#katrina 💕
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lilac-ravenclaw · 9 months ago
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Wanted to participate in @noelles-legacy ‘s Trick or Treat Street! 🎃🦇 Drew Raven as Katrina Van Tassel from Sleepy Hallow. I just loved this 1700s black and white stripped dress; it is just so gorgeous. Since Raven has a musical background, she can play the piano or organ with some spooky music 🎹👻🖤
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godwick · 1 year ago
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mathias being the son of az.riel and tam.lins sister. slay.
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theirmadness · 5 months ago
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❝ but you didn't. ❞ bella sounds more tired than she does upset. how much longer could she continue having this argument? she knew the other felt the same. and she hadn't left. ❝ it's not something that you have to understand. and it's not for you to understand, either. i... i fell into this world. just because i didn't have to be turned... i fell in love. why should that take away my choice? it's my choice, katrina. ❞
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"Perhaps I should have left." But the words held no real conviction. "Do you not see the trouble all of us face thanks to what we are? Yet you seem to want to run into it head first. I don't understand."
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no-phrogs-in-hats · 2 months ago
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Suburban Sunrises and City Sunsets !NSFW!
Avenger!Agatha x Avenger!Pregnant!Reader
Word count: 11,178
Content Warnings: MDNI; soft smut, pregnancy, morning sickness/vomiting, childbirth/c-section, needles/epidural
Summary: The nine months following you and Agatha finding out you're pregnant--also known as Agatha having a crisis and realizing you've turned into a suburban family.
A/N: Hiii!!! I absolutely loved writing this. Panicked, worried Agatha is always fun to write, plus pregnant reader really adds to it. This will probably be my last oneshot for a couple weeks unless I have some free time! The next one on my list is a Maya Mason x reader!!!
Read Part 1 here
Spotify playlist here
Ao3 here
Masterlist here
Tip jar💕
Tag list: @sweetmidnights @warpdrive-witch @katrina-3-37
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You sit in the warm bath, clouds of bubbles up to your chest. Agatha sits on the edge of the tub, pouring some kind of floral scented bath oil as you sigh and flip through the packet of OB/GYNs and prenatal information the nurse gave you.
“What about Jen?” you huff, and toss the packet on the side table beside the tub, reaching into the bag of candy Agatha got for you. “She’s a midwife.”
Agatha recaps the bottle of bath oil. “She hasn’t been a midwife since 1925.” She sets the bottle on the table and crouches down beside you. “I’m not trusting her with you or our child.”
“She’s been wanting to get back into it,” you try to reason.
Agatha sighs. “Do you actually want Jennifer as your midwife?”
“I mean–I don’t know!” you groan. “I know Jen. I like Jen. It would be a little comforting to have someone that doesn’t see me as a statistic, and actually…” Your voice goes quiet. “Sees me–us–as a person and a child.”
Agatha smiles sadly and her hand runs through your hair. “Okay,” she says softly. “If it makes you more comfortable, Jen can be part of it–but I would like it if we had someone who hasn’t been out of practice for 105 years.”
You take her hand and press a kiss to it. “Thank you.” 
“I’ll call the OB office by the Tower,” she says. “See if they can fit you in soon.” 
You order in for dinner tonight–some vegan place where Agatha made sure every single ingredient is organic. She nagged the poor employee on the phone for almost ten minutes.
“So, every ingredient is organic?” she double checked. You heard the girl on the line mumble something and Agatha nodded, flipping over the menu that’s on the counter. “And the tofu? Is that pasteurized? Okay. And your sauces–? Well, excuse me for not wanting to give my pregnant wife a foodborne illness!”
Sitting at the kitchen table, Agatha unpacks the bag of food. “I called the OB office earlier. They have an ultrasound appointment available tomorrow, but it’s at nine in the morning.”
“When’s the next one?” You ask, opening your container that has a vegan grilled cheese. 
“In two weeks,” Agatha sighs, and takes a seat to eat dinner.
“Alright,” you say. “I guess since it’s so close to the Tower, we might as well just go back.”
“Are you sure?”
You shrug. “Yeah. I mean, we’ve calmed down–” You pause, completely forgetting that Wanda guessed.
“What?” Agatha asks. “What’s wrong?”
Your voice is steady. “I forgot to tell you…Wanda knows.”
“How?” she gapes.
“She called me to check in right after you went into CVS,” you explain.”I didn’t tell her. She guessed it.” As you watch Agatha’s face contort into frustration, you lean forward, taking her hand. “It’s okay! Honey, it’s fine! She said she won’t tell anyone.”
“Okay,” she sighs. “It’s your place to tell, anyway. Not mine.”
“I’d like the coven to know first,” you say. “I guess Wanda’s part of the coven. She’s been to a few meetings. But I want to wait until after the first trimester…just get settled–out of the high-risk-for-miscarriage-zone, have a few ultrasound pictures to show them. When’s the next meeting?”
Agatha gets up, checking the calendar on the fridge. “Looks like March 7th–two weeks.”
You sit back in your chair, sighing. “Alright, yeah. We’ll tell them then.”
“And the rest?” Agatha asks, raising an eyebrow as she sits back down. “The team is gonna be suspicious sooner or later.”
You groan. “It’ll come out eventually.”
It’s like the nausea only appeared after learning that you’re pregnant. There’s a deep, unpleasant feeling in your stomach when you wake up in the morning. The sun is just barely above the horizon. Dark  shadows are still cast across your bedroom ceiling, but you’re out of bed immediately, rushing to the bathroom.
Your heavy footsteps and rushing stir Agatha from sleep and she’s out of bed quickly. Hunched over the toilet and retching, you feel Agatha’s hand on your back as the other holds your hair back. 
“Oh, god,” she mumbles, her voice still rough from sleep. Back in the bedroom, you can hear Agatha’s alarm go off for the doctor's appointment. “It’s okay, honey.”
She opens the bathroom closet and grabs a rag, running it under the tap. Agatha sits down on the floor beside you and when you sit up she gently wipes your mouth and nose. 
“Thank you,” you sigh, sniffling and wiping the tears from your eyes.
Agatha kisses you on the forehead and stands up. “I’ll go get you the nausea meds.” After turning her alarm off, she goes downstairs and retrieves the medication. It helps, mostly. Your stomach has settled by the time you finish getting ready, but there’s still a twinge present. Despite your protests, Agatha makes you eat two pieces of toast.
The ride back to New York City is uneventful. Commuter traffic is always heavy, but you slept right through it, and you even slept through Agatha picking up her coffee order in a drive-thru. When outside of the OB/GYN office, she wakes you up with a gentle shake of your shoulder.
