Work Text:
YOLO Bar was Ray’s second home. Too loud, too bright, too much—exactly what he wanted. Here, neon lights blurred the sharp corners of his thoughts, music pounded hard enough to drown the silence he feared, and drinks numbed the ache he never admitted to anyone.
Tonight was no different. His friends were all here: Mew and Top glued together in that way couples do, Cheum and April laughing into each other’s shoulders, and Boston making snide remarks from the corner. Ray lounged on his stool, swirling his drink with practiced elegance, smirking at whatever nonsense his friends threw at him.
But then Sand walked on stage.
Ray’s smirk faltered for just a breath.
Sand always had that effect. The Alpha singer carried himself with a calm steadiness that made everyone else fade into background noise. His voice was husky, low, threaded with something raw and honest, something that cut deeper than Ray wanted it to. He didn’t flirt with the crowd, didn’t need to. Just one song, one look under dim neon lights, and Ray’s omega instincts clawed to the surface. Want.
Ray hated it. Ray wanted it.
When Sand’s set ended, Ray slipped off his stool, ignoring Boston’s knowing look, and sauntered to the bar where Sand was nursing a glass of water. He leaned in, his scent blooming sweet and deliberate, lips curled in a smile.
“You really should stop singing like that,” Ray purred. “Some of us might think you’re trying to seduce us.”
Sand turned, gaze steady, unimpressed. “Enjoy the music,” he said simply, and turned back to his drink.
Ray froze. Then laughed, short and sharp. No Alpha, no Beta, not even another Omega had ever brushed him off. He was Ray—attractive, rich, magnetic. People didn’t say no to him.
But Sand just had.
Ray walked back to his table that night with frustration prickling under his skin. And under it, something else—something hungrier. Fine, he thought, downing the rest of his drink. If he thinks he can resist me, he’s dead wrong.
Ray came back again. And again. More often than usual, his friends teased. Always with the same excuse—bored, nothing better to do. But the truth was clear in the way his eyes always drifted to the stage, in the way his scent thickened every time Sand sang.
He tried every trick. Teasing words, fleeting touches on Sand’s arm, pheromones curling warm and inviting. Sand stayed unshaken.
On the surface.
Because Ray saw it—the slight tightening of Sand’s jaw, the falter in his voice when Ray leaned too close, the subtle flare of his nostrils when Ray’s scent went molten with want.
Sand was affected. He just refused to give in. And that only made Ray want him more.
One night, when the bar was nearly empty, Ray caught him alone, wiping down the counter after his set.
“You know,” Ray murmured, sliding onto the stool beside him, “you’re the first Alpha who’s ever turned me down.”
Sand didn’t look up. “Is that supposed to flatter me?”
“No,” Ray admitted, smirk curling. “It’s supposed to drive me insane. Do you have any idea how much I want you?”
For the first time, Sand’s composure cracked. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hand tightening on the glass. The scent of restraint flooded the air—raw, Alpha, struggling.
“You’re reckless,” Sand said finally, voice low. “You think it’s just about sex.”
Ray leaned closer, no smirk this time. Just honesty, sharp and aching. “Maybe I thought so at first. But you… you make me want more.”
And Sand didn’t step away.
But just as something real began to flicker between them, Sand pulled away.
It was after a night out with their friends. Ray had been unusually quiet, watching Mew laugh at something Top whispered into his ear. And Sand noticed.
Later, when they were alone, Sand said it without preamble. “You used to love him.”
Ray blinked, startled. “What?”
“Mew,” Sand said evenly. “Everyone knows. You followed him around like he was your world. And now—” his jaw tightened—“now you look at me the same way. How am I supposed to believe I’m not just… a replacement?”
The words stung sharper than Ray expected. His chest tightened, his pride screaming at him to brush it off, but the ache was stronger.
“That was the past,” Ray snapped, though his voice shook. “Yes, I loved him. Or thought I did. But he never wanted me. And I don’t want him anymore.” He took a step closer, eyes blazing. “I want you, Sand. Only you. Don’t you dare push me away because you’re scared.”
His scent trembled with sincerity, desperate and raw.
For a long moment, Sand said nothing. Then his shoulders eased, the fight draining out of him. The Alpha steadiness that had always seemed unshakable cracked, and for once, Ray saw the man beneath it—afraid, uncertain, but wanting just as much.
Sand exhaled slowly. “Ray…”
That was all it took. Ray surged forward, fisting Sand’s shirt, pressing their mouths together in a kiss that was more demand than plea. And Sand, finally, stopped holding back.
