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chainmailchalamet · 9 months

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Run Rabbit, Run (Dark! Eddie Munson 🍒🪽), Pt. 2

tags: roommates to lovers, modern!metalhead!eddie munson(maybe not a complete face match to ST!Eddie, but his look is up to your imagination), predator/prey dynamic , a lil degradation, impact, knife play, jealousy, possessive behavior + language, dacryphilia, kind of fucked up intense dirty talk, face slapping, choking, morallygrey!eddie, they may or may not be completely human (also up to interpretation), and as usual always!black always!non-binary POV 🌟🍒

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the tension breaks because of course it does— because eddie, from the moment you move in, seems to be on a one-man mission to pull at every single one of your threads until you unravel at his feet, just so he can put you back together again.

and if you confronted him about it, he’d play dumb about it, because in his defense, he’s not really doing anything he wouldn’t usually do. nothing he wasn’t already doing before you moved in with him — he’d say you were being paranoid, that it was kind of adorable actually.

but you know you’re not, that he’s not just doing what he’d otherwise be doing, that his actions are a targeted attempt to make you lose your mind, to crawl under your skin and live there. that to him, it’s just a matter of time before you snap.

it starts with the cooking thing — he’s always cooking, has been attached to the kitchen since he was a kid, living with his uncle wayne down in virginia — sweet, sweltering hot virginia, where he got his twang and his first tattoos (the stick and poke smiley face on his ankle, the first set of knuckle tats, the bones of his face piece), his love of smoking cigarettes off the top of his trailer on cool, quiet nights with a sky full of stars. wayne, who’s still down in virginia in a cabin that eddie put the money down for with his chef money. uncle wayne, who taught him to gut a fish and skin a deer and whose peach cobbler recipe he’s still trying to get just right. wayne, who he still calls every sunday as he fixes both of you a full dinner spread with greens and sweet potato and baked chicken.

to eddie, cooking is home, and family, roots and heart — it’s more than a love language. it’s a soul language, and he speaks it fluently, teaches it to everyone he lets get close to him.

and it only take a couple of weeks before he’s speaking it to you day and night, until you barely have to lift a finger in the kitchen because he’s got you, because he’s always got you. he’s got you for breakfast, with thick cuts of salmon and fat, fluffy vegan pancakes. with fresh squeezed juice and sausages that he picks up from the polish supermarket in brown paper bags every sunday, because he’s got a plug for that, and a plug for the freshest fruit in-season, for big juicy strawberries and peach preserves and purple kale.

he feeds you, everyday — with leftovers from the restaurant shifts he works until 3 in the morning — he brings you the day’s specials, whatever they are, spoils you with mushroom risotto and grilled eggplant and bucatini made in-house with the most flavorful tomato sauce you’ve ever tasted. if the special is seafood, he brings it home in a freezer bag, with sliced lemon on the side — he serves you your first oyster, your first bite of squid ink pasta, your first full lobster.

he’ll knock on your door at some ungodly hour, and when you invite him in he’s got a plate loaded up for you, bags under his eyes and a tired smile. he’ll watch you take that first bite, make that first satisfied noise, because he knows you’ve been at the drafting table for hours making adjustments to a new garment in time for an editorial shoot over the weekend.

no matter how tired he is, he’ll sit on your bed, looking so out of place amongst your plushies that it makes you bite down a giggle at the sight of him, looking sharp and dangerous surrounded by soft things. no matter how tired he is, he’ll ask you about your day and listen intently, wrinkle between his eyes as he does — and even though you’re shy at first, talking to him about fashion, he’s encouraging, asking you questions until you loosen up a little and you’re talking his ear off about sustainable dyeing practices and bias cuts and the art of the gather. and you know he’s too tired to take it all in but he’ll fight it, yawning in-between questions like you can use onions skins as dye, that’s crazy, what else have you tried and you did that all by hand? so fucking cool — yeah, i mean I can do patches but it’s nothing like that, used to just use dental floss and it wasn’t super clean, nothing like what you do, that’s way more punk, you made a fucking jacket from scratch.