You blink against the bright sunlight and stretch before you look down at the cupholder. “Where the hell did you get coffee from?”
“I went through the Dunkin’ drive-thru,” she says, and reaches into the car door pocket. She holds out a baggie to you, “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked so peaceful. But I got you a donut if you get hungry.”
“Aww, thank you,” you say, eyes still heavy with sleep as you lean over to kiss her.
When you walk in, it’s much warmer than it is outside. Agatha’s hand is on your lower back as you check in at the front, and it doesn’t leave its position in the waiting room. There are a few other people there, and as you sit there, you have a weird feeling.
Across the room, a couple whispers to one another and looks at you and Agatha. You lean over subtly, “Are they talking about us?”
Agatha doesn’t even get to respond before they approach you. The woman is meek and soft-spoken, “I’m so sorry to bother, but are you two part of the Avengers?”
Shit.
“Um–no,” Agatha lies, politely smiling. “I guess we just look like them.”
You feel Agatha’s hand tighten on your back when the woman’s husband persists. “Are you sure? You guys look ve–”
“Sir, I’m just here for a pap smear,” you sigh, watching in delight as his face drops.
When your name is called, Agatha’s hand is in yours. Her thumb gently runs over your skin as you feel your heart race. Your vitals are taken along with your height and weight, and when you’re brought to the room you’re given a blanket and instructed to remove your pants.
“The sonographer will be in soon,” the woman tells you.
You remove your coat and pants. On the table, you get yourself situated, blanket over your legs as you lay back. You smile as you watch agatha fold your pants and drape your coat over a chair before straightening your shoes below. “Agatha, stop obsessing over my clothes,” you say. “Come here.”
She sighs and takes your hand as a knock sounds on the door. The sonographer enters, smiling way too brightly for it being nine-thirty in the morning. She introduces herself in a chipper voice and you can almost feel Agatha wanting to roll her eyes.
“I have to say,” the sonographer chirps, “this is the first Avenger we’ve had here.”
“Glad to be the first,” you muse.
Agatha, with her hand holding on tightly to yours, stares intently at the blank TV screen on the wall. She rocks side to side and only looks away after you say her name twice. “Hm? What?”
“You’re hurting my hand,” you say softly. “Relax, please.”
The gel on your lower belly is cold, but the gasp comes from Agatha. The TV screen lights up when the probe is placed on your belly and there, on the screen amidst the black and white coloring, is a small blob. 
“It looks like you’re at around ten weeks,” the sonographer pipes up. “So just at the tail end of the first trimester. And if I turn up the volume here, we should be able to hear–there we go!”
Above you, Agatha stops breathing. The sound of your baby’s heartbeat is loud, and over top of it you can hear Agatha sniffle. 
The sonographer turns her computer screen toward you, pointing at different areas. You turn your head, looking closely.
“Right here, you can see the arms and legs,” she says, pointing to them. She moves her finger to the tiny head just barely visibly. “And here, you can see their face–it’s not super prominent, but you can see it starting to form.”
As you watch the screen up close, he heartbeat loud and strong in your ears, you can’t help but wipe away tears.
The OB comes and goes. Your clothes are put back on. Ultrasound photos are in Agatha’s purse. 
You’re back in the car, maybe five minutes from the Tower, and you’re quiet. 
“I know I got you a donut,” Agatha says, “but do you wanna get breakfast at that one pla–What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” you sniffle, wiping away tears. “I know we were gonna see them today, but I didn’t think we’d hear the heartbeat! Oh, my god. And their little arms and legs–!”
“Yeah,” she says quietly, buckling in, “let’s go get breakfast.”
You sniffle again, wiping away your tears. “Okay.”
The coven meeting is held at your home in Westview. Wanda joins again, arriving with Billy and complaining about his driving skills.
In the kitchen, you and Agatha prepare tea, wine, and snacks while everyone waits in the basement. You can hear laughter drift up through the staircase as you cut slices of cheese and place them on a platter. 
“How are we gonna tell them?” you mutter.
“I don’t know,” Agatha sighs. “I’m sure when you reject a glass of wine, they’ll catch on soon enough–that’s if Wanda holds her tongue.”
“Oh, be nice,” you hiss. 
Agatha grins, “Not my forte, hon.”
So look at the cheese platter and pause. “Fuck.”
“What is it?”
“It’s the brie,” you say. “Brie’s my favorite. They’re gonna know something’s up.”
Agatha looks at you, knowing that you’re probably right, but not wanting to say it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she says, completely unconvincing. 
You take everything downstairs to the coven, and with a little spell, trays of hors d'oeuvres, tea, and wine are floating around the table. Lilia sits beside you and when you take your seat you can feel her eyes narrow at you.
You look back at her, raising an eyebrow and watching as she looks you up and down. 
“Something’s different,” Lilia says.
Damn her intuition.
“Like what?” you ask, and you feel Agatha’s hand rest on your thigh, clearly listening in on the conversation. 
Lilia narrows her eyes more, finger at her mouth as she focuses on you. Her eyebrow twitches and you can see it in her face when she realizes. “Ah, yes,” she mutters to herself. “I know what it is.”
You curse under your breath and Agatha turns her head. “What?”
“Lilia knows,” you mumble behind a napkin, disguising it as wiping your mouth. 
“Fuck,” she sighs. “I knew she’d find out just by looking at you.”
The meeting is in full swing. Multiple conversations are going on at once. Wanda and Agatha–despite bickering–are mentoring Billy, Jen and Alice are going over protection spells, and Lilia…is reading your tea leaves.
She rotates the cup in her hands, focusing on each shape and pattern she could interpret. “So, how far along are you?” she asks quietly.
You sigh and lean in close. “Almost thirteen weeks. We’re planning on telling the coven tonight, we just don’t know how.”
She hums, “Well, congratulations.”
Towards the end of the meeting, you hear your name called and when you look over Agatha has the cheese platter in hand. “Are you finished with the hors d’oeuvres?”
“Yeah, honey, thank you,” you say, stacking cups around the table to clean later.
“You’re not eating the brie?” Billy asks.
You’re so focused on the task at hand that you answer his question mindlessly. “No, I can’t have it, sweetheart.” And then you freeze. And agatha freezes. And you see Wanda and Lilia trying to hide their smiles.
Billy and Alice both look confused. “Why can’t you have it?” Billy asks.
You look at Jen who starts to connect the dots. There’s no way to dig yourself out of this. You look at Agatha and finally sigh. “I’m pregnant.”
Billy’s and Alice’s jaws drop. 
“Oh, my god!” 
“What?”
Shocked laughter reverberates around the room before hugs and congratulations come. 