Their mouths clashed, messy and hungry, the weeks of restraint burning out all at once. Sand’s hands cupped Ray’s face, then slid down to his waist, pulling him close until their scents tangled thick and undeniable.
Ray moaned into the kiss, his Omega instincts flooding every nerve. His scent spiked sweet and sharp, heat curling low in his belly. “Finally,” he gasped against Sand’s lips. “I thought you’d never break.”
Sand growled softly, the sound vibrating against Ray’s mouth. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Oh, I do.” Ray’s grin was wicked, but his eyes betrayed the vulnerability underneath. “I want you.”
When Sand kissed him again, it was with all the restraint finally burned away.
Sand’s lips crashed against Ray’s again, harder this time, and Ray gasped, heat flooding his entire body. The Alpha’s hands roamed, broad palms mapping every curve of his body like he’d been starving to touch him.
Ray tugged impatiently at Sand’s shirt, fumbling until he could shove it off his shoulders. “God, you’re slow,” he teased breathlessly, though his hands trembled with urgency.
Sand smirked against his mouth, tugging Ray closer until their hips collided. “You’ll thank me for being careful.”
Ray shivered as his back hit the mattress a moment later—he barely registered how they’d gotten to the bed. Sand loomed above him, gaze dark, scent heavy and intoxicating. Ray’s body responded instantly, Omega instincts screaming with need.
“Sand…” his voice cracked, equal parts plea and demand.
The Alpha kissed his throat, then lower, lips dragging down his collarbone. “Tell me you want this,” Sand murmured, voice rough.
Ray laughed shakily. “Do you even have to ask?” He tangled his fingers in Sand’s hair, tugging. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you on that damn stage.”
Sand growled softly, the sound vibrating against Ray’s chest, before capturing a peaked nipple with his mouth. Ray arched, a sharp moan tearing from his throat, his legs spreading instinctively to cradle Sand closer.
The scent in the room grew thick—Ray’s sweet and molten, Sand’s musky and dominant, blending until it was dizzying.
Sand’s hand slid down, teasing the waistband of Ray’s pants before finally slipping beneath. Ray gasped, his back arching higher. “Fuck—Sand—”
“Patience,” Sand murmured, though his own breath was ragged, his self-control visibly fraying.
Ray’s eyes fluttered shut, every nerve alight under Sand’s touch, every teasing stroke driving him closer to the edge. By the time Sand finally pulled his pants away completely, Ray was trembling, pupils blown wide with want.
“Please,” Ray whispered, voice cracking. “Don’t make me beg—”
Sand pressed a kiss to his knee, spreading him open. “Begging suits you,” he said hoarsely.
Ray cursed, grabbing at the sheets, his scent spiking desperately. “Sand—please, I need you—”
That was all it took.
Sand’s mouth trailed lower, tasting, claiming, until Ray was writhing, voice breaking on moans he couldn’t hold back. His hands fisted Sand’s hair, pulling him closer, urging him on, until he was gasping, trembling apart under the Alpha’s tongue.
“Fuck—Sand!”
Ray’s climax hit him hard, his body clenching, his scent flooding the room like honey. He collapsed back, chest heaving, lips parted in shock at the sheer intensity.
Sand kissed his way back up, lips slick, eyes burning with heat and tenderness all at once. “Beautiful,” he whispered against Ray’s mouth.
Ray whimpered, clutching at him. “Don’t stop—need you inside me—”
Sand hesitated for a heartbeat, searching Ray’s eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Ray’s answer was fierce, immediate. “I want all of you. I want to feel you—please.”
Sand groaned low, capturing his lips again as he lined himself up. He entered slowly, carefully, stretching Ray inch by inch until Ray’s gasp turned into a cry. His hands clutched at Sand’s back, nails digging in.
“Ray—” Sand’s voice broke, his restraint trembling as Ray’s body clenched around him.
“Don’t stop,” Ray begged, legs locking around his waist. “God, you feel—fuck—so good—”
Sand thrust deeper, finally burying himself to the hilt, and the world dissolved into heat and instinct. Their pheromones exploded, Alpha and Omega tangled in perfect sync.
The pace built quickly—harder, faster—Ray meeting every thrust with desperate need, Sand grounding him with murmured words, with kisses that spoke of more than lust.
When release came, it was overwhelming. Ray shattered first, crying out, clinging tight as waves of pleasure consumed him. Sand followed with a guttural groan, holding Ray impossibly close as he spilled inside him, their scents locking the moment in place.
They collapsed together, sweat-slick and trembling, chests heaving.
Ray laughed weakly, voice hoarse. “Took you long enough.”
Sand kissed his temple, holding him close. “Worth the wait.”
