fast, like the words themselves were choking him.

Wille placed his hand over Simon’s heart, feeling the frantic pounding under his palm. “Relax, Simon. If you keep this up, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

Simon let out a broken sound and covered Wille’s hand with both of his, clutching him there. “Please tell me you can forgive me.”

Wille’s throat tightened. He wanted to give Simon everything right away, but the hurt was still raw, still gnawing inside. He bent closer, kissed Simon’s hair, and whispered, “Over time. Simon try to get some sleep. We’ll talk later.”

Simon nodded slowly, trying to hold onto that fact that Wille was there and he wasn’t leaving. At some point he’s eyes closed from exhaustion.

…

Simon woke slowly to the soft press of something cool against his forehead. For a moment he thought it was Wille with a damp cloth, but when he blinked his eyes open, it was a tiny hand resting there. Leo was crouched beside him on the bed, his little face screwed up in concentration.

“Papa says you’re sick,” Leo whispered solemnly. “So I’m fixing you.”

Simon let out a weak chuckle, his heart aching with love. “Oh, are you, doctor?” His voice was raspy, but his chest felt lighter just seeing his son.

Leo nodded with all the seriousness in the world. “Mhm. You’re really hot. You have to stay in bed for a month.” He fished a bright plastic stethoscope from around his neck and pressed it—not to Simon’s chest, but to his forehead again. “Yep. Very sick.”

Simon smiled through the nausea, tears pricking his eyes. “You’re already better than most doctors, älskling.”

Just then Wille appeared in the doorway, carrying a plate with toast. He leaned against the frame, watching the scene with warmth flickering in his tired eyes. “Doctor Leo, you’re forgetting the most important medicine.”

“What’s that?” Leo asked, turning to look at his father.

“Food,” Wille said, walking over and setting the plate down within Simon’s reach. “Even if you don’t feel like it, you need a little something.”

Simon gave a faint shake of his head, closing his eyes. “I really can’t, Wille… I feel so nauseous.”

Leo gasped dramatically, putting his hands on his little hips. “Papa, you have to! Your body needs it. Otherwise, you’ll never get better.” He turned back with a scolding expression that was a little too familiar—clearly borrowed from Wille.

Wille couldn’t hold back a laugh, covering his mouth but failing miserably. “You heard the doctor,” he teased gently, sitting down beside them. His hand came to rest carefully on Simon’s arm, grounding him. “At least try a bite later, okay? For him.”

Simon looked between his mate and their son, love swelling so strong it made his throat burn. “Okay… for you two.”

Leo beamed, satisfied with his work as a healer.

…

Wilhelm lingered in the doorway of Leo’s room, the faint golden glow of the night-light casting gentle shadows across the small bed. Their son was curled up under his blanket, cheeks flushed pink from warmth and sleepiness, his curls scattered wildly on the pillow like an untamed crown. Wille tucked the edges of the blanket a little tighter around his son, even though Leo wasn’t cold — it was just something he couldn’t stop himself from doing. The simple act of making sure his little boy was safe and comfortable gave him a peace that little else could.

“Goodnight, pappa,” Leo murmured, voice heavy with drowsiness but soft with affection. His eyes fluttered closed again almost immediately, but not before he whispered, “I love you.”

Wille’s chest ached in the best possible way. He bent down, pressing a kiss against Leo’s forehead and whispering back, “I love you too, my little heart.”

He lingered a moment longer, just watching, soaking in the quiet rise and fall of Leo’s breathing. Then, with a sigh, he straightened and eased the door shut, leaving it open just a crack, the way Leo liked it.

The apartment was hushed now, the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen the only sound. For a brief second, Wille allowed himself to stand in the hallway, grounding himself in the stillness. He needed it, especially after the turbulence of the past days — Marcus, the party, the bitter taste of jealousy and inadequacy that had clawed its way up his throat. He scrubbed a hand over his face, his heart tightening again at the thought.

He wanted to go straight to bed, collapse and shut off the world. But he also knew Simon would be there. And Simon — Simon had been sick earlier. The memory of him pale and shaking in the bathroom, whispering desperate apologies through tears, still carved sharp lines into Wilhelm’s chest. He hated that Simon had felt so alone in that moment.

Gathering himself, Wille pushed open the bedroom door. The room was dim, only a faint lamp glowing on Simon’s side of the bed. But the space was empty. His brows furrowed until he caught the sound of running water, the faint click of the bathroom door opening a moment later.

Simon stepped out slowly, one hand braced against the doorframe as if for balance. His sweats hung loose around his hips, his curls damp and messy, his skin paler than usual but his eyes clearer than they had been earlier. When he saw Wille, he tried for a small smile.

“Hey,” Wille said softly, instantly crossing the room to him. “You okay?”

Simon nodded, though it was slow, hesitant. “The toast didn’t… stay,” he admitted, his voice sheepish, almost embarrassed. He rubbed at his stomach unconsciously. “But… I feel a bit better now.”

Wille’s heart squeezed. He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers lightly along Simon’s arm, grounding him. “I’m sorry.”

Simon shook his head as if to brush away the apology. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” His smile faltered, exhaustion tugging at his features. He leaned against Wille’s chest, and Wille instinctively wrapped his arms around him, steadying him, holding him close.

They moved together to the bed, collapsing slowly onto the edge. Simon curled into the pillows, Wille sitting beside him, one hand resting on Simon’s thigh as if to anchor them both. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable but heavy, thick with everything that had been left unsaid since the party.

Simon’s fingers brushed against Wille’s, hesitant but searching. “Do you want to talk about it now?” he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wille swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He could say no. He could push it away, bury it down deep like he always tried to do. But then he thought of Simon earlier, crying and begging him not to leave. He thought of Leo’s tiny hand pressing to Simon’s forehead, pretending to heal him. He thought of everything that mattered, and realized he couldn’t keep holding it in.

So he nodded. “Yeah. I think I need to.”

Simon shifted, sitting up a little more, even though he still looked drained. He gave Wille his full attention, his dark eyes soft, open, waiting.

Wille let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair before finally speaking. “When I left the party like that… it wasn’t just about Marcus. Not completely.” His voice was low, tight. “It’s been building for months, really. Since we found out about… about my sperm quality. Since I realized I couldn’t just give you everything you deserved without… help.”

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but Wille shook his head quickly. “Let me finish, please.”

Simon pressed his lips together and nodded.

Wille’s hands twisted together in his lap. “I’ve been carrying it around, Simon. The shame. The feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’m not… a proper alpha. Not the kind you deserve. Not the kind Leo deserves as a father.” His voice cracked, and he stared down at his hands. “And then at the party, seeing Marcus put his hands on you like that—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “Something broke inside me. It wasn’t just jealousy. It was this voice screaming in my head that maybe he was what you needed. That maybe I wasn’t.”

Simon’s chest ached hearing him say it, seeing the rawness in Wille’s face. Without hesitation, he slid closer, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “Wille, no. No. Don’t say that. Don’t think that.”

Wille pressed his face into Simon’s shoulder, breathing shakily.

“I’m sorry,” Simon whispered fiercely. “I should never have let it happen. I should have pushed him away the second he leaned in. It was wrong.”

Wille pulled back just enough to look at him, pain still etched in his expression. “You should have. And yeah, it hurts. It hurts like hell. But…” He cupped Simon’s cheek, thumb brushing over his skin. “It’s not enough to break us apart. Nothing is.”

Simon’s eyes filled with tears, his throat tightening as he nodded. “I love you,” he whispered, voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

“I love you too,” Wille murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to Simon’s forehead. He lingered there, breathing him in. Then, after a long silence, he pulled back with the faintest chuckle. “Though, I will admit… I would’ve loved to see the part where you slapped him.”

Despite himself, Simon let out a startled laugh, cheeks heating with color. “Yeah, well… he deserved it.”

Wille’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Felice told me you also said you’d quit. That you’d leave the label.”

Simon sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I did. I just… I can’t be near him anymore, Wille. Not after this. But…” He glanced down, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. “With the album coming out, I don’t know what happens now. What my career even looks like.”

Wille reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “Not tonight,” he said firmly. His voice was warm, steady. “We’ll figure it out, but not tonight.”

Simon met his gaze, something in him loosening, easing. He nodded slowly. “Not tonight.”

They lay there together then, the weight of their words still heavy but softened now, cushioned by the quiet love that filled the space between them. For the first time in what felt like days, Wille felt like he could breathe. And Simon, curled into his side despite the nausea still twisting faintly in his stomach, felt the same.

And when Wille whispered again, later that night, “I’m never leaving you,” Simon believed him. Fully, completely.

…

A couple of days later, a morning had begun quietly, almost deceptively so. The house was still and calm, sunlight spilling lazily through the curtains in their bedroom. Simon had woken up groggy, his body heavy with the lingering sickness that had kept him in bed for days. His head still felt clouded, but there was something else pressing on his chest, something more urgent than the fever or the weakness.

He had stared at the small white box on the bathroom counter for what felt like forever, the words “pregnancy test” burning in his mind. His hands had shaken when he picked it up. He had waited until Wille had already left for work and until Leo had been dropped off at kindergarten, because he didn’t want an audience. He didn’t want to see Wille’s reaction before he even knew what his own would be.

When the test turned positive, the little plus sign clear and bold, Simon’s breath had left his body in a sharp, shaky exhale. For a moment he had just sat on the bathroom floor, staring down at it, his free hand pressed to his stomach like it would somehow confirm what the plastic stick was already telling him.

He laughed then, a soft, disbelieving sound, before tears spilled down his cheeks. Over the moon didn’t even begin to cover it. He was flooded with joy, a warmth that spread through him so big he almost couldn’t contain it.

He had tucked the test carefully back into the box, slid it under a folded shirt in his drawer. He wanted to tell Wille face-to-face, not over the phone while he was at work. But first… he had a meeting.

…

The Teams call connected with a familiar chime, Simon propped up against pillows in their bed with the laptop balanced on his knees. He had a blanket pulled around his shoulders, his hair messy, his skin pale. The label directors and a couple of team members filled the screen, all smiling brightly as though his exhaustion wasn’t visible.

“Simon,” the director greeted warmly. “How are you feeling? We heard you’ve been under the weather.”

Simon nodded, his voice rough but steady. “Yeah, still a bit sick, but… I’m managing.” He hesitated before continuing, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something important before we get into everything else.”

He could see the small shift in their expressions—expectation, curiosity. Simon wet his lips. “I don’t think I can work with Marcus anymore.”

For a moment, silence. Then the director spoke, voice calm. “We know. Marcus already came to us. We’re really sorry this happened to you, we do apologize for his really bad behavior and hope you’re alright.”

Simon blinked. “What?”

“He told us what happened at your release party,” the director explained gently. “He was very clear—he didn’t want to stand in your way. He said he wouldn’t want to ruin the chances for you to shine here at the company. He resigned himself.”

The words sank into Simon slowly, relief spreading through him in waves so strong it almost made him dizzy. His shoulders sagged, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding escaping. He felt… lighter. For weeks, Marcus had been this looming shadow over his music, his work, his sense of safety. Now, suddenly, that shadow was gone.

“Wow,” Simon whispered, shaking his head. “I—I didn’t expect that.”

The director smiled kindly. “So… the question is: will you stay? Now that Marcus isn’t here?”

Simon didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. Absolutely yes.”

The team erupted into smiles, nods, and a few small cheers. The director clapped his hands together once. “Good. That’s what we hoped. Because your album has just been released, and the numbers are already looking fantastic. We’re talking promotion, appearances, maybe some smaller live sets if you’re up for it—”

They all started speaking over each other, excitedly outlining possibilities, talking about strategy, markets, campaigns. Simon let them talk for a moment, his mind half on the meeting and half back in the bathroom that morning, staring down at that little stick. His chest was full again, so full he almost couldn’t keep it inside.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, cutting into the chatter. His voice was soft but firm, enough to quiet them. “Before we go any further… I need to tell you something.”

The screen stilled, curious faces turning toward him. Simon swallowed, his fingers tightening on the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. “I—I just found out this morning that I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was brief, only a heartbeat long, before the director’s face broke into a wide, genuine smile. “Congratulations, Simon.”

“Yes, congratulations!” one of the team members chimed in. “That’s wonderful news! You guys have tried for so long!”

Simon felt his cheeks warm, a grin tugging at his lips despite the nerves fluttering in his stomach. “Thank you. I don’t know how far along I am yet. I just… I wanted to be honest with you from the start. So you know what’s going on.”

“We’ll make it work,” the director assured him firmly. “Don’t worry about that. Family comes first. We’ll find ways to adjust promotion, pacing, whatever you need. Your career is safe here. You don’t have to choose between one or the other.”

Simon’s throat tightened, his vision blurring for a moment. He blinked quickly, nodding. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Focus on your health,” another said warmly. “Focus on your baby. We’ll handle the rest together.”

Simon pressed a hand against his belly again, almost instinctively, a soft smile curving his lips. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, he felt not only relief but true, unshakable joy.

Now he just needed to tell Wille.

...

Chapter Text

The apartment was quiet when Simon padded slowly through the living room, his bare feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor. His mind had been spinning ever since the test turned positive, flipping between excitement and nervousness in a way that left his chest tight but also full of a kind of light he couldn’t contain. He wanted this moment to be perfect. Telling Wilhelm that they were going to have another baby wasn’t just news—it was a memory he wanted both of them to hold on to forever.

At first, he’d thought about something simple, just telling Wille over dinner. Or maybe slipping the test under his pillow as a cheeky surprise. But then, as he passed the framed photos of their little family—Leo with his crooked smile, Wille holding him up like the sun itself—something inside him clicked. He didn’t want to do this alone. He wanted Leo to be part of the surprise.

The thought made Simon stop in the middle of the room, pressing a hand over his chest as tears suddenly prickled at his eyes. It wasn’t just about telling Wille. It was about showing Leo, about including him, about letting him be the first one to know. His smile wobbled as he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Wille’s contact before pressing it.

Wille’s voice came through after the second ring, warm but laced with the tiredness Simon knew all too well. “Hey Si.”

“Hi.” Simon’s voice was soft, steady even though his stomach was full of butterflies. “I was thinking I could pick Leo up today.”

There was a short pause on the line. “Yeah? You feel up for it?” Wille asked carefully. Simon could hear the cautious hope in his voice, as if Wille didn’t want to push him if he wasn’t ready.

Simon smiled to himself, leaning against the doorframe, staring out at the balcony where they sometimes sat with coffee. “I feel better. Things are… things are about to turn out great again, Wille.”

…

Later that afternoon, Simon stood outside the preschool gates, waiting. The second Leo spotted him, the boy came barreling forward, curls bouncing, his little backpack half-open and slipping down his shoulder.

“Pappa!” Leo squealed, launching into Simon’s arms. Simon bent to scoop him up, breathing in the warm, familiar scent of crayons and playground dust.

“You’re excited, huh?” Simon chuckled.

“’Cause it’s you today!” Leo said proudly, hugging his neck.

On their walk home, Simon held Leo’s small hand, trying to steady his nerves. He wanted this moment to matter, to be something Leo remembered. Halfway down the street, Simon slowed their steps, crouching so he could meet his son’s eyes.

“Leo,” he said softly, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I have something to tell you. Something… really, really special.”

Leo blinked up at him, curious, his free hand still clutching a pebble he’d picked up along the way.

“You’re going to be a big brother,” Simon whispered.

Leo’s eyes went wide. For a heartbeat, Simon worried he was too young to understand, but then his face split into the biggest grin Simon had ever seen.

“Really?!” Leo practically shouted, bouncing on his toes. “A baby? In your tummy?”

Simon laughed, pulling him into a tight hug. “Yes, baby. In my tummy.”

Leo giggled, then pulled back to look at him, his little hands pressed to Simon’s stomach like he could feel the truth there. “I’m gonna be the best big brother. I’ll share toys. Maybe.”

“Only maybe?” Simon teased.

“Not the dinosaurs,” Leo said seriously, making Simon laugh again.

They started walking again, Leo practically skipping beside him, babbling a mile a minute about all the things he was going to teach the baby — how to run fast, how to draw, how to sing like pappa. Simon’s heart swelled, each word etching the moment deeper into him.

When they reached home, Simon crouched again, holding Leo’s shoulders. “Do you want to help me tell Daddy tonight? Make it a surprise?”

Leo’s whole body bounced. “Yes! Yesyesyes!”

Simon smiled, kissing his forehead. “Okay, then. I was thinking… maybe you could draw us. You, me, Daddy… and the baby. Then you give it to Daddy at dinner.”

Leo gasped like Simon had just offered him the moon. “Yes! I’ll draw the baby super cute.” He darted inside before Simon could even hang up his coat, already calling for paper and crayons.

By the time Wille came home later, tired and rumpled from a long day, the apartment smelled like simmering sauce and garlic. He kicked off his shoes, loosening his tie, and padded into the kitchen. Simon was at the stove, humming softly, swaying a little to a song only he seemed to hear.

Wille leaned down, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and mumbled, “Smells good.”

“You smell tired,” Simon teased, turning his head just enough to catch Wille’s lips with his own for a longer kiss.

“I am tired,” Wille admitted, dropping onto the stool at the counter. His shoulders sagged, eyes soft but heavy.

Before Simon could answer, tiny footsteps thundered down the hall. Leo appeared clutching a sheet of paper, cheeks flushed with excitement. He hesitated at the doorway, glancing at Simon for reassurance. Simon gave him a small nod.

“Daddy!” Leo beamed, running over. Wille opened his arms, letting him climb into his lap pushing his drawing at him.

“You made something for me?” Wille asked, his tiredness already dissolving under Leo’s glow.

“Uh-huh,” Leo said proudly, holding out the drawing.

Wille took it carefully, smiling as he studied the bright colors. “Is this us?”

“Yep! That’s me, and that’s you, and that’s pappa.”

Wille pointed to the smaller scribble beside Simon. “And what’s this?”

Leo leaned closer, whispering like it was the biggest secret in the world. “That’s the baby. The baby in pappa’s tummy.”

Wille froze. The words seemed to hang in the air, echoing. His eyes shot up to Simon, wide, searching, his lips parting but no sound coming.

Simon’s hands shook as he turned off the stove. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt, but he smiled anyway, walking closer, nodding once.

“It’s true,” Simon said softly.

Wille’s whole face crumpled. His breath hitched like he’d been punched, but then the shock gave way to something else—something so huge it broke him wide open.

“Wait,” he whispered, voice trembling. He looked back down at the drawing, then at Leo’s bright, expectant face, and finally at Simon again. His eyes were already shining. “You’re… you’re pregnant?”

Simon nodded, his throat too tight to say much more. “Yeah.”

For a moment, Wille just stared at him, lips trembling, chest rising and falling too fast. Then the tears came—sudden and unstoppable. He pulled Leo closer against his chest, clutching the drawing like it was proof of a dream, before standing and crossing the room in uneven steps.

When he reached Simon, he wrapped his free arm around him, pulling both Simon and Leo into a tight, almost desperate embrace. His tears dampened Simon’s shoulder as he buried his face against his neck. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Another baby. We’re having another baby.”

Simon pressed a kiss to the side of Wille’s damp cheek, his own tears slipping free now. “Yes,” he whispered, his hand finding Wille’s back. “We’re having another baby.”

Leo giggled in the middle of them, wriggling between their bodies. “I told Daddy already! I’m gonna be the best big brother ever!”

That made Wille laugh, a wet, shaky sound as he kissed the top of Leo’s head over and over. “You already are, älskling. You already are.”

Finally, Wille pulled back just enough to look at Simon again. His hand came up, tentative, trembling, resting gently over Simon’s stomach. His voice was barely a whisper, wrecked and reverent. “Hi, little one.”

Simon covered his hand with his own, smiling through the blur of tears. His chest felt too full, overflowing with love—for Leo bouncing excitedly between them, for the man crying in his arms, for the life just beginning inside him.

Wille shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it, his tears spilling fresh. “I don’t deserve this,” he choked out. “I don’t deserve you, any of you.”

Simon cupped his face, making him meet his eyes. “Yes, you do. This is ours, Wille. All of it.”

And in the middle of their warm kitchen, with garlic still hanging in the air and crayons scattered across the counter, Simon kissed him—slow, deep, full of everything words couldn’t hold.

…

Chapter Text

That night, after Leo was tucked in and the apartment had quieted, Simon found Wille waiting in their bedroom. He sat at the edge of the bed, still dazed, still smiling in a way Simon hadn’t seen in months—like the world had cracked open and poured joy straight into him.

When Simon closed the door, Wille rose and crossed the room in three strides, catching Simon’s face in his hands and kissing him with a depth that made Simon melt instantly.

“You have no idea what this means to me,” Wille whispered against his lips, voice thick with awe.

Simon touched his cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. “I think I do.”

The kiss deepened, heat sparking. Wille’s alpha instincts rose, protective and reverent, the need to claim and care for his omega overwhelming. He kissed down Simon’s neck, hands slipping under his shirt, mapping the familiar curves of his body with new reverence.

Simon arched into the touch, soft sounds escaping as Wille guided him gently back onto the bed. Clothes were shed slowly, carefully, like unwrapping a gift. Wille’s mouth worshiped every inch of him, hands grounding him, promising he was safe, adored, wanted.

When Wille finally entered him, Simon gasped, clutching at his shoulders, the stretch both intense and grounding. Wille moved slowly, holding back his urgency, his forehead pressed to Simon’s, whispering, “You’re carrying our baby…”

Simon shivered, eyes fluttering shut as he let himself sink into the rhythm. He felt every brush of Wille’s hands, every kiss against his throat, every tremor of need. And when Wille knotted inside him, holding him close, it felt like something inside both of them clicked into place.

Simon sighed in relief and bliss, wrapping himself tighter around Wille, their breaths mingling, their hearts racing together.

“Perfect,” Wille murmured, kissing Simon’s damp temple. “You’re perfect. Our family is perfect.”

Simon smiled, eyes heavy with warmth. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Wille breathed, his knot keeping them joined, keeping Simon safe in every possible way.

They stayed that way for a long time, tangled together, the glow of new life between them already pulsing strong.

…

The next afternoon, their little family bundled up and made their way to Sara and August’s home. It felt like a milestone, stepping out into the world with this new secret between them, glowing quietly under Simon’s skin. Simon held Leo’s hand as they walked up the steps, Wilhelm balancing a small basket of food and gifts. They’d promised to bring something for the new parents — but truthfully, both of them couldn’t wait to see little Rose.

August opened the door, beaming, a tired but unmistakably proud glow about him. “Finally! Come in, come in.” He ushered them inside like a man hosting royalty, even though his hair stuck up in every direction and his shirt looked like it hadn’t been ironed in a week.

Sara appeared a moment later, Rose swaddled against her chest, her hair tied back in a messy bun. Alma skipped behind her, her excitement as palpable as the scent of coffee drifting from the kitchen.

“You made it,” Sara said, her eyes softening when she spotted Leo. “Come give Auntie Sara a hug, kiddo.”

Leo ran to her happily, then leaned close to peer at the tiny bundle she carried.

August puffed his chest. “Wait, wait. Let me do the honors.” He gently slid Rose into his arms with exaggerated care, as though holding the crown jewels. “This,” he announced, grinning at the gathered family, “is Rose Eriksson-Åhrens. Perfect in every way, just like her father.”

“Just like her mother,” Sara corrected with a smirk.

Simon’s face melted the second August offered the baby to him. His arms instinctively curved, and when the soft, impossibly small weight settled against his chest, something in him loosened. He rocked Rose gently, brushing his thumb over the side of her cheek, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s beautiful.”

Sara laughed tiredly, leaning against August. “She better be. Took her seventy-two hours to make an entrance. If I went through all that, she had no choice but to come out perfect.”

August chuckled, pressing a kiss to Sara’s temple. “Worth it.”

The family basked in the warm moment — until voices rose from Alma’s room down the hall. A high-pitched debate floated toward them.

Sara frowned. “What on earth now?” She set her coffee down and marched over, Wilhelm and Simon trailing behind with Rose still snug in Simon’s arms.

They found Alma standing with her little arms crossed tightly, glaring at Leo, who looked defensive but stubborn.

“What’s going on here?” Sara asked, eyebrow raised.

Alma huffed. “Leo’s lying.”

“I’m not!” Leo shot back immediately, stamping his little foot.

Sara crouched to Alma’s level. “What’s he lying about?”

Alma gestured accusingly at Leo. “He says he’s going to be a big brother. But that’s not true. He’s making it up just because I’m a big sister now.”

The hallway went quiet. August’s eyes went wide, flicking to Wilhelm, then to Simon. Sara’s mouth fell open in surprise.

Simon, still cradling Rose against his chest, felt heat rush into his cheeks. He gave Wilhelm a helpless little smile, then murmured, “Maybe we should’ve told him it was a secret before we came here.”

Wilhelm couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He slid a supportive hand against Simon’s back, rubbing in slow circles.

Sara squealed so loudly Alma jumped. “Are you serious?”

August broke into a grin and immediately pulled Wilhelm into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Congratulations, man.”

Simon’s blush deepened, but there was no hiding now. “It’s still very new,” he admitted softly. “We’re going to our first doctor’s appointment in a couple of weeks, so…”

Before anyone could add more, Leo turned back to Alma, standing taller with all the pride of a future big brother. “See? I’m not lying. I am going to be a big brother.”

Alma blinked, her frown fading into something closer to awe. “Oh.” Then, in true Alma fashion, she shrugged. “Fine. But I was a big sister first.”

Everyone laughed, the sound filling the small hallway, warm and bright. Simon glanced down at Rose, still curled peacefully in his arms, and his heart swelled — at the baby, at the chaos, at the love spilling in every direction.

… 

The clinic smelled faintly of disinfectant and lavender, a strange mix that somehow made Simon’s stomach flutter with both nerves and comfort. He held Leo’s small hand as they walked down the hallway toward Vera’s office. Leo clutched his stuffed fox in the other hand, his steps quick and light like he was on some grand adventure.

Vera opened the door before Simon could knock, her face lighting up the moment she saw them.
“Simon! Oh, it’s so good to see you again,” she said warmly before bending down a little to meet Leo’s curious eyes. “And you must be Leo. I was there the day you were born, you know.”

Leo blinked at her, wide-eyed, as if trying to imagine this woman holding him as a tiny baby. He edged a little closer to Simon’s leg but didn’t let go of her gaze.

“You were?” he asked quietly, shy in a way Simon hadn’t seen him in a while.

“I was,” Vera said, smiling kindly. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a bright red lollipop. “And if you let me take care of your papa for a little while, this is all yours.”

Leo’s shyness dissolved in an instant. He looked up at Simon for approval, and when Simon nodded, he accepted the treat with both hands like it was treasure. “Thank you!” he said brightly, climbing into the chair by the wall with his fox and swinging his little legs as he unwrapped the candy.

“Best friends already,” Simon teased, and Vera chuckled.

They went through the routine—questions about his health, how he was feeling, the faintest beginning symptoms. Simon rolled up his sleeve for the bloodwork, Leo watching intently from his chair.

“Does it hurt?” Leo asked, brow furrowed, his lollipop paused halfway to his mouth.

“Not much,” Simon said, squeezing his son a quick smile. “Like a little pinch.”

Leo nodded solemnly, satisfied, and went back to licking his candy while Vera worked.

It didn’t take long before she returned with the results. Her face was glowing when she came back into the room, clipboard in hand.
“Well, Simon,” she said warmly, “congratulations. It’s positive.”

Simon let out a shaky laugh, his shoulders dropping with relief. “Thank you, Vera.” The words came out almost breathless.

She patted his arm gently, her eyes soft. “You’re going to do great again. I can already tell.”

Before Simon could say more, a familiar beat spilled out of the radio playing softly in the corner of the office. His voice filled the room, singing one of the new tracks from his latest album.