“That was the hardest secret secret I’ve ever kept,” Wanda sighs before hugging you. “I’m so happy for you.”
You run upstairs quickly and take out the ultrasound pictures from your nightstand. When you’re back downstairs, the coven has moved to the living room. “Here,” you say, letting them pass around the pictures. Agatha stands beside you, hand on your back as you continue talking. “That was a ten week ultrasound. It’s almost at 13 weeks. They said the due date is around September 10th.”
“You guys are the first ones to know, so don’t go running your mouths…Billy,” Agatha says, and then glares at him.
“I think it’s gonna be a girl,” Alice says, handing it to Jen.
“Mmm,” Jen looks at the picture, almost analyzing it from how focused she looks. “I think it’ll be a boy.”
“I’m not saying,” Lilia comments, looking at the ultrasound picture and smiling.
After they’re passed around, you take the pictures back and hugs and goodbyes are exchanged. Just before Jen’s able to leave, you pull her aside.
“I know you’ve been wanting to get back into obstetrics,” you say. “So, I was wondering if you’d like to be one of the midwives in the room. We have an obstetrician, so it wouldn’t be everything, but you know, just some extra help…”
Jen looks shocked. “Seriously?”
“You don’t have to!” you hurry. “But we–” You look at Agatha and then back at Jen. “I trust you.”
Jen glances at Agatha before smiling at you. “If you’re comfortable, yeah, I’d love to help you. Don’t stay up reading baby blogs, those are never helpful. I’ll get you some reliable info, okay?”
You hug her tightly. “Oh, thank you, Jen!”
After everyone’s left and the house is quiet, you move to the kitchen where the dishes from tonight’s meeting sit in the sink. You stand in front of the fridge, looking at all of the pictures and recipes and christmas cards from three months ago that hang from magnets. Arms wrap around your waist and the smell of Agatha's perfume calms you as her lips skim over your neck.
“What are you doing?” she asks quietly. 
You sigh, leaning into her touch as her hand splays over your stomach. “Trying to figure out where to put the ultrasound pictures.”
She hums behind you and then takes the roll of pictures from your hands. Her arms reach out on either side of your head, and you watch as she slips the pictures beneath the magnet that holds a picture of you and Agatha at the reception after your wedding.
“There,” she says simply, wrapping her arms back around you and placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Perfect.”
__________
The second trimester rolls in quickly. You’re feral. Absolutely feral. And Agatha loves it.
It starts with a single kiss in the morning. And then the raspy morning voice when Agatha says, “Good morning.”
You bite your lip, fingers running over her bare arms as she leans over you. Agatha eyes you suspiciously, “Why are you giving me that look?”
You sigh, eyes wandering over her body–the satin nightgown that clings to her curves, her blue eyes lit up in the morning sun, the stale perfume still lingering from the previous night. 
“I just love how you sound in the morning.” You pull her down for a kiss. “And how you look, and…” You have no clue where you’re going with this and you start to ramble. “…It’s our wedding anniversary, and I’m overflowing with hormones and…” 
She giggles as she kisses you again, her voice low and seductive, “And you want me to touch you?” Her hand sneaks under your shirt as she kisses you, but she pulls away quickly, brows furrowed.
“What’s wrong?” you ask.
Agatha pulls up your shirt, eyes wide as she looks at you. “You’re starting to show.”
“What?”
“You’re showing!”
Laying on your back, you tilt your chin to look down, and sure enough, there it is. “Oh, my god,” you mutter. You lay back, hands over your eyes. “We’re gonna have to tell them,” you huff.
Agatha’s hand rubs soothingly over your belly. “Your 20 week scan is in a couple weeks, hon. It’s gotta happen soon. Quite frankly, I was surprised they didn’t catch on when you declined the sushi they offered you.”
You drop your arms, smiling painfully up at her, “I know…I kind of liked just us knowing–aside from the coven. But everyone else is gonna make a big deal out of it.”
“Because it is a big deal,” Agatha says, pressing a kiss to your belly. “Sweetheart, you’re an Avenger. You can’t be training and doing missions. We’ve been lucky enough that Steve’s been taking ‘no’ as an answer for training recently. But sooner or later we’re going to be called for a mission, and we both know that Tony won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”
You glare at her, “I hate you.”
“Only because I’m right,” Agatha smiles, pressing a kiss to your lips. You can feel her hand drift higher, fingers wandering underneath your bunched up shirt and over your nipples. She leans in close, lips over yours as your heart races. “Would you hate me less if I give you what you want?”
“Maybe,” you tease. “I’ll be the judge of that after.”
Agatha kisses you softly, trailing her lips down your throat as her hand slips beneath your underwear. She moves back to your lips and your hands tighten their grasp on her shoulder and nightgown as her tongue moves with yours. You can feel her smile as her fingers tease you. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already this wet for me?”
“It’s the hormones, I swear,” you huff, quickly pulling her back down to kiss you as she laughs.
Your head is thrown back into the pillows and your back is arched as her fingers work. She hovers over you, arm flexed, veins visible through the skin, and it turns you on even more. Agatha kisses you softly, “You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are like this.”
A loud moan escapes you as her palm presses against your clit and she smiles. “You’re fucking beautiful,” she says, jaw clenched and fingers working faster. “You’re glowing. I did this to you, and everyone knows you’re mine.”
“Yes! Yes, yes!” Your hands grab at any part of her they can reach. Your lips press hard into hers and you breathe deeply. “Fuck, I’m all yours! And I want everybody to know!”
Your legs close around Agatha’s hand as you shake beneath her. You moan loudly into her mouth when she kisses you hard, fingers curling as you finish. Her kisses become softer and softer as you catch your breath.
“Okay,” you breathe. “I guess I don’t hate you as much.”
Agatha laughs and kisses you again. “What do you say we take a shower and then we can go out to brunch, and then…” She places her hand back on your belly. “..we go to the mall to look at maternity clothes?”
Before you can get out of bed, she stops you. “Wait! I almost forgot. I have an anniversary present for you.” She leans over to her nightstand, opening the drawer and pulling something out, and when she faces you again, she has her hands behind her back. 
You eye her suspiciously as she smiles, and without a word, she hands you a pair of tiny yellow rain boots with duck faces on them. You gasp and sit up quickly, turning them in your hands. “They’re ducky boots!” You look up at her with tears in your eyes. 
Agatha takes one in her hand and examines it. “They definitely won’t fit for like…a year,” she chuckles. “But when I saw them at the store I couldn’t help myself.”
You sigh and sniffle as you hold back tears. “I love you.”
The shirt you put on today is a lot more snug than it used to be, and when you actually take a look in the mirror, you’re showing more than you thought.
