LADYC0LDBREW

eddie thanked whatever higher power there was for the way that your ass looked in your new hot pink, lulu lemon matching set. was he acting like a total creep right now? fuck yes. but eddie didn’t care, not in the slightest. because when you bent down to tie up the laces of your sneakers- good goly miss molly!

you could feel eddie’s burning gaze trace the curve of your ass. and- was that a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead? holy shit, it was! of course you would play along, slowly bending back up, doe-eyes finding your boyfriend who was a ticking time bomb.

you smirked, hands settling onto your hips. “eddie, baby. you can’t look at me like that.” it’s not that he couldn’t per say. but, if you were late again to pilates they were going to charge you a fee.

eddie groans dramatically, ring covered hands dragging down his face as he flops onto his back against the mattress.

“i can’t! no sweetheart, you can’t look at me like that,” brushing the hair that has fanned over his face, eddie sporadically sits up like a mad man. one arm supporting his weight as the other is crossed over his lap. “how am i supposed to do anything for the next forty five minutes, while i know you’re doing those sexy little lunges showing off that ass!”

you playfully roll your eyes, “is that all you want me for munson? my ass?”

eddie shrugs, “those tits are pretty rocker too.” that gets a hair tie flicked to the forehead. “ow! baby, i didn’t mean it!”

and when you grab your gym bag, huffing as you exit the bedroom, eddie cries after you. “baby, please! come on, you know i was joking.”

what eddie can’t see is the smile toying with your lips when entering the kitchen. standing up on your tippy toes as you reach for your massive water bottle. 40oz you swore everyday to finish and won’t break that stride now. (seriously! hygiene is important!)

you move over to the fridge, tipping the water bottle on the ledge to access the filtered water and that’s when eddie comes prancing into the room. he pouts, shuffling behind you and circling his arms around your waist. his cheek squished against your bare shoulder.

“did i ever mention how beautiful, stunning, absolutely breath-taking and amazing you are?”

“you are full of shit ed’s.” you can’t help but laugh, especially when eddie starts peppering kisses across your skin. “get off of me you freak! that tickles!”

screwing the lid of your water bottle tightly shut, you pull away from eddies grasp to slip on your matching zip-up. the fabric is so tight, it practically melts to fit your figure and eddie gasps. yes- gasps, like a victorian woman seeing an ankle for the first time.

“that’s it!” eddie throws his hands in the air, shaking his head. “you’re trying to kill me baby. you’re trying to kill me!”

“oh my gosh, ed’s!” and you’re laughing still, because you’re boyfriend is so utterly obsessed with you. this happens every time before you leave to go anywhere for that matter. especially pilates when you get to show off your matching sets and eddies loses his fucking marbles. (that man is head over heels for you!)

you walk over to your boyfriend who has the personality of a sour patch kid. sour at first, but sweet after awhile. you cup his jaw, brushing your thumbs over the morning subtle he forgot to shave, and plant a kiss directly to his lips. of course he’s greedy for more, grabbing at your hips and pulling you closer as if that’s possible at this point. but, you’re quick. using one of your hands to gently push away at his chest.

“no way lover boy, i’m not getting fined for missing another class.”

eddie leans in for another kiss, “i’ll pay for it,” kiss, “and i’ll buy you another set,” kiss, “and then i’ll buy you one of those overly priced matchas you get.” kiss.

you shake your head, loosening your grip around eddie. “that’s very kind ed’s, but no can do.” and as much as eddie would like to argue, he knows deep down that pilates is the one part of your day where you really get to focus on yourself. (eddie just wants his baby feeling healthy!)

nobody said carrying a half kryptonian baby was easy. that’s actually funny, because nobody ever has! surprise you’re the first!

clark is in awe with you though. you’ve taken everything like a champ especially with a baby that could potentially come out levitating. you’re at the home stretch, three more weeks and your baby girl will be arriving. clark has taken it upon himself to baby proof the entire house, as well as ‘mom proofing’ everything. whatever that means.