and he makes you shy when he gets like that, when he gives you all his attention, when he keeps track of every bite like you’re suddenly going to hate his cooking, like he’s ready at any moment to fix it for you, to go right back into the kitchen and make you something from scratch, like he wasn’t just groaning about the longest fucking shift of my life, darlin’, you wouldn’t believe — had to hide in the lockup at midnight cuz we just got back to back fucked, substitution after substitution, and i like getting creative, don’t get me wrong, but what the fuck do we have a menu for?

he lights up a little when he talks about the kitchen though, about gareth who does dishes and robin and steve who run the front of house like it’s the navy.

he’ll grin when you scrunch your nose up because he’s smoked through another pack in one shift, flash his teeth and say beats the alternatives, glad you didn’t meet me all strung out and 21, would’ve been vibrating around your room, rearranged the kitchen, lit a real fire in the fireplace.

even on his worst nights, after an actual hell-shift, when his texts get short and a little snappy, when he stops assaulting your chat with emojis, when he spells out every single word and doesn’t reply for hours and all you get after that is a “don’t wait up x”. even when you hear him come in, dragging himself through the apartment like his body is dead weight, even on the worst nights — you’ll wake up in the morning to a spanish omelette on the counter and a sticky note that says “getting some air, sorry about last night x”, as if he has anything to apologize for, as if he’s not allowed to be human.

it’s all so domestic — he makes your home a warm cloud to lay in. he makes you feel so at ease, like he’s got you, like he’s a safe place to land.

which is where the problem comes in — because your roommate eddie, your sweet, doting, sensitive eddie, who cries when he says “love you, g’bye” to his uncle wayne without fail every single time they talk, who has taken in one of the neighbors cats (cerberus, sweet and soft and definitely using him for his top-shelf tuna connections) as if it is his own, and calls his guitar sweetheart and shimmies his way around the kitchen on sundays humming let’s hear it for the boys.

that eddie — sweet, darling doting eddie — is a fucking deviant.

he doesn’t show it too often, keeps it tucked away with impressive self-control, maybe even tries to hide it from you until he’s sure you’re settled, until you start to wonder if you just imagined that glint in his eyes the first day you met him — until the mask slips, until you catch a glimpse of his shadow once more and you think to yourself “there he is”.

it happens because of a bottle of tequila — because it always does. you go out drinking with him and his work friends, because you lost all of yours in the breakup, and eddie says he’s already told everyone all about you, that they already love you, c’mon sweetheart, it’s my night off and i wanna celebrate, know you got that shoot coming up, barely been drinking water you’re working so much, don’t think i haven’t noticed. come dance with me, just one night, i promise i’ll get you back in one piece.

and when he puts you on the spot like that, makes you feel exposed like that, looks at you with his bambi eyes all wide like that, you can’t really say no.

so you get all dressed up (change your outfit three times, because it’s been a long time since you’ve been out and you wanna make a good impression, damn it), and you might be freaking out a little. but then eddie yells out “c’mon honey, bet you look perfect, lemme see you”, and you swallow that anxiety because you like the way his voice curls around the words like that, that honey-twang he’s got cuz you’ve both been pre-gaming a little (him with a homemade margarita, you with a glass of red wine). it makes you brave, makes you take a deep breath and step out into the living room. and you both see each other all dressed up for the first time and — something shifts.

something tilts on its god damn axis — it’s the start of the end.

his hair is wild. big and dark and wild and sparkling through like he’s sprayed glitter in it. he’s got the most delicious black leather jacket on, fit perfect to his body and aged just right. he’s got this sheer fucking fabric stretched across his torso — it’s barely a shirt, just a scrap of something dark that lets you see the cut of his hips and the ink in his skin and the silver rings in his nipples.

his pants are low cut, ripped jagged across both knees, like he busted them open skating — and his boots are obscene, steel-toed shit-kickers, red-laces cutting through them like veins. he looks so good you want to stomp your feet and whine “not fair, who gave you eyeliner, that’s cheating”.

he looks like a young god, like hell on legs, like a flashing neon sign that says “i am going to fuck your life up and you’re going to thank me for it”. you suddenly can’t read.

the way he’s looking at you makes your mouth dry up, makes your thighs press together, makes you want to fall to your knees and worship. it’s all that desire you forgot that he possessed, that you only catch flashes of in the quiet moments — when he’s giving you a taste of something new and his eyes travel down to your lips wrapping round the edge of the spoon, when you hum low and pleased with your eyes closed and you open them up and he’s giving you that look again, that “run, rabbit, run” look.