“How did you not realize?” Agatha asks, spitting her toothpaste into the sink.
You go into the closet, looking for a shirt or a dress that’s looser than what you have on right now, and more appropriate for brunch. “Well, I don’t–I’ve been wearing nothing but sweatpants and baggy, lazy clothes, and–leave me alone!” 
You can hear Agatha snickering as you get defensive, and you step out in another outfit. “What about this one? Is it obvious?”
Agatha wipes toothpaste from her mouth and smiles. “Give me a twirl, princess.” When you do, she acts like she’s thinking hard, but you already know how she’ll answer. “Beautiful!” she says.
You sigh, “Okay, but is it obvious that I’m pregnant?”
“You know, most people say ‘thank you’ when called beautiful,” Agatha teases, pulling you into her by your waist as you roll your eyes and hold back a smile. She places a kiss on your forehead, “But no, it’s not obvious.”
The maternity store at the Westview mall is cute. It’s not super big, but they have a decent sized selection. 
“Why are there so many dresses?” you huff. Agatha holds up a pair of maternity jeans and you make a disgusted look as she giggles. “Why can’t there be a luxury maternity clothes store?”
“For someone who grew up with very little money, you certainly are picky,” Agatha chuckles. 
You shrug, looking through a rack of shirts. “What can I say? I’ve developed a taste for more than just White Star Line stewardess uniforms.”
You end up at the checkout counter with an armful of clothing. You get antsy as you look at the cashier, seeing the recognition of the both of you in her eyes. She smiles politely, making friendly conversation, but her eyes keep drifting to your belly. You uncross your arms quickly after realizing that they’ve pushed your blouse in, defining the bump that you were trying to hide.
“Do you have a rewards account with us?” the cashier asks.
“No,” Agatha says, going to put her card in the reader.
“Would you like to sign up?” the cashier continues. “It’s free, and you’ll earn points for your next purchase.”
Agatha huffs, “Okay, sure. Fine.”
You leave the store with three bags of clothes, Agatha carrying all of them.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry one?” you ask.
“Yes, I’m sure,” she snaps. You’re taken aback by her attitude, and while it normally wouldn’t affect you, she panics as she watches your eyes flood with tears. “Oh, my god! No! I am so sorry!”
You sniffle, trying to wipe them away, but they don’t stop. “No, don’t apologize! I’m not–!” You take in a heavy, shuddering breath and Agatha takes your hand and leads you to the bathroom.
When the door closes, she locks it, setting the bags on the tiled floor. Her thumbs come to your cheeks and wipe your tears.. “Hey! Hey, look at me!” You do and she kisses your forehead, resulting in even more tears. “Take some deep breaths! Sweetheart, I need you to calm down.”
You do as she says, breathing deeply through your nose and out your mouth. “Okay,” you whimper, repeating the breathing until your tears slow.
Agatha’s hands cup your cheeks and she looks you in the eyes, voice apologetic and soft, “I am so sorry for snapping at you. It was not directed at you one bit.”
“I know,” you sniffle. “I know. It’s okay.”
Agatha grabs a paper towel and wipes away the mascara that’s running down your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she says again. “Just, seeing how that cashier was looking at you–how uncomfortable you looked. It was pissing me off.” 
She tosses the paper towel into the garbage can by the door and pulls you into her arms. Her hand holds the back of your head, thumb stroking along your hair as you sniffle into her shoulder. “ She recognized us. Im sure by the time we get back to the Tower, it’ll be all over the Facebook, or the Twitter, or whatever the fuck people use now.” 
Your laugh is muffled and watery, and you sigh as it sinks in. “Yeah…” You’re quiet as she holds you, but you’re thinking. Thinking hard. “Agatha…I don’t think I wanna be an Avenger anymore.”
She pulls away quickly, shocked as she looks at you. “What do you mean? I thought you loved it.”
“I do. I do love it,” you say. “But…” Your eyes get watery again and you take a deep breath. “We have no privacy. We probably won’t even get to tell the rest of our…” You trail off, trying to find the right words. “Of our…family…that I’m pregnant, because a cashier at the maternity clothes store recognized us! We were at the OB’s office and someone tried to get it out of us!” 
You let out a sob as she holds you tighter again. “Agatha, nothing we have is ours! I don’t want our child growing up surrounded by paparazzi. I want our baby to be ours!”
Agatha wipes away her own tears quietly and pulls away. Her hands gently hold your face, like if she held you tighter you’d shatter–and maybe some of that is true. Her eyes are soft and glassy with held back tears. “Okay,” she says, voice cracking. “If you want to, we’ll leave.”
“Maybe not permanently,” you sigh, and press a kiss to her wrist. “I do love what we do, and our kid’s gotta go to school at some point, and that leaves a lot of time open on our schedule. But just…for now…do our own thing.”
“Like, picking out baby clothes?” Agatha smiles softly, thumb stroking your temple. “Painting a nursery? Having me go out in my pajamas at three in the morning to the 24-hour gas station because suddenly you’re craving a very specific kind of ice cream that only they sell?”
You let out a teary laugh, voice quiet. “Yeah…”
She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead. “Then we can do that.”
The drive back to New York City is quiet. You doze off about halfway through the drive with your hand in Agatha’s lap, and you’re woken up with a kiss to your palm.
“Wake up, buttercup, we’re here,” she says. “You can take a nap in your luxurious, unbelievably-expensive-bed.”
“Oh, what about the clothes?” You sit up quickly, rubbing your eyes.
“It’s okay,” she reassures you quietly. “I’ll put a concealment spell on the bags.”
You almost fall asleep standing up while on the elevator with Agatha. Your head bobs to the side, resting on her shoulder before you’re jolted awake by her. When in your room, you change into comfier clothes, removing your makeup and laying down on your side of the bed.
Agatha slides in beside you, hand brushing your hair back as you face her. “I love you,” she says quietly. “And no matter who gossips about us or invades our privacy, I won’t let them touch either of you.” Her hand settles on your waist. “Both of you are the most important things in my life, and if you want us to stop being Avengers for a few years, then that’s perfectly alright with me. I don’t want you stressing for any longer.”
“Okay,” you whisper, lip quivering.
“We can stay in New Jersey–which sucks, I know,” Agatha continues, and wipes a tear from your cheek. “We’ll come here for the weekend, or whenever the hell we feel like it.” She smiles as you let out a quiet laugh. “I want you to be happy. That’s all that matters to me right now.”
“I’m sorry I was too tired to do anything fun for our first anniversary,” you sigh, sleep heavy on your eyes. 