Vera glanced toward it with a smile. “Looks like the universe wanted to celebrate with you. New baby, new album—life’s keeping you busy.”

Simon laughed, cheeks warming. “Yeah, it really is.”

Leo hopped down from his chair, fox under one arm, lollipop stick clutched in his other hand. He came to Simon’s side, tugging his sleeve. “Papa, is the baby okay in your belly?”

Simon crouched down so he could meet his son’s serious eyes. “Yes, love. The baby’s just starting to grow.”

…

Wilhelm sat at his desk, hands folded loosely in his lap, staring at the polished floor of the lawyer firm’s conference room. His chest felt tight, a nervous knot twisting inside him. It wasn’t normal for the boss to call him in like this. Usually, staff meetings were routine, filled with client updates or administrative matters. Not today. Today, there had been a short message from the firm’s director: “See me in my office before you go home today.”

He ran a hand through his hair, straightening his tie for what felt like the fifth time. His stomach churned with unease. Something in the tone of the message—formal, curt—made his alpha instincts tense, ready for confrontation, but something in the pit of him knew this wasn’t going to be good news.

The office door opened, and the director motioned for him to sit. Wilhelm obeyed, though his heart was already racing.

“Wihelm,” the director began, his voice tight with a mixture of apology and resolve. “Thank you for coming. I need to get straight to the point.”

Wilhelm nodded, swallowing. “Of course.”

There was a pause, a careful weight in the air as the older man searched for words. “I’m sorry, but… we have to let you go.”

Wilhelm blinked. His mouth went dry. “Excuse me?”

“We’re cutting down on staff,” the director said gently, but without hesitation. “The firm’s restructuring, and unfortunately, your position is one of those affected. I… I wish it weren’t this way. You’ve been a loyal, competent lawyer, and this decision isn’t a reflection of your work.”

Wilhelm’s chest tightened painfully. The words hit him like a physical blow, leaving him breathless. Fired. Just like that. After everything he had done, the hours, the late nights, the cases he had poured himself into, it was over.

He nodded slowly, trying to process the news, trying to hold himself together, but the sting in his chest refused to ease. “I… I understand,” he said finally, voice low.

The director gave him a sympathetic look. “I truly am sorry, Wille. If there’s anything I can do in terms of references or helping with the transition, please let me know.”

Wilhelm’s hand clenched into a fist under the table. He forced a shaky breath. “Thank you,” he whispered.

As he left the office, the hallway felt impossibly long, echoing the emptiness that had settled in his chest. He had always prided himself on control—on competence, on being prepared—but nothing could have braced him for this. The alpha in him wanted to fight, to storm back in, demand reconsideration, but the pragmatic part of him knew it was final.

By the time he stepped out into the fresh air, Wilhelm’s mind was spinning. His thoughts immediately went to Simon and Leo, to the joy of the baby news earlier in the week. The contrast between that happiness and the ache in his chest now felt almost unbearable.

He knew he had to go home, to face his family, to put on a brave face, but as he walked toward the elevator, his shoulders sagged, the weight of heartbreak pressing down.

This wasn’t just a professional setback. It was a wound to his pride, to the sense of stability he had always carried for his family. And though he would recover, though he would find a way forward, in this moment… it felt like the world had tilted beneath his feet.

…

Chapter Text

When Wilhelm opened the door to their apartment that evening, the weight of the day clung to him like a second skin. His suit jacket felt too tight across his shoulders, the tie around his neck like a noose he hadn’t quite managed to loosen. Even his briefcase — empty now, except for papers that no longer mattered — seemed to drag at his arm, heavier than it had any right to be.

He hadn’t planned on coming straight home. A part of him had wanted to wander the streets of Stockholm first, to disappear into the anonymity of the crowd until the raw ache in his chest dulled. He had even thought about calling Felice or going to sit in the park for a while. But then he’d remembered Simon’s text earlier, the one that had come just after his appointment:

Doctor says positive. I’ll tell you everything tonight. Leo and I can’t wait to celebrate with you.

That message had burned in his pocket the whole way home. He couldn’t make Simon wait. He couldn’t let Leo wait. And so, even though he felt like his world had quietly collapsed beneath him, he pressed his key into the lock and stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the sound. Their home wasn’t silent, not tonight. A thumping beat drifted down the hall, playful and alive, pulsing from the living room speakers. And then, beneath it, came Simon’s voice — warm, rich, familiar — singing along.

Wille froze on the threshold, his heart catching.

“—moving like that, moving like that,” Simon sang, laughter tangled into the notes, playful and teasing.

A second voice cut through, higher, smaller, slightly off-key. “Moooving like dat, Papa! Moooving like dat!”

Leo.

Wille’s chest ached at the sound. He set down his briefcase carefully, as though afraid of breaking the moment, and padded down the hall toward the living room.

What he found when he reached the doorway almost made him forget, for one blessed second, the sharp edges of his day.

Simon stood in the center of the room, sock-clad feet sliding easily over the wooden floor as he danced with abandon. His curls bounced with every step, his smile wide and unrestrained. Leo was right there with him, tiny legs pumping, his hands clutched around Simon’s as he tried to mimic the moves. The little boy was dressed in his favorite yellow t-shirt with a cartoon dinosaur on it, his curls sticking up wildly, his cheeks flushed pink with excitement.

The sight was so ordinary and yet so perfect it nearly undid Wille.

He leaned against the doorframe, drinking it in, and tried to let the warmth of it soak into him.

“Papa!” Leo suddenly spotted him and squealed with delight, tugging urgently at Simon’s hands. “Papa’s home! Papa, come sing!”

Simon spun around mid-step, his smile widening even more when his eyes landed on Wille. “There you are,” he said, a little breathless from the dancing. “You’re just in time for the best concert of your life.”

Wille felt his lips twitch despite himself. “Is that so?”

“Yeeees!” Leo almost shouted, pulling away from Simon and running toward Wille. “Come sing, Papa! Come dance!”

Wille bent down, scooping his son into his arms. Leo’s little body was warm and wriggling against him, smelling faintly of soap and the faint sweetness of lollipop — Vera, he realized, must have spoiled him after the appointment.

“I don’t know,” Wille teased gently, bouncing Leo against his hip. “Papa’s not much of a dancer.”

“Lies,” Simon called, still swaying to the beat as if he couldn’t quite stop his body from moving. “He’s just out of practice.”

Leo slapped his tiny hand against Wille’s chest in mock outrage. “Papa! You have to! It’s my favorite song!”

That line — the demand wrapped in innocent certainty — was enough to crack Wille’s resolve. Because who was he kidding? He couldn’t say no to Leo. He never could.

“Alright, alright,” he said, setting Leo back down. “But you have to show me how it’s done.”

“Like this!” Leo demonstrated with exaggerated stomps and a spin that made him nearly topple over. Simon laughed, catching him by the arm just in time.

Wille chuckled, shedding his jacket and tossing it onto the couch before stepping forward. The music surged through the speakers, the familiar beat of Moving Like That filling the room. He let Simon and Leo lead him, let their laughter pull him along.

At first his movements were awkward, stiff with the weight of his day, but Leo didn’t care. His son’s eyes sparkled, his little voice sang loudly and shamelessly with the track, and Simon’s laughter filled every corner of the apartment. Slowly, Wille’s body loosened. His lips curved into a smile he hadn’t thought possible an hour ago. He found himself singing along too, voice low but steady, weaving under Simon’s.

And for a moment, just a moment, Wille let himself forget.

Forget the office. Forget the careful, rehearsed words from his boss. Forget the sinking feeling of watching his career slip through his fingers.

Here, there was only Simon’s voice. Only Leo’s joy. Only the family they had built together.

By the time the song ended, all three of them were collapsed in a heap on the couch, breathless and giggling. Leo nestled between them, still humming a fragment of the chorus, while Simon leaned his head against Wille’s shoulder, curls damp with sweat.

“That,” Simon declared, “was a performance worth remembering.”

Leo nodded solemnly, his thumb sneaking toward his mouth. “Best dance,” he whispered around it.

Wille kissed the top of his son’s head, feeling the sting of tears he didn’t dare let fall. “Best dance,” he echoed softly.

The evening passed in that same kind of warmth. Simon ordered takeout — Leo loudly voted for noodles, and neither of them had the heart to argue — and when the food arrived, they sat cross-legged on the living room floor to eat, cartons spread out around them. Simon insisted on clinking chopsticks together like wine glasses to celebrate the good news from the doctor, and Leo joined in, not fully understanding but happy to be included.

“To new beginnings,” Simon said, smiling across at Wille.

Wille forced his lips to mirror it, even as his chest ached with the truth he couldn’t yet share. “To new beginnings.”

Later, after Leo was tucked into bed, after the dishes were cleared and the apartment had grown quiet, Wille told himself it was finally time. He had to tell Simon. He couldn’t keep the truth hidden, not when it would affect them all.

But when he walked into the bedroom, he found Simon curled on the bathroom floor instead, pale and shaking as he clutched the edge of the toilet. The sharp sound of retching filled the small space.

Wille’s heart lurched.

“Simon,” he breathed, immediately dropping to his knees beside him.

Simon wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, giving him a weak smile. “Don’t look so scared. I’m fine. Just… not as fine as I was half an hour ago.”

Wille grabbed a washcloth, wetting it under the tap before pressing it gently to Simon’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“Probably just the pregnancy,” Simon murmured, leaning into the touch. His voice was weary but soft. “It’s weird, though… I didn’t puke this much with Leo.”

Wille swallowed hard, brushing the damp curls from his forehead. “Every pregnancy is different, right?”

Simon hummed in agreement, eyes already fluttering closed.

And Wille sat there on the bathroom floor, holding him, his own secret heavy in his chest. The words were right there, pressing against his throat. I got fired today. But he couldn’t say them. Not tonight. Not when Simon needed comfort, not when their little family had been so happy only hours before.

So instead he pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple and whispered, “I’ve got you. I promise.”

And for that night, at least, it was enough.

…

Simon walked into the studio with a bounce in his step, the kind of lightness that only came from being both exhausted and ridiculously happy. The glass doors slid open, revealing the familiar hallway lined with posters of platinum records and artists who had once sat in the very same rooms he was walking toward. Today, though, something felt different. Maybe it was because his stomach fluttered with the new, secret knowledge of the baby growing inside him. Maybe it was because Leo’s laugh still rang in his ears from that morning, or because Wilhelm’s arms had been so steady around him the night before when he’d gotten sick. Or maybe, it was because this meeting wasn’t just about the music—it was about finally seeing his dreams blossom.

The receptionist greeted him with a wide smile. “Congratulations, Simon. The album’s everywhere. You can’t walk two steps on TikTok without hearing your songs.”

Simon flushed and gave a quick laugh, adjusting the strap of his bag. “That’s good to hear.”

She winked. “More than good.”

He headed down the corridor, nerves mixing with excitement. At the door to the conference room, he paused for a second to gather himself, then pushed it open.

The room erupted in applause.

“Simon!” one of his producers, Karin, called out, getting up from her chair. “Our star. Look at you!” She pulled him into a hug before letting him sit at the head of the table. The long wooden surface was scattered with laptops, coffee cups, and printed analytics sheets.

“Okay, let’s get into it,” said Johan, another producer, clapping his hands once. “First of all—congratulations. The album is smashing. We knew people would like it, but the response is beyond what we imagined. You’re charting top ten across Scandinavia, and the streaming numbers are insane.”

Simon felt his cheeks hurt from smiling. “Wow.”

“It’s more than wow,” Karin cut in. “It’s historic. You’ve done something most artists dream about with their first major album. The reviews are glowing, the fan response is overwhelming, and the numbers keep climbing every hour. We’ve got labels in Germany and Spain reaching out for potential collaborations.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, breath catching for a second. It was surreal. For so long, he had sung in his bedroom, written lyrics in notebooks that only his sister ever read. He’d dreamed about what it might feel like to be heard, but this—this was something else entirely.

He clapped his hands together, unable to hold back his joy. “It’s like… all my dreams are coming true.”

The room broke into laughter, warm and genuine.

“You deserve it, Simon,” Johan said. “The songs are authentic. They’re yours. People feel that. It’s not just pop—it’s personal, and that’s what makes it powerful.”

“Exactly,” Karin added. “You’ve given people music that feels like it belongs to them, and they’re running with it. Do you know how many TikTok trends have started from Moving Like That alone?”

Simon chuckled. “Leo would probably know—he keeps dancing to it at home.”

They grinned at that, and Johan shook his head. “That’s the best kind of promotion. The kind you can’t buy.”

For the next hour, they went through numbers, upcoming opportunities, and ideas for live performances. Each slide that came up on the screen felt like another affirmation that this wasn’t just a dream. This was real. His music was out there, in people’s headphones and cars and bedrooms, becoming a part of their lives.

At one point, when the conversation shifted to future projects, Simon rested a hand lightly over his stomach without even realizing it. The gesture was small, instinctive. A baby in his belly and music in the world. Life expanding in more ways than he thought possible.

“You with us, Simon?” Karin teased, pulling him back into the moment.

He blinked, laughing. “Sorry. Just… thinking about how crazy this all is. I don’t even know how to explain what it feels like.”

“Don’t explain,” Johan said with a grin. “Just enjoy it. You’ve earned this moment.”

…

The front door opened with a rush of late afternoon air, and Simon stepped inside, cheeks flushed, curls still damp with the light mist outside. He was practically glowing, his whole body thrumming with the kind of joy that couldn’t be contained.

“I’m home!” he called, his voice carrying through the apartment.

From the living room, a squeal echoed back. “Papa!” Leo’s little feet slapped against the hardwood as he ran to meet him. Wille followed, slower but with a fond smile, holding Leo’s toy car in his hand.

Simon crouched low, opening his arms wide, and Leo barreled into him, giggling when Simon scooped him up. “There’s my boy,” Simon said, kissing Leo’s cheek loudly until the toddler squealed. Then Simon turned his head, eyes darting toward Wille, and his smile softened into something even warmer. “And there’s my love.”

Wille leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to Simon’s lips, the familiar pull between them grounding him even as Simon’s excitement bubbled over.

“You look like you’ve just won the lottery,” Wille teased, slipping an arm around Simon’s waist as he guided him into the living room.

“Better,” Simon laughed, setting Leo down. He turned toward Wille with eyes shining. “The meeting went amazing. Like—more than I could’ve hoped. They’re thrilled with how the album’s performing, the streams are climbing every day, and they said the press response is incredible. They actually used the word phenomenal, Wille.”

Wille watched him as Simon clapped his hands together once, almost like a little boy who couldn’t keep still. His cheeks glowed with pride.

“It’s like… all my dreams are coming true at once. I have this baby growing inside me—” Simon’s hand drifted instinctively to his belly, his smile tender. “—and my music out in the world, really reaching people. It feels unreal.”

Leo tugged on Simon’s jeans, demanding his attention, and Simon crouched again to play with him. Wille stood back, his chest tightening. He wanted so badly to mirror that joy, to throw himself into Simon’s happiness. But the memory of his boss’s words that morning — we’re sorry, Wille, but we have to let you go — pressed heavy against his ribs. He forced a smile, nodding along.

“That’s incredible, baby,” Wille said, leaning down to kiss Simon’s curls before crouching beside them both. “I’m so proud of you.”

…

That night, when Leo was tucked into bed and the apartment had gone quiet, Simon padded into their bedroom in loose pajama pants and one of Wille’s old t-shirts. He closed the door softly and turned, leaning against it for a moment, eyes dark with a playful spark.

“Alright, mister alpha,” Simon murmured, crossing the room slowly. “I’ve been buzzing all day. I want to celebrate properly.”

Wille looked up from where he was sitting on the edge of the bed, phone abandoned on the nightstand. His chest tightened as Simon climbed into his lap, straddling him with the easy intimacy of years together.

Simon kissed him then — soft at first, then firmer, lingering. Tugging gently at his shirt

Wilhelm’s heart tripped. His body should’ve surged with want, should’ve answered instinctively to his omega’s call. But instead, he felt heavy, trapped inside his own skin.

Simon must have felt the hesitation, because he pulled back just enough to search Wilhelm’s eyes. “Hey… don’t you want to?”

“Of course I want to,” Wilhelm said quickly, forcing the words. He leaned in again, kissed Simon harder this time, trying to trick his body into responding. His hands roamed over Simon’s sides, his back, his thighs. The shape of him, the warmth of him — normally it was all he needed.

But still… nothing.

Simon shifted against him, lips teasing at Wilhelm’s neck. “Come on, alpha,” he coaxed, voice dipping into that soft, sultry tone he knew always lit a fire under Wilhelm. He ground his hips lightly, a slow roll. “Give me that heat.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes, willed himself to respond. But his cock stayed stubbornly soft, his chest tightening with panic.

Simon stilled, pulling back slightly. “Wille…” His voice was quieter now, careful. “It’s okay. We can slow down.”

“No, I…” Wilhelm bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t fail Simon like this too. “I want you. I just—”

Simon’s hand slid down between them, determined. He kissed Wilhelm again, tongue slipping past his lips as his fingers worked open his jeans. Simon eased him out, warm hand wrapping around him, stroking with that gentle, practiced rhythm that usually undid him in seconds.

But Wilhelm’s body stayed uncooperative.

Simon broke the kiss, brows knitting. He looked down, then back up at Wilhelm. “Wille… what’s going on?”

Humiliation burned through Wilhelm, hot and sharp. He wanted to blurt it all out — I got fired, I feel like a failure, I don’t know how to hold all this together — but the words stuck. He couldn’t destroy Simon’s happiness, not tonight.

“I don’t know,” Wilhelm said finally, voice low and tight.

Simon exhaled softly, pressing their foreheads together. “Hey. It’s okay. Sometimes it just… doesn’t happen.” He smiled gently, tilting Wilhelm’s chin. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. You never have.”

Wilhelm shook his head, shame prickling his skin. “You deserve more than this.”

“What I deserve,” Simon countered firmly, “is you. And I have you.” His thumb stroked Wilhelm’s cheek. “You don’t need to get hard for me to feel loved.”

Wilhelm’s throat ached. He kissed Simon again — tender, reverent — before easing him back onto the bed. “Then let me love you like this,” he whispered.

Simon blinked at him, lips parted, then nodded. “Yeah,” he breathed.

Wilhelm slid down between his legs, kissing the inside of his thighs, slow and lingering. Simon’s scent spiked, sweet and thick, pulling Wilhelm deeper into him. He mouthed against him, teasing, then finally closed his lips around him, tongue curling as he sucked gently.

Simon gasped, fingers instantly tangling in Wilhelm’s hair. “Fuck—Wille…” His hips shifted, needy, but Wilhelm held him steady with strong hands, taking his time, worshipping him.

Every sound Simon made, every sharp inhale and low moan, melted some of Wilhelm’s shame. This he could do. This he could give. He poured himself into it, slow at first, then deeper, hungrier, until Simon was trembling, gasping out his name.

“Wille—oh god—don’t stop—”

And Wilhelm didn’t, not until Simon arched, thighs clamping around his head, release spilling into his mouth with a broken cry.

Simon collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving, curls plastered to his forehead. Wilhelm kissed his way back up, wiping his mouth on the sheets before pressing tender kisses to Simon’s stomach, his chest, his lips.

Simon cupped his face again, smiling breathlessly. “You always know how to take care of me.”

Wilhelm tucked himself close, holding Simon tightly as though he might fall apart without him.

And for a moment, at least, the secret stayed buried.

…

The café was one of those quiet corners of Stockholm Wille liked, tucked away on a cobblestoned street where the windows fogged up from the warmth inside. He spotted Felice immediately—she was already there, waving with her usual bright smile, her scarf piled high around her neck, a half-finished cappuccino in front of her.

“Wille!” she said, standing just enough to pull him into a quick hug before they sat down. “It’s been forever. You look good. Tired, but good.”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s basically the description of a parent, isn’t it?”

Felice grinned, eyes sparkling. “Fair enough. So, tell me—any news? How’s Simon? How’s Leo?”

Wille hesitated, but then the words just came out, almost uncontainable. “Simon’s pregnant again.”

Her eyes went wide. “What? Are you serious?” She let out a delighted squeal that made the couple at the next table glance over, but she didn’t care. “Wille! That’s amazing!” She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “I’m so, so happy for you both. Leo’s going to be a big brother! Oh my god—Simon’s going to be gorgeous pregnant again. He already glowed last time, remember?”

Her joy was infectious, warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. Wille couldn’t help smiling, even as something heavy tugged inside his chest. He took a sip of his coffee to steady himself, feeling the warmth slide down his throat. And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“I got fired.”

Felice froze mid-sip, eyes widening as the cappuccino foam nearly slipped off her spoon. “Wait… what?”

Wille’s hands curled around the cup, knuckles white. “I… I haven’t told Simon yet.”

Her expression shifted immediately, the joy from the pregnancy news colliding with shock and concern. “Oh. Oh, wow. Okay… wow. When did this happen?”

“Last week,” Wille said quietly, feeling his face heat up. “The boss called me in. Said they had to cut down on staff… and I was one of them.”

Felice’s mouth opened in surprise. “Last week? And… you’ve been… what, doing all this while Simon’s at the studio? You can’t just disappear like that.”

Wille’s throat tightened. He looked down at the coffee cup, tracing a finger along the rim. “I… I’ve been going on walks. Around the city, parks… anywhere that made it feel like I had somewhere to be. And yes, I’ve been sending out applications. Trying to find something else. But…” His voice faltered, thick with embarrassment. “…I didn’t know how to tell him. Simon’s been so happy lately — the album, the pregnancy news. I didn’t want to ruin it. I just… haven’t been able to.”

Felice exhaled slowly, placing a steadying hand over his. “Wille… you are not ruining anything. You’re human. And Simon loves you, not your job. He wants you with him, not hiding your struggles.”

Wille felt a lump rise in his throat. “I know. I just… I feel like I’ve been pretending for a week. Acting normal when I’m… not. I feel like a failure.”

“No,” Felice said firmly, leaning closer, eyes soft but steady. “You’re not a failure. You’re scared. That’s all. And you’re trying to figure it out. You’re allowed to be scared. But hiding it? That’s on you. You need to tell him before it eats you alive.”

Wille swallowed hard, his stomach twisting with nerves. “I want to. I do. But I can’t. Not yet.”

Felice gave him a small, understanding smile. “Okay. Then at least let me hold you accountable. Promise me you’ll tell him soon. Today, maybe? You’ll feel lighter once you do. I promise.”

Wille nodded, though his mouth was dry. “I’ll… try.”

Felice squeezed his hand. “Good. And remember—you’re not alone in this. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Simon, and you’ve got Leo. I love you. They love you. They’ll be with you.”

Wille let out a shaky breath, a small laugh escaping him. “You’re always right, you know that?”

“Always,” she said with a grin, her tone teasing but full of warmth.

...

Chapter Text

When Leo was finally in bed that evening, the apartment settled into a soft, golden quiet. The kind of silence Wille had grown to treasure — the sound of Simon singing a song for their son before going to bed down the hall, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen, and the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. He was curled into the couch with his laptop open, scrolling through job listings for the third night in a row.

He rubbed his temples, staring blankly at another page when he heard Simon’s bare feet padding softly across the floor.

“Still up?” Simon’s voice was warm, teasing.

Wille’s head jerked up, and he snapped the laptop shut far too quickly. “Mm. Just…nothing important.”

Simon tilted his head, narrowing his eyes playfully before deciding not to press it. Instead, he padded closer, tugging Wille’s laptop out of his hands with a grin. “Good. Because I need you.” He climbed right into Wille’s lap, straddling him with the ease of someone who knew he belonged there.

Wille’s arms slid instinctively around Simon’s waist, holding him close. The scent of his omega washed over him, grounding him instantly.

“You’re warm,” Simon murmured, settling against his chest before pulling his phone from his pocket. His eyes lit up with that spark Wille loved — the one that always meant trouble, or something that would change their lives.

“I’ve been thinking,” Simon began, eyes darting from his phone to Wille’s face. “Now that we’re…becoming more again. Growing.” His hand slipped to his still-flat belly, a soft, unconscious gesture that made Wille’s throat tighten.

“Yeah?” Wille asked softly, brushing his thumb across Simon’s hip.

Simon unlocked his phone and turned the screen toward him. “I found something.”

On the screen was a listing for a house. A real house.

Not just a boxy apartment with neighbors stacked above and below them. This was a white-painted wooden home with pale green shutters, a wide porch that wrapped around the front, and a garden that stretched out into the back like a promise of summer barbecues and Leo kicking a football until the sun went down. There was even a swing set in one of the pictures.

Wille blinked, staring at it for a long moment.

“It has three bedrooms,” Simon continued eagerly, “a kitchen big enough for all of us to actually cook together, and there’s a little office space that you could use for work. The garden’s huge, Wille. Leo would love it. And—” he swiped to the next photo “—it’s not far from his school. Just a short walk.”

Wille felt his chest tighten as Simon spoke, his excitement bubbling over with each word.

“Simon—” he started, but his voice caught.

Simon tilted his head, eyes searching his. “Do you like it?”

Wille swallowed hard, his lips parting, but no words came out. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the phone — from the image of the life Simon was so effortlessly sketching for them. A life Wille wanted more than anything.

“With what I make now from the album,” Simon pressed, “and your paycheck, we can actually do something like this. It doesn’t have to just be a dream anymore, Wille. We can give Leo this. We can give the baby this.”

The baby. The word cut straight through Wille’s chest. His jaw worked as he tried to form an answer, to explain, to finally confess what he had failed to tell Simon since that coffee with Felice. He knew it was wrong, he knew he only had a month left of payment from his old job before it would be noticeable and maybe that was why he hadn’t told him.

But before he could, Simon swiped to another picture — this time of the living room, spacious with tall windows and sunlight spilling across polished wood floors. “And imagine Christmas here,” he murmured, his voice dreamy. “Tree by the window. You reading to Leo by the fireplace. Me singing carols, the baby in your arms.”

Wille’s throat closed, his eyes burning as he stared at the vision Simon was painting, the one he so desperately wanted to give him.

He opened his mouth, the words I got fired poised on his tongue.

But Simon’s voice cut in again, bright with another thought. “Oh! And speaking of dreams, I forgot to tell you — the label’s booking me for a little tour in Sweden next month. It’s just small venues, but still…” He leaned forward, kissing Wille’s jaw, radiant with pride. “It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Wille held him tighter, burying his face against Simon’s shoulder, letting the words die in his throat again.

“Yeah,” he whispered instead, voice rough with emotion. “It’s perfect.”

…

Three weeks later 

…

The morning felt like it had been waiting for them ever since Leo was born. Simon had hardly slept, not because of nerves in the way his son might have, but because his heart kept pounding every time he thought about it: Leo’s first school day. Their baby. Their little boy — not so little anymore — would be walking into a classroom with other children, starting a chapter that stretched far beyond their home.

Simon padded barefoot across the kitchen, trying not to burn the toast as he buttered it. The smell of coffee filled the air, strong and warm, and the faint sound of cartoons played in the background where Leo was curled up on the sofa, still in his pajamas, his backpack sitting proudly beside him like a crown jewel.

Wille came in, yawning, his hair messy but his shirt tucked in neatly already — of course he’d dressed properly before breakfast. He leaned against the doorway, eyes softening immediately at the sight of Leo.

“Look at him,” Wille whispered, stepping up beside Simon to take a sip from his coffee mug. “How is he that big already?”

Simon gave him a crooked smile, though his throat tightened. “Don’t ask me. I was still trying to teach him how to say ‘banana’ yesterday, and now he’s starting school.”

Leo looked up at them with wide eyes, catching enough of the conversation to grin proudly. “I’m big now,” he declared, sitting straighter. “I have pencils and everything.”

Wille chuckled and walked over to ruffle his son’s dark curls. “That you do. And you’re going to have so many adventures today, Leo.”