for the first time in weeks he’s not hiding any of it from you — runs his gaze over your face and down your neck, across your shoulder and down your stomach, to your hips and both your thighs (he takes his time right there, sees you twitch, darts up to meet your eyes real quick, almost-smiles, like he’s saying “got you”)

and then up, up, up again. he takes his time. he runs his tongue across his lips, comes up real close and tugs on one of your braids with a scrunch between his brows, looks down at you and blows out a quiet rush of air and says “we should go, right now” like he means “before i do something i regret”.

that night, something inside you snaps.

his friends all clearly know something you don’t, and they are varying degrees of subtle about it. chrissy hugs you and smiles big and bright and says aren’t you the prettiest god damn thing i’ve ever seen but she’s looking at eddie when she says it, and it makes your face heat up.

robin and steve are all wry and knowing, bitchy in a fun way, exchanging little smiles with each other, all he’s finally let you out the dungeon, huh? thought he was gonna keep you all to himself.

jon is quiet but he gives eddie this little nod like “i see you” and his boyfriend argyle is already two-thirds into a bottle of casamigos so he just says the quiet part out loud, somehow makes it sound so chill, like it’s not a big deal that he takes one look at you and goes holy shit, eddie wasn’t lying, you’re like — what the fuck, i’d write songs about you too. doesn’t even give you a second to unpack all that before there’s a shot in your hand.

and then the drinks keep flowing and you start to loosen up and enjoy yourself and eddie doesn’t seem phased by any of the teasing, sits close to you and takes sips out of his drink (fruity, staining his tongue red as punch, sickly sweet when he lets you have a taste of it), keeps his eyes on you all night, just takes it all in stride — like he was expecting this, like he’s made his peace.

and you’re too drunk now to let it go, so you turn to him while steve and rob are busy bullying everyone else and you slur out something like so you’re obsessed with me, huh? and he smiles sharp and dirty and goes you don’t wanna go there with me honey, and you say why not, you’re all talk, don’t pussy out on me and his eyes go pitch black.

he nods his head, hums to himself. “noted.”

and it just goes down, down, down from there. because now you’re worked up, feeling bratty, feeling mean. you nod too, and he’s just taking you in, sitting too close, watching you like he’s curious, like he’s just delighted at the thought of what you’re gonna do next. bet, you think. let’s go, then.

steve seems like your best bet, so you ask him if he wants to dance, sugary sweet and wide-eyed, and he grins like he’s been waiting for this all night, says later losers, time to have some actual fun and takes your hand, cutting eddie a look like the cat that got the cream as you climb over his lap on your way out.

eddie’s just looking, looking, looking. quiet storm brewing across his face. leans in close before you’re gone to whisper “careful, baby” in your ear, like a warning.

you just smile at him, shrug. come get me, big bad.

dancing with steve is easy, his arm across your back, your hips pressed close. he says “your boy’s watching, wanna give him something to look at?” and you pout, tell him “he’s not gonna do shit, stevie, he’s all talk”.

steve smiles at you like you’re so dumb, just delightfully stupid, so you ask him what he knows and he says “i know he’s real sweet on you, but you better watch it, honey — eddie’s not the one to play with.”

and then he leans into your ear and tells you a story about a wolf who walks like a man and talks like a man and acts like a sheep — but he’s a wolf, honey. he likes to bite, likes to play with his food — keeps his prey tied down in his lair and takes them apart, piece by piece, until they’re crying, begging, until the fight leaves them all at once and they go empty between the ears, until they’re just gone. and then he just keeps taking, taking, taking. until they’ve got nothing left to give him.

and the music is so syrupy sweet that you’re lost in it, lost in the roll of your hips, lost in steve’s voice rumbling in your ears, low and hypnotic, lost in the drinks flowing through your veins — until steve has to hold you by the chin and force you to look up at him and say “still with me, little lamb?”

your throat is dry when you ask him how he knows what he knows, and he just looks over your shoulder (you know who he’s looking at, you feel those eyes across your back, he’s always watching, he just never stops looking) and tilts his chin up and goes why don’t you ask him yourself, honey?