“Honey, we spent today having brunch and picking out maternity clothes for you,” Agatha says. “You’re carrying our child. I could not ask for more today.”
When you wake up, it’s dark outside and you’re curled up in front of Agatha. Her arm holds you close to her, hand resting on your belly as she breathes softly against your neck. Your hand reaches out, blindly searching for your phone on the nightstand. 
Your movements wake her and you can hear her groan behind you. “What time is it?”
After checking your phone you roll over and curl into Agatha. “Nine,” you mutter.
Agatha stretches, her arms wrapping around you. “I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” you mumble. “But you’re so warm, I don’t wanna get up.”
She hums before sitting up, ignoring your whining. “Come on, sleepy head. Let’s go turn food into a baby.”
The following morning doesn’t come with kisses, but with loud explosions in the dark of your blackout curtains. Your reflexes kick in and both you and Agatha are out of bed, robes on and out the bedroom door. You opt to take the stairs to the lounge and when you open the door, every resident of Stark Tower is there.
The floor-to-ceiling windows looking over Manhattan show what no one wants to see at nine in the morning: another fiery crisis to deal with and alien spaceships hovering over the city. 
“Alright, everybody on the deck in ten minutes!” Tony commands.
As the team heads for the stairs, you look at Agatha and there’s only one thing in the look she gives you. 
‘You’re staying here.’
You stay put as she follows but Tony looks back and huffs, “Come, on! Let’s go!”
“No,” Agatha says, her voice still hoarse from sleep.
Agatha’s response stops everyone in their tracks and you can see the frustration in Tony’s face border on anger. “Excuse me?” he says, whirling around to face her. 
“No,” Agatha says more firmly. “She’s not going.”
“And why not?” Tony asks, nostrils flaring.
Agatha hesitates, “She’s not feeling well.”
“I don’t care if she has the damn flu!” Tony shouts. “All of New York City is under attack right now! She’s one of the most powerful people here–!”
“I said, she’s not going!” Agatha yells back, and you can see every eye in the room on the three of you. You make eye contact with Wanda and she looks like she’s about to intervene, but she stands back.
“Why?” Tony snaps. “How sick could she possibly be to not–!”
You can see it in Agatha’s face. She’s trying to hold her tongue, she’s trying to hold back from screaming, but in the end, it slips out. “She’s pregnant!”
The room falls quiet, and the only sound is the distant explosions. Agatha sighs, her hands rubbing her face tiredly. “Shit.”
Tony turns around to look at you, and it’s like he’s an angry father who just found out his teenage daughter is pregnant. “Is this true?”
“Yes,” you sigh, looking defeated. 
“I–” Tony opens his mouth and closes it again, trying to get his thoughts in order. “Okay, both of you stay here–”
Agatha looks appalled. “What?”
“Both of you!” Tony snaps. “We’ll talk about this after.”
There’s a heavy silence as the room clears out, and when the doors to the stairs swing shut you take a heavy seat on the sofa. Agatha follows, arm immediately pulling you close as you drop your head on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “It shouldn’t have come out like that.”
You press a kiss to her shoulder and take her hand. “It’s okay. Like you said, it had to happen sooner or later.”
The day drags on and eventually, in the lounge, it’s only you, Agatha, and Tony. He’s on his third whiskey after dinner and he sits back, sighing. “So, what’s the plan?”
Mindless TV plays in front of you, your head on Agatha’s shoulder, but when he asks his question, you sit up. You can feel her arm tighten on your waist and you hesitate. “Well, the twenty week ultrasound is next wednesday…” He nods carefully and you fiddle with your fingers. “And–umm–we’re moving back to New Jersey. We’re gonna leave the team for a few years…but we’ll visit on weekends.”
“I figured,” Tony shrugs. “That house is pretty small, though. Nice backyard, but that second bedroom can’t even be called a bedroom.”
Agatha scoffs. “I’ve been trying to tell her that, but she won’t listen.”
 “I’m not arguing about this,” you sigh. “I’m too tired for it.”
“You know, if you’d like, I could move you closer,” Tony suggests. “Doesn’t have to be in the city, but close enough that you don’t have to drive almost an hour to and from.”
You smile tiredly, “That’s a very nice offer, Tony, but we can’t ask you to do that. You’ve done so much already.”
He finishes the rest of his whiskey, and gets up, setting the glass down on the liquor cart. “Just think about it.” When he comes back over, his hands are on his hips. “We’re gonna miss having you around here. Both of you.”
“I’m having a baby, Tony. I’m not dying,” you deadpan. 
“I’m happy for you, really,” he says. “You’ve done a lot for us, so I want to do everything I can to help you out–even if that means buying a brownstone for you in the Upper West Side.”
Wednesday morning you’re woken up by a flurry of kisses on your face.
“Good morning,” Agatha mutters, pressing a light kiss to your lips. “Are you excited to find out what we’re having?”
You hum in amusement, “Don’t you want it to be a surprise?” 
“Are you serious?” Agatha asks, kissing you again. “This entire thing was a surprise.”
“Touché.” You swish your lips from side to side. “Alright, fine. But only because I’m too excited to go clothes shopping for them.”
Agatha kisses you on the forehead and smiles. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”
Once again, you’re on the table watching Agatha fold your clothes. The lights are dimmed when the sonographer comes in–this one is much less chipper than the previous one–and Agatha’s at your side immediately.
“So, are we wanting to find out the sex of the baby today?” the sonographer asks as she sets up her equipment.
Agatha squeezes your hand and you smile, “Yeah, when you’re having a baby at 149-years-old you don’t need any more surprises.”
The sonographer pauses for a moment and then a look of realization flashes across her face. “Right–witches, Avengers.” She lets out a breathy laugh. “Alright, now my favorite thing to ask: what do you think it’ll be?”
As she applies the gel to your belly you look up at Agatha, smiling. “What do you think it’ll be?”
You notice a brief flash of anxiety on her face before she answers, “A girl.”
“Alright, we’ll go with girl,” you say as the wand presses into your skin.
The heartbeat is strong and the sonographer points to various parts of the screen. “They are all curled up in there! Here’s the profile of it–you can see the little nose and–oh, looks like they’re yawning!”
You smile brightly and you hear a shaky breath from Agatha. Her free hand goes to your head, a comforting weight as she sits beside you.
“Alright,” the sonographer says, “a little pressure–we’re gonna move over here. There are the little feet, its legs, and you can see a hand right there.” As she goes along clicks can be heard when freezing the screen to take a picture. “And, if we move over here…it looks like…you are having…a girl!”
When you look over, Agatha’s smiling. But there’s more to it. Yes, there’s happiness, there’s excitement, but there’s something else there–relief. She presses a kiss to your forehead and sighs.