For the first time in a long time, Ray felt safe. Wanted. Loved.
A few weeks after that night, Ray began noticing changes—morning sickness, mood swings, fatigue that clung to him no matter how much he slept. He brushed it off at first, until two sharp red lines appeared on the test in his hand.
He stared at it, his whole body trembling. His throat felt tight, his heart racing. I can’t do this. I don’t even know how to take care of myself… how the hell am I supposed to raise a child?
That evening, when Sand came home from the bar, Ray didn’t know how to say it. Instead, he pressed the test into his hands without a word.
Sand looked at it. Then at Ray. His expression didn’t shift to panic, didn’t harden in anger—just softened, calm, steady. “You’re pregnant,” he said quietly, like stating a simple truth.
Ray gave a shaky laugh, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re not freaking out?”
“I’m surprised,” Sand admitted, setting the test gently on the table. “But I’m not panicking. Because this isn’t a bad thing, Ray.”
Ray’s eyes went wide. “Not a bad thing? Sand, I—” his voice cracked, sharp with fear. “I can’t do this. I’m not… I’m not someone who can be a parent. I grew up in a mess, I don’t know how to raise a kid. What if I ruin them the way my family ruined me?”
Sand stepped closer, cupping Ray’s face in his hands. His voice was low, firm. “Listen to me. You are not your past. Where you come from doesn’t decide who you are now. You’re reckless, yeah, and you make stupid choices sometimes—”
Ray scoffed, eyes burning. “Thanks.”
“—but you also love harder than anyone I’ve ever met. You fight for people you care about. And that’s what this kid needs, Ray. Not perfection. Just love. And you already have that in you.”
Ray’s walls cracked. Tears slipped free, hot against Sand’s thumbs as he wiped them away. Sand pulled him into his chest, holding him tight.
“I don’t know if I can,” Ray whispered against his shirt.
“You can,” Sand murmured back, kissing the crown of his head. “And you won’t be doing it alone.”
Weeks later, they were in the clinic together. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the small room. Ray lay on the bed, pale and nervous, while Sand stood beside him, squeezing his hand tight.
The doctor spread cold gel across Ray’s stomach and moved the probe. A few seconds later, the sound filled the room—thump-thump-thump, fast and fragile.
Ray’s eyes flew open, tears spilling instantly. “Is that…?”
“That’s the heartbeat,” the doctor smiled. “Your baby’s heartbeat. Strong and healthy.”
Ray’s breath hitched. His hands covered his face as he sobbed, overwhelmed.
Sand’s gaze was fixed on the screen, on the small flickering light that was their child. He brought Ray’s hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Hear that? That’s our baby. And they’re already fighting to live.”
Ray turned to him, red-eyed and trembling. “I’m so scared, Sand.”
Sand brushed his tears away with his thumb, voice steady, certain. “I know. But we’ll do this together. You’re not alone. And I promise you, Ray—you’ll be the most incredible parent our child could ever ask for.”
Something in Ray’s chest eased then, the crushing weight lifting. He leaned into Sand’s touch, letting himself believe, just for that moment, that maybe Sand was right.
For the first time since he’d seen those two red lines, Ray allowed himself to smile.
Ray hadn’t planned on telling anyone so soon. But keeping a secret this big around their friends was impossible, especially when Cheum noticed how pale he looked one night and Boston commented on him refusing alcohol.
So one evening, gathered at YOLO with their usual group, Ray dropped the news. “I’m pregnant.”
The table fell silent. Cheum’s mouth dropped open, April squealed, Boston blinked, and Mew nearly choked on his drink.
Top was the first to recover. “Wait—you’re pregnant?”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Yes, genius. Who else?”
April clapped her hands, practically bouncing in her seat. “Oh my God, Ray, congratulations! You’re going to be such a cute dad.”
“Cute? He’s gonna be terrifying,” Boston muttered, though there was a rare softness in his voice.
Cheum leaned across the table, eyes shimmering. “We’ll be here for you, okay? Whatever you need.”
Ray shrugged, pretending nonchalance, but his hand had slid under the table to find Sand’s, gripping it tightly.
The weeks that followed turned their apartment into a little sanctuary. Sand insisted Ray stay home as much as possible, especially when fatigue hit harder. Ray sulked about it at first, but the constant visits from their friends softened the blow.
Cheum and April often came by with home-cooked meals, fussing over Ray like protective older sisters. Boston dropped in unannounced, pretending to complain but always leaving groceries behind. Even Mew and Top stopped by, bringing books and music to distract him when boredom struck.