The boy nodded seriously, then picked up his backpack and hugged it close. “I’m going to meet friends.”

Simon’s chest swelled with pride, but he also felt an ache he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to keep Leo small forever, wanted to hold him in his arms and keep him safe. But looking at the confidence in his little boy’s eyes, Simon knew this was what they had raised him for — to step into the world with that boldness.

…

By the time they left the apartment, Leo insisted on carrying his own bag, though Wille kept one hand hovering behind him as if ready to catch him should he stumble. Simon carried Leo’s lunchbox, double-checking the contents twice before locking the door.

The took the car to the school, driving by lined with trees just starting to hint at the turn of the season. Leo asked endless questions:

“Do I get to sit at a desk?”
“Will I have homework today?”
“Do you think my teacher likes dinosaurs?”

Simon laughed, answering patiently, while Wille just smiled, eyes crinkling, soaking in every second. He looked like he wanted to record the moment in his heart forever.

When the schoolyard came into view, they parked the car. it hit Simon harder than he thought. Children ran across the asphalt, parents clustered in little groups, teachers standing with signs to gather their new classes. It was chaos and joy and noise all at once.

Leo clutching Simon’s hand tightly. His confidence faltered, just for a second, and Simon crouched down to meet his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Simon murmured. “It’s just new. You don’t have to know everything right away. We’ll walk you to your teacher, and then you’ll see — it’s not so scary.”

Wille crouched down too, brushing a curl out of Leo’s forehead. “And guess what? Every kid here feels the same way. You’re not alone.”

Leo bit his lip, but then straightened his little shoulders, nodding. “Okay.”

...

They found the line for his class. The teacher, a friendly-looking woman with glasses, knelt to greet Leo, asking his name and welcoming him. Leo glanced back once at his parents — Simon’s encouraging smile, Wille’s proud nod — before slipping his hand into hers.

That small hand letting go nearly undid Simon.

They stood side by side, watching Leo walk with his class toward the building, his backpack bouncing against his back. Simon felt Wille’s hand slip into his, their fingers tightening instinctively.

“He didn’t even cry,” Simon whispered, both proud and aching.

“No,” Wille said softly, his eyes shimmering. “But I might.”

Simon turned to him then, pressing his forehead against his alpha’s shoulder. Wille wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close as they both watched the door swallow up their son.

Their baby was starting school.

On the way back home, they walked slower than usual, both a little dazed.

“He’s going to come home with stories,” Wille said, half to himself. “About his friends. About what he learned. And it’s just… going to keep happening.”

Simon nodded, squeezing Wille’s hand. “We did good, Wille. We gave him this. We made him brave.”

“And loved,” Wille added, his voice low but certain. “That’s the most important part.”

Simon smiled faintly, leaning into him. “Yeah. He knows he’s loved.”

Later that afternoon, when they picked Leo up, he came running toward them, backpack slipping off one shoulder, his face lit up like the sun.

“Papa! Daddy!” he yelled, launching himself into Simon’s arms first, then Wille’s. “I made a friend! His name is Elias and we both like dinosaurs, and I drew a picture, and I got to sit at the blue table—”

He barely paused for breath, the excitement tumbling out of him in rapid bursts. Simon laughed, kissing his cheek. “Slow down, Leo, tell us everything one at a time.”

But Leo was unstoppable, his little voice brimming with joy as they walked home together, Wille listening intently, nodding at every detail, Simon soaking in the sheer happiness pouring from their son.

The first day had been a success.

And though Simon’s chest still ached with the knowledge that Leo was growing up, it was filled even more with pride — and with gratitude that they were walking this journey together, side by side, as a family.

…

The days after Leo’s first day at school should have felt bright, like another milestone they could celebrate together. But instead, Wilhelm carried around a heavy stone in his chest. The end of the month was creeping up on him like a shadow, and he still hadn’t found a job. Every day of searching left him more drained, more convinced he was failing — not just himself, but Simon, their unborn child, and Leo too.

Simon was glowing in that way only omegas in early pregnancy did, radiant but also desperately needy, his scent practically wrapping itself around Wilhelm, asking him for closeness. And Wilhelm wanted to give it — God, he wanted nothing more than to sink into Simon and remind him how deeply he was loved. But every time he tried, his mind went to the stack of unanswered job applications, the polite rejection emails, and the gnawing lie he carried: Simon still didn’t know.

The night before had been one of those moments where Simon’s need spilled over. They had been brushing their teeth together, Leo long asleep in his new school shoes tucked by the door, when Simon leaned against him with that mischievous softness in his eyes. He kissed Wilhelm, gentle at first, then with a bite of hunger.

“Do you… wanna do me?” Simon whispered against his lips, his cheeks a little pink, his eyes hopeful. It had been months since they’d been together like that — pregnancy, stress, and life had made it hard — and Wilhelm felt his own body spark at the thought. Maybe this was the moment. Maybe he could shut his brain off and just be with Simon.

So he kissed him back, pushed him gently toward their bed, helped him out of his shirt. He touched his omega with reverence, entered him with careful patience. For the first few thrusts, it felt like he was home again, like he was giving Simon what he needed. But then — like poison — the thoughts slipped in. You’re unemployed. You’re failing him. He’s carrying your child and you can’t even provide. You’re useless.

The shame was so overwhelming he couldn’t keep his body in it. His rhythm faltered. His chest tightened. And then — humiliatingly — he went soft inside Simon.

Simon stilled, blinking up at him in surprise. His hands cupped Wilhelm’s face, not pushing, not judging, just… worried. “Hey…? Everything okay?” he asked quietly, voice tinged with confusion.

Wilhelm forced a smile, leaned down to kiss him so he wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. “Yeah… yeah, it’s fine. I’m just… tired.” His voice cracked slightly, but Simon didn’t push further.

He just nodded, pulling Wilhelm close to his chest, wrapping him in warmth and forgiveness Wilhelm felt he didn’t deserve. They lay like that until Simon’s breathing evened out, his body slack with sleep.

But Wilhelm stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, drowning in the truth he couldn’t say: he wasn’t tired. He was terrified. And if he couldn’t even make love to Simon without falling apart, how was he supposed to keep this family together?

…

It was the last day of the month, and Wilhelm could feel the weight of time pressing down on him. He hadn’t found a job yet. He hadn’t told Simon the truth. Every day that passed, the pressure only grew heavier.

The shrill buzz of his phone cut through the silence of the morning. He nearly jumped when he saw Felice’s name lighting up the screen.

“Wille,” her voice was bright, almost urgent, “I might have something for you. There’s this law firm I know — they’re looking for someone like you. It’s solid work, good pay. Call this number and ask for Marian. Trust me.”

For the first time in weeks, hope shot through Wilhelm’s chest so hard it nearly winded him. “Thank you, Felice,” he breathed, already grabbing for a pen.

The moment he hung up, he called. His palms were sweating, his leg bouncing while the dial tone rang. When a calm, professional voice answered — Marian herself — Wilhelm found himself blurting out his eagerness. She listened, then asked if he could meet her for a quick talk that very afternoon at a hotel in the city.

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be there,” he said, his voice too fast, too hungry. But he didn’t care. This could change everything.

When the call ended, Wilhelm was smiling for the first time in weeks. His chest was buzzing with excitement, with relief. Finally, maybe finally, things were about to shift.

He was still riding that high when he heard soft footsteps on the stairs. Simon padded into the living room, his hair still messy from sleep, phone in one hand, the other reaching instinctively for him. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Wilhelm’s shoulders, pressing his scent close. Wilhelm closed his eyes, breathing him in.

“I’ve got a meeting this afternoon,” Wilhelm murmured, unable to keep the thrill out of his voice. “With a client.”

Simon pulled back slightly, blinking. “This afternoon?”

“Yes,” Wilhelm nodded quickly.

But Simon froze for a second, something flickering in his eyes. He tightened his hold on Wilhelm, then shook his head with a small frown. “Wille… you promised you’d come with me today. The doctor’s, at three o clock. Remember? We’ll finally know the gender.”

The words hit Wilhelm like a stone dropped in water — rippling through his excitement, pulling him under. He remembered. He had promised. Simon had been looking forward to this for weeks. And now—He had actually forgotten because of all the stress. 

His chest tightened. Two worlds colliding. One full of hope for himself. The other, a promise to the person he loved most.

“I promise, I’ll be there.” 

…

Wille stood outside the hotel entrance, his palms damp despite the chill in the air. He had changed shirts three times before finally settling on the white one Simon always said made his eyes stand out. When Marian greeted him in the lobby, she was nothing like he had expected. No cold suit, no stiff handshake. Instead, she had a calm, assured energy, dressed neatly but warmly, her smile genuine.

They sat down in the hotel café with coffee, and within minutes Wille felt himself relax. Marian didn’t fire off difficult questions right away. Instead, she asked about his studies, his background, what he had enjoyed most in previous jobs. She listened. Really listened. And when he spoke about wanting to prove himself, wanting to contribute in a meaningful way, she nodded like she understood.

“I see potential in you, Wilhelm,” she said after a while, leaning back in her chair. “Sometimes it’s not about the perfect résumé. It’s about the drive, and I can see you have that. I think we could make this work.”

Something lifted in Wille’s chest, something he hadn’t felt for months—hope. They talked for so long, diving into details about the firm, the team, the clients. Wille’s nerves smoothed out, replaced by a growing excitement. This could be it. This could be the thing that pulled him back onto his feet.

He didn’t notice the time slipping away.

Meanwhile, Simon sat in the quiet waiting room at the clinic, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. Leo had been dropped off at school earlier, his first week still buzzing in Simon’s mind, and Wille had promised—promised—to be here with him today. Simon glanced at the clock on the wall. Ten past three. He sighed and rubbed his stomach, now just starting to show more clearly.

“Simon Eriksson?” the nurse called.

Simon got up, following her into the examination room where Vera was waiting with her warm smile. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, heart heavy. “Let’s just… get to it,” he said quietly, not wanting to stall any longer.

Vera nodded and helped him settle before starting the scan. The familiar hum of the machine filled the room as Simon stared at the ceiling, telling himself Wille would come rushing through the door any second now. But the minutes passed.

Then he noticed Vera’s expression shift. Her brow furrowed slightly, her eyes narrowing at the screen.

“Is… is everything okay?” Simon asked, his throat dry.

Vera glanced at him, then offered the softest smile she could. “The baby looks healthy, Simon. Heartbeat is steady. But…” She hesitated, turning the screen toward herself again. “By now, we should be seeing a little more growth. It’s as if the baby isn’t quite following the usual development curve. A few steps behind.”

Simon blinked, his chest tightening. “So—what does that mean?”

“It doesn’t have to mean something bad,” Vera assured him gently. “But I’d like to reschedule another scan in a few days. Just to check again, see how things are progressing.”

Simon nodded, swallowing hard. He forced a small smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”

When Vera left him alone to clean up, Simon sat there for a long moment, staring down at his hands. The room felt too big, too quiet. He had wanted Wille’s hand in his, wanted his alpha’s presence grounding him. Instead, there was only the echo of Vera’s careful words in his head and the cold weight of loneliness pressing down on him.

…

On the way home, Simon didn’t go straight back. Instead, he took a detour through the park, walking slowly between the trees where the air felt cooler. He tried to breathe deeply, steadying himself, but his chest felt tight. Vera’s words echoed over and over. The baby should be bigger by now. He wanted to believe everything was fine, that it was just some kind of mistake, but the heaviness in his body wouldn’t let him. By the time he finally unlocked the apartment door, his legs felt like lead.

His phone buzzed the moment he dropped his keys onto the table. Wille’s name lit up the screen. Simon stared at it for a beat, then swiped to answer.

“Simon,” Wille’s voice came through in a rush, so full of guilt it almost cracked. “I’m so, so sorry. I know I promised—I know how important today was. I couldn’t get out of the meeting, Marian just kept going and I thought it would be quick, but it wasn’t—”

Simon closed his eyes. He wanted to yell, wanted to tell Wille what it had felt like to sit there alone, hearing news like that. But all the fight had drained out of him. He sounded tired when he cut in softly.

“Wille… just come home. Please. I need you.”

There was silence for a beat on the other end before Wille exhaled, almost in relief that Simon hadn’t hung up. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I promise.”

True to his word, twenty minutes later, the front door opened and Wille hurried inside, his jacket half slipping off his shoulder. He went straight for Simon, wrapping his arms around him without hesitation.

“I’m so sorry,” Wille murmured into his hair. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay.”

Simon wanted to melt into him, to let the comfort swallow him whole. But then he inhaled. Wille’s familiar scent wrapped around him, grounding as always—except threaded through it, faint but unmistakable, was the cloying sweetness of another omega. He knew Wille worked for clients but this scent has been over him for a while, this omega had actually let their scent over him. That has never happened before…

Simon froze in Wille’s arms. His breath caught. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he pulled back enough to look up at him, his eyes searching.

“…Wille,” he whispered, his voice low but sharp with a new edge, “why do you smell like another omega?”

…

Chapter Text

Wille stood frozen in the hallway, Simon’s scent brushing against him, sharp with doubt and worry. He swallowed, forcing his voice steady as he tried again.
“It’s just the client, Simon. I didn’t even notice she’d left any scent on me until you said something. I promise.”

But Simon’s eyes didn’t soften. His omega instincts clawed at him, telling him his alpha was holding something back, maybe not lying outright—but not giving the whole truth either. The silence stretched.

“Tell me again,” Simon said, voice low, steady but cutting. “The truth this time.”

Wille’s chest rose with a deep breath. He met Simon’s eyes, refusing to look away, but when he spoke the words came out exactly the same. “It was just the client. Nothing else.”

Simon stared at him for a long moment, his whole body tense. Something inside him screamed no, not right, but before he could push more, Wille leaned closer, concern flickering in his expression.

“Why did you sound so upset after your appointment?”

The question disarmed Simon. His lips parted, the fight draining out of him in an instant. He dropped his gaze. “Vera said the baby doesn’t follow the growth schedule. It’s smaller than it should be right now.” His voice faltered. “She wants me to come back for another scan in a week.”

Wille’s eyes widened, fear flashing raw across his face, his mouth opening like he was about to say something—maybe a hundred things. But Simon lifted his hand, palm firm, cutting him off.

“I’m tired, Wille.” His voice was thin, flat. He pushed a shaky breath out and turned away. “If you can… please pick up Leo.”

The words settled like a wall between them. Wille stayed where he was, arms aching to reach for him, throat tight with things he didn’t know how to fix.

But Simon had already moved toward the couch, curling into himself, shutting the conversation down completely.

…

Later, when Wille came home with Leo, the apartment felt strangely quiet. Their little boy was chattering about his day, clutching his schoolbag tight, but even Leo noticed that Papa wasn’t in the kitchen waiting with a smile. Instead, the soft hum of the dishwasher and the faint scent of Simon’s shampoo were the only signs of life.

“Where’s Papa?” Leo asked, looking up at Wille with big brown eyes.

“He’s resting,” Wille answered gently, running a hand over Leo’s hair. “He’s just a little tired, buddy.”

In  their bedroom, Simon was already curled in bed, the duvet pulled up high as if it could shield him from everything. When Wille peeked inside, his mate barely stirred.

“I thought about ordering a pizza – what would you like?” Wille whispered, careful not to wake him fully if he was already dozing.

Simon shook his head against the pillow. His voice came muffled, heavy with exhaustion. “Not hungry. Just want to sleep.”

Wille’s chest ached, but he didn’t push. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Simon’s cheek before retreating. “Okay. Rest, älskling.”

He closed the door softly and went back to Leo.

The night dragged. Simon never came down. After putting Leo to bed and cleaning up the kitchen, Wille finally returned to their bedroom. He stripped off his shirt, ready to slide in beside his mate, when Simon’s quiet voice stopped him.

“Wille… please shower first.”

Wille froze, blinking in the dim light. “Shower?”

“I can still scent her on you,” Simon whispered. His tone wasn’t angry, but there was a fracture in it, a thin crack that pierced Wille straight through.

“Of course,” Wille said quickly, guilt washing over him. He didn’t even hesitate. He slipped into the bathroom, turned on the water as hot as he could stand, and scrubbed until all that clung to him was soap and steam. He stayed under longer than necessary, trying to wash away not just the faint trace of the client, but also Simon’s doubt in his eyes.

When he came back, towel-drying his hair, Simon was sitting up against the headboard. The duvet pooled around his waist, and the low lamplight caught the shine of his tears.

“Baby…” Wille crossed the room in two strides, heart breaking at the sight. He sat at the edge of the bed and reached for Simon’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Simon shook his head slowly. His throat bobbed before he found his voice. “No. I can’t figure out what you’re hiding from me.” His gaze was raw, searching Wille’s face. “But I hope—it’s not something bad.”

Wille felt like the ground shifted beneath him. He grabbed Simon’s hand tighter, bringing it to his lips. “Simon, I swear to you, I’m not hiding anything from you. I should’ve been more careful today, I didn’t even realize she’d scented me—” He stopped himself, frustration clawing at his chest. “You have to believe me.”

Simon just looked at him, eyes glistening, his scent tangled with worry and fatigue.

…

Simon had needed the fresh air. The apartment felt heavy these days, his thoughts looping endlessly between excitement for the baby and the gnawing doubt Wille’s strange behavior left in him. So when Rosh and Ayub suggested they meet at their usual café, he jumped at the chance.

The early fall sun spilled through the windows, warming the little table they’d claimed for years. Simon’s hands trembled slightly as he wrapped them around his coffee cup. He had barely sat down before blurting it out.

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air only a beat before Rosh and Ayub erupted into shouts of joy, chairs scraping against the floor as they stood to hug him.

“No way!” Ayub laughed, squeezing Simon so tightly he almost spilled his drink. “Bro, that’s amazing!”

“I knew it!” Rosh grinned, clapping him on the back. “I knew something was up with you.”

Simon laughed, his chest loosening at their excitement. Their happiness was genuine, untainted by the worries that had settled in his own chest.

“I’m really happy,” Simon admitted, his voice soft. “But also a little… scared. Things with Wille have been weird lately.”

The warmth in their faces shifted. Rosh leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Weird how?”

Simon picked at the edge of his napkin, eyes down. “I don’t know. He comes home and I can smell an omega on him. He swears it’s from a client, but… it doesn’t feel right. I asked him straight out, but he just keeps repeating the same story.”

Rosh scowled. “So you did ask him. And he’s stonewalling you?”

Simon nodded slowly. “Yeah. I don’t want to believe it’s something bad, but…” He sighed, pressing a hand to his stomach almost without realizing. “I just want the truth.”

They were quiet for a moment, letting the weight of his words sink in.

Then Ayub suddenly shifted, frowning past Simon’s shoulder. “Uh… isn’t that Wille?”

Simon’s head snapped up, his pulse jumping. Across the street, Wilhelm was walking, shoulders hunched slightly like he didn’t want to be noticed.

Rosh turned instantly, eyes narrowing. “That’s definitely him.”

They all watched as Wille crossed to the other side of the street—where a woman was waiting. She smiled when she saw him, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him.

The sight knocked the air from Simon’s lungs.

The woman leaned into Wille, her hand brushing his arm, and together they walked into the hotel entrance just a few meters away.

Simon sat frozen, staring.

“What the actual—” Rosh pushed his chair back, fury already blazing in his eyes. “I’m going over there.”

“Rosh, wait—” Ayub caught his arm, but his own face was pale with shock.

Simon didn’t move. His body felt numb, like he was underwater, sound muffled around him. His vision blurred, his chest tightening until he thought he might actually collapse right there in the café.

He could still smell Wille on his skin from that morning. His mate. His alpha. And now… this.

Rosh shook free of Ayub’s grip, but Simon’s hand shot out, trembling, grabbing his wrist. His voice was barely audible, cracking under the weight of it all.

“Don’t,” he whispered. “Please. I—” His throat closed, his stomach twisting violently. “I think I’m gonna pass out.”

…

Simon sat slumped in his chair, both hands wrapped around the cool glass of water Ayub had pressed into his palms. His fingers trembled faintly against the condensation, knuckles pale, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink more than a sip. His chest felt hollow, air scraping through his lungs like it had nowhere to land. The image was still burned into his head—Wilhelm on the other side of the street, smiling faintly as a woman leaned into him, hugging him like she had every right to. Then the two of them disappearing together into the hotel lobby.

It played on repeat, every blink flashing the scene again. He wasn’t even sure how long he had been staring at the same spot on the table before Rosh’s chair scraped against the floor.

“I’m calling him,” Rosh muttered, jaw tight, fury sparking in his eyes.

“Rosh—” Simon tried, but his voice cracked halfway through, useless, weak. He didn’t even sound like himself.

Rosh was already unlocking her phone, determination written all over her face. Ayub shot her a wary look but didn’t stop her, hovering closer to Simon instead, a hand steady on his shoulder.

“Relax, Si. Just drink,” Ayub whispered, but Simon couldn’t. His throat was a knot.

The call rang once. Twice. Then Wilhelm’s voice filtered through the speaker, warm and familiar, the exact sound Simon had always felt safe hearing—except right now, it cut like glass.

“Rosh? Is something wrong? Is Simon okay?” Wilhelm asked instantly, a rush of worry in his tone.

Rosh’s brows furrowed, and for a moment her voice softened, even though anger still simmered underneath. “He’s fine. Don’t worry. I just—uh—wanted to say congrats, man. He told us the news today.”

On the other end, Wilhelm gave a small laugh, breathy and almost relieved. “Yeah… thanks. We’re really happy. It’s… it’s a lot, but it feels good.”

Simon’s stomach twisted, the words a cruel echo. We’re happy. The words should have warmed him, but now they just made bile rise in his throat. He pressed the glass harder to his lips, forcing down another sip of water, hoping it would steady him. It didn’t.

“So… what are you up to right now?” Rosh asked casually, though her eyes flicked to Simon as if bracing for impact. “Busy day?”

There was a pause. Then Wilhelm’s answer came, calm, unhesitant. “Just still at the office. You know busy day with a lot of paperwork.”

The world tilted.

Simon’s breath left him in a sharp, broken sound that made Ayub’s hand tighten on his shoulder in concern. His heart lurched, beating so fast he thought he might actually faint. “No,” Simon whispered, shaking his head. “No, no, no—”

He pushed back from the table so abruptly the legs screeched against the floor. Both Rosh and Ayub jolted, reaching for him, but Simon was already on his feet, his chest heaving, glass abandoned and sweating on the table.

“Si—wait!” Ayub called, but Simon was already moving, his legs carrying him blindly toward the door. He couldn’t breathe in here. Couldn’t hear Wilhelm’s voice saying one thing while his eyes had just seen another. He needed out. He needed air.

Rosh quickly ended the call, muttering a clipped, “Yeah, alright. Talk later,” before hanging up without waiting for a response. She shoved her phone into her pocket and exchanged a look with Ayub—equal parts panic and fury—before both of them scrambled to follow.

Outside, Simon was already halfway down the street, his shoulders hunched, hands clutching his jacket as if holding himself together by force. Rosh cursed under her breath and jogged after him, Ayub close behind.

“Simon!” Rosh’s voice cut through the noise of traffic and chatter, but Simon didn’t stop. Not until Rosh caught up and grabbed his wrist gently, pulling him around.

Simon’s face was pale, eyes glassy, his lips trembling as though he was fighting to hold everything in. He didn’t speak—just shook his head again, like words had completely abandoned him.

Rosh swallowed, her grip steady but careful. Her anger wasn’t aimed at Simon—it was aimed across the street, at Wilhelm, at whatever was happening in that hotel. “We’ll figure this out, Si. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Simon blinked rapidly, a single tear slipping free despite his efforts to keep it in. His free hand pressed against his stomach instinctively, protective and fragile at once.

Ayub finally reached them, pulling Simon into his arms without asking. “Come on,” he murmured softly, eyes flicking to Rosh with quiet urgency. “Let’s just get him home.”

And for the first time since Wilhelm had disappeared into that hotel, Simon let himself fold into their embrace, his whole body shaking as the weight of it all crashed down.

…

Wille was sitting across from Marian, still buzzing from the high of the meeting. Everything had gone perfectly—better than he’d dared to hope. She had offered him the job, no hesitation in her voice, no lingering doubt in her eyes. The kind of opportunity he had been waiting for, a door finally opening after weeks of uncertainty and sleepless nights. Relief spread through his body like warmth, unclenching every muscle he hadn’t realized he’d been holding tense. He shook her hand, promised he would deliver, and walked out of the hotel conference room with a grin tugging at his lips. For the first time in so long, he felt like himself again. Like he could finally provide, finally carry his weight for his family.

As he stepped into the lobby, he let himself breathe, almost laughing under his breath. He couldn’t wait to go home, to tell Simon everything. To tell him that the storm was over, that the shadows of doubt could finally lift. He wanted to see Simon’s eyes light up, to feel his omega melt against him in relief.

And then his phone buzzed.

He pulled it out of his pocket absentmindedly, still smiling—until his eyes fell on the message lighting up the screen. His smile froze, then dropped. His throat closed, and in an instant, the air around him seemed to vanish.

"Wilhelm, I don’t even know how to begin. I found out what you’ve been hiding from me, and it hurts more than I can put into words. Right now I can’t be near you. I’ve taken Leo and we’re going to stay with my mom for a while. Please don’t try to reach out. I need time and space, and I’ll contact you when I’m ready."

…

Chapter Text

Wille had been calling for what felt like hours. His hands trembled so badly he almost dropped his phone when he tried again, pressing Simon’s name on the screen, listening to it ring. Straight to voicemail. Again. And again. His chest felt like it was caving in. The silence on the other end of the line was worse than any shouted words could ever be.

At some point, he couldn’t sit still anymore. He grabbed his keys and bolted down the stairs, not even bothering with a jacket. The drive blurred past him—streets, lights, other cars—all just background noise to the single thought looping in his head: I need to see him. I need to fix this.

When he finally pulled up outside Linda’s house, Wille didn’t even turn the car off properly. He stumbled out, legs stiff from pressing the accelerator too hard, and started toward the front door. His heart hammered against his ribs, every step heavier than the last. He didn’t know what he would say, only that he had to say something.

But before he reached the porch, the front door opened. Linda stepped out, closing it firmly behind her, as though guarding what was inside. She didn’t wait for him to come closer. Instead, she walked toward him, steady and purposeful, until they met halfway down the path.

Her eyes were sharp, almost blazing. She didn’t waste time on pleasantries.
“Are you cheating on my son?” she asked, her voice low but firm, each word slicing the air between them. “Because if you are, Wilhelm, I swear—I will kill you.”

Wille froze, blinking as though he hadn’t heard her right. “Excuse me?” His voice cracked with disbelief. He looked at her like she’d just accused him of burning the house down. “No. No, Linda—I would never. Never do something like that to Simon. Ever.”

But Linda didn’t soften. Her jaw was tight, her arms crossed over her chest, like she’d been holding this in, bracing herself. “He saw you,” she said sharply. “At a hotel. With a woman.”

The words landed like a punch to Wille’s stomach, knocking the air right out of him. For a moment, he just stood there, dumbfounded, replaying her accusation in his head until suddenly—he understood. His breath hitched, and he shook his head quickly, desperate to explain.

“No, no, no—that’s not—Linda, that’s not what you think,” Wille stammered, his voice rushing, uneven. “I—God. I should have told him. I should have told him months ago.” He dragged a hand through his hair, his whole body shaking now. “I got fired. From my job. I was… I was too scared to tell him, with everything else he’s been through, with the pregnancy and all the stress. Everything was finally about to be perfect, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I thought I could fix it first, and then tell him when it was safe. I know it’s stupid.”

Linda’s eyes narrowed, watching him intently, measuring the weight of his words.

“The woman he saw me with,” Wille continued, his voice cracking as he looked directly at her, “that was my new boss. I was at a job interview. That’s all. I swear to you, Linda. I swear on my life, I would never hurt Simon like that. Not him.” His throat closed, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s everything.”