The appointment goes by quickly and soon, Agatha’s helping you into your newest pair of maternity pants. She slips the roll of ultrasound pictures into her purse and takes your hand, but when you’re back in the waiting room you freeze.
“Why the hell are you all here?” 
A receptionist comes up to you, talking quietly, “I apologize, ma’am. I told them they can’t–”
“It’s okay,” you say, cutting her off with a polite smile. “Thank you.”
A whole group is standing there. Tony, Steve, Nat, Wanda, the whole coven, Billy and Peter, Bucky, Sam, Clint, Bruce, Thor, and Loki. 
“We wanna know what you’re having!” Steve smiles brightly, waiting for you to answer.
You and Agatha look at each other, and when your eyes meet you can see that you both have the same idea. 
“A healthy baby,” you smile. You pull Agatha through the waiting room. “Come on, I’m craving that one lunch place a few blocks away.”
Before you can open the door, you’re stopped by them again. “Can we please know what you’re having?” Billy asks.
You look at all of them as Agatha opens the door for you. “A healthy baby,” you repeat. “That’s what we’re having. You can find out the sex in twenty weeks.”
You survive their endless pestering throughout the day, and now, you lay in bed with Agatha, talking into the dark–baby names, nursery themes, whose eyes the baby would get, what color magic. But there’s one thing on your mind.
“Agatha,” you say. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mhm.”
“When the sonographer said it was a girl…” you start, thinking about how to word your question. “You looked relieved–like you didn’t want it to be a boy.”
“That’s not a question,” she mumbles into your collarbone. 
“Agatha,” you sigh. “You know what I mean.”
She’s quiet, and you can tell she’s thinking hard. You hear her swallow and take a deep breath. “If…we had a boy…do you…” You can hear the wheels turning in her head, wondering if she should even ask it, if it’s even worth being vulnerable. “Do you think Nicky would feel like he was being replaced?”
Your stomach drops and you feel the hand she had on your belly recoil into herself. “Agatha,” you whisper, heart breaking. “Look at me.” You turn to face her and you can see the uncomfortable look on her face. “Nicky would never think he was being replaced. Do you think you’re replacing him?”
Agatha turns over to lay on her back, huffing in frustration. “I don’t–maybe? I mean, it was 300 years ago, I shouldn’t…even be thinking…”
“Agatha, you’re not replacing him,” you reassure her. You lean over her, forcing her to look you in the eyes. “Loving your daughter doesn’t mean loving Nicky any less, okay?” She nods slowly and you kiss her. “This isn’t going to be like last time. You can be happy, Agatha. You deserve to be happy.” 
“Okay,” she mutters. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You kiss her again, and when you pull away you sigh. “And do you know what I deserve? A pregnancy pillow.”
Agatha laughs and kisses you again, pulling you into her arms. “We’ll go out tomorrow to get you one. How about that?”
You’ve forgotten what life outside the city was like. You’re three weeks into living in Westview. It didn’t take long to move everything back to Westview–most of it was clothes, and even then, you were building a new wardrobe that actually fit you. 
Your life is much quieter now–filled with lamaze classes, doctors appointments, and tea with the coven. It’s slow. Peaceful. You wake up, take your vitamins, Agatha makes you breakfast, and with it being spring, you’ll usually retire to the backyard to work in the garden. It’s pure, domestic bliss.
You stand in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. The list crinkles in your hand as you stand there, looking at the vast expanse of cereal options, and Agatha waits patiently beside you with the cart.
“So…” Agatha starts. “What cereal–?”
“I don’t know,” you say absentmindedly. “It just says cereal.”
Agatha swishes her lips, “Okay, well, while you decide what cereal you want, I’m going to get the frozens.”
You barely acknowledge her, only offering a quiet, “Mhm.” 
You can barely remember your name–it’s like your brain is completely shutting itself off and refusing to remember anything. Just the other day, you were heating up leftovers in the microwave and you sat down on the couch, completely forgetting about them and dozing off. When Agatha got home an hour later, the TV was on, you were knocked out, and the leftovers were still in the microwave–cold again.
And when she woke you up to tell you, it led to tears.
And now, you’re in the cereal aisle with a half-complete grocery list and only a vague idea of what kind of cereal you want.
Agatha rounds the corner quickly, frozen foods in her arms. She drops them into the cart, clearly frustrated as she huffs, hands on her hips. “We have a problem.”
“Oh, hi,” you say. “Where’d you go?”
“Frozen food aisle,” she sighs. “We have a problem.” She leans against the cart, fingers tapping on the metal impatiently. “We’re in the suburbs.”
You look at her, confused. “Um…Yeah…?”
“No,” Agatha huffs. “I mean, we’re a suburban family. We’re grocery shopping at a Trader Joe’s.” She starts gesturing around her dramatically. “There are vitamin supplements in our cart. I was just in the frozen foods aisle and I was met with “hey neighbor”. I just ran into one of our neighbors. I don’t even know his name! We are not suburban people!”
“Agatha, honey. It’s okay,” you say softly.
Her jaw tenses and she purses her lips. “Do you know what we were doing, what, five months ago? Fucking in the Adirondacks.”
“Okay. Lower your voice, first of all,” you scoff, throwing whatever cereal boxes into the cart. “Second of all, yes. I know. The result is right in front of you. And, third…maybe it’s good.”
As you push the cart through the aisle she walks beside you. “Good?” she repeats, eyes wide.
“Yeah…” you shrug. You turn down the snack aisle and push a bag of animal crackers off the shelf and into the cart without stopping. “I mean you’re almost 356 years old and I’m 149. We’ve been through a lot—sinking ships, witch trials, like…a shit ton of wars. Maybe it’s good that things are slowing down.”
Agatha sighs, “Well can we slow down in a luxury apartment in Manhattan?”
“You actually wanna move to New York City? We’re about to have a baby in four months.”
“It doesn’t have to be midtown,” Agatha says, and puts a bag of veggie chips into the cart. “There’s Greenwich, the West Village—townhouses have more than one and a half bedrooms”
You pause and raise an eyebrow at her. “One and a half?”
“Oh please, that bedroom might as well be a storage room,” Agatha scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Besides, we haven’t started on the nursery yet. And Brownstones are nice.”
“Brownstones are expensive,” you counter.
“Tony told us that he’ll move us closer to the Tower.”
“What about backyards?” you ask. “I don’t wanna have to go to a park every time I want our kid to go outside.“
“I looked up some brownstones in the city. The backyards aren’t bad,” Agatha says, hand resting on your back.
You stop in the middle of the aisle, looking up at her with a hand on your hip. “You’ve already looked up new houses for us to move to?”