and then eddie’s right there, pressed up against your back — leaning down to your ear to ask if you’re having fun, and for a second you’re pressed up between them both, letting steve rock you back into eddie, letting eddie grip you by the hips and pull you back, back, back, guiding you into a slow, filthy grind. your eyes fall close, you barely notice steve pressing a kiss to your temple, trilling have funnnn before he’s gone into the crowd again.

you still with me, eddie asks, at the same time you spin round and ask him “you fucked steve?”

he laughs a little and hums i see y’all been getting acquainted, pulls you close again and says jealous, honey?

you say you wish, and then you did, didn’t you? said you act like a sheep, but you’re not, are you? you’re a wolf.

he looks down at you, runs his hands under the straps of your top, presses his palms to the skin of your back, dips his head down. you know, i wanted to do this right — wanted to woo you and shit. feed you, keep you warm, treat you sweet.

and you know, you know, you know. what are you gonna do with me now, eddie?

he just looks at you. looks and looks, pulls you closer, let’s his hand creep down, down, down, makes the heat in your body swoop down low in your tummy when he grips you hard over your skirt, sweeps one hand in your hair and gets his fingers tangled in your braids, all the way down to the root and tugs, real mean with it.

he makes you bare your neck to him, makes you gasp, makes you wanna beg. for his teeth in your neck, for his hands between your thighs, for his mouth on you. you gonna hurt me, eddie?

he shrugs. i don’t know yet, honey. you gonna ask me nice for it? gonna ask for what you want instead of being a rude little brat, making me think you wanna fuck my friends?

your mouth goes dry. i wasn’t tryna —

nah, you just wanted me to think it, didn’t you? his voice drops low, mean, dark. dumb bunny, you didn’t actually think that was gonna work, did you? steve likes em big and bad, and you’re fucking nothing like that, are you? pretty little doll, he’d eat you alive.

he’s all inside your head, barely leaving you any space for yourself, and the way he sneers dumb bunny makes you squirm, makes you ache. he’s got you pinned in place like a fly in amber, nowhere else to run. and you wouldn’t?

he tilts his head, hums, says it again, wanted to do this right, wanted to lay you out on my bed and make you feel good. he mouths a kiss across your neck, traces his tongue across the skin, just the tip, just a tease. asked me if i was obsessed with you. stupid fucking question, baby. knew you were mine, first second i saw you, walked into my house and made it all strawberry and honey, seeped into everything, kept me up at night with it — and now it’s all over our home, our fucking home.

he uses his teeth, opens his mouth wide like a beast, like he can’t just smell you, like he needs the taste of it too, needs to feel the flesh between his teeth. and you can see right though me, can’t you, baby? the others, they think they see it, think they know what i think when i look at you, but you know, don’t you? you’ve always known.

you know. you’ve known. he wants inside your skin, wants to worm his way deep and build a home there. wants to keep you fed, keep you full, make you happier than anyone could. wants to own your happiness and your hunger, greedy over it. fucked up over the thought of anyone taking care of you better than he could, knows in his soul that no one else could. it makes you scared, makes you warm, makes you feel insane. you should run, should find a new apartment and start over because you’re so raw, and vulnerable, and he could hurt you, he wants to hurt you —

you tilt your head back, you run your hands across his shoulders, over his back, up into his hair, and you grab a handful and pull. he makes a noise like a wounded dog. he pants for it, folds forward like he got the breath knocked out of him — you think he’s mine, he’s mine, he’s mine, feel him kick up against you, big and warm and hard against your hip and your head swims with the thought. over and over, the same thought — mine, mine, mine.

yeah, sweet thing, m’yours, all yours, all of it, all yours, he whines, just for you. must’ve heard you, must’ve said it out loud. he sounds hollowed out, like you’ve let all his air out, and you’re wild for it.

tell me how, you say. you tug his head down so you can speak into his ear, and he goes down easy, so easy. when i let you take me to bed, when i let you have it, what will you do to me? what first?

a knife, he says, like a man possessed. toys with all your straps, slips his fingers underneath and tugs. wanna cut you out of this pretty fabric. look like an angel, wanna rip it to shreds, lay you down in the ribbons.

to ruin me, you say.