you’re bouncing on an exercise ball in-front of the tv, mindlessly paying attention because clark has been super-speeding around the house like a headless chicken. gary offered to build the essentials, but clark was firm on the belief that he needed to. there’s a half built crib lying on the floor, a baby gate that hasn’t even been brought out of the packaging, and clothes messily thrown into a pile in the corner of your shared bedroom.

you thought clark at first was just excited- and he is. but now, where you can really watch, he’s losing his ever loving mind to the stress. clark is what you would call a… disorganized perfectionist. he so desperately needs everything to be perfect for when your daughter arrives, but geez. superman can’t focus for shit.

“clark,” you try not to raise your voice from across the living room, but you know clark doesn’t hear you. he’s far to deep into hand washing every single bottle you now own. “clark.”

the faucet stops, there’s some shuffling and the sound of the cabinet closing before clark peeks his head around the opening to the kitchen. his glasses are slightly lopsided and there’s a big water stain on the hem of his loose shirt.

“yeah baby? somethin’ hurt?”

you haven’t even responded before clark is abandoning yet another task and making his way forwards you. clark is so lovesick, he doesn’t just simply sit beside you on the couch. no, he kneels down in front of you. placing both large hands around your knees to steady the bouncing.

you feel rather exposed in the moment. only in a pair of granny panties and clark’s old t-shirt that has a tear near the collar. you can’t even remember if you brushed your hair this morning, let alone your teeth. you are sort of in that phase of your pregnancy where everything feels like a chore. getting out of bed? impossible. making breakfast? can’t stand the smell. putting on jeans? heck no!

but clark, your sweet clark, looks at you as if you have hung the moon. round, blue eyes pinch with concern from where he is kneeling before you. tracing soothing circles along your skin.

you reach over to run your fingertips through his curls, tugging on them a bit and his mouth slightly gawks open. his eyes flutter shut in pleasure. oh, it’s been so long since you two have done anything. maybe if you just pull clark in real close…

kick.

not just a kick, a sucker punch straight to your bladder. you’re rereading clark’s hair as if it just burned you, that same hand flying to your stomach. “oof.” and it happens again, you nearly slip right off of the exercise ball.

it’s not clark who steady’s you, it’s now his superman persona coming alive. he’s got his hands gripping your lower waist in merely a second, hovering over you. “what is it baby? are you okay-“ you go to speak and he nervously stumbles over you, “i mean- obviously you’re not okay, but what do you need? i can get-“

you interrupt clark’s rambling by blindly taking his hand and moving it to the spot where your baby girl kicks again. you may be getting wwe slammed right now by a literal infant, but clark longs to feel every part of you. especially if that part is with your baby girl.

“she’s-“ he chokes out as his eyes widen. “she’s kicking. she-she hasn’t kicked very much since-“

“i know.” you lean in to press your lips right smack in the center of clark’s forehead, shushing him sweetly. you allow your lips to linger there, your bodies dangerously close. your daughter fights out a few more kicks that make you borderline sick, but you hold on for clark. because deep down he needed this grounding.

that everything is going to be okay.

clark leans back, hand still resting over the swell of your belly, and there’s tears brimming his lash line. “you’re amazing,” he breathlessly smiles, “you’re perfect, so perfect, you’re going to be the best mom ever.”

clark has so many compliments to give, you don’t think he will ever stop. you’ll receive them happily forever. but right now, you suddenly feel… wet?

you look down, mouth parting open.

“clark.”

“is she kicking again?”

“um, no. i think she’s…she’s coming?”

clark has fumbled with his tie at least six times- actually, nope. now it’s seven. for being metropolis’s most beloved superhero, clark kent is a nervous reck. all because of a father and daughter dance sponsored by april’s elementary school.

you’re leaning against the doorway that enters into the bathroom, dressed down into your favorite cotton pajamas, watching as clark grumbles under his breath and rub his hands anxiously through his once neatly done curls. “clark, honey,” you say sweetly, “do you need help?”

