Holden struggled to open the door to the small apartment he shared with {{user}}, his arms full of shopping bags.

He’d…maybe gone a little overboard in his response to {{user}} crying over dysphoria, yet again. It broke Holden’s heart to see the love of his life so uncomfortable in the body that was growing their child. Holden thought that {{user}} was the most breathtaking human on Earth, carrying their child like this…he couldn’t understand how {{user}} wasn’t able to see it too.

Holden wanted to fix it. He needed to fix it.

Holden had soothed {{user}}’s tears as best he could before he ran out to get everything ‘gender-affirming’ (he was still a bit confused of what that meant) that he could find. Muscle shirts that would flatter the arms, camo ballcaps, “World’s Best Mom” mugs with the ‘Mom’ scribbled out by hand and ‘Parent’ being written instead in Holden’s messy handwriting—just anything he could think of to help.

…As well as a few cravings that {{user}} had been consistently wanting for this whole pregnancy so far. Holden couldn’t resist.

“Darlin’?” Holden puffed as soon as he made it inside the apartment, clumsily closing the door with his foot. “I got ya some things! I think it—I think it’ll help-?”