to make your heart race, he sings. he sways into you, sounds so consumed with desire it makes him drunk, makes him slur his words like his teeth are too big for his mouth. make you scared, make you wanna run so i can catch you. hold you down, press the blade up against your skin and play.

he wants to play. with a knife to your neck. fucking freak.

yours, yours, yours, he says. pulls back to look at you, hisses when you follow him with your hands in his hair, eyes rolling up and then back down, eyes half-shut, lights going out until it’s all a stretch of midnight without a star in the sky.

beautiful boy, you think. terrible, terrible, gorgeous boy.

wanna spit in your fucking mouth, he confesses. wanna hold my hand over your nose and watch your throat work as you swallow. wanna make you wet all over.

you’re already wet all over, and he knows that. can probably smell it, the wolf.

you’re still dancing, somehow. still swaying, still pressed up against each other, no room for common sense. his friends are nowhere to be seen — the crowd of bodies around you have all blurred away. you want to be home, in his bed, his lair, at his mercy. you tell him as much, and he smiles at you like he’s proud. love it when you tell me the truth, he says. love it when you show me.

better make it worth it, eddie, you say. better make it hard to leave your bed in the morning.

and then, he sings. and then, and then, and then.

greedy boy, you think, never gonna let me go, never gonna let anyone else touch me ever again.

you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, red and sweet and sharp. and then, you say, then you’re gonna feed me, like you always do.

#eddie x black!reader #dom eddie munson #eddie x y/n #eddie munson #eddie x reader #dark!eddie munson #dom!eddie munson #mean dom eddie munson #black!oc #black!y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut

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pardi-real · 3 months

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Main Story Ep. 2 / Part 3 / Chapter 5 - Tough Training

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[Devil's Palace, Dining Room]

Lono: "Good morning! my lord!"

Bastien: "Good morning, my lord."

Berrien: "Please come this way… breakfast is served here.”

Lono: "Today's breakfast is cheese omelet with smoked salmon!"

> "Looks delicious”

Muu: "It smells so good~!"

Lono: "Alright, I'll serve it on plates. Oops... Ouchhh..."

> "Are you okay?"

Lono: "Sorry. I forgot I have blisters on my hands."

Bastien: "Lono... I'll do it."

Lono: "T-thanks..."

Berrien: "Is it due to the capture team's training?"

Lono: "Yes."

Berrien: "Didn't you practice all day yesterday too…?"

Lono: "Yes, that's true… We usually don't form teams with these members, and the strategy is a bit different. Anyway, we're practicing until the operation goes smoothly… Hmm…"

> “What's wrong?” > “Is something bothering you?”

Lono: "It's just his enthusiasm… Haures seems to be oddly fired up."

Muu: "Isn't Mr. Haures always dedicated to training?"

Lono: "That's true, but... it's totally not the usual Haures."

Bastien: "Indeed... I'm joining in the training to act as the intelligent angel, but… Mr. Haures is acting unusually this time.”

> "Even from Bastien's perspective..."

Lono: "Yeah, something feels off. It's like he's more... intense?”

> "Intense, huh…”

Berrien: "I see…”

Muu: “So Mr. Haures hasn't returned to his usual self… but he looked fine when we watched the training the other day...”

Berrien: “I'm a bit concerned. Um… my lord, would you mind going to watch the capture team's training later?"

> "Sure…” > “I'm curious too”

Berrien: "Thank you very much, my lord."

[Devil's Palace, Backyard]

Haures: "Alright, let's do it from the beginning!”

Trudge… trudge…

Berrien: "They're doing it. Let's watch from a distance here."

> "Yeah, let's"

Muu: "Mr. Haures looks like his usual self, though…"

Haures: "Alright, Bastien! Run!"

Bastien: "Got it."

Dash

Haures: "Boschi! Over there!"

Boschi: "I'm already on it."

Bastien: “Kh…” (I should escape that way next...)

Dash

Haures: "Lamli! Lato! That way!"

Lamli: "I leave it to you, Lato-chi~!"

Lato: "Kufufu... I'm itching to attack. I won't let you escape, Bastien."

Bastien: “Kh…” (Mr. Lato is fast...)

Haures: "We've got him cornered!"

Boschi: "Throw in the towel…”

Bastien: "Kh…!” (I have no choice but to escape that way...)