Linda let the silence hang between them. The sound of children playing a few houses down carried faintly through the air, ordinary in contrast to the storm in front of her. She studied Wille’s face, the rawness in his eyes, the trembling in his hands. He wasn’t lying. She could see it—feel it.

Finally, she exhaled, her shoulders easing just slightly. “You’re telling me the truth,” she said, almost to herself. Then, more firmly: “I’ll ask Simon if he wants to see you. But you have to respect it if he says no. Do you understand me?”

Wille nodded instantly, desperate. “Yes. Anything. Just—please, let me try.”

Linda’s gaze softened a fraction, though her protective edge didn’t waver. “If he agrees, I’ll take Leo to the playground so you two can talk. But until then, you need to stay out of sight. Leo can’t see you like this—not until Simon decides what he wants. Hide the car. Wait. And don’t you dare come near that door until I send you a text that you can.”

Wille swallowed hard, his throat aching, and whispered, “Thank you.”

She didn’t answer. She only turned back toward the house, leaving Wille standing there on the path, shaking with nerves and hope, praying Simon would choose to let him in.

…

Leo was curled up on the couch with Linda’s laptop balanced carefully on a pillow in front of him, the familiar bleep-bloop sounds of his favorite video game filling the living room. His small fingers clicked furiously at the keyboard, tongue poking out in concentration, completely oblivious to the tension that clung to the air around him.

Linda paused for a moment in the doorway, just watching her grandson. The innocence of it made her heart ache. She brushed her palms over her jeans, steadying herself before she turned toward the kitchen where Simon sat, hunched over a cup of tea gone cold.

“Simon,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him.

He lifted his head, his eyes heavy, guarded. “Yeah?”

She crossed the floor and placed a hand lightly on his shoulder, her thumb brushing against the curve of his arm. “Wilhelm is here and I think… you and Wilhelm should talk.”

Simon stiffened instantly, his jaw tightening. “Mamma…” His voice cracked with exhaustion and something rawer—fear, maybe.

“I’m not telling you what to do,” Linda continued, her tone calm but firm. “I just think holding it all inside won’t help. Not for you, not for him.” She didn’t mention what she had just heard outside, didn’t explain that Wilhelm was waiting, desperate, only a few meters away. That wasn’t her choice to make.

Simon rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down slowly. “I don’t know if I can, Mamma. I don’t even know what I’d say.”

Linda crouched down beside him so they were at eye level, her voice gentler now. “Then just say that. You don’t have to solve everything right now. You don’t have to forgive or forget in this moment. But maybe… just give yourself the chance to hear him. To let him try.”

In the background, Leo let out a triumphant cheer. “Yes! Level up!” he shouted, pumping his fist before returning to the screen.

The sound tugged at Simon’s heart. He glanced at his son, then back at his mother, his throat tight.

“You really think I should?” he whispered.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t,” Linda replied honestly. “And if it’s too much, you can stop. You’re in control of this, Simon. Always.”

Simon’s hands curled into fists against his knees, then slowly released. His chest rose and fell in one heavy breath. “Okay,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then louder: “Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

Linda squeezed his shoulder, offering the smallest smile. “Good. I’ll take Leo out for a bit—let you have privacy.” She rose and moved toward the couch. “Leo, älskling, how about we go play at the playground for a while?”

Leo looked up, face lighting instantly. “Really? Can I bring the ball?”

“Of course,” Linda said, brushing his curls back from his forehead. “Go get your shoes.”

Simon’s stomach flipped. His mother didn’t say it, but he knew what this meant. When the door closed behind her and Leo, Wilhelm would be waiting.

…

Wilhelm’s hands were clammy as he stood in the doorway, every muscle in his body screaming to run, but the sight of Simon slouched on the sofa froze him in place. His mate looked… broken. Shoulders hunched, dark circles under his eyes, lips pressed together like he was holding himself from falling apart.

“Simon…” Wilhelm’s voice cracked on the name.

Simon looked up, his eyes red and raw. He didn’t say a word. Just stared at him like he was a stranger. The silence pressed down heavier than any shouting could.

Wilhelm stepped inside, shutting the door carefully behind him. He didn’t dare come too close yet. “I swear to you, what you think you saw—it’s not what it looked like.”

Simon laughed, sharp and hollow. “Of course you’d say that.”

“No,” Wilhelm shook his head, desperate. “Please, listen. The woman—it wasn’t anything. She’s my new boss. I… I lost my job months ago, and I didn’t know how to tell you. You’ve been through so much, and things were finally getting better. I didn’t want to pile more on you. I was trying to fix it before you ever had to worry.”

Simon shot up from the couch, his voice rising. “Fix it? You think lying is fixing it? You think sneaking around is fixing it?” His hands trembled as he pointed at Wilhelm. “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me? I thought you cheated on me. I thought—” his voice broke, “—I thought I wasn’t enough for you.”

Wilhelm’s chest ached. “Simon, no. You’re everything. You’re—”

But Simon didn’t let him finish. He crossed the room in two strides and shoved Wilhelm in the chest, hard. Wilhelm stumbled back, taking it, not raising a hand. Simon shoved him again, weaker this time, his tears blurring his vision.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Simon’s voice cracked with anguish as his fists pounded weakly against Wilhelm’s chest. “Why, Wille? Why?”

Wilhelm caught his wrists gently but didn’t restrain him, his own tears spilling over. “Because I was scared. Because I didn’t want to let you down again. Because you trusted me to be strong, and I didn’t feel strong. I was ashamed.”

Simon ripped his hands free, shaking his head violently. “You broke my trust. Do you get that? You kept something this big from me. You let me believe the worst about you.” His chest heaved, his voice barely above a whisper now. “How am I supposed to come back from that?”

Wilhelm swallowed hard, throat burning. “I’ll do anything. Anything to prove to you that you can still trust me. Just… don’t give up on us, Simon. Please.”

Simon turned his face away, tears sliding freely. “I don’t know if I can forgive you. Not right now.”

Wilhelm stood there, wrecked, nodding even though it killed him. “Then I’ll wait. However long it takes. I’ll wait.”

The silence that followed was thick with grief, both of them shaking, both of them hurting—but for the first time since it began, the truth was laid bare between them.

…

The kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator. Simon sat slumped at the table, his fingers resting loosely on the edge of his mug though the tea inside had long gone cold. Across from him, Wilhelm sat just as still, his gaze locked on Simon as though looking away would mean losing him completely.

Neither of them spoke at first. It was as if words had run dry, leaving only the silence of everything unspoken—the ache, the anger, the fear. Finally, Wilhelm swallowed hard and broke it.

“What… what happens now?” His voice was low, almost hoarse.

Simon let out a shaky breath, his eyes fixed on the table instead of Wilhelm. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “I told Leo we’d stay here a couple of days. I need that right now. I’m… I’m tired, Wille. I just need to breathe.”

The words cut, but Wilhelm nodded, his throat tightening. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

Simon gave the smallest nod back, his jaw trembling as though holding in more he wanted to say. His hand drifted unconsciously to his stomach, pressing there for a moment as a soft wince flickered across his face.

Wilhelm noticed instantly, leaning forward. “Are you okay?” His voice was urgent, almost panicked.

“Just a little pain,” Simon murmured, brushing it off. “It happens sometimes.”

Wilhelm hesitated, then asked quietly, “Do you… still want me to come with you tomorrow? To the doctor?”

Simon’s eyes lifted slowly to meet his, red-rimmed but steady. For a long beat he said nothing, weighing the trust that had been cracked, the bond that still pulsed between them. Then he gave the faintest nod. “If you want to.”

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate. He stood, rounded the table, and sank down onto his knees in front of Simon. His hands trembled as he reached for him but stopped just short of touching. He looked up at his mate with wet eyes.

“I’ll do anything, Simon,” Wilhelm whispered, his voice breaking. “For you. For Leo. For this baby. I’ll prove it to you every single day if I have to. I don’t care how long it takes—I just need you to know I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon blinked hard, his lips trembling as though torn between anger and the desperate pull of love. He didn’t answer right away, but his free hand gripped the edge of his chair so tightly his knuckles whitened, holding himself together in front of the man who still made his chest ache with want and betrayal in equal measure.

…

The next morning, Wilhelm arrived at the clinic long before their appointment time. He had barely slept, tossing and turning all night with Simon’s voice in his head, the words “Why didn’t you just tell me?” cutting deeper than any wound ever could. He knew Simon needed space, but he also knew he couldn’t risk being late for this — not this. This wasn’t about him or Simon anymore, it was about the little life growing between them.

When Simon finally arrived, his eyes widened in quiet surprise as he spotted Wille already sitting in the waiting area, hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looked pale, restless, but also determined. For a second, Simon just stood there, frozen in the doorway, before he slowly walked over and sat down a chair apart from him.

“Hey,” Wille said softly, his voice careful, almost fragile.

“Hi,” Simon answered, his tone neutral. He wasn’t angry in that moment, just tired. So unbelievably tired.

The silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable, broken only when the nurse called their names. They walked side by side down the hallway, not touching, not even brushing against each other.

Inside the consultation room, Vera greeted them with her usual warm smile. “Good to see you both again. How are you doing?” she asked, her eyes flicking gently from Simon to Wille, sensing the shift in their energy right away.

Simon offered a tight smile but kept his gaze lowered. “I’m… fine. Just nervous,” he admitted quickly, not giving her a chance to press further. “After what you said last time.”

Vera nodded, understanding. She didn’t push — she could read the tension in the room, the heaviness clinging to the air. “Alright then,” she said softly. “Let’s go straight to the scan.”

Simon lay back on the chair, lifting his shirt, his hands instinctively finding the curve of his belly. Wille sat close, his knee bouncing restlessly, until the sound of the gel bottle snapping open made him look up.

The moment the image appeared on the screen, both of them went still. Vera adjusted the probe gently, her voice calm and reassuring. “Baby looks good. Heartbeat strong.” She pointed at the screen. “And I can tell you something else today…” She smiled, her eyes flicking between them. “She’s put on weight, growing just as she should — and she’s a girl.”

Simon blinked, his lips parting, eyes fixed on the screen. “A girl…” he whispered, his voice thick, caught between disbelief and wonder.

Wille’s hand trembled where it rested on his knee. He turned to Simon, his throat tight. “We’re… we’re having a daughter.”

…

They walked out of the clinic together, the cool morning air hitting them like a gentle slap. Neither spoke. The quiet wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t hostile either—it was heavy with everything left unsaid, everything that had happened between them in the past days, weeks, months. Wille’s hand twitched as if it wanted to reach for Simon, to bridge the gap, but he held himself back.

Finally, Wille broke the silence, his voice soft, almost tentative. “Do you… want me to drive you home?”

Simon hesitated, fatigue etched into every line of his face. The last few weeks had left him exhausted, emotionally drained, and physically tired from the pregnancy. After a pause, he nodded. “Yeah… okay.”

The drive was quiet, punctuated only by the low hum of the car and the occasional sigh from Simon. Wille stole glances at him in the rearview mirror, heart clenching at the way Simon looked so small, so tired, so vulnerable.

When they reached Linda’s house, Simon exhaled, leaning back in his seat. Wille cut the engine and turned to him, voice thick with something he couldn’t quite hold back. “I… I miss you.”

A little shiver ran through him as he spoke, and his eyes glistened. Simon turned to him, the exhaustion on his face softening for a moment. He swallowed, his own throat tight. “We… we miss you too,” he admitted after a beat, the words quiet but true, carrying all the weight of longing, hurt, and hope tangled together.

They sat like that for a moment, just looking at each other, letting the silence hold them without pushing or demanding, both knowing that the road ahead would be long, but that they weren’t done.

…

Chapter Text

When Wilhelm stepped into the apartment later that afternoon, the silence hit him like a wall. It was too quiet, unnervingly so. No soft babbling from Leo, no Simon humming absentmindedly in the kitchen, no warmth filling the space they had built together. Just the hollow echo of his own footsteps against the floor.

He dropped his keys on the counter and stood for a moment, staring at the empty living room. A lump rose in his throat, heavy and sharp. This was what it felt like to be left behind.

Needing something to distract himself, he sat down at his desk and flipped open his laptop. His inbox blinked at him, unread messages piling up. One subject line caught his eye — Contract from Marian. She had sent it earlier that day. Wilhelm opened it, reading over the details once more. His future. Something solid. Something he could hold onto.

His hands trembled as he typed back: I’ll send it signed tomorrow. I can’t wait to start working with you. Hitting send gave him a flicker of relief, a reminder that not everything in his life was slipping through his fingers.

Then his gaze drifted lower in the inbox, to an older email — one from Simon. The subject line simple, almost hesitant: Look at this one? He clicked it open and the picture filled his screen. The house Simon had found weeks ago. Light streaming through big windows, a garden where Leo could run, enough space to grow, to breathe. Wilhelm leaned back in his chair, staring at it until the image blurred. He could see it — Simon in the kitchen, Leo chasing sunlight, maybe even their little girl in a crib by the window. A whole life waiting.

Before he could stop himself, he reached for his phone and dialed the number listed. His voice was steady, though his chest ached. “Hi, I’m calling about the house on—yes, that one. I’d like to schedule a viewing. As soon as possible.”

At Linda’s house, the air was gentler. The ticking of the old clock on the wall, the smell of tea lingering in the air. Simon was stretched out on the couch, his body heavy with fatigue, Leo pressed warmly against his side. His son’s small hand rested over his shirt, his breaths soft and even in sleep.

Linda walked in quietly, pausing in the doorway before stepping closer. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice laced with that mixture of care and concern she always had for him.

Simon nodded, though his eyes stayed on Leo’s sleeping face. “Just tired,” he murmured.

She hesitated, then sat down in the armchair across from him. “How did it go at the doctor’s today?”

For a moment, Simon didn’t answer, letting his hand trail slowly over Leo’s hair. Then he looked up, meeting her gaze. “We’re… we’re expecting a little girl.”

Linda’s whole face lit up, a soft smile spreading as her eyes shone. “Oh, Simon. That’s amazing.”

He nodded again, quieter this time, his throat tightening around the words.

“And Wilhelm?” Linda asked gently, as if she didn’t want to push too hard but couldn’t help herself. “What did he say?”

Simon swallowed, his gaze dropping back down to his son. “He’s happy about it,” he whispered. “Really happy.”

Linda leaned back in her chair, relief and something like hope flickering across her expression. “Then maybe,” she said softly, “there’s still a way forward.”

Simon didn’t answer right away. He just held Leo a little closer, letting the words sink into him slowly.

…

A couple of days later, Wilhelm drove out to see the house. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but the moment he stepped out of the car, something shifted in his chest. The place wasn’t flashy or overly big—it was just right. The garden was a little overgrown, but he could picture Leo running around there, a dog maybe, laughter carrying across the yard. The kitchen had sunlight pouring in from the windows, and he could imagine Simon humming while making breakfast, a baby in a highchair, Leo talking about school. Every room seemed to breathe with possibility. By the time he’d walked through the last hallway, Wille already knew. He wanted this. For them. For their family.

He spent the next morning talking to their bank, nerves tight in his stomach. Words like loan, budget, down payment circled through his head, but for the first time in weeks, Wille felt determined instead of helpless. He could do this. He could make something happen for his mate, for their children.

Now, all he needed was Simon to agree.

He sat in his car for a long while afterward, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Simon’s name more times than he could count. Finally, he pressed call.

Simon answered, his voice soft, a little guarded. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Wille said, swallowing down the tightness in his throat. “I… I was wondering if we could meet up. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

There was a pause. Wille could almost hear Simon’s hesitation through the line, the way he probably frowned, eyes narrowing a little like he always did when he wasn’t sure.

“What is it about?” Simon asked carefully.

“I’d rather tell you in person,” Wille admitted, his voice low. “Please, Simon. Just… meet me.”

Another silence, heavy, stretching. Then Simon sighed softly. “Okay. Just tell me when.”

Relief washed through Wille so strongly he had to close his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “I’ll text you the place.”

…

The café Wille had picked wasn’t fancy, not the kind of place where people came dressed in suits or to be seen. It was quiet, tucked away on a corner with wide windows facing the street, soft jazz music in the background and the faint scent of freshly baked bread lingering in the air. Simon spotted him right away through the window. Wille was already inside, sitting by the table near the back, his hands folded on the table like he had been waiting for a while.

Simon hesitated just outside, heart pounding. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready for this—ready to sit across from Wille like everything was normal. But the way Wille had asked on the phone… soft, hopeful, almost nervous… Simon hadn’t had it in him to say no.

When he stepped in, Wille stood right away. His chair scraped softly against the floor, and before Simon could even greet him, Wille walked over to him and was about to embrace him but then stopped himself, he stood for a second before asking quietly, “Can I hug you?”

The words caught Simon off guard. It had been weeks since Wille had touched him—really touched him—and suddenly, standing there, Simon realized how much he missed it. Missed Wille’s warmth, his scent, the way his arms always made the world feel a little safer.

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod.

Wille didn’t waste a moment. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Simon carefully, like he was afraid Simon would change his mind and pull away. Simon stiffened for a heartbeat, then let himself sink into it. The familiar press of Wille’s chest against his, the steady thump of his heart, the scent that always reminded Simon of home.

They stood like that far longer than they probably should have in the middle of a café, but no one disturbed them. Wille’s breath was shaky against Simon’s hair, and Simon could feel the quiet tremor in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much Wille needed this too.

Finally, Simon pulled back a little, just enough to look up at him. “You wanted to talk to me?” His voice was low, almost reluctant, but steady.

Wille nodded, his hands lingering for just a second longer before he let go. “Yeah. Let’s sit.”

They slid into their seats across from one another. For a moment, neither of them said anything, the silence filled only by the clink of cups from the counter and the murmur of other conversations. Wille’s eyes kept flicking to Simon like he was afraid he’d vanish if he looked away.

Then, slowly, Wille reached into his bag. He pulled out a folder, setting it on the table between them, and pushed it closer to Simon. “I want to show you something.”

Simon frowned, glancing at him before pulling the folder open. Inside was a stack of printed pictures, floor plans, a glossy brochure. A house. The same one he had sent to Wille weeks ago, half a dream, half a joke. His stomach twisted when he realized what it was.

“I went to see it,” Wille said quietly, his voice steady but laced with a kind of fragile hope. “And I love it. The space, the light… there’s a garden in the back where Leo could play. And there’s enough room for—” He stopped, glanced at Simon’s stomach, then back to his eyes. “For all of us.”

Simon’s throat tightened. He looked down at the pictures, flipping through them slowly, the rooms opening up in front of him—kitchen, bedrooms, that big living room with windows facing the yard. He could almost see it the way Wille did. He could almost see himself there. Them there.

But before he could say anything, Wille reached into his pocket. His fingers curled around something small, metal. When he opened his hand, a single key rested on his palm.

“I asked the realtor,” Wille said softly. “They let me borrow it for a few days. I thought maybe you’d want to see it too. I just… I wanted you to know that I can see us here. I can see a future.”

Simon stared. The key glinted in the soft café light, small but heavy with meaning. His lips parted, but no words came out. All he could do was stare at Wille, at the key, at the brochure spread across the table.

Wille shifted in his seat, clearly nervous. He looked down, then back up, eyes almost shy. “I’ll go order us something. Lemonade? I remember you always wanted that when you were pregnant with Leo.” A tiny, hopeful smile touched his lips. “You can think about whether you want to come see the house while I’m gone.”

Simon blinked, still a little dazed, and nodded automatically.

Wille stood, his chair scraping softly against the floor, and left toward the counter. Simon sat frozen, the key still gleaming on the table between the brochure pages, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.

He missed Wille’s touch. He missed the way they used to dream together, plan a life, share everything. And now… now Wille was holding out that life to him again, steady hands, teary eyes, a soft “please” hidden in every word.

Simon leaned back in his chair, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the key.

…

The house was quiet when they stepped inside, just the two of them. No distractions, no voices but their own. The echo of their footsteps followed them as they walked slowly through each room, Wille deliberately hanging back a little to watch Simon. He wanted to see his mate’s reaction, the way his eyes lingered on the big windows in the living room, how his fingers skimmed absentmindedly across the doorframe as though testing its strength, how his shoulders softened a little in the kitchen when he caught sight of the bright light spilling in.

Wille didn’t rush him. He stayed back, watching, memorizing. Simon didn’t say much as they moved from room to room, but Wille could feel him taking it in, considering.

When they finally circled back to the wide hallway near the front door, Wille broke the silence. “So,” he asked softly, “what do you think?”

Simon stood there, looking around once more. He let out a slow breath. “I like it,” he admitted. His voice wasn’t overly enthusiastic, but it was honest. “It feels… good.”

Hope sparked in Wille’s chest, but he forced himself to hold back, not to push. “We could actually make it happen, you know,” he said carefully. “I talked with the bank.”

That made Simon pause. His eyes snapped to Wille’s, staring for a second, something unreadable moving behind them.

“I haven’t forgiven you,” Simon said finally, his tone low but firm. “For what you did. I hate that it’s still between us.”

Wille nodded immediately. “I know. And I understand. I’ll do everything in my power to make it right again, Si. Everything.”

He stepped closer, unable to stop himself, and reached out. His hand found its way to the slight curve of Simon’s belly, palm warm and steady over the life growing there. His voice lowered, more a vow than a reassurance. “I’ll do everything for you.”

Simon looked down at Wille’s hand resting on him, then back up at Wille’s face. After a heartbeat, he placed his own hand gently on top of Wille’s. “I want this to work,” Simon said quietly. “But you have to promise me something.”

“Anything.” Wille’s throat tightened.

“Never hide anything from me again. Ever. If you do—” Simon’s jaw set. “I’ll leave. And I mean it, Wille.”

The seriousness in Simon’s eyes rooted Wille to the spot. He swallowed hard, nodding. “I promise. No secrets. Not ever again.”

Simon searched his face for a long moment before he softened, his thumb brushing once over Wille’s knuckles. Then he leaned closer, forehead nearly touching Wille’s chest. “I know I’m not good at it either. Communicating. I got stuck in my head with music, Leo and… everything else. We both need to be better.”

Wille bent his head and pressed a kiss to Simon’s hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe,” Simon murmured, almost shy, “we should make a word. For when we need to talk about something important. Something that means ‘drop everything, we have to talk now.’”

Wille smiled against his hair. “Okay. What word?”

Simon was quiet for a second, then lifted his head, the faintest spark of mischief breaking through the seriousness. “Pickle.”

Wille blinked, then huffed out a laugh. “Pickle?”

“Yeah.” Simon’s mouth twitched like he was holding back a smile. “Because it’s silly. And I don’t want the word to feel scary. If one of us says ‘pickle,’ the other knows it’s serious, but… not in a way that shuts us down.”

Wille laughed again, softer this time, and cupped Simon’s cheek. “Okay. Pickle it is.”

Simon finally let himself smile, really smile, and Wille felt something in his chest unclench. For the first time in a long while, it felt like they weren’t standing on opposite sides of a wall.

…

The drive back from Linda’s felt lighter than any Wille had taken in weeks. The air between them was no longer thick with hesitation, but filled instead with a fragile kind of hope. Simon had asked, softly, almost offhandedly, if Wille could help him bring out his stuff—adding quickly that he would take Leo. But to Wille, that small request was everything. It was Simon choosing home. Choosing him. He could finally exhale.

Simon hadn’t realized just how much he had missed being home until he stepped back inside with Leo by his side. The familiar scent of their apartment wrapped around him like a blanket, and the sound of Leo immediately dropping his shoes in the hallway and running toward his toys made Simon’s chest loosen. Wille carried in the bags, his movements light in a way Simon hadn’t seen in weeks.

Dinner was simple, nothing fancy, but it was theirs. They all sat together, Leo chattering about his day with grandma, his little legs swinging under the chair. Simon caught himself just smiling, watching his son, watching Wille laugh softly at Leo’s enthusiasm, and he thought—this is what I’ve missed.

Later, Leo was sprawled out on the living room rug, building a crooked tower with his blocks, humming some tune under his breath. Simon sank into the couch, one hand resting absentmindedly over the curve of his belly, and let himself breathe. He was home.

Wille came in from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, just watching Simon before stepping closer.

“Should I call about the house?” Wille asked, voice low, careful.

Simon turned his head, his eyes finding Leo first—the boy completely absorbed in his tower, little tongue sticking out in concentration. Then he glanced down at his stomach, a soft weight of possibility there, before looking back at Wille.

A small, almost shy smile spread across his lips. “Yeah,” Simon said gently. “Call them.”

Wille’s shoulders eased, the relief clear in his eyes, but he didn’t say anything right away. He just crossed the room and sat beside Simon, close enough that their knees touched, close enough that Simon could feel the quiet tremor of excitement beneath his calm.

Simon leaned into him, still smiling, as Leo let out a loud cheer at his tower finally holding together.

Home.

...

Chapter Text

The apartment smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, of things that had been tucked away for years and were now being pulled out, sorted, and sealed into boxes. Simon sat cross-legged on the floor of their bedroom, a half-packed box in front of him, the late afternoon light falling in pale streaks through the blinds. His hands lingered over the pile of folded clothes, each piece a small story in itself. A concert shirt with sweat-stained armpits, a pair of joggers with a tear on the knee from wrestling around with Leo on the living room carpet, the navy sweater Wille used to wear on cold mornings when he worked from home.

It all smelled like home.

He rubbed at his eyes, tiredness washing through him. At three months pregnant, his body still hadn’t quite settled into the rhythm of it. He was starting to show, just barely—a small curve, something Wille’s hands always seemed to find when they curled around him at night. The sight made Simon smile sometimes, even if he tried to hide it when he looked in the mirror. Their daughter. Growing quietly inside him.

He reached for the last stack of clothes at the edge of the bed, fingers brushing against something soft. He pulled it free and his heart gave a little lurch. The purple hoodie. The one he’d worn the first day he’d moved in with Wille, years ago, when everything felt new and a little terrifying. He remembered tugging the sleeves down over his hands, his palms clammy with nerves as they carried boxes up the stairs. Back then, he’d been so unsure—about moving in, about the future, about what it really meant to share his life with someone.

And now here it was, full circle.

Simon hugged the hoodie to his chest, eyes closing for a moment. He could almost hear their younger selves in the kitchen, laughing too loud, the scrape of pizza boxes across the counter, their hopeful voices talking about dreams they weren’t sure would ever come true. He slipped the hoodie on, surprised to find it still fit him, though a little snug around his belly now. It felt like armor, like home.

The apartment was almost bare. Boxes lined the hallway, stacked in uneven towers, labeled with Wille’s neat handwriting. The walls seemed to echo now when Simon walked through, the way empty rooms always did. Only the beds remained in place, since tonight would be their last night here. Tomorrow, everything would move. Tomorrow, they would carry their lives into the house they’d bought—the one that would have space for Leo to grow, and for their daughter too.

Simon padded quietly down the hall, bare feet sinking into the rug for maybe the last time. He reached the kitchen and stopped, leaning against the doorway. The counter was empty now, stripped of the clutter that usually lived there. It felt wrong somehow, too clean. Too bare.

And in a blink, he was back in time.

He could see them, the first night they’d moved in. Both exhausted, hair messy, their clothes smelling like sweat and cardboard. They’d collapsed onto the stools by the counter, laughing through their tiredness as Wille pulled a greasy pizza box toward them. Number sixteen. Their favorite. They’d eaten straight from the box, trading slices back and forth, Simon licking tomato sauce from his fingers as Wille wiped a smear of cheese from his chin. They’d talked that night—really talked. About Wille’s dream of finally becoming a lawyer, about Simon’s secret wish to make music that mattered, about what it might mean to have a family one day.