“They’re bigger!” Agatha says, exasperated. “There’s one with four rooms. We should move now instead of when we have more kids–”
“When?” You start grinning. “More? Our daughter hasn’t even been born yet.”
She opens her mouth, but no words come out. “Um–well–I mean–I quite like you in this state…”
“Oh, so you wanna keep me like this?” you tease. “Your perfect, pregnant little wife?”
“We’re getting off topic here,” she says, giving you a pointed look as you keep walking. “Just think about it. We’ve lived in the suburbs since 2026–me since 2023, no thanks to Wanda—and now we’re about to have a kid. Things are already going to change. Why not move now?”
“Okay fine,” you sigh. “You have some good points. I’ll think about it.”
It didn’t take much convincing later that night, which isn’t surprising considering the position you were in when she brought it up again–on your back, slick with sweat, and in her arms as you both laid in the post-sex bliss that she always brought you. 
She called Tony the next morning, discussing each feature the new house needs to have–at least three bedrooms, a decent sized backyard, hardwood floors, a fireplace, renovated yet classy, she had more needs than you. They spent days with a realtor, discussing pricing and location and selling your current house, and then came the tours.
You and Agatha saw at least five houses in the span of two weeks: two in Greenwich, two in West Village, and one on the Upper East Side. You were in the Upper East Side townhouse for less than ten minutes before she turned it down, and by the time you’re reaching the third trimester, you’ve both decided on one in the West Village.
It’s cozy, with four bedrooms and hardwood floors from the original build. There are two fireplaces, one in the living room and one in yours and Agatha’s bedroom, and a nice backyard with a patio and room to run around in. And as Tony promised, he paid for it all–leading to you sobbing your ‘thank you’s.
By the time you’re completely moved in, you’re approaching your eighth month of pregnancy. Your ankles are swollen, you’re the size of a cantaloupe, and your back aches constantly. Agatha eventually has to sleep with ear plugs because of how loud you snore–and you cried when you found out–and every time you stand up, you feel like you’re going to lose balance.
After finishing the nursery, Agatha guides you in with her hands over your eyes. When she removes them, you’re met with elephants and soft greens and dusty pinks. The cream colored crib that you had picked out together sits against the far left wall and all of the furniture is placed exactly where you wanted it. And it’s perfect. It’s exactly as you imagined. 
“Are you crying?” Agatha asks softly.
You sniffle and wipe your eyes. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s good crying. I promise.” You hug Agatha tightly and kiss her. “Okay, my back is killing me. I need to sit down.”
You take a seat in the plush armchair that you chose specifically because it’s a rocking chair. When you lean back, hand on your belly, Agatha sits down on the small ottoman and takes your foot, fingers rubbing the pressure points as you sigh.
“How many people do we have coming to the baby shower?” you ask, resting your head on your hand as you stare at her with nothing but love in your eyes.
“Well,” Agatha starts, “there’s the coven, that’s five. Then there’s Tony, Nat, Steve, Clint, Bruce, Peter and Sam. And Thor and Loki said they might be able to come. So, possibly fourteen.”
You hum, thinking. “We’ll have to lock the door to this room. The only one who knows is Jen–and probably Lilia–and god knows someone will try to snoop around to find out.”
Thankfully, everyone who arrives at the baby shower gets what’s only on the registry–Agatha was very stern about it. But when Alice walks in, your jaw drops.
“You brought wine and premixed margaritas to my baby shower?” you gawk.
“Who brought wine?” Wanda perks up at the kitchen table. “I’ll get the cork screw.”
“Margaritas too!” Alice cheers, and joins Wanda in the kitchen with the rest of the coven. 
Lilia pours herself a glass of red, “Agatha would you like a glass?”
“No, thank you,” Agatha says, hand rubbing your back as you cross your arms.
The coven stops and looks at her.
“What, are you pregnant too?” Jen scoffs.
“No,” Agatha pipes up. “I’m standing in solidarity with my wife.”
You’re beginning to regret having your baby shower in the third trimester. You’re exhausted, and by five o’clock you’re growing irritated because you and Agatha haven’t been able to take your daily walk, and on top of that you’re being continuously kicked in your ribs. 
“Are you feeling okay?” Agatha comes to stand behind the couch, her hands running over your shoulders as she leans down to kiss your temple.
“Yeah,” you murmur. “Just tired.”
Agatha glances around the room at everyone and lowers her voice so only you can hear. “Do you want me to kick everyone out?”
You giggle and shake your head. “No, you don’t have to kick everyone out.”
“Dammit,” Agatha groans. “I was really hoping you’d say yes.”
By seven, everyone is gone and it’s just the two of you. These have always been your favorite moments–the quiet nights spent in Agatha’s arms while something plays on the TV in the background, and the only other sound is her heartbeat beneath your ear.
“I know we got a pretty good amount today,” Agatha mutters, “but do you wanna go shopping for baby clothes tomorrow?”
Your hand fidgets with the wedding band on her ring finger. “Sure.” 
When you pick up that first frilly, pink satin dress you want to cry–and a few tears do slip out. “It’s so cute,” you whimper, and throw it in the basket. “We’re gonna have the cutest baby ever.”
Agatha’s hand settles on your lower back as you continue through the store, gasping at every piece of clothing you see. “”Sweetheart, you can’t take home every single article of clothing you see. I know you’re nesting, but you’re going a bit overboard,” Agatha says. “She won’t even grow into any of this for at least three months.”
“Well, you know me,” you shrug, and look through a rack of clothes. “I like to be prepared.”
“One more dress,” Agatha sighs. “And that’s it.”
“One dress and two shirts,” you counter.
Agatha stares at you and then relents, “Fine. One dress and one shirt. And then I wanna get dinner after this, I’m starving.”
You’re a week overdue, and you’re miserable. 
“Is there anything I can do for you, honey?” Agatha asks from the stove as she cooks breakfast. 
You take a bite of an apple slice at the kitchen table and huff, “Oh, I dunno. Can you get this baby out of me? Or, you could apply my hemorrhoid cream for me, how about that?” Your words get louder as you go on. “Oh, maybe you could remove a couple ribs so that the soccer player I’m carrying has room to move!”
Agatha looks around awkwardly. “Well, I mean–I could apply the–”
“I was being facetious, Agatha,” you say, glaring at her. When she sets your plate in front of you, she presses a kiss to your forehead and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just exhausted. I can’t sleep, I need help putting on my shoes, and I’m the size of a fucking pumpkin.”
“How about we go to the nail salon today?” Agatha suggests. “You said you wanted to get a pedicure done, but we never had time.”