“no, no.” clark brushes you off with the wave of his hand but then realizes how that may have been rude. you didn’t take it that way, but clark cares so deeply about everything and everyone.

he sighs, dipping his head downwards as his hands grip the bathroom counter. he then turns to you with a pleading gaze, you move like a magnet towards him.

“clark,” your hands rest easy on his chest before they begin fussing with his tie. your voice is as gentle as the soft humming coming from the wind outside. “there’s no need to be worried. you and april are going to have a great time.”

clark bites down on his bottom lip, like there’s an argument on the tip of his tongue but it’s useless. because you’re right. you’re always right. clark just wants this night to go well. is that too much to ask for? apparently so, because april’s been in this phase where she thinks she is more older than she is. wanting to wear makeup, talking about boys, and even called clark by his first name. he almost had a heart attack.

she’s only five, but in clark’s eyes, april martha kent is still his babbling baby girl who made friends with everyone at the grocery store.

when you finish his tie, clark is quick to pull you closer. large palms cupping your hips as his face tucks in the joint of your neck. without thinking much of the gesture, it’s a memorized motion on how your hand lifts to cup the back of his neck. toying with the curls at the nape.

“she’s growing up.” clark mumbles sadly into your neck, the hot breath prickling your skin. “don’t want her too.”

you laugh, there’s no real harm behind it. you’re pulling clark’s face away from your neck and cupping his cheeks with both hands. “i understand, i want her to stay tiny forever too. but, how lucky are we that we get to watch her grow up into such an amazing little girl?”

clark pulls his head up slowly, his entire frame crouches awkwardly to meet your eyes. then his lips curl upwards, it’s a sight you’ll never get tired of. “yeah,” he whispers, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. “we are so lucky, aren’t we?”

and then he kisses you, it’s like the first time all over again. the gesture is so feather-like you feel like floating. every touch, every kiss, every word, clark thinks it through with the most precise care because it’s you. his wife. the mother is his child. his everything.

there’s a soft pitter-patter that comes from down the hallway and bursting into your bedroom. you don’t have to think twice about who it is.

“mommy! my dress isn’t poofy enough!”

you give clark a knowing, playful, look before turning around. your daughter is dressed in a sparkly, baby pink colored dress that nearly swallows her whole from all the tulle. but, she picked it out herself and was so proud. “i look like a a princess mommy!” she cheered after trying it on. you clutched onto that little pack of tissues like your life depended on it that day.

you kneel down before her, ruffling and soothing out the wrinkles in april’s dress. “well, we certainly can’t have that.” you coo, going the extra mile to fix april’s hair. she’s got wild, jet black curls like her dad that need to be restrained by a matching headband.

there’s a stunned silence behind you, you can feel it too. as you fix up april you slowly get out of the way so that she can twirl and present herself to clark. “daddy, look!” april closes the gap, skipping into the bathroom and wraps her arms around clark’s thigh. “i’m a princess!”

clark looks at you as if he just saw a litter of golden retriever puppies for sale. (the quite literally definition of this 🥹) and has to brace once hand on the bathroom counter to steady himself.

“oh, sweetheart, you look extravagant.”

april glances up at him with curiosity. “ex-tra-va-grant?”

clark nods, soothing down the one piece of hair that sticks awkwardly upwards on april’s head. “yeah, you got it.” he scoops her up like it’s nothing and april places her tiny hand on clark’s shoulder for support.