Simon had felt it even then, in that small kitchen with too-bright lights and the faint smell of paint still clinging to the walls. The possibility. The beginning of something big.

And later—he chuckled under his breath—they’d kissed against the counter, Simon pressed back against the wood as Wille whispered promises against his lips. They’d made love right there, fumbling and desperate and too in love to care about anything else. This kitchen had seen it all: their start, their arguments, their reconciliations, their mornings making pancakes for Leo.

The sound of a key turning pulled Simon back to the present. He blinked, swallowing thickly, and turned as the door opened.

“Papa!” Leo’s voice rang out, full of excitement, as he barreled through the doorway clutching a paper bag that smelled like fried food. His cheeks were pink from the cold evening air, hair sticking out under his hat. Wille followed behind, balancing a pizza box in one hand and kicking the door shut with his heel.

Simon crouched just in time to catch Leo in his arms. “Hey, älskling,” he murmured, hugging him close. His son smelled like outside, like winter air and soap. Simon’s chest tightened. Soon Leo would be running through a house instead of an apartment, his laughter filling new walls.

Wille set the pizza down on the counter and walked over, a small smile tugging at his lips. He bent to kiss Simon softly, his hand brushing Simon’s side. “You okay?” he asked quietly, searching his face.

Simon nodded, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah. Just… remembering. Our first night here.”

Wille’s expression softened. He pressed his forehead briefly to Simon’s. “Yeah?”

Simon huffed a small laugh. “Yeah.”

“I remembered.” Wille turned toward the counter, lifting the box with a little flourish “Number sixteen, of course.”

Leo wriggled free of Simon’s arms and bounced on his toes. “And I got chicken nuggets!” he yelled, triumph written across his face.

Simon laughed, ruffling his hair. “Of course you did.”

For a moment, the apartment didn’t feel so empty. For a moment, with the smell of pizza filling the kitchen and his family crowding around him, Simon felt that same spark of possibility he’d felt all those years ago. Different, maybe. But stronger. More real. Tomorrow, they would start again. But tonight—they would say goodbye to the place that had been their beginning.

…

Leo was nestled snugly between them, his little body curled into a bundle beneath the covers. He had refused to sleep in his room that night, padding out with teary eyes and a trembling lip until Simon scooped him up and carried him to their bed. Now he was breathing evenly, one hand fisted in Simon’s shirt, the other resting against Wille’s arm, as if he couldn’t decide which parent he needed most.

Simon shifted onto his side, brushing a strand of hair from Leo’s forehead, then let his gaze wander over to Wille. His chest swelled as he whispered, “We made him.”

Wille’s lips curved, eyes soft and shining in the dim light. He nodded slowly, as though the truth of those words always hit him afresh. “We did,” he murmured, reaching over to smooth his thumb along Leo’s arm. His voice dropped, almost reverent. “And I love him more than I ever thought possible.” His eyes lifted back to Simon’s, voice thick with emotion. “And I love you even more. I can’t wait to see us in the new house… to start this next chapter. With Leo. With…” his hand brushed down, lightly resting on Simon’s stomach, “…our baby girl.”

Simon’s heart clenched, tears prickling his eyes. He covered Wille’s hand with his own, their fingers curling together over the small swell that was just beginning to show at three months. His smile wavered, tender and full. “I can’t wait either.”

They leaned toward one another over Leo, slow and unhurried, as though sealing a promise in the quiet night. Their lips were just about to meet when a small, muffled voice broke the silence.

“No kisses,” Leo mumbled, still half-asleep, his words slurred and drowsy. He shifted, wriggling further between them, clearly sensing what they were up to even without opening his eyes.

Simon burst into soft laughter, muffling it into the pillow. Wille chuckled too, shoulders shaking as he pressed a hand to his mouth to keep from waking Leo further.

Simon leaned closer, brushing his forehead against Wille’s instead. His whisper was playful, yet warm with love. “Guess we’ll have to wait.”

Wille grinned, eyes glinting with mischief but also deep affection. He tucked the blanket higher around Leo, then reached over their son to squeeze Simon’s hand. “We’ve got forever,” he murmured.

And so they lay there, all three of them tangled together, their last night in the apartment spent in the kind of closeness that made walls and boxes irrelevant. Their home was right there, in the bed they shared, in the breaths they took together, in the family they had built.

…

Chapter Text

The new house smelled of fresh paint and varnished wood, a crisp scent that made Simon inhale deeply and feel… hopeful. Moving in had been a whirlwind. For days, the house had been alive with the sound of boxes being stacked, furniture shuffled, and friends shouting instructions. Felice had been her usual bossy self, directing Rosh and Ayub with military precision, pushing boxes into place, and reminding Simon repeatedly, “No heavy lifting! You’re pregnant!” Simon had smiled sheepishly, grateful for her vigilance.

Linda hovered nearby, fussing over everyone, making sure no one was hungry or tired. Sara and August had their hands full with their daughters, Alma and three-month-old Rose. Alma had been darting through the rooms, claiming spots as her “temporary playground,” while Rose slept in her stroller, undisturbed by the chaos. Kristina and Ludvig, Wilhelm’s parents, had arrived mid-morning, bringing an air of calm reassurance. Wilhelm had been quietly coordinating the heaviest furniture with his father, his presence a constant comfort to Simon, his hand brushing his shoulder whenever they passed.

Simon mostly stayed out of the heavy lifting, directing where things should go and making sure boxes with fragile items weren’t crushed. Every so often, he would pause and touch the curve of his belly, still small but definitely there now, three months along. He smiled to himself, imagining the day they would finally see their new baby in this house, in a room that was theirs, that belonged entirely to their family.

By the end of the first day, most of the furniture was in place. The rooms looked like rooms and not just boxes shoved into walls. That night, after everyone had gone, Simon tucked Leo into his new bed. The boy’s eyes sparkled as he touched the edges of his room, taking in every corner.

“Do you like it, Leo?” Simon asked softly.

“I love it!” Leo exclaimed, his voice full of wonder. “I can’t wait to unpack more tomorrow!”

Simon kissed him gently on the forehead. “Goodnight, Leo,” he whispered, his hands lingering a moment longer on the small curve of his son’s shoulder.

…

A few days after the move, the house was finally starting to feel like home. Boxes were mostly unpacked, furniture arranged just the way they liked it, and the chaos of moving had settled into a gentle hum of normalcy. But Simon began to notice something unusual with Leo.

Simon first noticed it on the walk home from school one day. Leo’s small hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, his gaze fixed on the pavement. He didn’t chatter about his day like usual. He didn’t even ask questions about what was for dinner.

“Leo?” Simon asked softly as he crouched down to meet his son’s eyes. “How was school today?”

Leo shrugged without looking up.

“You’re… really quiet,” Simon said, keeping his tone gentle. “Are you okay?”

Leo nodded his head quickly ”Yes.”

Simon’s stomach tightened. “Okay… well, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever it is, we can talk about it, alright?”

Leo didn’t answer, but he leaned slightly against Simon as they walked home.

…

That evening, dinner was quiet. Leo picked at his food, barely making a sound. Finally, after a few minutes, he pushed his plate away.

“Can I go to bed early tonight?” he asked softly.

Simon exchanged a glance with Wilhelm, who looked just as concerned. “Sure, sweetheart,” Simon said gently. “But… have you been feeling okay? Anything worrying you?”

Leo shook his head.

After tucking him in, Simon went to the living room where Wille was sitting relaxing on the couch. “Wille… could you maybe go talk to him?” he asked quietly. “I don’t know what it is, but he seems… off. And he doesn’t want to talk to me about it.”

Wilhelm nodded standing and stretching his shoulders before walking into Leo’s room. Simon stayed outside for a moment, his hand on the doorframe, trying to give his mate space.

Wille pushed open the door quietly. Leo was sitting on the edge of his bed, legs swinging slightly, holding his small blanket.

“Hey, buddy,” Wille said softly.

Leo looked up at him, eyes wary. “Hi… what’s up?”

Wille smiled gently and sat down beside him on the bed. “Actually… that’s what I came to ask you.”

Leo’s small shoulders hunched as he looked down at the bed. “Nothing’s up,” he mumbled.

Wille leaned in a little closer, keeping his tone calm. “Are you unhappy about the move?”

Leo shook his head.

“Okay… is it something at school?” Wille asked, giving him a second chance.

Another shake of the head.

Wille took a deep breath and studied his son for a moment, then said softly, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Leo’s gaze flicked up at him, and then a single tear rolled down his cheek. He whispered, almost too small to hear, “I think… I’m going to die.”

Wille froze for a fraction of a second, his heart skipping, but he forced himself to keep calm. “Why do you think that, älskling?” he asked gently.

Leo hesitated, then slowly lifted his arm and showed Wille a faint mark near his armpit. “It came a couple of days ago… and a kid at school said I’m dying.”

Wille’s eyes softened as he recognized it immediately. He let a finger brush over the mark. “Leo… you are not going to die.”

He reached up and opened his dress shirt to reveal a similar mark on his own. “See this? This is the same thing.”

Leo’s eyes went wide. “You have one too!”

Wille nodded with a proud smile. “Yeah. Your alpha mark just appeared.”

Leo hesitated for a moment, then carefully lifted his arm and placed it beside Wille’s. “Cool…”

“Yeah,” Wille said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Cool.”

He pulled Leo into a hug, holding him tightly. “You can always come to us if you’re scared of something. Promise me you will?”

Leo hugged his father back. “I promise.”

Outside the room, Simon leaned against the doorframe, silent. He had listened to every word, and tears threatened to spill down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it—his little Leo, only six, already showing the mark of an alpha. He took a deep, steadying breath, feeling a rush of pride and awe all at once.

…

Chapter Text

The clinic smelled faintly of lavender, something Vera always kept in the waiting area to soothe her patients. Simon sat perched on the cushioned bench in the examination room, hoodie zipped halfway, fingers absently toying with the hem. Five months along, and though the world still didn’t know, his body did — every step, every stretch, every restless night reminded him.

The door opened and Vera swept in, her coat crisp, her expression lighting up when she saw him.

“Simon,” she greeted warmly. “Good to see you. How are you doing?”

Simon returned the smile, a little tired around the edges. “Good… mostly.” He rubbed his belly without thinking. “It’s been a busy few weeks.”

Vera set her folder on the counter, leaning against it with her usual calm. “Tell me.”

Simon chuckled softly. “Well… first of all, Leo got his mark.”

Vera’s brows lifted. “Already? That’s wonderful news!”

Simon’s smile softened, his eyes full of something proud and wistful all at once. “Yeah. Leo had been acting strange for a few days, quieter than usual, and then one night Wille went to talk to him, he just lifted his shirt and showed Wille. Right here—” Simon gestured to his own arm pit. “A fresh little alpha mark.”

Vera’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “That must have been a moment.”

Simon’s throat tightened as his chest swelled with pride. “It really was. He thought something was wrong with him at first, thought he was dying. But then Wille showed him his own mark, and suddenly Leo’s whole world changed. Wille said he just kept staring at him, grinning, saying ‘You have one too!’ over and over again.”

His smile grew broader, eyes bright. “You should have heard Wille when he told me. He was shining. You know… Like we made that little alpha together, an alpha.” Simon’s voice broke with tenderness, and he pressed a hand to his belly almost without thinking. “I’ve never seen him prouder.”

Vera nodded, her tone soft. “That’s big news. It’ll shape so much for him.”

“Yeah,” Simon agreed, pride radiating off him. “And Leo — he’s been strutting around the house ever since. So confident. So sure of himself. It makes me proud too, watching him step into who he’s going to be.”

“And you?” Vera asked gently. “How’s your body handling all of this?”

Simon exhaled slowly. “Honestly… I feel different this time. More worn out. My back aches earlier in the day, and I don’t recover as fast. And on top of that…” He gave a half-smile. “I’m finishing a tour around Sweden. Just little shows, nothing big, but still—traveling, rehearsing, performing. It’s been a lot.”

Vera tilted her head. “That explains the tired look in your eyes.”

Simon laughed, cheeks warming. “My last concert is this Friday. After that, I’m officially on maternity leave. And honestly… I can’t wait.” His hand drifted to his belly again, as though reassuring himself. “I love singing, but my body’s telling me it’s time to stop for a while. Five months… it feels like a good place to slow down.”

“That’s wise,” Vera agreed. She stood, wheeling the ultrasound machine closer. “Let’s check on how she’s doing before I scold you for overworking.”

Simon lay back, tugging his hoodie and shirt up over his stomach. The gel was cold against his skin, and he let out a hiss before laughing at himself.

Vera smirked. “Always the same complaint.” She placed the probe against his belly, her eyes scanning the monitor as the shapes began to appear. “And… there we go. There’s your little girl.”

The screen flickered into focus. Simon’s breath caught.

A tiny figure moved within the shadows of black and white — curled and shifting, the small flutter of limbs unmistakable. Her heartbeat echoed strong and steady through the speakers, filling the room like music.

Simon blinked rapidly, his chest swelling. “She’s so big already.”

“Growing perfectly,” Vera confirmed, adjusting the angle. “See her spine? And look — little fingers, right there.”

Simon swallowed, eyes fixed on the screen. He could almost imagine reaching out, brushing his hand against hers. His daughter. His little girl.

Vera smiled, printing an image and handing it to him once she finished. “She’s healthy, Simon. You’re doing wonderfully.”

Simon took the photo carefully, like it was the most precious thing in the world. His throat ached with emotion. “Thank you.”

Vera cleaned the gel away, then sat again. “Now — once Friday is over, I want you to rest. No excuses. Your body deserves it. You’ve given so much, and you’re carrying even more now.”

Simon nodded, still staring at the photo. “I promise. After Friday, it’s just me, Wille, Leo, and her.”

“That sounds perfect,” Vera said softly.

…

Friday came soon after.

Backstage, the air was buzzing. Simon sat curled into one of the worn-in dressing room chairs, his phone glowing in his hand. He’d been scrolling through messages all day—crew members, managers, the setlist group chat—but the one he was waiting for finally lit up at the top of the screen.

Wille: We’re on our way. Running a little late. Leo wanted to finish something for you.

Simon smiled softly, his thumb hovering over the keys.

Simon: Something for me?
Wille: A surprise. Don’t ask….
Simon: Now I’m curious…

He chuckled under his breath, leaning back in the chair. He could already picture Leo, his little boy had a way of throwing his whole heart into small gestures, and it always undid him.

The door opened and one of the venue staff poked her head in, smiling.
“Simon? We’re ready for you. Fans are seated for the Q&A.”

Simon pocketed his phone and stood, smoothing his hoodie down over his middle. His reflection in the mirror caught his eye as he reached for the water bottle on the counter. He hesitated.

Five months along now. The swell of his belly was undeniable, curved beneath the fabric. Baggy clothes had been his shield—hoodies, oversized t-shirts, jackets zipped halfway up. He’d gotten good at angling himself away from paparazzi lenses, ducking behind Wille, keeping Leo in front of him. The world wasn’t ready to know yet—or maybe it was him who wasn’t ready.

But tonight was his last concert before maternity leave. Part of him ached with relief. The other part hummed with nerves.

“Be right there,” he said to the staffer with a polite nod.

He pressed one last deep breath into his lungs, let it out slow, and pushed himself into performance mode.

The backstage corridor funneled him toward the stage lights. The moment he stepped into view, the crowd erupted in cheers. It wasn’t a huge venue—this was an intimate fan event before the main show—but the voices filled the air like a wave.

Simon smiled, lifting a hand in greeting.
“Hi, hi! Wow, you guys are loud for such a small group,” he teased. Laughter rippled back at him, softer but no less full of energy.

He settled onto the stool at center stage, mic in hand. The Q&A began, fans raising their hands, asking about his songs, about what inspired the last track, whether he’d collab with certain artists. Simon answered with his usual warmth—smiling, leaning forward like every question mattered.

He was halfway through explaining the chorus of Breathe when a voice, small but piercing, cut through the room from stage right:

“PAPA! LOOK WHAT I MADE!”

Simon blinked, his head whipping toward the source.

There, standing proudly near the wing with glitter dusting his hair and cheeks, was Leo and Wille. In Leo’s hands, a giant poster—messy handwriting spelled out I LOVE YOU PAPA in bold marker, the letters traced over with silver glitter that sparkled under the stage lights.

Simon’s laugh bubbled out before he could stop it, warm and startled all at once. He pressed a hand over his mouth, shaking his head affectionately.

One of the fans gasped loudly. “IS THAT LEO?!”

The room filled with “awws,” cameras lifting instinctively. Simon chuckled into the mic, nodding.
“Yeah, that’s my boy. Guess he couldn’t wait until after the Q&A.”

The crowd laughed, and Simon stood, slipping the mic into the stand.
“Give me one second, okay?” he said gently, and they cheered in understanding.

He crossed to the side of the stage, giving Wille a quick kiss before crouching down to Leo’s height.
“Hey, älskling,” Simon murmured, brushing a stray fleck of glitter off his son’s cheek. “That’s beautiful. You wanna show it off properly?”

Leo’s eyes widened. “On stage?”

Simon grinned. “On stage.”

The six-year-old nodded fiercely, and Simon took his hand, leading him back out. The crowd went wild—cheers, claps, more “awws” ringing out as father and son stood together under the lights.

Simon lifted the mic again. “So… this is Leo. He made this all by himself. What do you think?”

The room roared with approval. Leo gripped the edge of Simon’s hoodie, suddenly shy under all the attention.

“You wanna say something?” Simon asked gently, holding the mic down to him.

Leo’s big brown eyes darted over the sea of faces, nervous. But then he squared his little shoulders and leaned in.

“Um… can I have a hamster as a present when I become a big brother? Sana from class got a rabbit when she became a big sister.”

The silence was instant. A sharp inhale from dozens of people at once, followed by gasps and scattered murmurs.

Simon froze, heat flooding his cheeks. He turned back toward his son, lips parting in disbelief. Leo looked up at him innocently, like he hadn’t just announced the biggest secret of Simon’s career.

The crowd held its breath.

Simon exhaled a shaky laugh, ruffling Leo’s hair. He looked over at his alpha, who was laughing his ass off.
“Well… that wasn’t exactly how I planned for it to come out,” he admitted into the mic, his voice warm but sheepish. “But, now you know.”

Slowly—heart thudding—he turned to the side, tugged the hem of his hoodie up just enough to reveal the curve of his belly through his t-shirt. The lights caught on the gentle roundness, undeniable even in shadow.

The room exploded. Screams, claps, cries of congratulations tumbled over each other. A few fans covered their mouths, others were already crying, phones shooting up to capture the moment.

…

The concert that Friday night went better than Simon could have dreamed. After Leo’s slip on stage and Simon finally revealing the pregnancy to his fans, the entire arena had lit up with cheers and applause. Instead of being overwhelmed, Simon felt strangely calm, almost liberated — like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders now that the secret was out. He sang with more freedom than he had in weeks, every lyric carrying the joy of someone who had nothing left to hide. By the time the last note faded and the stage lights dimmed, Simon felt both exhausted and deeply content.

Now, with the tour officially behind him, his maternity leave began. For the first time in months, he could wake up without thinking about rehearsals, soundchecks, or interviews. His days stretched wide and gentle, filled with Wilhelm and Leo — family breakfasts that turned into messy pancake experiments, afternoons at the park where Leo proudly showed his father how fast he could climb the slide, and evenings that belonged only to them.

One such evening, the three of them were curled up in the living room. A blanket was spread over the couch, Leo wedged comfortably between his parents, his small hands busy arranging his toy cars on the coffee table. The warm glow from the lamp painted everything in soft light, the kind of moment Simon knew he’d remember forever.

He leaned back against Wilhelm’s shoulder, stroking his stomach absentmindedly. Suddenly, he felt a gentle thump beneath his palm — then another, a stronger flutter that made him sit up a little straighter.

“Oh,” Simon breathed, his eyes widening as he pressed a hand to the spot.

Wilhelm glanced at him quickly. “What? What is it? Are you okay?”

Simon’s lips parted into a soft smile. “She’s kicking.”

That got Leo’s attention. He dropped the toy car he was holding and scrambled across the couch, eyes wide. “Really? Can I feel it, Papa?”

Simon nodded and took Leo’s small hand, guiding it to rest against his belly. They waited in silence, the room holding its breath with them. Then, as if on cue, there it was again — a tiny kick against Leo’s palm.

Leo gasped, his whole face lighting up. “Whoa! That’s so cool!” He looked up at Simon, then at Wilhelm, practically bouncing with excitement. “She’s kicking! She’s really in there!”

Wilhelm’s hand joined theirs, warm and steady, covering Simon’s other side. His eyes shone with pride and wonder, the same way they had the first time he’d held Leo as a newborn. “She’s strong already,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Just like you.”

Simon laughed softly, blinking against the sting in his eyes. “It feels so real now,” he admitted, turning his head to press his forehead against Wilhelm’s.

Wilhelm chuckled, tugging both of them closer. The three of them sat there, wrapped in warmth, hands layered over Simon’s stomach as their little girl made her presence known again with another small kick. It was such a simple moment, but for Simon, it felt like everything he had ever wished for had finally come true.

…

Chapter Text

The morning of the baby shower began quietly, almost deceptively so. Simon had woken slowly, cocooned in the warmth of Wilhelm’s body pressed close behind him, one hand already spread protectively across his swollen stomach. At five and a half months along, Simon’s bump was no longer something he could disguise with a hoodie or loose sweater, not here in the intimacy of their home. It was round and solid, the constant reminder that their little girl was coming.

He had stretched and sighed, content in the soft silence before Leo’s footsteps inevitably thundered through the hallway. Wilhelm murmured against the back of his neck, “We have brunch with Felice later. Don’t forget.”

Simon hummed, pressing into the touch, not thinking much of it. A brunch at Felice’s sounded harmless enough. He didn’t even suspect Wilhelm’s little half-smile was hiding something.

…

When the three of them arrived at Felice’s apartment, Simon carried a box of pastries, muttering something about how he hoped Leo hadn’t already eaten too many strawberries at breakfast. He was halfway through kicking his shoes off in the entryway when Wilhelm’s hand suddenly slid from his back.

Then:

“Surprise!”

The shout nearly knocked the breath out of him.

Simon froze in the doorway, blinking at the sight before him. Felice’s living room was completely transformed. Streamers in pastel pink, cream, and soft gold trailed across the ceiling. Balloons were gathered in a giant cluster near the windows. A long table had been pushed against the wall and was stacked high with food, cakes, and bowls of fruit. Wrapped gifts filled another corner, ribbons curling in playful spirals.

And around the room stood everyone who mattered most to him: Felice, grinning from ear to ear; Sara, who was already holding up her phone to record his reaction; Linda, beaming with motherly pride; Ayub and Rosh waving cheerfully. Even Wilhelm’s parents was there.

Simon’s throat closed, his eyes already stinging. “You guys…” He turned his head toward Wilhelm, who looked far too pleased with himself. “You knew?”

Wilhelm raised his eyebrows innocently. “Maybe.”

Leo couldn’t keep his excitement contained. He tugged on Simon’s sleeve, bouncing on his feet. “Papa! Papa, look! There’s cake with your name on it! And balloons that say ‘baby girl!’”

Simon let out a laugh that cracked on the edges, equal parts overwhelmed and touched. He allowed Leo to drag him further inside as everyone clapped and cheered. Felice threw her arms around him, squeezing tightly. “You deserve this. We wanted to celebrate you — and her.”

…

The baby shower unfolded into laughter, warmth, and little moments Simon knew he’d treasure forever.

The games were ridiculous and perfect. Sara organized a “guess the baby’s birth date” pool, where people scribbled predictions on slips of paper. Felice had somehow acquired tiny plastic dolls and tubs of whipped cream for a diaper-changing competition. Wilhelm, much to Simon’s delight, fumbled spectacularly, the cream squirting everywhere as Sara shouted, “You’re hopeless!” and Leo declared himself the winner despite technically not being allowed to play.

There was a game where everyone suggested names for the baby. Some were sweet and thoughtful — Emilia, Clara — while others were less helpful. Ayub wrote down “Glitterina.” Rosh suggested “Hamster” just to make Leo laugh. Leo himself scribbled “Princess” in wobbly letters, insisting it was “a real name.” Simon rolled his eyes, but his heart felt so full it might burst.

…

When the gifts came out, Simon had to fight to keep his composure. Tiny dresses in soft cotton. Knitted socks and blankets. Stacks of children’s books. A carrier decorated with flowers.

Linda’s gift undid him most of all. She handed him a carefully wrapped box, smiling knowingly. Inside lay a hand-knitted cardigan, cream-colored and perfectly stitched. Simon held it up with trembling hands. “Mamma…”

“I wanted her to have something made by her abuela,” Linda said simply with a big smile on her face.

Simon hugged her fiercely, pressing his face against her shoulder. “She’s going to love it. I’m going to love it.”

Then came Ayub and Rosh’s gift — a stuffed hamster. The entire room burst into laughter, Simon doubling over with his face hidden in his hands. Leo, however, was jealous “That’s not fair! I was the one who wanted a hamster!” Ayub and Rosh laughed and handed him a present as well, when he opened it he found a toy hamster himself which they had put in a basket to make it seem “real”. Leo showed it to Simon “This is Rufus.”

Simon pulled him into his lap, kissing the top of his head.

…

Later, as the room buzzed with chatter and cake crumbs littered the plates, Simon leaned back on the couch, exhausted but glowing. His hand rested on his bump, feeling the faintest little kicks. Wilhelm slid in beside him, draping an arm protectively around his shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Wilhelm whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Simon nodded, his eyes roaming across the room. His family. His friends. His mate. His son. His daughter, already celebrated and cherished.

“I’m more than okay,” Simon whispered back. “I feel… lucky.”

Wilhelm’s hand shifted down to join his on the curve of his stomach. “We are lucky.”

Simon leaned into him, letting his eyes close for a moment. For the first time in weeks, with the tour behind him and maternity leave ahead, he felt utterly at peace.

Their daughter hadn’t even been born yet, but she already had a whole world waiting to welcome her.

…

The house was quiet when they finally returned home, bags of gifts stacked neatly in the hallway. Leo had fallen asleep in the backseat, so Wilhelm carried him to his room while Simon shuffled through the living room in his socks, dropping down onto the sofa with a groan.

“Remind me,” Simon mumbled as he rubbed at his back, “never to let Felice plan anything again. She doesn’t know how to do things in moderation.”

Wilhelm appeared in the doorway a moment later, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You loved it.”

Simon tilted his head toward him, conceding with a laugh. “Okay, yeah. I loved it. But I’m completely done. Out of energy.”

“Then bed,” Wilhelm said, gently tugging him up by the hand.

Later, Simon crawled under the duvet with a sigh of bliss. His whole body ached, pleasantly heavy after a long day of celebration, but he still felt that faint hum in his chest — joy and pride and something warm that was all Wilhelm.

He was almost dozing when he felt Wilhelm slide in beside him, warm and solid, an arm slipping around his waist. Lips brushed against his shoulder, slow and teasing, and Simon’s body gave an involuntary shiver.

“Mm,” Simon hummed sleepily, “what are you doing?”

“Just appreciating my omega,” Wilhelm murmured against his skin, pressing another kiss lower, closer to the curve of Simon’s neck.

Simon chuckled, eyes still closed. “You always appreciate me.”

“That’s because you’re cute when you’re like this,” Wilhelm whispered, his hand resting against Simon’s stomach, thumb tracing absent circles.

Simon let out a small sigh, arching back into him despite his exhaustion. Desire curled lazily through him, heavy and unhurried. “I want you,” he admitted in a soft, muffled voice, “but I’m so tired, Wille.”

Wilhelm stilled, pulling back slightly. “Then we don’t have to—”

Simon reached for his hand, placing it firmly against his hip. His lips curved into a small, wicked smile though his eyes stayed closed. “You can just stick it in. I just want to lie here and relax.”