Dash

Haures: "Now! Lono! Fennesz! Set up the net!"

Lono: "Leave it to me!"

Fennesz: "Alright!"

Bastien: "Whoa!” Thud

Lono: "Alright! We caught you! Bastien!”

Fennesz: "Lono! Fold the net!"

Lono: "Okay! I'll make sure he can't get out of the net!"

Bastien: "Kh…” (I-I'm caught in the net…)

Lamli: "Hooray~! We caught him smoothly!"

Fennesz: "You led him well towards the net."

Haures: "No... it's still not enough. Lono, Fennesz! You were opening the net a bit too early. If you open it too early, there is a high chance that the angel will dodge it. You need to spread the net just one tempo slower."

Fennesz: "O-okay, got it.” (I thought we followed Haures' command correctly...)

Lono: "Yeah..."

Haures: “And Lamli, Lato. You need to be more aware of each other's positions. Too many times you're still moving apart. Watch and imitate the way me and Boschi keep our distance. Understand?”

Lamli: “Roger!”

Lato: “Hmm… It's kind of difficult.”

Haures: “Come on, let's do it again!”

Lamli: “What? A-again? We've been going through the whole thing without a break, though?”

Fennesz: “Maybe we should take a break? Haures?”

Haures: “....No. We don't have much time before the expedition. Right now, we're just going to repeat the training so that our bodies can learn the strategy. We can't afford to miss this chance…”

Boschi: "Hey... Haures. Aren't you hurrying it too much?”

Haures: “I'm not. This is a particularly important mission. I think it's best to practice a little too much.”

Boschi: “Good grief... If you get hurt before the show, what's the point?”

Haures: “That's…”

Boschi: “I'm taking the rest of the day off.”

Trudge… trudge…

Haures: “W-wait! Boschi..! Sigh... Good grief. Boschi, that guy... No choice, let's take a break.”

Lamli: “Hooray~! I'm so beat already~”

Lato: “Hmm.... Maybe I should take a dip.”

Haures: “......”

Fennesz: "Haures, can we talk for a moment?"

Haures: “Hm? What's up? Fennesz.”

Fennesz: “Let's go somewhere a little further away.”

Trudge… trudge…

Haures: “What is it? Fennesz, I'd like to focus on the mission right now…”

Fennesz: "I'm not sure if it's my place to say this, but… aren't you hurrying it too much? Haures, this doesn't seem like you. If we keep this up… just as Boschi said, someone will end up injured.”

Haures: "W-well..."

Fennesz: "I believe the usual Haures... would subject everyone to strict training to prevent injuries. But the current training might be too much, Haures."

Haures: "......"

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#main story #*aknk

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

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Easy As

A Carmen Berzatto Universe

A/N: Another request from the inbox - though I think this has been on everyone’s mind for a while! Let me know your guesses at gender ;)

Vanessa Monaghan is the breath of fresh air that Carmen had been gasping for.

Chapter 28: Sous

It was earlier than they planned – about six months earlier. Vanessa would be walking at her graduation ceremony in three months, and by then, she’d be six months along.

She didn’t care if it was earlier than planned. Frankly she was more impressed than anything – she’d only gotten her IUD taken out a few months ago. Her gynecologist warned it could take six months to a year for her cycle to regulate again and they had been using condoms in the mean time.

She hadn’t even necessarily gotten off of her IUD with the intention of getting pregnant, but to help with cramps that had been getting worse over the last year or so.

But there it was, looking right back at her as she stared down the little Clear Blue test. Pregnant.

It took a few days for it to really sink in – and about six more tests along with a trip to her gyno to confirm.

Sure, they’d been talking about having babies for years, but it was something else entirely to actually be pregnant.

She wanted to tell Carmen in a cute way – not just blurt it out over dinner one night.

But she didn’t know how. She didn’t want it to be tacky, she wanted it to be sweet – maybe use something they could hold onto as the baby got older.

After a week of thinking it through and work-shopping a couple of items on Etsy, she had a solution. Tracking down a vintage baby Levi denim jacket wasn’t easy, but with enough money, anything was possible. Six days later, she got the jacket back from an artist based in Chicago that had artfully stitched Sous Chef across the top back panel of the jacket. It was perfect, and she cried as she clutched it to her chest after opening the box up on campus.

