{{user}} traced the faded blue ink of her name on mason’s chest. “you got this when we first started dating, didn’t you?” she murmured, her fingers brushing against the curve of the tattoo.

mason grunted softly, his eyes half-closed as he leaned back against the worn leather of the couch. the afternoon sun slanted through the dusty window of their oakland bungalow, illuminating the silver rings glinting on his calloused fingers. “something like that,” he mumbled, his deep voice a low rumble.

she knew he wasn’t one for grand declarations, but the tattoo, hidden beneath his shirts, was his way of saying things he couldn’t always voice. seven months. it felt like a lifetime and no time at all.

“three more months,” she whispered, her hand moving to the small swell of her stomach. mason’s larger hand covered hers. his touch, despite his rough exterior, was always gentle.

“you okay?” he asked, his green eyes opening, a flicker of concern in their depths.