Wilhelm blinked, caught between laughing and groaning. “Simon…”

“What?” Simon cracked one eye open, smirking. “I’m giving you permission. Low effort. No complaints.”

Wilhelm buried his face in Simon’s neck, his laughter muffled. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You love me,” Simon countered, his voice warm and drowsy.

“I do,” Wilhelm said softly, and with that, he kissed Simon again — deeper this time, tender but threaded with want.

Simon melted into it, his body pliant and trusting, humming as he whispered, “See? This way we both get what we want.”

Wilhelm shook his head with affection, pulling the blankets more tightly around them. “Only you could make exhaustion sound seductive.”

Simon gave a sleepy grin. “It’s a talent.”

And then he relaxed completely, letting Wilhelm’s warmth and touch carry him, half asleep and wholly loved, into the kind of intimacy that felt as natural as breathing.

…

Simon had barely reached the seventh month before his body started demanding more than he thought he could give. Sleep clung to him like a heavy blanket, pulling him down no matter how much he tried to stay awake. Some days, he dozed off in the middle of the afternoon, curled up on the couch with a hand resting over the swell of his belly. Other days, he simply sat with his eyes closed, listening to the quiet hum of the house, his body heavy and aching.

But today wasn’t quiet.

Leo was a storm of energy, darting from one end of the living room to the other, singing loudly, jumping on the couch cushions, and tapping his toy car against the coffee table. Simon tried to follow him with his gaze, but his head pounded, and his eyelids drooped.

“Leo, älskling, can you play a little quieter?” Simon asked gently the first time.

Leo barely heard him. “Look, pappa, she can race so fast!” He pushed the car across the table, letting it crash onto the floor with a clatter before scooping it up again and zooming off.

Simon rubbed his temples. His patience stretched thin with the exhaustion that clung to him all the time now. The baby pressed against his ribs, his back ached, and the endless fatigue gnawed at his nerves.

“Leo,” Simon tried again, firmer now. “Can you stop for a moment?”

But the boy didn’t stop, and Simon’s frayed patience snapped. “Leo! LISTEN GOD DAMN IT! STOP WHEN I TELL YOU TO STOP” His voice came sharper than he meant, loud enough that it bounced against the walls.

Leo froze. His big brown eyes widened, his small shoulders stiffening before his lip began to tremble. Without a word, he turned and bolted toward his room, the sound of his quick little footsteps making Simon’s heart sink immediately.

Simon sat there, stunned and ashamed. Tears welled up before he even realized it, spilling hot down his cheeks. “Shit,” he whispered under his breath, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes.

From the kitchen, Wilhelm came running, wiping his hands on a towel. “What happened?” His voice was calm but concerned, scanning the room and then Simon’s tear-streaked face.

“I—” Simon’s voice broke. “I yelled at him. He was just playing, and I… I couldn’t—” He shook his head, sobs spilling free now. “I’m so tired, Wille. It’s not his fault, but I snapped.”

Wille crossed the room in a few strides, sinking down beside him on the couch and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, kissing Simon’s temple softly. “You’re exhausted. It’s okay, love. He’ll understand.”

But Simon shook his head violently. “No, I scared him. He ran to his room. He thinks I’m mad at him.” His whole body ached with guilt.

Wille stroked his hair, pressing another kiss to the side of his face. “Then go tell him. He loves you, Simon. He just needs to hear it.”

Simon nodded, dragging himself up on shaky legs. He padded softly down the hall, heart heavy as he knocked gently on Leo’s door before opening it.

Leo was curled up on his bed, his car clutched tight to his chest. His cheeks were flushed, eyes red like he had been holding back tears. Simon’s heart broke all over again.

“Leo,” Simon said softly, his voice trembling as he walked over. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, one hand supporting his belly. “I’m sorry, älskling. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m just so tired all the time now… my body is working really hard because your sister is growing, and sometimes it makes me grumpy even when I don’t want to be.”

Leo blinked up at him, his voice small. “So you’re not mad at me?”

Simon shook his head quickly, reaching to brush a hand through his son’s curls. “Never. Not at you. I love you more than anything.”

Leo sniffled and slowly sat up, leaning into Simon’s side. His little hand rested carefully on Simon’s belly. “Can we still play until she comes?”

Simon let out a shaky laugh, pulling him closer with one arm. “Of course we can. But I’ll need breaks, okay? Sometimes pappa just needs to lie down and for there to be silence when I do”

Leo nodded solemnly, like it was a very important deal. “Okay. We can take turns. I play, then you rest.”

Simon smiled through his tears, kissing the top of Leo’s head. “That sounds perfect.”

From the doorway, Wilhelm leaned against the frame, watching the two of them with soft eyes, his chest swelling with love at the sight of his little family patching itself together again.

…

The house was quiet in a way it rarely ever was. No cartoons playing in the background, no toy cars rattling across the floor, no little voice calling out “pappa!” every five minutes. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was just Wilhelm and Simon.

Kristina had come to pick up Leo earlier that morning, insisting on spending the whole day with him. “I’ll return him tomorrow,” she had said firmly, “so you two can have time together. You’ll need it before the baby arrives. Simon is 8,5 month along now. Enjoy some silence.”

Wilhelm had kissed Leo goodbye, watched him bounce into his grandmother’s arms without a second thought, and then stood in the driveway with his hand at the small of Simon’s back, marveling at how quickly their lives had shifted into this rhythm of family.

Now, hours later, Wilhelm sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, phone pressed to his ear. His mother’s voice came through clear, cheerful and soft.

“So,” Kristina said, lowering her voice like she was sharing a state secret, “Leo mentioned the hamster again.”

Wilhelm chuckled, shaking his head. “Mamma…”

“What?” She feigned innocence. “He’s been so sweet about it. He told me he wants a little hamster friend when his sister comes. I think it’s adorable. I could get him one, you know.”

Wilhelm pinched the bridge of his nose, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Mamma, don’t you dare—unless you want the hamster to live at your place. Because I promise you, I’m not the one cleaning up after it.”

Kristina laughed, that warm, ringing laugh that always made Wilhelm smile. “I only want to spoil my grandson a little. It’s my job as his grandmother, isn’t it?”

Wilhelm rolled his eyes playfully, though she couldn’t see it. “You already spoil him plenty. If you bring a hamster into this, he’s going to expect a whole zoo by next year.”

“Well,” Kristina teased, “I do have the room for it at the palace.”

Wilhelm sighed, giving in with a grin. “Mamma, please. Just—let’s wait. At least until after the baby’s here.”

“Fine, fine,” Kristina relented, though he could hear the amusement in her voice. “I’ll hold off. For now. So, what are you two doing with your day off? A little date? A nap, maybe?”

Wilhelm opened his mouth to answer, already picturing telling her what he’d planned with Simon, maybe a stop at their favorite café, maybe even a quiet dinner out if Simon felt up to it. But before he could get a word out, Simon shuffled into the room.

Wilhelm’s gaze snapped to him instantly. Simon’s eyes were wide, almost startled. His curls stuck damply to his forehead, and when Wilhelm’s gaze dropped, his heart lurched—Simon’s grey sweatpants were soaked through at the front.

Wilhelm shot to his feet so quickly his chair scraped across the floor. “Simon?”

Simon stared back at him, breath catching. “Wille… I think my water just broke.”

For a moment, Wilhelm’s mind went blank. Then he remembered the phone in his hand, his mother’s voice calling, “Wilhelm? What is it?”

“Uh—Mamma,” Wilhelm said quickly, his voice pitched high with adrenaline. “Can you keep Leo with you a while longer? I think—no, I’m pretty sure Simon’s water just broke.”

There was a sharp inhale on the other end, followed by a warm, calm tone only a grandmother could muster. “Of course. Don’t worry about Leo at all. Go take care of Simon. Call me when you can.”

Wilhelm muttered a rushed “thank you” before ending the call, almost tossing the phone onto the table and rushing to Simon’s side. His hands hovered for a moment, not sure if he should touch his shoulder, his back, his belly—he wanted to do everything at once.

“Are you okay? Is it—do we need to go now?” Wilhelm asked, trying not to panic, though his heart thundered in his chest.

Simon let out a shaky laugh, still standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen with damp sweatpants clinging to his legs. “Well, I’m definitely not okay, but I think we have time. The contractions haven’t started yet.”

Wilhelm exhaled hard, cupping Simon’s face in his hands for a moment, grounding himself in the familiar warmth of his omega’s skin. “Alright. Okay. We’ve got this. Let’s get you changed first, then we’ll figure out what to do next.”

Simon nodded, leaning into his touch even as his lips quirked into a nervous smile. “Guess our little girl didn’t want to wait.”

Wilhelm kissed his forehead softly, his own voice trembling now with both fear and wonder. “No… guess she didn’t.”

…

Chapter Text

The bathroom was warm and misty by the time Wille managed to guide Simon through the door, one arm wrapped securely around his omega’s waist. Simon leaned into him, exhausted but trusting, while Wille carefully tugged the damp sweatpants down his legs. They were clinging uncomfortably to his skin, darkened with moisture from when his water had trickled. Simon made a face but didn’t protest.

“Almost there,” Wille murmured, his voice soft but steady, even though his pulse was anything but. “I’ve got you.”

Simon huffed a tired laugh. “You sound like you’re trying to calm a horse.”

Wille grinned faintly as he folded the pants and set them aside. “You’re not a horse. You’re my mate. Which means I’m allowed to fuss.”

Simon’s eyes softened, even in his weariness. “I like when you fuss.”

“Good,” Wille said, helping him ease down into the bath. The water lapped at Simon’s skin, and he sighed the moment it enveloped him. His shoulders loosened, the tension melting away in ripples.

Wille crouched by the tub for a moment, watching Simon sink back against the porcelain. The sight tugged at him — his omega, round with their child, glowing and flushed, safe for now. It was enough to make Wille’s throat ache. He pressed a kiss to Simon’s damp curls before rising.

“I’ll be right back,” Wille murmured. “Gotta throw those in the wash.”

Simon hummed, already looking drowsy with the comfort of the water. “Hurry back.”

Wilhelm moved quickly, shoving the pants into the washer along with the towel Simon had held against himself. He set the cycle, the machine starting up with a low rumble, then hurried back to the bathroom. Simon was still there, looking relaxed but thoughtful, running his fingers over the swell of his belly.

“How are you feeling?” Wilhelm asked as he returned to his side, brushing a hand over Simon’s damp hair.

Simon tilted his face up, smiling softly. “Weird. My body’s definitely… doing something. It’s not bad yet, just… different. Like it’s preparing.”

Wilhelm’s chest tightened at the words. Preparing. It was happening. Their daughter was on her way.

 Wilhelm’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He frowned, pulling it out, seeing his mother’s name flash on the screen. He answered quickly, keeping his voice low.

“Hi, Mama. Is everything okay with Leo?”

But it wasn’t her voice that answered.

“Daddy?”

Wilhelm’s heart softened instantly. “Leo?”

“I want to talk to Papa,” Leo said, a little breathless, like he’d run across the palace hallways to get to a phone. Wilhelm glanced at Simon, who raised a brow in surprise.

“Okay,” Wilhelm said, switching the call to speaker and setting the phone carefully on a stool beside the tub. “He’s right here.”

“Leo?” Simon said, his voice brightening, even through the fatigue.

“Papa,” Leo breathed, and Wilhelm could hear the relief in their son’s tone. “Are you okay? Grandma said something about the baby.”

Simon’s smile widened, and even Wilhelm, kneeling there, could see how that single word—Papa—lit something fierce in him. He reached out and touched the phone with wet fingers as if he could reach through it. “I’m okay, älskling. Your dad’s taking good care of me. We’re just… getting ready for your sister to come.”

There was a pause on the other end, the kind that meant Leo was grinning so wide he forgot how to answer right away. Then his voice came, higher, excited. “Really? Is she coming right now?!”

“Not right now, but hopefully soon.” Simon said softly, his other hand smoothing over his belly.

Wilhelm felt his throat tighten.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Leo whispered.

Simon’s eyes went glassy, his voice tender. “Me too.”

“Will you call me the second she arrives?” Leo asked, words tumbling out, urgent in that way only children could be.

Simon chuckled, nodding as if Leo could see him. “Of course. Promise.”

On the other side of the line, Kristina’s gentle laugh floated through. “Alright, Leo, let them rest. Say bye.”

“Bye Papa, Remember what you promised. I love you.”

“We love you too,” Wilhelm and Simon said almost at the same time, their voices overlapping.

“Be good for Grandma,” Wilhelm added.

“I will. Byeeee!”

The call ended, leaving silence in the steamy bathroom. Simon leaned back in the tub, eyes glassy, lips trembling with a smile. Wilhelm crouched beside him again, brushing his thumb over Simon’s cheek.

“We did good,” Simon whispered, emotion catching in his throat. “He turned out so good.”

Wilhelm pressed his forehead against Simon’s temple. “Because he has you.”

Simon let out a wet laugh, closing his eyes. “Because he has us.”

They lingered in that moment, basking in the quiet triumph of parenthood, before Wilhelm finally helped Simon out of the bath and into a soft set of clean clothes. He guided him gently to their bed, tucking him under the covers. Simon clung to him for a moment, clearly too tired to move further.

“Stay,” he whispered, curling into Wilhelm’s chest. “Just stay with me. I want to enjoy this… while it’s still just us.”

Wilhelm wrapped himself around him, one arm curved protectively over Simon’s belly. “Always,” he whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon fell asleep quickly, breathing evening out against Wilhelm’s chest. Wilhelm lay awake longer, watching the rise and fall of his omega’s body, counting every breath, every twitch, memorizing the peace before the storm.

…

It was the sharp intake of breath that woke Wilhelm later. Simon clutched his belly, his expression tight, his body tensing for a moment before he exhaled.

Wilhelm’s heart leapt. “Simon?”

Simon opened his eyes, blinking, then smiled faintly. “Not bad. Just… a contraction, I think.”

Wilhelm sat up instantly. “Is it strong?”

“Not like the real ones will be,” Simon said, already calm again. He rubbed his belly soothingly. “But they’re here.”

Wilhelm’s instincts kicked in, pulling his phone from the nightstand. “We should time them.”

Simon laughed softly, reaching for his hand. “Always the practical one.”

“Someone has to be,” Wilhelm teased, though his thumb shook slightly as he opened the timing app.

…

By late afternoon, Simon was propped on the couch with pillows stacked behind him while Wilhelm moved around the kitchen. Simon had ordered soup and his alpha of course made that for him. Wilhelm wanted to keep things normal, grounded. If Simon was going to labor, they would do it together, calm, steady.

Carrying two glasses of water into the living room, Wilhelm stopped short when he saw him.

Simon’s face had gone pale, lips pressed tightly together. He stared at his hands resting on his belly, as if he was lost somewhere Wilhelm couldn’t reach.

“Simon,” Wilhelm said gently, setting the glasses down. “You look pale.”

Simon blinked up, as if startled. Then he gave a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… nervous, Wille.” Simon let out a shaky laugh. “That’s all. I know what’s coming, and it feels… big.”

Wilhelm crossed the room, kneeling in front of him, hands sliding around Simon’s knees. “Of course it’s big. But you don’t have to carry the nerves alone. I’m here. Every step.”

Simon’s expression softened, some of the tension melting away. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Wilhelm’s. “I know.”

…

Dinner sat cooling on the table hours later, untouched. Simon had barely managed a few bites before his stomach turned. He bolted for the bathroom, Wilhelm following close behind. The sound of him retching made Wilhelm’s gut twist, helplessness burning in his chest.

When Simon finally straightened, rinsing his mouth at the sink, sweat beaded along his forehead. His skin was hot under Wilhelm’s palm.

“You’re burning up,” Wilhelm said, trying to stay calm though every instinct screamed otherwise. “That’s not right.”

Simon waved him off weakly. “The contractions are still far apart. It’s too early to go in. We’ll just… wait.”

Wilhelm clenched his jaw, heart pounding. He didn’t want to argue, not when Simon was trembling in front of him, but he also couldn’t just stand by.

While Simon brushed his teeth, Wilhelm stepped into the hall, pulling his phone out with shaking hands. He called Vera.

“Hello?” her voice answered quickly.

“Hi Vera, It’s Wilhelm - It’s about Simon,” Wilhelm said in a rush. “He’s been contracting, but he’s pale, he’s been sick, and now he’s burning up. He insists it’s too early, but—”

Vera cut him off. “That doesn’t sound normal. I want you to bring him in, now. Don’t wait.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes in relief. “Okay. We’ll come.”

When he returned to the bathroom, Simon looked at him with wary eyes, toothbrush in hand, the omega could clearly tell that his mate had called their doctor.

“So - What did she say?”

Wilhelm’s voice softened as he crossed the room, cupping Simon’s cheek. “She wants us to come in. Right away.”

Simon’s eyes filled, fear flickering there. Wilhelm pulled him close, strong arms wrapping around him, grounding him.

“It’s going to be okay,” Wilhelm whispered against his hair. “I promise you. We’ll do this together.”

Simon clung to him, silent, but Wilhelm felt the tremor in his shoulders ease just slightly.

…

The night air was cool as Wilhelm helped him into the car. Simon leaned against the seat, eyes half-shut, a hand pressed to his belly. Wilhelm tucked the seatbelt carefully across his chest and lap, checking it twice, three times, before closing the door.

The drive was quiet except for the hum of the tires and Simon’s uneven breaths. Wilhelm kept one hand on the wheel, the other reaching across to squeeze Simon’s thigh every few minutes, grounding him.

“Talk to me,” Wilhelm said softly at one point. “What’s going on inside your head?”

Simon opened his eyes, staring out the windshield. “It feels like… like standing at the edge of a cliff. I know I have to jump, but I can’t see the bottom.”

Wilhelm’s chest tightened. He reached over, threading their fingers together. “Then I’ll jump with you.”

For the first time in hours, Simon let out a small laugh, watery but real. He turned his face toward Wilhelm, squeezing his hand.

When they reached the hospital, Vera was already waiting just inside the entrance, her scrubs slightly wrinkled, her hair pulled back, but her smile calm and steady.

“There you are,” she said, striding forward. She didn’t waste time, immediately placing a hand on Simon’s arm, guiding him gently toward the elevator. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Wilhelm walked close, his palm against Simon’s lower back. He caught the way Simon leaned into Vera, trust shining in his tired eyes, and felt a rush of gratitude.

In the elevator, Vera glanced at Simon. “Tell me everything. When did the contractions start?”

“Earlier today,” Simon murmured. “They’re still spaced out. But then I started feeling… off. Feverish. I got sick.”

Vera nodded, eyes sharp but voice calm. “You did the right thing coming in.”

…

The labor ward was hushed, dimmed lights lining the hall. Vera led them into a private room, the bed crisp and ready. Wilhelm set the bag down by the chair, his hands restless, while Simon lowered himself onto the bed with a small groan.

“I’m going to check a few things, alright?” Vera said, pulling on gloves. “Wilhelm, stay close.”

Wilhelm nodded, moving to Simon’s side immediately, catching his hand. He felt Simon’s fingers tremble against his palm.

Vera worked quickly — temperature, blood pressure, a check of the baby’s heartbeat. The rhythmic sound filled the room, steady and strong. Wilhelm let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Baby’s doing well,” Vera confirmed, glancing up at them both with a reassuring smile.

Simon closed his eyes, relief softening his face. Wilhelm kissed his temple, whispering, “Hear that? Our little one’s okay.”

Vera’s expression shifted slightly, more serious now. “But Simon, you are running a fever. We’ll keep monitoring it closely. Sometimes it’s nothing — just your body working harder than usual. But we’ll take no chances. I would like to take a blood sample from you just to check for infection.”

Simon nodded faintly, his grip tightening around Wilhelm’s hand.

…

Wilhelm sat beside him once Vera finished, stroking his knuckles with his thumb. He wanted to be strong, to be the calm one, but his chest felt tight. He hated seeing Simon like this, pale and exhausted, and not being able to take it away.

Simon turned his head, catching Wilhelm’s worried stare. “Don’t look like that,” he whispered. “You’ll scare me more.”

Wilhelm forced a small smile, brushing damp curls from Simon’s forehead. “Sorry. I just… I hate seeing you uncomfortable.”

Simon’s lips curved faintly. “That’s kind of the point of labor, Wille.”

Despite himself, Wilhelm laughed, leaning down to kiss him. “Leave it to you to make jokes in the middle of this.”

“Someone has to,” Simon murmured, eyes closing again as he rested against the pillows.

Wilhelm held his hand tighter, silently promising that no matter how long this night stretched, he wasn’t letting go.

…

The room was quiet except for the steady beep of the monitor tracking the baby’s heartbeat. Wilhelm sat with his hand wrapped around Simon’s, thumb tracing slow, grounding circles into his skin. He could hear the faint sound of Vera’s footsteps returning down the hall before she even opened the door.

Her face gave something away before her words did — calm, yes, but with a careful weight in her eyes. She closed the door softly behind her and stepped closer to the bed, holding a folder in her hand.

“I have the test results,” she said, her voice professional but not unkind. She looked at Simon, then Wilhelm. “You do have an infection in your body, Simon. It explains the fever and the nausea.”

Simon’s lips parted. “An infection?”

Vera nodded. “It isn’t uncommon, but it does change things. Labor with an infection puts extra stress on both you and the baby. That’s why I need to talk to you about your options.”

Wilhelm straightened instinctively, protective instincts sparking in his chest. “What options?”

Vera’s tone softened. “I recommend we prepare for a c-section. It’s the safest route when there’s an infection, because we don’t risk the baby being exposed longer than necessary. It would also avoid the possibility of your body struggling more than it already is.”

Simon shook his head before she even finished. “No. No, I don’t want that.” His hand tightened almost painfully around Wilhelm’s. “I want to do this naturally.”

Vera crouched a little so she was level with him, her voice gentle. “I understand that, Simon. But it can be dangerous to continue naturally with an infection. For you and for your daughter. I wouldn’t recommend it unless I believed it was necessary.”

Simon turned his head toward Wilhelm, eyes glassy with tears. He knew the way it worked — omegas had rights, of course, but in medical emergencies the final word often fell to the alpha mate, to ensure safety when instincts clouded judgment. His voice trembled. “Wille…”

Wilhelm’s throat tightened. He could smell Simon’s distress — sharp, bitter, cutting through the usual warm sweetness of his scent. He looked at Vera. “Could we… have a moment? Just the two of us.”

Vera studied them both for a beat, then nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right outside. Press the button if you need me.” She squeezed Simon’s hand briefly, then stepped out.

The moment the door clicked shut, Simon’s tears spilled. He turned toward Wilhelm, clutching his arm. “Please, Wille. Please don’t. I can do this. I know I can.” His voice cracked, raw and pleading. “I don’t want it to happen like this. I want to hold her after… I want it to be us. Please.”

Wilhelm’s chest ached. He climbed onto the bed beside Simon, gathering him into his arms carefully, mindful of his belly. He bent his head, pressing his nose into Simon’s curls, scenting him with steady strokes — pine and smoke, warm and grounding. “Shh. Breathe with me.”

Simon clung to him, breathing in sharp, shaky pulls, trying to calm but trembling still. “Don’t make me do it, Wille.”

Wilhelm stroked down his back, whispering against his temple. “I would never force you. You know that. But—” He pulled back enough to cup Simon’s face, his thumb brushing away a tear. “—I can’t ignore what Vera said. If this infection gets worse… if it puts you in danger, or her…” His voice broke despite himself. He pressed his forehead to Simon’s. “I can’t lose either of you.”

Simon sniffled, his gaze dropping to his round stomach. His hand slid over it instinctively, protective. “She’s strong. I can feel her. I don’t want her first moments to be surgery, bright lights… me not even able to hold her.”

Wilhelm kissed the corner of his wet lashes, scenting him again, trying to steady the trembling omega instincts. “I know. And gods, I want it the way we dreamed too. You in my arms, her on your chest. But the safest way for both of you to get through this might not be the way we pictured it.”

Simon let out a shaky breath, his hand tightening over his belly as though shielding their daughter. “You really think it’s safer?”

Wilhelm closed his eyes, pulling him close again. “Yes. I trust Vera. And I trust myself — my instincts are screaming to keep you safe, Simon. Both of you. That’s all that matters.”

Simon pressed his face into Wilhelm’s neck, his voice muffled and small. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Wilhelm pulled back sharply, cupping his cheeks so Simon would see the fierce sincerity in his eyes. “Disappoint me? Love, you’re giving me everything. You’re carrying our daughter. You’re fighting through all of this. There’s nothing in this world you could do that would ever disappoint me.”

Tears welled again in Simon’s eyes, but softer this time. He looked down at his belly, then back up at Wilhelm. “If we do it… you won’t leave me, right? You’ll be there the whole time.”

Wilhelm’s answer was instant. “There is nothing that could drag me from your side.” He kissed him then, deep and steady, pouring every ounce of reassurance into it. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to Simon’s again. “We’ll do it together. However it happens. I’ll be with you.”

Simon sniffled and finally nodded, still hesitant, still hurting, but trusting. His hand stayed on his belly, rubbing small circles, as if trying to reassure both himself and their daughter.

Wilhelm wrapped him up again, scent thick in the room, grounding, steady. “That’s my omega,” he whispered. “Our little girl coming soon. And we’re going to be right here to meet her.”

…

Vera slipped back into the room a few minutes later, her face calm but careful. She looked first at Wilhelm, then at Simon, reading the change in the air between them.

“Did you two talk?” she asked softly.

Simon swallowed hard, still holding Wilhelm’s hand. His voice was fragile but steady. “Yeah. We talked.” He turned toward her, eyes glassy but resolved. “I’ll do it. I’ll take the C-section.”

Vera exhaled, a quiet breath of relief. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but it’s the safest option now.” She touched his shoulder lightly. “You’re making a brave choice for your daughter.”

Wilhelm squeezed Simon’s hand, his eyes locked on him, silently echoing Vera’s words.

…

The next hour blurred. Nurses came in, efficient but kind, preparing Simon for surgery. They helped him change into a sterile gown, placed an IV, adjusted monitors. Wilhelm stayed glued to his side, one hand never leaving his omega’s.

Simon was quiet, his free hand stroking over the swell of his belly again and again, as though memorizing it. “Feels strange,” he whispered at one point. “Knowing this is the last time it’s just her and me like this.”

Wilhelm kissed his temple. “You’re about to meet her. That’s not an ending, love. That’s the start.”

Simon turned his face toward him, leaning into the comfort of his scent, clinging to the steadiness of it.

When the time came, the nurses began to wheel the bed toward the operating theater. Wilhelm walked beside him, his hand still clasped with Simon’s until they reached the sterile doors.

“Only one person allowed,” a nurse explained gently.

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate. “I’m going with him.”

Simon’s eyes fluttered shut briefly in relief.

…

The bright lights of the operating room were harsh, but Wilhelm never let go of Simon’s hand as they prepped him. A curtain was raised across Simon’s chest, shielding his view of the surgery.

Simon was trembling. Wilhelm bent close, pressing his forehead against his. “I’m here. I’m not moving. Just focus on my voice.”

Simon nodded, his breaths shallow but steadying.

The doctors worked quickly, calmly, voices low but precise. Wilhelm couldn’t see much past the curtain — only the movements of gloved hands, the sterile drapes. He didn’t want to look anyway. His world was Simon’s face, pale but strong, and the sound of monitors keeping time with both their hearts.

And then — a sudden, sharp cry filled the room.

A newborn cry.

Wilhelm’s head snapped up, his breath catching. His chest swelled, heat rushing through him as if his very soul had expanded.

“She’s here,” one of the nurses announced with a smile.

Tears flooded Wilhelm’s eyes before he could stop them. He turned back to Simon, voice breaking. “She’s here, love. She’s really here.”