She couldn’t risk Carmen finding it before it was time.

But the time had finally come. It had been nearly four weeks since she found out and she was bursting at the seams to finally tell him. Nerves shook her hands as she wrapped up the little jacket in plain brown wrapping paper, tying off the box with white ribbon.

She’d text Carmen that she’d pull together dinner that night. He’d been helping Natalie and Pete with the fence in their backyard for a few hours that afternoon and she’d prepared a big cheese board, salads and sandwiches for dinner – something that they ended up eating most nights.

She was just plating up the spring mix as Carmen walked through the door. She figured she’d save the gift for after dinner. She was starving after all, and didn’t think they’d get around to eating after she told him the big news.

“Mrs. Berzatto?” Carmen called out, hearing the tell-tale thunk of his shoe against the back of the entry closet.

“You hungry?” Vanessa called back, cracking open a ginger ale and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “I found the last bit of our jalapeno spread in the deli drawer.”

Carmen’s arms appeared around her waist, hugging her back against him.

In that moment, she realized she couldn’t eat more than half of what she’d plated up for dinner. No deli meat, no soft cheeses, no smoked salmon. She didn’t know all the rules, but she knew some of them. God she couldn’t eat sushi for nearly six more months?

She wondered if he could feel her little bump – did she even have a bump?

Oh my god she was pregnant.

“Starving,” He replied, kissing her neck gently.

“How are Nat and Pete?” She asked, hugging her arms against him.

“Enjoying their newly fixed fence,” Carmen said, rocking her gently back and forth. “Lily and Maxie were out with the babysitter, so didn’t get to see ‘em.” Vanessa could feel his frown against her skin. Max was Nat and Pete’s rainbow baby after their miscarriage before Lily turned two. At fourteen months, he was a little monster that Carmen was absolutely obsessed with.

“They’re coming over this weekend,” she reminded gently. “Then we can give them the water table.”

“They’re gonna love it,” Carmen’s frown turned upside down.

Vanessa spun in his hold, taking in his beautiful features.

“Come on, handsome, there’s a salad out there calling my name,” she greeted him once again with a soft kiss.

“God I’m starving,” he said, squeezing her sides in his hand. “After dinner maybe we can walk down to Jeni’s for dessert?”

“That sounds like a magnificent idea,” Vanessa agreed. It was another sweltering late summer in Chicago and their air conditioning had been working overtime all week.

They shared dinner at the dining table, Vanessa’s feet in Carmen’s lap as he told her about his day. She’d been studying away for final projects and she could feel the shift in their life coming – a welcome, exciting shift. Maybe Carmen could feel it, too.

“You not hungry?” Carmen asked, noticing she’d barely picked at the cheeseboard and left most of her sandwich on her plate.

“I ate a big, heavy lunch today and for some reason this salad is the only thing calling my name,” she explained way. He didn’t blink twice and happily picked up her sandwich to put on his plate.

“I already know what flavor you’re going to get,” Carmen said as their hands swung between them, looking up at the board of flavors at Jeni’s.

“I think I’m going to change it up this time,” Vanessa replied.

“No gooey butter cake?” He asked. His wife was a severe creature of habit.

“Something about Savannah buttermint is really doing it for me this time,” she said, “will you get me two scoops?” Carmen shrugged, reaching the counter to order and grabbing his own scoop of salted caramel.

The noises Vanessa was making as they trekked back to their apartment were downright unholy.

“Good then?” Carmen asked with a laugh.

“Fuck Carmen, this ice cream is getting me wet,” she replied, only half-joking. Carmen honked out a laugh at her words.

“Wait, let me try,” he insisted, reaching his spoon over.

“Don’t you dare,” she pulled away, twisting her body so he couldn’t reach it.

“Vanessa!” He laughed, “you got two scoops, let me get a little nibble,” he said, only halfway sounding like a petulant child.

“I’m not sharing!” She said, shoveling another big bite into her mouth.

“C’mere,” he lured her in, sealing his mouth over hers in a kiss, getting all the flavor of the Savannah buttermint. “Wow, that is good,” he commented, proud to see he could still make his wife blush.

“Come on, I have a little something for you at home,” she teased out, piquing his interest.

“For me?” He asked, brows raised.