“daddy!” she squeaks, “don’t ruin my dress!”

it started with the tiniest sneeze clark has ever heard before in his life. it was adorable until he registered that it came from his baby girl, who appeared as if she had gotten struck by lightening. the sneeze had nearly took her out, staring wide eyed at clark before another one had erupted.

clark should have known, he really should had. april had woken up squirmy and fussy this morning. she clung onto you like a koala and threw an absolute fit when clark tried to feed her green beans. she normally loves green beans! and when you left tonight to go out for your best friend’s birthday (which took a lot of convincing from clark because he knew you would much rather stay home with april. but, when was the last time you had gone out?) april cried for an entire hour until clark finally gave up a smidge and allowed another thirty minutes of tv time.

first came a sneeze, then a fit of coughs. clark quickly scooped up april from where she was sitting upright on her baby mat and gently patted her back. rocking april back and forth as he soothed, “it’s okay angel, it’s okay.”

she sniffles, tucking her flushed face into the crease of clark’s neck as if it will swallow her whole. the gesture makes clark’s heart swell. yet, his chest tightens in panic. clark’s never gotten sick before, he quite literally can’t get sick. although, he’s taken care of you before.

your first date had completely gone wrong. the two of you planned to go out to dinner, take a walk along the riverside, and maybe share a frozen treat. you woke up that morning however toppled over the toilet seat, unable to keep anything down. you texted clark, for sure believing he might hate you for doing this, but you were wrong. he immediately came over with grocery bag’s filled to the brim with an array of items for chicken noodle soup, a blanket, and hot chocolate. the two of you watched the entire saga of the star wars universe while cuddling close to one another.

you like to think you ruined your first date with clark, but he would disagree. that was the best first date he ever had.

but, april isn’t an adult. she’s an infant, small but mighty. this is the part of parenthood clark feared the most. he could do it, take care of april that is, but clark didn’t know where to start. she was burning up in his hold.

clark snatched his phone from the coffee table, still rocking april as she began to let out little pained whimpers, and hesitated to text you. there was a little part of clark that wanted to prove to you that he could do this by himself. he didn’t want to ruin your night. although, clark knows deep down, you would be more upset if you didn’t tell him.

so clark quickly typed out, ‘hi baby, hope you are having fun! teeny tiny problem, april’s got a fever brewing right now. she’s starting to cough and grow fussy, i’m gonna see if it progresses further before taking her to the doctors- BUT STAY OUT! HAVE FUN! I HAVE THIS TOTALLY UNDER CONTROL I LOVE YOU!’

clark nodded to himself clearly pleased. that was a totally chill message, right?

april lifts up her head from clark’s shoulder, her eyes squinting and cheeks burning a deep red. clark tries not to smile, because you and april have the same grumpy looking face. it’s adorable to him, just maybe not when his baby girl is feeling sick.

“how about a bath?” april shakes her head no, tears starting to clumsily form against her lash line. clark’s already treading over to her nursery. “okay, maybe not a bath even though i think you would feel much better if you did-“

april starts to cry, a full on mini mental breakdown. clark can understand, being this little and feeling awful must suck. especially when your immune system isn’t all that developed. but, clark hates to see his baby girl cry. especially over something he can’t fix right away.

he bounces her gently in his hold, walking in literal circles around her nursery. “i know baby girl, i know. i’m so sorry you feel this way, i promise ma-ma and i are going to nurse you back to feeling better.” april’s cries grow louder, she clawing at clark’s chest. trying to pull at his tangled curls. clark grows impatient, what is he going to do?

“okay, okay,” he rushes out anxiously, walking over to april’s crib. “let’s try this, alright? it might be a tight squeeze but-“

clark places april down in the crib, she screeches at the lost contact, but clark is quick to place one foot after another in the crib. he curls tightly into a ball, for his rather muscular frame it’s not the most comfortable, but april seems to suddenly find herself crawling up his chest. she’s already dimmed her crying into quiet sniffles, resting her cheek right over his beating heart.

“there,” clark whispers, craning his neck awkwardly due to the unfair fit of the crib, to press a kiss to april’s forehead. he can feel himself starting to doze off while rubbing april’s back. “daddy’s got you babygirl. gonna get you feeling better in no time.”