Simon’s eyes were wet too, searching desperately past the curtain. “Let me see…”

The baby was whisked briefly to a side table, cleaned, checked. Wilhelm caught only glimpses — a tiny fist, the fragile pinkness of new life. His heart thundered.

And then — the nurse turned, bundled her carefully, and placed her into Wilhelm’s waiting arms.

The world stilled.

She was so small. Smaller than he’d imagined, but fierce in her cry, her little chest rising and falling against the soft blanket. Wilhelm felt his knees nearly buckle.

He carried her immediately to Simon, holding her close so Simon could see.

“Look,” Wilhelm whispered, voice thick with awe. “Look at her, Simon. Our girl.”

Simon’s eyes widened, his lips parting. “Oh—oh god…” Tears streamed down his cheeks. He lifted a shaking hand to touch the edge of the blanket, his fingertips brushing over her tiny face. “She’s perfect.”

Wilhelm bent lower, lowering the baby so Simon could press a trembling kiss to her forehead. His voice was barely a breath. “Hej, älskling…”

For a moment — it was perfect. Pure joy, shimmering and fragile, but so real.

…

But then — the sound changed.

A sharp, urgent beeping pierced the room.

Simon’s body jerked slightly. His eyes fluttered, then began to close. “Wille…?” His voice was weak, slurring.

Wilhelm’s chest seized. “Simon? Simon!”

The monitors shrieked louder.

“Blood pressure dropping,” one of the doctors barked.

“No—no, stay with me!” Wilhelm panicked, clutching Simon’s hand with one arm while holding their daughter protectively with the other. His scent spiked in the room, desperate, terrified.

Nurses rushed forward. One of them grabbed Wilhelm’s shoulder. “Sir, you need to step out—”

“No, I can’t leave him!” Wilhelm shouted, voice breaking. He clutched Simon’s limp hand tighter, shaking. “Simon! Please—”

Another nurse was firm but gentle, guiding him back. “We need space to work. Take your daughter. We’ll take care of him.”

Wilhelm’s heart tore. His omega lay pale, slipping under, machines screaming. But the newborn stirred against his chest, mewling softly. He couldn’t risk her safety here either.

With tears streaming down his face, Wilhelm pressed one last desperate kiss to Simon’s knuckles before the nurse urged him out.

The door shut behind him.

He stumbled into the hallway, back against the wall, his daughter clutched tightly in his arms. His chest heaved, breaths ragged, tears wetting the baby’s blanket.

“Please,” he whispered, voice breaking to the ceiling. “Please don’t take him from me.”

The baby’s cry softened as though she sensed his pain. He lowered his face, pressing his lips to her tiny head. “It’s okay, lilla hjärtat. Papa’s going to be okay. He has to be.”

But inside, Wilhelm’s whole world was shattering.

…

Chapter Text

The corridor was too white, too bright, too much. Wilhelm sat hunched forward on the hospital bench, his daughter tucked into the crook of his arm as if she were the only thing keeping him upright. His shirt was damp with sweat, his throat raw from holding back the tears that clawed at him. The doors to the operating theatre were closed. Too silent. Too final.

“Wilhelm.”

He looked up sharply. Vera, their doctor, was standing in front of him. Her eyes were steady, calm in a way that only years of practice could make them. She crouched down so she was level with him, her voice soft but firm.

“You need to breathe,” she said. “I know this was frightening. It happened fast, but listen to me carefully. Simon lost a lot of blood, yes. That’s normal in this type of surgery. The team is working on him right now. Everything is under control.”

“Under control?” Wilhelm’s voice cracked. He looked down at the bundle in his arms, so impossibly small, so unaware of the storm raging just outside her first hour of life. “He just—he closed his eyes, Vera. He didn’t wake up. They pushed me out.”

“I know.” Vera reached out, gently resting a hand on his forearm, grounding him. “That’s why you need to be strong right now—for her.” She nodded toward the newborn in his arms. “Your daughter needs you steady. She needs to feel her alpha calm and present. That’s the best thing you can give her while Simon is being cared for.”

Wilhelm swallowed, looking down. His baby girl was sleeping peacefully, her little chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, her lips parted in the tiniest sigh. She had no idea that her other parent was fighting on the other side of those closed doors. She trusted the warmth of his body, the strength of his heartbeat, as if that was all the world she needed.

Vera watched him, seeing the way shock held him stiff, like a man half frozen. She leaned a little closer. “Have you thought of a name yet?”

The question startled him. For a moment, Wilhelm blinked, confused—his brain too busy spinning with fear to compute something so… normal. But then, like a thread being tugged through fabric, memory pulled him back.

-...-

It had been late one evening, the house quiet except for the hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen. Simon had curled against him on the sofa, one hand absently rubbing his swollen belly. They were both tired, but not in a way that required sleep just yet. Tired in the comfortable way where talking felt easier than silence.

Simon had tilted his head up, eyes half-lidded but soft. “Have you thought about names? For her.”

Wilhelm had chuckled under his breath, his fingers playing with the curls at Simon’s temple. “You’re asking me? You were the one who had Leo’s name picked out before we even knew he was a boy.”

“True,” Simon said, grinning. “But this time… I don’t know. I keep circling names but nothing sticks. So maybe you should choose.”

Wilhelm had gone quiet, pretending to think, though the truth was a name had already been sitting at the edge of his heart for weeks.

“I really like Sofia,” he admitted after a pause.

Simon’s smile softened immediately. “Sofia.” He rolled it around like he was tasting it. “Wilhelm, Simon, Leo, and Sofia.” His hand pressed to his belly, where the little one had kicked. “I love it.”

Wilhelm had kissed him then, slow and grateful, and thought that yes—he loved it too.

-...-

The memory dissolved, and Wilhelm found himself back in the harsh hospital light. His throat tightened, but this time with something gentler. He looked down at the baby, her tiny face relaxed against his chest.

“Sofia,” he whispered. Then, louder, with no doubt in his voice: “Her name is Sofia.”

Vera’s mouth curved into the faintest smile. “That’s beautiful.” She gave his arm a light squeeze.

Wilhelm closed his eyes, holding the name like an anchor. Sofia. Their Sofia.

And for the first time since being pushed out of the operating room, he allowed himself to believe Simon would wake up.

…

Wilhelm followed a nurse down the corridor, the soles of his shoes dragging slightly as though he were walking through water. The sterile brightness of the operating hall had faded, giving way to the softer dimness of the recovery wing. A small private room had been prepared for him—a place to wait, to breathe, to hold the baby until Simon could join them.

He stepped inside. The room was simple but quiet, the kind of quiet that wrapped around him like a fragile shield. The nurse showed him how to recline the bed, how to adjust the blankets, and reminded him gently of the benefits of skin-to-skin contact.

He nodded numbly, stripping off his shirt with one hand while carefully keeping the baby nestled against his chest with the other. The air felt cool against his bare skin, but the warmth of her tiny body settled against him quickly, her cheek pressed to his heartbeat. She made a little huffing sound, as if complaining at the disturbance, then settled again, her breaths shallow and quick.

Wilhelm lowered himself onto the bed, leaning back so she could lie across him, one palm cradling her back. He stared down at her, at the perfection of her, at the impossibility that this tiny person existed outside of them now. Sofia. His Sofia. Their Sofia.

For a long time he didn’t move. Didn’t dare. If he moved, maybe the world would shift again, and he couldn’t risk it.

But then reality pressed in. He couldn’t sit here alone. Not like this. His hand shook as he fumbled for his phone on the nightstand.

The first number he dialed was Linda’s.

She picked up quickly, her voice low and alert, like someone who had been half-awake, waiting for this call. “Wilhelm?”

He swallowed hard. “It’s… it’s me.” He glanced down at Sofia, as if she could hear and understand. “She’s here.”

A sharp inhale on the other end. “The baby? Already?”

“Yes. They—Simon had to have a c-section.” His voice cracked around the words. “He lost a lot of blood, Linda. They’re still… they’re still working on him. Vera says it’s going to be okay, that this happens, but—” He broke off, closing his eyes tightly. “I need you here. Please. If you can. It’s three in the morning, I know, but—”

“I’ll come right away.” Her tone left no room for doubt. “Give me twenty minutes to get ready and I’ll drive. Simon is strong, Wilhelm. You know he is. He’s been through more than most, and he always comes through. He’ll come through this too. Focus on that beautiful little girl you’re holding until I get there, alright?”

Wilhelm blinked down at Sofia again, his throat burning. “Alright.”

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

When the call ended, he sat for a moment longer, staring at the dark screen. Then he drew in a shaky breath and pressed another familiar number.

Kristina answered on the first ring. “Wilhelm? How are you, darling? How far apart are the contractions?”

Wilhelm froze, then laughed weakly, a choked, broken sound. “Contractions…” He lowered the phone slightly as Sofia stirred against his chest, letting out the tiniest cry.

On the line, Kristina gasped. “She’s already there!”

The dam inside Wilhelm cracked. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could stop it, falling onto Sofia’s soft hair. “Yes. She’s here.” He steadied himself, because he had to say the words properly. “They had to do a c-section. The doctor says Simon will be alright but—” His voice failed, and he shook his head, clutching Sofia a little tighter. “I’m so scared, Mamma. And I can’t be, because I’m holding our beautiful baby girl in my arms, and she needs me steady.”

“Oh, älskling,” Kristina breathed, her voice soft and breaking at once. “Should I come down? Do you want me there?”

He wiped at his eyes quickly, sniffing. “It’s the middle of the night, and—”

“No,” she interrupted firmly, her tone like steel wrapped in silk. “Don’t finish that sentence. I’ll be there in an hour, tops.”

Wilhelm closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the bed frame.

…

The minutes crawled by like hours. Wilhelm sat half-upright on the bed, Sofia nestled against his bare chest, her warmth and the soft flutter of her breath the only anchor keeping him tethered. Every sound in the corridor made him stiffen—every footstep, every murmur of a nurse. He stared at the door until his eyes burned, waiting for someone to come in with news about Simon.

But no one came.

It had been an hour.

He knew because he checked the clock every few minutes, his heart pounding harder each time the hand moved. An hour since they had taken Simon behind those doors. An hour of not knowing.

The door opened then, and for the first time, it wasn’t a nurse. It was Linda.

She came quickly, her coat still buttoned, her hair a little disheveled from the night, but her eyes sharp and focused. She crossed the room in three strides, reaching for Wilhelm with a gentleness that nearly undid him.

“How long has it been since they started?” she asked, her hand brushing his arm lightly, grounding him.

Wilhelm’s throat felt dry, but he forced the words out. “An hour.”

Linda’s lips pressed into a line, but she nodded firmly, as though tucking that information away. Then, softer, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was the smallest gesture, but it made Wilhelm feel like a child again—cared for, not carrying the whole weight of the world alone.

Her gaze shifted to the tiny bundle in his arms. “Should I take her for a little while?” she asked, her voice careful, offering but not pressuring.

Wilhelm looked down at Sofia. His arms tightened reflexively, the instinct to never let go clashing with the exhaustion weighing down his body. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even shifted her position since the moment she had been placed on him. His muscles ached, his back screamed, but he hadn’t dared put her down.

For a heartbeat he thought he would refuse, clutching her tighter. But then the reality sank in—he needed to breathe. Just for a little while. To let someone else be the strong one.

He nodded, wordless, his chest tight. Carefully, almost reverently, he eased Sofia into Linda’s waiting arms.

It was the first time since her birth that he let her go.

“She’s so small,” Linda whispered, her eyes softening as she adjusted her hold, tucking the baby against her chest. Then she looked up at Wilhelm, her expression warming.

“Her name is Sofia,” Wilhelm said, his voice low but steady.

Linda’s lips curved into a smile. “Sofia,” she repeated, tasting the name. “Perfect.”

With the baby safe in Linda’s arms, Wilhelm finally allowed himself to collapse. He sank into the chair in the corner of the room, slumping forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. The silence of the room filled with the soft sound of Linda humming to the newborn, rocking her gently back and forth. For the first time since the chaos began, Wilhelm could breathe.

Minutes—or maybe longer—passed this way, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.

And then the door burst open again.

“Wilhelm!” Kristina’s voice filled the room before she even crossed the threshold.

Linda turned, smiling softly, still holding Sofia.

Kristina rushed inside, her coat half-open, her face pale but determined. She didn’t look at Linda first, didn’t even glance at the baby. Her eyes locked on her son.

Wilhelm shot to his feet, and before he knew it, she was there, wrapping him in her arms.

He clung to her like a lifeline, his body shaking with the force of everything he’d been holding back. “Thank you,” he whispered hoarsely into her shoulder. “Thank you for coming.”

Kristina pulled him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other gripping his shoulder with surprising strength. “Of course, älskling. Always. I’m here.”

Behind them, Linda rocked gently with Sofia, a small, knowing smile on her lips as she watched three generations fold into one another in the quiet of the hospital night.

…

The room had been quiet except for Sofia’s soft little coos in Kristina’s arms and the low hum of Linda’s voice as she rocked gently on her feet. Wilhelm had managed to sit again, though his body was tense, restless. He kept glancing at the door every few seconds, waiting for it to open.

When it finally did, the air shifted instantly.

Vera stepped in, her shoulders straight, but her expression was grave.

Kristina froze mid-sentence, stilling the rocking motion she’d been doing with Sofia. Linda’s smile faded. Wilhelm shot up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

“How’s Simon?” he blurted, desperate. “Tell me he’s okay.”

Vera paused just a second too long. Her lips pressed together, her eyes flicking briefly to Sofia before returning to Wilhelm. She motioned to him with a gentle hand. “Wilhelm… sit down.”

The world seemed to stop at those words.

“No.” His voice broke, sharp with panic. His chest tightened as his vision tunneled on her face. “He’s not—” His whole body shook. “He’s not…?”

Vera shook her head quickly. “No. No, Wilhelm, he’s not gone.”

The relief lasted barely a heartbeat before her next words landed like a knife.

“But he’s in a coma. His body was under enormous strain. The blood loss, the infection—it was too much all at once.”

The sound that left Wilhelm’s throat was strangled. His knees buckled, but he caught himself against the chair, his fists gripping the backrest so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“You promised,” he rasped, his voice rising with each word. “You promised he would be okay! You said this was normal—you said this was the safest way!” His chest heaved, his heart hammering against his ribs. His voice cracked as the fury gave way to anguish. “I made him do it this way. I made Simon go through with this and if he—if he—”

He couldn’t even finish the sentence. The thought was too unbearable, too raw.

Vera stepped forward, raising her hand gently, trying to calm him. “Wilhelm, listen to me. This is normal after a surgery like this. His body shut down because it needs time to heal. If we had done the birth naturally with the infection in his system, he might not have survived at all. This was the only safe way.”

Her words were firm but steady, meeting his panic head-on.

Wilhelm’s jaw trembled as he shook his head. “I can’t…” His voice broke, barely a whisper now. “I can’t do this without him.”

Kristina’s eyes shimmered, though she tried to keep her composure. Linda looked at Vera, her own voice unsteady but practical. “What happens now?”

Vera exhaled, glancing at Wilhelm before answering. “We’re transferring him to a recovery room. He’ll be closely monitored. Right now, it’s just time. His body needs rest—he could wake in hours, or it could take longer. But Simon is strong.”

Wilhelm dragged in a shaky breath, but the weight of her words sat heavy on his chest.

Then Vera turned her gaze directly to him. “Would you like to see him? We’re readying his room.”

Wilhelm’s throat tightened. He looked between his mother and Linda, searching for reassurance.

Kristina stepped closer, touching his arm gently. “Go, Wilhelm. We’ll stay here with Sofia. Ludvig is watching over Leo. Your children are safe.”

It was what he needed to hear—the reminder that even in this chaos, Leo and Sofia were cared for.

Slowly, he nodded, his lips pressed tight, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His feet felt like stone as he followed Vera down the hall. Every step echoed in his ears, the sterile smell of the hospital overwhelming.

When Vera opened the door, Wilhelm froze.

Simon lay in the bed, pale against the white sheets. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, the steady beeping filling the silence. His chest rose and fell with mechanical regularity, as though the machines had claimed what Simon could no longer do alone.

Wilhelm’s breath hitched violently. He pressed a fist against his mouth to stifle the sob, but it broke through anyway. He moved forward, drawn helplessly to the bed, his knees nearly buckling as he reached Simon’s side.

His mate looked so small. Too still.

Wilhelm slid into the chair beside him and took Simon’s hand in both of his, clutching it to his chest. It was warm, but limp. Tears blurred his vision as he bent forward, his forehead pressing against Simon’s knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling. His shoulders shook with the force of his grief. “I’m so sorry, Simon. Please… please come back to me.”

The beeping of the machines carried on steadily, indifferent to his pleading. Wilhelm closed his eyes, his tears wetting Simon’s hand, holding on as if his grip alone could call him back.

…

The days blurred together into something that felt like one long night. The sterile light of the hospital seeped into Wilhelm’s bones, the beeping machines burned into his memory. He lost track of hours, lost track of meals. He only knew the rhythm of Simon’s stillness, the rise and fall of his chest, the way his hand felt warm but lifeless in Wilhelm’s own.

He’d spoken with Leo over the phone, the hardest conversation he’d had since the birth.

Leo had been so excited to finally meet his little sister. Wilhelm had tried to keep his voice steady,

“She’s here,” Wilhelm had said softly. “Your sister’s here. But… Papa and I, we need to stay at the hospital a little while longer before you can come visit, okay?”

Leo had frowned. “Why? I want to see her now.”

Wilhelm had swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “Because the doctors are helping Papa. And your sister is very small still. We just need to wait a little bit longer, so everything is safe.”

Leo had pouted, frustrated. “I don’t like waiting.”

“I know,” Wilhelm had whispered, his own throat aching. “I don’t either.”

And that was the truth. The waiting was killing him.

He spent his days mostly in Simon’s room, rarely leaving his mate’s side. Sometimes Kristina or Linda would come in, urging him to rest, to eat, to take a shower. Sometimes one of them would take Sofia for a few hours so Wilhelm could have both hands free to hold Simon’s.

But this afternoon, he couldn’t bring himself to let Sofia go. She was bundled against his chest, her tiny breaths soft against his skin as he stepped into Simon’s room.

“Hey, love,” Wilhelm murmured, settling into the chair beside Simon’s bed. His voice cracked, as it often did these days. “I brought her with me today.”

He shifted the bundle carefully, loosening the blanket enough to reveal the little face tucked inside. He angled her toward Simon, his chest tightening at the sight of them together—even if Simon’s eyes stayed closed.

“Look at her, Simon,” he whispered, a tear sliding down his cheek. “She looks just like you. Same nose, same little mouth. Even the way she scrunches up her face when she’s unhappy—just like you.”

Sofia gave a tiny squeak then, stretching her fists against Wilhelm’s chest. He laughed softly, broken. “Even her voice sounds like you. This little squeaky thing—god, Simon, you’d tease her for it already, I know you would.”

Wilhelm leaned forward, carefully positioning Sofia closer, just enough so her little hand brushed against Simon’s still one.

“She’s perfect,” Wilhelm said, his voice low, shaky. “But she needs you. I need you. Please…”

He blinked hard, willing away the blur of tears. He kissed Sofia’s soft hair, then turned his gaze back to Simon, his thumb rubbing circles over Simon’s limp knuckles.

And then—so small he almost thought he imagined it—Simon’s finger twitched.

Wilhelm froze, every nerve in his body jolting awake. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened.

“Simon?” he gasped, his voice breaking. He leaned closer, searching for more movement. “Oh my god—”

He scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking the chair back. “Nurse! Doctor!” he called, his voice desperate, hopeful, frantic all at once.

Sofia gave a startled cry at the sudden burst of sound, but Wilhelm barely registered it—his eyes locked on Simon’s hand, where he could swear he’d seen it move again.

The room seemed to spin around him, but one thought rang louder than all the chaos:

Simon was fighting his way back.

And Wilhelm wasn’t about to let go.

...

Chapter Text

door burst open within moments, Vera leading a small team of nurses. She went straight to Simon’s bedside, eyes sharp but calm, already reading the monitors. “What did you see?” she asked quickly.

“His fingers,” Wilhelm stammered, shifting Sofia carefully in his arms. “He moved—twice. It was real.”

Vera leaned over Simon, her hand brushing gently across his forehead. “Simon? It’s Vera. You’re safe. Can you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, nothing. And then Simon’s eyelids fluttered, heavy and strained. A soft sound escaped his throat, muffled by the tube, like someone trying to speak under water. His body jolted suddenly, chest heaving, fighting against the rhythm of the machine.

Wilhelm lurched forward, his entire body trembling. “He’s trying to wake up! Oh God—Simon—”

“Okay, stay calm,” Vera instructed firmly, though her own voice carried a tremor of urgency. “He’s surfacing. We need to get him off the ventilator—now.”

The nurses moved with swift precision, adjusting machines, preparing suction, one of them rushing to call the attending physician. Simon’s eyes flew wide, wild with panic, his whole body arching as if he were drowning. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, his fingers twitching violently as he tried to fight the intrusion in his throat.

“He’s terrified,” Wilhelm choked, clutching Sofia tighter without realizing it. He wanted to reach for Simon, to hold him, but his arms were full. “He needs me, I—”

“Wilhelm!”

Linda’s voice rang from the doorway, urgent but steady. She had been waiting just outside, never straying far. In two strides she was beside him, her hands already outstretched. “Give her to me. He’s going to want you free.”

Wilhelm didn’t hesitate. He pressed a trembling kiss to Sofia’s soft forehead before gently transferring her into her grandmother’s arms. Linda pulled the baby close, her voice low and soothing as she rocked her, freeing Wilhelm to turn fully to Simon.

“Simon, älskling, I’m here.” His hand closed around Simon’s trembling fingers, anchoring him to the world. He pressed his forehead against Simon’s temple, whispering over the chaos. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

The doctor swept in then, nodding at Vera. “He’s ready. On my count—one, two, three.”

In one swift movement, the tube slid free from Simon’s throat. He coughed violently, gagging, choking as nurses suctioned his mouth and slipped an oxygen mask over his face. His body shook with the effort, chest rising and falling in jagged, desperate bursts.

And then came the sound Wilhelm thought he might never hear again—a broken, gasping sob. Simon’s eyes, wet and wide with fear, locked on him. His fingers clutched weakly at Wilhelm’s hand like a drowning man reaching for the surface.

“I’m here,” Wilhelm whispered fiercely, tears spilling down his cheeks unchecked. “It’s okay, love, you’re safe. Just breathe with me. I won’t let go.”

Simon sobbed again, his whole body shuddering with confusion and terror, but the sound was real. Alive. His breath, though shaky, was his own.

Behind them, Linda swayed softly with Sofia, her own eyes wet as she watched her son his way back to them, tethered only by Wilhelm’s voice and touch.

…

Simon’s chest heaved beneath Wilhelm’s steadying palm, each breath raw and jagged through the oxygen mask. His throat worked as he tried to form a sound, his lips shaping around words that wouldn’t come out. His voice cracked, rasping painfully in his attempt.

“Shhh, don’t force it,” Vera said gently, stepping closer to check the monitors again. “Your throat will be sore for a while, Simon. You’ve been intubated. Take it one step at a time. No rush.”

Simon whimpered in frustration, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks. His fingers clutched at Wilhelm’s shirt like a child afraid to be left alone. His body still trembled, but Wilhelm gathered him close, half-perched on the edge of the bed, cradling Simon’s head against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Wilhelm murmured, his voice low and steady, a soft mantra meant only for Simon’s ears. “You don’t need to talk, älskling. Just let me hold you. You’re safe.”

Simon clung harder, sobbing weakly, the sound muffled against Wilhelm’s chest. The alpha’s heart cracked at every trembling gasp, but there was relief too—so much relief—that Simon was here, breathing, crying, alive.

After a moment, Simon shifted slightly, his eyes swollen but slowly focusing. And then he froze. His gaze caught on the far side of the room, where Linda stood with a quiet reverence, rocking the smallest bundle in her arms.

Simon’s lips parted. His eyes widened, disbelief breaking through the fog of fear. His shaking hand lifted from Wilhelm’s shirt, trembling in the air, pointing.

Wilhelm leaned down, kissing Simon’s damp forehead, his lips lingering there. “Yeah,” he whispered, his own throat thick. “She’s here. Sofia’s here. She’s perfect.”

Simon’s eyes snapped back to him, wet and pleading, as if asking silently if this was real.

Wilhelm nodded firmly, brushing the tears from Simon’s cheek with his thumb. “She’s okay. Just like you’re okay now. Just breathe, relax. Soon… soon you’ll have her right here in your arms.”

Simon sobbed again, softer this time, the sound breaking but filled with wonder instead of terror. His body slackened against Wilhelm, too exhausted to do more, but his eyes stayed fixed on the little bundle across the room. Linda, understanding the silent pull, stepped a little closer, swaying gently with Sofia, her face tender and shining with quiet joy.

Wilhelm held Simon tighter, feeling his tears dampen his shirt, and whispered against his hair:

“She waited for you, älskling. She’s been waiting to meet you.”

…

The storm inside Simon had eased. His sobs had softened into quiet sniffles, his breathing steadier against Wilhelm’s chest. He was still trembling, but the panic had drained away, leaving exhaustion in its wake. His eyes, though red and heavy, stayed fixed on the little bundle swaying softly in Linda’s arms.

Wilhelm brushed one last kiss against Simon’s temple before slowly pulling back. “I’ll bring her to you,” he whispered, searching Simon’s face for permission. Simon’s lashes fluttered, and he gave the smallest nod, his hand still clutching Wilhelm’s shirt until the very last second.

Wilhelm stood, his legs shaky but steady enough, and crossed the room. Linda’s eyes met his, filled with something unspoken—pride, love, and the strength of a mother who understood what it cost to hold everything together in moments like these. She shifted Sofia carefully into Wilhelm’s arms.

“Go,” she said softly. “She belongs with both of you.”

Wilhelm cradled the tiny body against his chest, her warmth soaking into him instantly. Sofia let out a soft, squeaky sound, more like a kitten than a cry, and Wilhelm’s heart clenched. He carried her slowly back to Simon’s bedside.

Simon’s whole body stilled the moment he saw them approach. His eyes widened, glassy and overwhelmed, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe for a second—just stared, wide-eyed, drinking in the sight of his daughter in her father’s arms.

Wilhelm sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, adjusting Sofia so Simon could see her better. He leaned in close, their little triangle folding together in fragile intimacy.

Simon’s whole face shifted, exhaustion replaced with awe. His lips parted, trembling, but when he tried to speak no sound came—his throat was still raw from the tube. Instead, his hand lifted, shaking slightly, and he pointed at the little baby’s round face.

Wilhelm frowned for a second, unsure, until Simon tapped his own cheek with two fingers. His eyes glistened, full of meaning.

Wilhelm’s laugh cracked with emotion. He leaned closer, shifting Sofia so Simon could study her more easily. “My cheeks?” he whispered, his voice breaking with tenderness. “You think she got mine?”

Simon nodded, blinking hard against the tears spilling over. His hand dropped back down, too weak to keep lifted, but his smile lingered—fragile, tired, but undeniably proud.

Wilhelm pressed his forehead against Simon’s, careful of the wires and lines, his voice unsteady but full of warmth. “Then everything else must be you.”

Simon closed his eyes, letting a few more tears slip free, his chest trembling as he breathed in the scent of his mate and his daughter so close together. He couldn’t hold her yet—not with the pain and weakness still chaining him to the bed—but seeing her, hearing Wilhelm claim her as theirs, was enough to keep him steady.

…

Time moved gently in the quiet of the hospital room. Machines hummed softly in the background, their steady rhythm keeping Wilhelm tethered to reality. Simon had drifted in and out of sleep, his recovery painfully slow but showing signs of progress. His throat, still raw from the breathing tube, allowed him only short sentences at a time, but Wilhelm hung onto every word like a gift.