Ray’s cravings became legendary. One night, he demanded spicy noodles at 2 AM. Another morning, he cried because the mango Sand brought home wasn’t ripe enough. Sand never once complained—he just sighed, kissed Ray’s forehead, and went out again until he found what Ray wanted.
“You’re spoiling me,” Ray grumbled once, halfway through a tub of ice cream.
Sand just smiled, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “That’s the point.”
At their next appointment, the doctor smiled after the scan. “Would you like to know the baby’s gender?”
Ray’s grip on Sand’s hand tightened. He hesitated—then nodded. “Yes.”
The doctor turned the monitor. “Congratulations. It’s a boy.”
Ray gasped, his eyes filling instantly. A boy. A son. Sand kissed his temple, voice thick with emotion. “Our boy.”
They gathered everyone at the apartment the following weekend. Ray was nervous, pacing while Sand set out snacks. When the others arrived, he blurted it out before anyone could sit down.
“It’s a boy.”
Cheum squealed so loudly that Boston winced. April hugged Ray so tightly he nearly toppled. Mew smiled softly, eyes warm, while Top patted Sand’s shoulder with a grin.
Boston, for once, was speechless. Then he smirked. “Poor kid. With you two as parents, he doesn’t stand a chance.”
Ray threw a pillow at him, laughing even as tears streaked his face.
Sand slipped an arm around his waist, pulling him close as their friends celebrated around them. For the first time, Ray felt something settle inside him—like maybe he really could do this. Not just because of Sand, but because he wasn’t alone.
They were building a family. Together.
The contractions started in the middle of the night. At first Ray thought it was just cramps, but when the pain tightened again and again, stronger each time, he knew.
“Sand,” he gasped, clutching the sheets. “Sand—it’s time.”
Panic hit Sand like a wave. He scrambled for the hospital bag, nearly tripping over himself as he called for a car. His hands shook as he helped Ray dress, kissing his sweat-damp forehead over and over.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” Sand murmured, though his voice cracked. “You’re going to be okay.”
By the time they reached the hospital, Ray was pale and trembling, his hand crushing Sand’s so tightly that Sand thought his bones might break.
“I’m not leaving you,” Sand told him as the nurses tried to guide him out of the delivery room. “Don’t even think about it. I’m staying.”
And he did. Through every wave of pain, every scream, every tear, Sand was right there—wiping Ray’s face with a cool cloth, whispering encouragement, pressing kisses to his knuckles. His calm was frayed at the edges, but his love never wavered.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispered, even as his own eyes brimmed with tears. “Just a little more, Ray. You can do this.”
Outside the room, their friends sat in the waiting area. Cheum clung to April’s hand, Boston paced restlessly, and Mew leaned against Top’s shoulder, his face drawn with worry. Hours ticked by like lifetimes.
Then finally—a cry. Thin, high, and new.
The sound sent their friends to their feet. Cheum burst into tears instantly, April covered her mouth with both hands, Boston swore softly under his breath, and Mew let out a shaky laugh.
Inside, Ray was sobbing too, but with joy this time. The nurse placed a small, wriggling bundle against his chest. A boy, tiny fists clenched, crying loudly into the world.
Sand stared, frozen, then reached out with trembling fingers to stroke the soft, damp hair. His voice cracked on a whisper. “He’s perfect.”
Ray looked up at him, exhausted, eyes shining with tears. “Meet Sea,” he whispered hoarsely. “Our son.”
Sand leaned down, kissing both Ray’s damp temple and the baby’s tiny head. “Our family,” he said, voice breaking.
Later, their friends crowded the hospital room, peeking at the baby swaddled in Ray’s arms.
“He’s so small,” Cheum whispered, already crying again.
April laughed softly. “He looks like Ray.”
“Poor kid,” Boston muttered, though he was smiling.
Mew crouched beside the bed, brushing Sea’s tiny hand with a fingertip. “He’s beautiful,” he said simply.
Ray held his son close, exhaustion pulling at him, but his heart felt full in a way he’d never known.
Sand stood behind him, hands resting on his shoulders, eyes soft as he looked at the family they had built together.
Weeks later, back at their apartment, life had shifted into something new. Sea’s cries filled the nights, Ray’s cravings had been replaced by lullabies and bottles, and Sand never once complained about lost sleep.
One evening, Ray sat on the couch with Sea asleep on his chest. He looked up to see Sand watching them from the doorway, his expression tender and awestruck.
Ray smiled softly, brushing a kiss over their son’s tiny head. “This already feels like home.”
Sand crossed the room, pressing a kiss to Ray’s lips before settling beside him, his arm around both Ray and Sea.
“Because it is,” he whispered.
And together, in the quiet warmth of their apartment, they began the rest of their forever.