Vanessa finished her treat in the same time as Carmen, dropping their used cups in the garbage before she grabbed her perfectly wrapped package from their bedroom.

“Baby, what did you get me?” He asked, happily taking the box as she settled herself in his lap on the couch.

“I think you’ll like it,” she replied, “I love it,” she added quietly.

Carmen gave her an inquisitive look as he pulled the white ribbon, tearing the brown wrapping paper. Lifting the white tissue paper, he tossed the lid to the ground, revealing the little jacket.

“Ness?” He asked, holding it up in its entirety. It was impossibly small, and he heart lurched at the sight of it. She pushed the box to the ground as he turned it over, revealing the embroidery.

She could see Carmen’s brain stop working all together.

“Nessa?” He asked again, mouth agape and blue eyes wide. “Sous Chef?” He asked mostly to himself. “Ness is this for –“” His brain flipped around the babies they knew, Rosie, Lily, Max – they were all too big for this. “Vanessa are you pregnant?” He finally formed a full thought.

“Check the pocket,” she smiled serenely. Carmen reached in to pull out the infamous blue-capped test.

Pregnant.

“Are you kidding me?” He asked, looking absolutely shocked. “Vanessa please don’t tell me this is a joke,” he all but pleaded.

“It’s not a joke,” excited tears bubbled up to the surface. “I’m pregnant – went to the doctor and everything.”

“Ness – I” Carmen’s face morphed into pure joy, his lashes dark and slick with tears. He wrapped her up in the biggest hug he could, wanting to hold onto this moment forever in case it was another dream. “We’re having a baby,” he breathed in disbelief.

“We’re having a baby,” she laughed, nervous and excited giggles leaving her lips.

“You’re pregnant!” He exclaimed, “holy shit, Ness, it’s happening!” he pushed his hair back, holding his forehead underneath his palm.

“It’s happening!” She agreed.

“When,” he breathed in again, “when?” He implored.

“Valentine’s Day,” she giggled.

“Valentine’s Day?” He gaped, still in pure disbelief.

“Our little valentine,” she repeated, tears now flowing down her cheeks.

“So you’re – you’re almost three months?” He asked.

“Next week I’ll be out of my first trimester,” she replied, “happy birthday.” Carmen would turn thirty-two next week.

Carmen leaned forward, kissing her soundly, his hand sliding up her back to cradle her head in his palms.

“I love you so much,” he shook his head. “We’ve got to build a nursery.”

Vanessa laughed at his thought process, stroking the back of his neck gently.

“We have so much time,” she insisted.

“Ness it’s going to fly by,” he replied. “We can get painters out here next week.”

“And what color are we painting, huh?” She asked with a tilt of her head. “Should we find out?”

Carmen froze. They were either going to have a baby boy or a baby girl and even now, with just two options, it seemed like a universe of possibilities.

“I want to find out,” he said, eyes almost desperate. “I don’t think I can wait till February to know.”

“I want out find out, too,” Vanessa agreed. “It’s been killing me to walk by all the baby boutiques and not buying anything,” Carmen laughed at her honesty.

An hour later, they were laying in bed, Carmen’s head resting gently on Vanessa’s stomach.

“It’s the size of a cherry right now,” Vanessa said, combing her fingers through Carmen’s hair. He was due for a haircut, but she loved it long and shaggy in the summer.

“A cherry,” he repeated, marveling. “A little rainier,” he commented. “I think she’s more like a little maraschino,” Vanessa replied.

“You think it’s a girl?” He asked, hand resting gently below her belly button.

“I have no idea,” she said honestly. “It’s fun to picture it.”

Carmen nuzzled against her, feeling like he was positively floating.

“Thank you,” he said, lifting his head to look Vanessa in the eye.

“Well my love, I really couldn’t do it without you,” Vanessa smiled. “I’m impressed honestly, my gynecologist was impressed, too.” Carmen laughed softly, placing his head back down against the warmth of her body.

“How are we ever supposed to sleep again?” Carmen asked, “I’m too excited to sleep.”

“Baby I think our days of sleep are officially over,” Vanessa admitted.

Carmen began to run through it all in his head. He’d never put anything before his baby. He knew that some adjustments would be on the horizon, because he wouldn’t give up a single minute with his growing family.

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