Simon shifted slightly against the pillows propping him up, wincing but managing. His gaze slid toward Wilhelm, who sat on the edge of the bed, one hand absently stroking Sofia’s tiny back where she lay dozing against his chest. “Did you…call Leo?” His voice was husky, worn, but determined.

Wilhelm turned immediately, smiling gently. “I did. He’s so excited, älskling. He’s been asking when he can come see you and meet his little sister.”

At the mention of their son, Simon’s eyes softened, but a sigh escaped him. His hand drifted weakly toward Sofia, though he still wasn’t strong enough to lift her on his own. “I really want him to come by,” he murmured, “but…I don’t want to scare him. Look at me, Wille. I’m pale, weak. I can’t even hold her properly, can’t show her to him the way I’d dreamed.” His voice cracked at the confession, tears glistening.

Wilhelm leaned closer, pressing a kiss to Simon’s temple, his free hand cupping his cheek. “Älskling, you won’t scare him. He’s stronger than you think. I can talk to him, explain what happened. He’ll understand.”

Simon shook his head faintly. “He’s six, Wille. He shouldn’t have to see me like this. I don’t want him to worry.”

Wilhelm’s eyes softened further, though his tone carried steady reassurance. “Leo worries because he loves you. But we can guide him through it. If we prepare him, explain carefully, then he’ll feel proud to be part of this moment. And then he’ll get to see you, and his sister, together. That’s what matters.”

Simon blinked hard, his lips trembling. Slowly, he gave the faintest nod, whispering, “I just want it to be right for him.”

“It will,” Wilhelm promised, brushing away a tear from Simon’s cheek.

From the chair nearby, Kristina, who had been quietly keeping watch with Sofia’s spare blanket folded over her lap, spoke up gently. “I’ll go pick him up. He’s been counting the minutes since Wilhelm called. Let me bring him here, and we’ll take it slow.”

Simon swallowed, his throat still sore. “Okay,” he whispered, finally agreeing.

Kristina rose gracefully, placed a tender kiss on Simon’s forehead, and smoothed Wilhelm’s shoulder before slipping out. The quiet filled the room again, broken only by Sofia’s tiny breaths and Simon’s steadying ones.

…

An hour later, Wilhelm stood in the hospital’s entry hall, pacing just slightly as he waited. His heart leapt the second he saw Kristina walking in, Leo’s hand tucked safely in hers. Their son’s eyes lit up the moment he spotted Wilhelm.

“Daddy!” Leo squealed, letting go of Kristina to run into Wilhelm’s arms. Wilhelm crouched and scooped him up, holding him close, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his little alpha. He hugged him tighter than usual, needing the contact more than he could admit.

“I missed you, älskling,” Wilhelm whispered into his hair.

“I missed you too,” Leo said with a giggle, then leaned back with curious eyes. “Can I see Papa and the baby now?”

Wilhelm smiled but set him gently down, guiding him toward a row of chairs in the waiting area. “Soon, älskling. But first, we need to talk.”

Leo’s brows furrowed, but he climbed up onto the chair beside his father, waiting patiently. Wilhelm took a deep breath.

“You know how your little sister was born, right? Sometimes omegas give birth in different ways. For Papa, the doctors had to help him with something called a c-section. It means they did a special operation so your sister could come out safely.”

Leo listened intently, eyes wide, his small hands gripping the edge of the chair. “Like…they cut him open?”

Wilhelm nodded gently, while being surprised how his son knew this, but then he remembered Leo had talked to Simon about this because Leo had asked how the baby would come out “Yes, but the doctors are very good at it. Papa is okay, but he’s very tired, and his body needs time to heal. So when we go in, you can’t jump on him, even if you want to. You’ll have to be gentle, like when we hold baby animals.”

Leo nodded solemnly, lips pressed tight in concentration. “I can do that. I’ll be gentle.”

Wilhelm smiled proudly, brushing a hand over Leo’s hair. “I know you will. And remember, even if Papa looks tired, he’s still so happy to see you. He’s been waiting for this moment.”

Leo’s chest puffed out a little, pride sparking in his small frame. “I’m ready.”

…

Together, they walked down the hall, Leo holding Wilhelm’s hand tightly. When they reached Simon’s room, Wilhelm peeked inside first. Simon was propped up against a stack of pillows, pale but sitting tall, and Sofia lay nestled on his lap, swaddled carefully between his legs. Linda sat beside him, a quiet strength, ready to steady Simon if needed.

Wilhelm turned to Leo, crouching low. “Remember what we talked about?”

Leo nodded quickly.

Wilhelm smiled and opened the door wider, leading his son inside.

The moment Leo saw Simon, his little face lit up. “Papa!” he cried out, but he remembered Wilhelm’s words and stopped short, holding himself back.

Simon’s eyes flooded with tears. His voice was soft but steady now. “Hej, älskling.”

Leo stepped closer, his eyes dropping to the bundle on Simon’s lap. “Is that…her?”

Simon nodded, smiling through his tears. “This is your sister, Sofia.” He shifted slightly, letting Leo come closer, Wille helped Leo up on a chair so he could look, he leaned in, eyes wide with wonder as he gazed at Sofia’s tiny face.

“She’s so small,” he whispered.

Simon laughed softly, brushing a trembling hand through Leo’s curls. “She is. But she’s strong.”

Leo reached a hand out but stopped, glancing nervously at Wilhelm. Wilhelm nodded encouragingly. “Just gentle, älskling.”

With the greatest care, Leo stroked Sofia’s tiny hand. She shifted, squeaking softly, and Leo gasped. “She grabbed me!”

Simon laughed again, this time with more strength. “That’s her way of saying hi.”

And for the first time since the surgery, Simon’s smile felt whole, his heart fuller than he ever thought possible.

Chapter Text

The hospital room was dim, softened by the muted glow of a single lamp in the corner. Machines hummed low, a quiet reminder of how fragile the line was between peace and fear. Wilhelm sat perched on the edge of the bed with Sofia in his arms, her tiny body pressed against his chest. Her breaths came in steady, delicate puffs that warmed the fabric of his hospital shirt. She smelled of milk and new beginnings, the scent somehow both overwhelming and grounding.

Across from him, propped up by pillows, Simon blinked tiredly, fighting the heaviness in his eyelids. He still looked pale, his lips tinged with exhaustion, but his eyes—those warm, deep brown eyes Wilhelm adored—were more alive than they had been in days.

And pressed tightly against Simon’s side was Leo. Their boy. Their miracle in his own way, so much bigger now that he stood as a big brother. His small hand was wrapped around Simon’s, like he could guard him from the hurt.

“I don’t want to leave yet,” Leo said quietly. He wasn’t whining or pouting. His tone was matter-of-fact, thoughtful in a way that made Wilhelm’s heart swell. “I can help. I can watch Sofia for you while Papa rests.”

Simon turned his head toward him, and despite how weak he felt, his smile softened into something proud and aching. “You already helped by being here just now, best big brother ever.” he whispered. His fingers brushed through Leo’s hair, slow and tender.

Leo’s face brightened with the praise, his chest puffing up just a little, though he stayed leaning against Simon like he never wanted to move again.

Wilhelm glanced between them, his heart tight in his chest. He hadn’t expected Leo to handle all of this with so much grace. He had prepared for tears, confusion, even fear. Instead, their son seemed to carry an instinctive strength, like he understood that his family needed him steady.

“You’ve been amazing, Leo,” Wilhelm added, his voice hushed. “We are so lucky to have you.”

Leo looked down at the baby in Wilhelm’s arms, his expression serious, like he was taking on the weight of responsibility already. “I love her,” he said simply, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

Simon’s eyes shimmered, and he turned his face slightly into the pillow to blink back tears. He had dreamed of this moment—Leo meeting his sibling, being able to witness his two children together. Even if it wasn’t the perfect scenario he had imagined—him standing proudly with Sofia in his arms while Leo kissed her cheek—it was still everything.

But reality pressed in too. Simon needed rest, badly. His body was screaming for it, though his heart wanted nothing more than to hold both of his children close. Wilhelm could see it: the exhaustion under his skin, the way his eyelids kept fluttering shut against his will.

“Leo,” Wilhelm began gently, crouching down so he could look his son directly in the eyes. “You know Papa needs to sleep to get stronger, right?”

Leo hesitated, chewing on his lip, then nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

Kristina stepped forward, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. She had been patient in the corner, giving them their moment as a family, but now she moved with quiet firmness. “Come, älskling. Let’s go home and rest too. We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Leo’s gaze flicked between Simon and Wilhelm, reluctant but not resistant. “But who’s going to help you with Sofia tonight?”

Wilhelm’s throat tightened. The innocence in that question, the concern in it, cut straight to his core. He reached out and cupped the back of Leo’s head, pressing a kiss to his hair. “I will. That’s my job. You don’t need to worry about us.”

Leo sighed but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned toward Wilhelm’s arms, carefully pressing a kiss to Sofia’s tiny forehead. His lips lingered for just a moment, his little voice whispering, “bye Sofia. Sleep good.”

Wilhelm had to blink back tears at the sight. He had never felt more proud. Not just of Simon, not just of the fragile miracle in his arms, but of Leo—his courage, his heart, his readiness to step into this new role without hesitation.

Simon whispered, his voice hoarse, “He’s perfect.”

Wilhelm looked at him, their eyes meeting over the tiny bundle, and nodded. “He really is.”

Kristina gave Simon a reassuring smile before guiding Leo toward the door. “We’ll be back in the morning. Sleep well, hjärtat.”

Simon managed a tired nod, squeezing Leo’s hand one last time before watching him go. The room felt instantly quieter, emptier without the little boy’s energy, though Wilhelm’s heart still hummed with the pride of the moment.

When the door closed behind them, Linda leaned down to kiss Simon’s forehead, her touch gentle. “I’ll give you two some space as well,” she said softly. “You need time together.”

Simon looked up at her, his eyes glassy. “Thank you, mamma. For being here.”

She brushed his hair back from his damp forehead, her smile tender. “Always.” And with that, she too left, leaving the three of them alone.

The silence that followed was heavy but comforting, filled only with the sound of Sofia’s steady breathing. Wilhelm lowered himself onto the bed again, sitting carefully at Simon’s side with their daughter in his arms.

Simon shifted slightly, wincing, but his eyes were on Wilhelm and Sofia. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.

Wilhelm exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping. “Don’t point it out right now,” he murmured. “I will be. It’s just… You know a lot right now.”

Simon nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m jealous,” he admitted. His gaze was locked on Sofia, the way she nestled into Wilhelm’s chest. “I wish I could hold her like that.”

Wilhelm leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Simon’s temple. “You will. Soon.”

Simon let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering shut, finally allowing himself to rest. And Wilhelm stayed right there, holding their daughter and keeping vigil over both of them, proud and terrified and deeply, deeply in love.

…

The days at the hospital stretched and blurred into one another, marked not by clocks but by the rhythm of machines, check-ups, and waiting. Wilhelm had never realized how long hours could feel when all you wanted was for someone you loved to be whole again.

Simon was getting stronger—slowly, painfully slowly—but he still wasn’t ready to leave. His body needed time after everything it had endured, after the blood loss, after the coma. Every morning the doctors checked on him, every evening Wilhelm watched the nurses adjust his medication, and every night he lay awake in the narrow hospital bed they allowed him to share, their daughter sleeping in the crib beside them.

It was strange, Wilhelm thought, to already be a family of four and yet not have had a single day together outside of this sterile, white-painted room.

One afternoon, Vera came by. Wilhelm had been dreading this, though he hadn’t admitted it to anyone. The last time he had spoken to her—really spoken—he had been a storm, all anger and panic, shouting accusations because the fear had been too much to hold.

Now, when she stepped into the room, Wilhelm stood up immediately. Simon was resting, drifting in and out of sleep, and Sofia was in her bassinet, her tiny fists curled close to her cheeks.

“Vera,” Wilhelm began, his voice softer than he expected. He rubbed the back of his neck, searching for words. “About… the other day. When I said you promised, when I—” His throat tightened. “I was angry, and I was scared, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

Vera watched him quietly for a moment, her expression calm. Then she smiled, a little wry but warm. “Wilhelm,” she said gently, “I wouldn’t have expected any other reaction. You love him. You’re supposed to fight for him. I’d have worried more if you had just sat quietly.”

His chest loosened, some of the guilt unclenching. “Still… thank you. For not giving up on him. On us.”

Her smile softened. “I never would. And look—he’s here. He’s healing. You have your daughter. That’s what matters.”

Wilhelm nodded, swallowing against the sudden burn in his throat. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just sat back down, glancing at Simon with an almost protective urgency.

It was another week before the moment came.

Simon had been asking, timidly at first, if maybe he could try holding her properly. The doctors had said to wait until he was stronger, until his arms could manage without trembling. Wilhelm had tried not to let his impatience show, because he wanted it just as badly. He wanted to see them together, not just side by side but truly in each other’s arms.

And finally, one morning, Vera herself came in and said, “I think he’s ready now.”

Wilhelm looked at her, startled, then at Simon, whose eyes went wide, a mix of excitement and nerves.

“You mean—” Simon started, his voice still raspy from the healing tube damage.

“Yes,” Vera confirmed, smiling. “With some support. Let’s make it happen.”

Wilhelm’s heart raced. He moved quickly, lifting Sofia from her crib, feeling her stretch and yawn against his chest. She blinked up at him with those dark, searching eyes that already reminded him of Simon.

He turned toward the bed, and suddenly his throat closed. Because Simon—his Simon—was sitting there, arms outstretched, trembling with anticipation, his face lit with a joy so raw it almost hurt to look at.

Carefully, reverently, Wilhelm lowered Sofia into Simon’s arms, helping him adjust the pillows, steadying his grip. And then—there it was. Their daughter, safe against her papa’s chest, Simon’s eyes filling instantly with tears that spilled down his cheeks unchecked.

Wilhelm sat beside them, unable to stop staring. It felt sacred, watching the connection spark to life. Sofia made a soft squeaky sound, and Simon’s smile broke into a laugh-sob, the kind that cracked open the whole room.

“She knows me,” Simon whispered, pressing his lips to her downy head. “She really knows me.”

Wilhelm’s vision blurred, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against Simon’s temple. “Of course she does. You’re her papa.”

And in that moment, Wilhelm knew he would remember this sight—Simon, finally holding Sofia, their family whole again—for the rest of his life.

…

The day finally came when the doctors said Simon could go home. Wilhelm could hardly believe it when he heard the words. For weeks the hospital had felt like a cage—white walls, the steady hum of machines, the air that always smelled faintly of antiseptic. Home had started to feel like a dream they might never reach again.

But here they were, packing up the few things that had gathered in the hospital room: Simon’s comfortable clothes folded into a bag, a blanket Leo had insisted they keep by Simon’s side, Sofia’s tiny collection of newborn clothes that had been gifted already by doting relatives.

Wilhelm carried the bags, but Simon carried the weight of the moment. He sat in a wheelchair, pale but smiling, their baby girl in his arms. Vera had insisted on the chair—Simon’s body still needed time to heal, and Wilhelm didn’t argue, not after everything.

As they rolled through the hospital corridors, Wilhelm walked close, his hand resting on Simon’s shoulder, like he needed to physically anchor them together. Simon looked up at him once, catching his eyes, and the smallest, softest smile appeared. Wilhelm thought he might never recover from how much love that one look carried.

At the entrance, Linda was waiting with the car. She hugged them both quickly and kissed Sofia’s head before helping get everything into place. Wilhelm took the car seat, adjusting the straps with nervous precision. It was the first time they were driving home as a family of four, and even though Linda reassured him three times that it was perfectly secure, Wilhelm checked again before finally sliding into the seat beside Simon.

The drive home was quiet. Simon leaned his head against the window, one hand resting on Sofia’s seat, while Wilhelm’s hand covered his. Their fingers intertwined over the edge of the car seat, as if they both needed to feel Sofia between them to believe this was real.

When they pulled into the driveway, Wilhelm felt something inside him loosen. The sight of their little home, the curtains drawn back by Sara’s hand—she had been looking after the place for them—was like breathing after holding his breath for too long.

Inside, everything was ready. Sara had filled the fridge, Felice had left flowers on the table, and there was even a pile of wrapped gifts stacked neatly in the corner. Their friends had thought of everything.

Simon settled onto the couch almost immediately, pillows piled around him, while Wilhelm carefully carried Sofia to him. She curled against his chest, and Simon closed his eyes, finally letting his shoulders drop. He was home. 

…

Chapter Text

Leo used to think being a big brother would be fun.

When Papa’s belly had been growing, everyone had told him so. His teachers, his friends at school, even strangers when they saw him holding Papa’s hand. “Are you excited?” they always asked. And Leo would nod, because he thought he was. Excited to finally have someone younger than him in the family. Someone to teach football tricks to, someone to build pillow forts with, someone who might laugh at his silly jokes the way Papa and Dad always did.

But the truth was—now that Sofia was here—it wasn’t fun at all.

It was loud. It was boring. And it felt like everyone had forgotten about him.

…

The first time Dad said later, Leo didn’t think much about it. He had been standing in the hallway, ball tucked under his arm, grinning. “Can we go play outside?” he asked, bouncing on his toes.

Dad was carrying Sofia, who was crying in that squeaky, squealy way she had. He shifted her against his chest and kissed her head. “Not now, buddy. Later.”

Okay. Later.

But then later came, and Sofia was still crying, and Dad was pacing the living room while Papa sat propped on pillows, looking pale but smiling softly at the baby. Leo asked again. “Now?”

“Not now, Leo. Later, okay?”

Later.

That word started showing up everywhere. When he asked if they could build with Legos. When he asked if they could go to the park. When he asked if they could watch a movie.

Later. Later. Later.

After a while, Leo started to hate the sound of it. It made his chest ache, like when he lost a game at football because he missed the goal. Only worse, because this wasn’t just a game. This was his dad.

…

Papa wasn’t much better. He couldn’t even walk around properly, because the doctors had told him to rest after the operation. He spent most of the day sitting up in bed or lying on the couch, always with Sofia curled against him.

Sometimes, when Leo came into the room, Papa would smile. “Hej, älskling,” he’d say, patting the space beside him. But there was always a blanket or a bottle or Sofia’s tiny fists waving in the way.

One afternoon, Leo climbed up beside him anyway. Papa had Sofia lying on his chest, her cheek pressed against his shirt. She made little snuffling noises, like a kitten.

“Shh,” Papa whispered, stroking her back.

Leo leaned closer. “Can I hold her?”

Papa hesitated. “Not yet, älskling. But soon, okay?”

Soon. Another word Leo was starting to hate.

So he just sat there, staring at the baby. She wasn’t even doing anything. Just sleeping, the way she always did. Papa’s hand stroked her back over and over, and Leo felt his throat tighten. He wanted his papa’s hand on his back too.

…

And then came the visitors.

Felice arrived first, her arms full of bags. She squealed when she saw Sofia, bouncing on her toes. “Oh my God, look at her!” she cried, rushing past Leo without even noticing him. She bent down to the baby, whispering about how beautiful she was, how perfect.

Leo stood in the hallway, ball still under his arm, waiting for her to look up. She didn’t. Not until she was leaving, when she ruffled his hair quickly. “You’ll be such a good big brother,” she said, like it was nothing.

Ayub and Rosh came a few days later, carrying a stuffed bunny almost as big as Leo. They laughed and cooed, taking turns holding Sofia while Dad hovered close.

“She’s already stolen your face, Simon,” Rosh said, grinning. “Poor Wille, she’s going to charm everyone.”

Papa laughed tiredly. Leo didn’t. He crossed his arms and sat on the edge of the couch, wishing someone would notice.

Even Sara came, with Rose toddling along. Everyone fussed over how funny it was that the two little cousins would grow up together, how sweet Rose was patting the baby’s head. 

No one asked him to join. No one asked him anything.

…

At night, Leo lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He could hear Sofia crying through the walls. He could hear Dad’s soft footsteps pacing back and forth, the squeak of the floorboards. Sometimes he heard Papa humming, a song so quiet Leo couldn’t make out the words.

He hugged his rabbit close, pressing his face into the fur.

He wanted to cry, but he didn’t. He was the big brother now. Big brothers weren’t supposed to cry.

But still, it felt like the whole house had turned upside down. Before, Dad always had time to play, to chase him in the yard, to cheer at his football tricks. Papa always had time to cuddle, to read stories, to sing him silly songs. Now Dad only said later. Papa only cuddled Sofia. And Leo… Leo felt like nothing.

…

So he stopped asking.

When Dad said, “Want to kick the ball around?” one afternoon, Leo just shrugged. “Nah.”

When Papa asked, “Do you want to sit with us?” Leo shook his head. “I’m busy.”

He wasn’t busy. He just didn’t want to be disappointed again.

Instead, he spent more time in his room. Drawing. Building towers with Legos. Lining up his toy cars and making races no one else could see.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That he didn’t care.

But he did.

…

It was after dinner one night, when Sofia had finally fallen asleep and Papa was resting, that Dad came into his room. He sat on the edge of Leo’s bed, looking serious.

“Hey, champ,” Dad said quietly. “You’ve been quiet lately. Everything okay?”

Leo shrugged, staring at his blanket. “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

Another shrug.

Dad sighed and reached out, pulling him into a hug. Leo stiffened at first, but then let himself sink into it, because he had missed this so much.

“I know it’s been a lot,” Dad said softly. “With Sofia here, and Papa needing to rest. It feels different right now, huh?”

Leo swallowed hard. His throat hurt. “You Never have time for me anymore."

Dad closed his eyes, holding him tighter. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy making sure Papa and Sofia are okay, I didn’t realize how much you needed me too. I'm also new to this you know.” He leaned back, cupping Leo’s face. “But listen. You’ll always be our little boy. Our firstborn. Nothing will ever change that. We love you so much.”

Leo blinked up at him. “But you don’t need me.”

“Yes, we do,” Dad said firmly. “We actually need you for this to work. Papa needs rest. Sofia needs help 24/7 because she’s so small. And she needs her big brother most of all. She needs you, Leo.”

“She… needs me?”

“Of course. She needs you to talk to her, to make her laugh, to protect her. You’ll be the one she looks up to. No one else can do that but you.”

Something warm spread in Leo’s chest. For the first time in weeks, he felt important again.

…

The house was quieter than usual. The kind of quiet that almost hummed, stretched thin around corners and doorframes, alive with its own rhythm. In their bedroom, Simon was propped up carefully against the pillows, a blanket drawn over his legs. His body still moved slower, more cautious, each shift reminding him of the healing scar on his belly. In his arms rested Sofia, wrapped snugly in a pale cream blanket, her tiny face relaxed, her breathing steady. She had fallen asleep after a feed, lips still parted in that delicate pout newborns carried like a secret.

Simon should have been sleeping too, he knew, but there was something about these early days that made every blink feel precious, every glance like a thread being woven into memory. He wanted to hold onto them — because she would never be this small again, because Leo would never be this young again, because their family was shifting and growing right before his eyes.

The door creaked open just enough to let a sliver of light spill in from the hallway. Simon lifted his gaze and found a small figure peeking in — messy curls, wide eyes, bare feet hovering on the threshold.

“Leo,” Simon said softly, his voice warm, careful not to wake the baby. “Hej älskling… are you sneaking around?”

Leo hesitated, caught between wanting to come closer and the thought that maybe he shouldn’t. He shuffled on his toes. “I didn’t want to disturb….” His voice was small, a little unsure, but honest.

Simon’s chest tightened. He knew. He had seen the way Leo hovered at the edges, waiting for his turn, the way he tried to be patient but sometimes slumped his shoulders when “later” stretched too long.

“You’re not disturbing,” Simon said gently. “Come here, come sit with us.”

Leo’s face lit up at the invitation, though he tried to hide his smile as he padded into the room. He climbed carefully onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his small weight. Simon shifted, wincing a little, but making room.

Leo looked at the bundle in Simon’s arms, his curiosity pulling him forward like gravity. He leaned closer, his voice hushed. “She’s so small…”

“She is,” Simon agreed, pressing a kiss to Sofia’s downy head. He turned his gaze back to Leo, searching his face for a second deciding it was time for him to really connect with her. “Do you want to hold her?”

Leo’s head snapped up, eyes wide, sparkling in disbelief. “I can????” The words burst out of him, louder than he intended, and his whole body seemed to bounce with excitement.

Simon laughed quietly, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face. It felt good, this moment — not just because of Leo’s joy, but because Simon felt strong enough again to guide it. “Yes,” he said. “But we have to do it very carefully.”

Leo scrambled to adjust himself, sitting cross-legged on the bed, his hands fluttering nervously in the air as if he already held something fragile. Simon placed a pillow in Leo’s lap, patting it. “This will help you support her.”

Leo nodded quickly, eyes never leaving Sofia. His curls fell into his face, and he pushed them away impatiently. Simon smiled again, his heart swelling at how serious his son looked, like this was the most important job in the world.

“Okay,” Simon said softly. “You need to sit very still. And you have to support her head — always her head, because she’s not strong enough yet.”

Leo nodded again, more solemn this time, and held out his arms as Simon carefully shifted Sofia. Every movement was slow, deliberate. Simon guided her tiny body into Leo’s waiting arms, steadying her as she settled against the pillow.

For a moment, Leo just stared, his whole face glowing with awe. 

Simon’s throat tightened. He reached over and smoothed a hand through Leo’s curls, tender and proud. “She’ll grow, Leo. One day she’ll be as big as you are. She’ll run around the garden, maybe play football, maybe even annoy you.”

Leo looked up, his eyes round and serious. “Like me?”

Simon nodded, smiling. “Exactly like you.”

Leo’s face softened, and he looked back down at his sister. His little fingers twitched, resisting the urge to touch her face. He breathed carefully, like he was afraid to breathe too hard.

A voice from the doorway broke the quiet. “Vad är det jag ser?”

Both Simon and Leo turned their heads. Wilhelm stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his face lit up with pride. He had been watching for a while, and Simon could see it in the way his eyes shone, soft and almost wet.

“Daddy!” Leo grinned, his excitement bubbling over again. “See? I’m holding her! I’m helping!”

Wilhelm’s smile spread, wide and genuine, as he stepped into the room. “I see that, älskling. You’re doing amazing.” He crossed the floor, his footsteps slow, as though he didn’t want to break the spell of the moment.

Leo lifted his chin, beaming, wanting to be seen. Simon could feel the weight of it — how much Leo needed this, how much he needed to know that he still mattered. That he wasn’t being pushed aside.

Wilhelm crouched by the bed, one hand resting on the edge. He looked at Leo first, then at Sofia, then at Simon, and the love in his gaze made Simon’s chest ache.

“Let’s take a picture,” Wilhelm said suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “We need to remember this — our first picture as four.”

Leo grinned even wider, nodding eagerly. “Yes! Take a picture!”

Simon laughed softly, shaking his head at Wilhelm’s spontaneity, but his heart was swelling. He shifted a little to sit straighter, ignoring the pull in his stomach. Wilhelm pulled his phone from his pocket, lifted it, and leaned in close.

“Okay, hold her just like that, Leo,” Simon whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Leo froze for the camera, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Sofia slept on, completely unaware of the world she had changed. Simon leaned his head gently against Leo’s curls, his arm around both children. Wilhelm pressed close, angling the phone, his other hand brushing against Simon’s thigh.

The camera clicked, capturing their faces — Leo proud and glowing, Simon tired but radiant, Sofia asleep in the center of it all, Wilhelm holding the frame together. A picture of beginnings. A picture of family.

When Wilhelm lowered the phone, he didn’t pull away. He pressed a kiss to Simon’s temple, then to Leo’s curls, and finally bent to kiss Sofia’s forehead.

“There,” Wilhelm whispered, his voice thick with love. “Our little family.”

And in that moment, together was more than enough.

...