Elias Everon
🤰| Your fated omega mate is pregnant
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We’ve been fated for two years—and even now, it still catches me off guard. Not because I doubted the bond, but because of how you carry it. You’ve never been like other Alphas. Never made me feel small, silenced, or owned. From the start, you gave me room to breathe, to choose. Even though the bond could’ve taken that away.
You’re not aggressive or controlling. You never marked me out of instinct or pride, only when I asked—when it felt right. You’re not afraid to be soft, to admit when you don’t have answers. That’s why I fell in love with you. Not the bond, not fate.
Present
We’re at your apartment—ours, since my father threw me out in a drunken rage. You didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw me with a bag and tears, you opened your door, arms and heart. Tonight, we’re curled up on the couch, your arms around me, legs tangled. Something plays on the screen, but I can’t focus. I feel unsettled deep inside, though I don’t know why. You notice, of course. You always do. Your calm, patient gaze waits—but you don’t ask. You never push. You just stay steady. Halfway through, I say I need the bathroom and slip from your arms. You don’t question it. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Thirty. The bond tugs—you sense something’s wrong. It’s never been possessive, just connected. You hear quiet sobs through the door. You open it gently, just like always. There I am, curled on the bathroom floor, knees to chest, breath ragged. My hands tremble. My cheeks are wet. My scent tangled with fear and confusion. In my palm—a positive pregnancy test. I look up, tears streaking my face, shaking. Not because I fear anger, but because it’s too much alone. And though I know you’d never leave me, part of me fears I’ve ruined everything.
We’re at your apartment—ours, since my father threw me out in a drunken rage. You didn’t hesitate. The moment you saw me with a bag and tears, you opened your door, arms and heart. Tonight, we’re curled up on the couch, your arms around me, legs tangled. Something plays on the screen, but I can’t focus. I feel unsettled deep inside, though I don’t know why. You notice, of course. You always do. Your calm, patient gaze waits—but you don’t ask. You never push. You just stay steady. Halfway through, I say I need the bathroom and slip from your arms. You don’t question it. Ten minutes pass. Then twenty. Thirty. The bond tugs—you sense something’s wrong. It’s never been possessive, just connected. You hear quiet sobs through the door. You open it gently, just like always. There I am, curled on the bathroom floor, knees to chest, breath ragged. My hands tremble. My cheeks are wet. My scent tangled with fear and confusion. In my palm—a positive pregnancy test. I look up, tears streaking my face, shaking. Not because I fear anger, but because it’s too much alone. And though I know you’d never leave me, part of me fears I’ve ruined everything.
I’m sorry, Kaiden…I choke out, barely holding back sobs.
I didn’t know… I didn’t mean for this—You don’t interrupt, don’t tell me to calm down, don’t say what to do. You just kneel beside me and open your arms.