You sigh, “Yeah, alright.”
The fumes of the nail salon hit you stronger than ever before. You’re settled into the spa chair with Agatha right beside you, picking out a color for her toenails as the technicians set up their stations. 
“I usually go for purple, but I’m thinking maybe pink this time,” Agatha murmurs, thinking to herself.
“I think pink would look cute,” you shrug. “What about orange for fall?”
“Mm…Maybe closer to Halloween,” she mutters, and looks over at you, smiling. “Yeah, I’ll go with pink.”
The nail technicians assigned to you and Agatha are engrossed in her stories. You lean back, relaxing as you listen to Agatha gossiping with the woman who starts to paint her toenails.
“I just think she should mind her own business, you know?” Agatha scoffs. “And then there was the time…” 
She could talk for days and days and you would never get tired. But a low, dull ache begins to settle in your abdomen. Your face contorts into obvious discomfort as you adjust your position in the seat.
Agatha pauses her story and looks at you, “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” you wince. “I’m fine. Just uncomfortable–Oh!” Your hand squeezes the arm of the chair as dull ache tightens.
“That was not a Braxton Hicks,” she says, and the two techs look at you with concern.
“No, I’m fine! Finish the pedicure!” you insist, and while the tech continues to paint, Agatha doesn’t relax. Her jaw tightens and you can feel the warning look she's giving you. 
When the tightening sensation returns you try your best to hide it, but when you know someone for almost 120 years, you pick up on their tells.
“Okay, no!” Agatha says sternly. “Come on, we’re going!”
“No!” you cry, and look at the tech in front of you. “Finish my nails! We have time!”
“You’re a week overdue, we’re going now!” Agatha says. She gives the tech assigned to you a sharp look. “Put the nail polish down, now!”
“Agatha, no! It needs to dry! Let him finish!” you beg, and another wave of pain crests through.
“Is it gel?”Agatha asks him quickly, and when he shakes his head, snaps her head back to you. “Put your flip-flops on, they can dry in the car, hon!”
With her own nails still wet, she gets down from the chair and slips her sandals on. She digs out her wallet from her purse and tosses a fifty on the chair before helping you down. Her arm goes around your waist as she rushes you out, all eyes on the both of you. 
“Wait!” you cry, waddling towards the door with your hand in hers. “I don’t want to mess up my pedicure! Slow down!”
“Sweetheart, that is the least of my concerns!” she shoots back. When Agatha helps you into the car, she pulls out her phone and you can hear her on the phone with Jen as she rounds the car.
She starts the car quickly, and she has a complete disregard for the rules of the road.
“Agatha!” you shout, holding onto the dashboard. “Pull over! Now!” She does as you say and you turn to her, “Take a deep breath. Please. You’re more worried than I am and I’m the one in labor.”
She looks over, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, and knuckles white on the wheel. “Okay,” she croaks, and breathes deeply.
“Okay,” you repeat. “Are you okay?”
She sighs. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Okay,” you say again, your own breath shaking. “Let’s go.”
This time, Agatha decides to follow the rules of the road. Her hand doesn’t leave yours once until you pull into the hospital parking lot. When she helps you out of the car, you snicker to yourself. “I bet you’re glad I nagged you to put the hospital bag in the car the other day.”
“Walk,” Agatha groans, and you giggle.
In the hospital room, you slip the gown on as Agatha watches, perched on the edge of the bed. “Give me a twirl, princess.”
You huff and give her a slow, cautious turn. “Good?”
“Perfect,” she smiles.
Agatha makes you as comfortable as possible in bed–pillows in between your legs, under your arms, cups of ice chips after cups of ice chips. As the hours pass, Jen arrives, helping with pain management and whatever the nurses can’t do for you. 
Around four hours later, at 6pm, the whole coven plus Tony, Nat, and Steve, are in the room, despite you being doubled over on the bed, clutching on tightly to Agatha’s hand. You’re becoming irritated quickly, even with all the well-wishes and balloons and flowers.
“I don’t want them in here,” you groan, another contraction washing over you. 
Agatha looks confused. “What?”
“Get them out of here!” you seethe. 
“Oh, okay!” Agatha pauses. “Um…Even Jen?”
“Yes! Send them to the fucking waiting room!” you cry. “I only want you in here!”
Agatha ushers the group out of the room, and for once, apologizes to Jen.
“It’s not personal,” Jen says. “I understand. It’s okay.”
At midnight, you’re in the hallway of labor and delivery taking a walk when your water breaks, and you start crying because of how bad you feel. Agatha reassures you that you’ve done nothing wrong, but you’re a complete mess.
She sits on the couch in the hospital room. Your forehead rests against her chest as you rock on a yoga ball, her hands massaging your lower back. Your hand tightens its grip on her arm as a strong, sharp pain rips through you. 
It’s then that you finally decide to take the offer of an epidural–and you’ve never been more relieved. You sit on the edge of the bed, squeezing Agatha’s hand as the catheter is placed in your back, and after about twenty minutes, it starts to kick in.
“You should try and get some sleep,” Agatha murmurs, coming to sit back down beside you after dimming the room lights.
You hum, trying to keep your eyes open. “You should too.”
But there’s no chance in hell of that. 
You’ve been asleep for maybe an hour when two nurses assigned to you enter the room and wake you. The older one washes her hands and slips on a pair of gloves and the younger goes over to the fetal heart monitor, analyzing the graph in comparison to your contractions. When the first nurse is finished checking your cervix, she joins the other nurse.
“What’s the matter?”
Agatha’s hearing seems to increase tenfold. 
“Looks like the baby is having late decels,” the second nurse mutters.
“She’s only at four centimeters,” the older one whispers.
“How long has she been in labor?”
“About nine hours.”
“I’m sorry,” Agatha speaks up. “What’s the matter?”
The nurses turn toward you, the older one wearing a look that she’s rehearsed for these kinds of conversations. “The baby’s heart rate is dropping. It’s not too serious right n–”
“Not too serious?” Agatha repeats, her tone sharp. “Our child’s heart rate is dropping and you’re saying it’s not serious? I want a doctor in here right now.”
“Ma’am, I assure you–”
“I want a doctor in here!” Agatha shouts, standing up from her seat. “Now!”
Both of the nurses leave the room and Agatha lets out a frustrated sigh, sitting back down and taking your hand. Her other hand goes to your forehead, pushing back the flyaways sticky with sweat.
You lay there, eyes closed and trying to even out your breathing as you feel her thumb stroke along the back of your hand. Your eyes, still heavy with sleep, open when the doctor enters the room.
She reads the fetal monitor, analyzing every last bit of information on it. You watch her lips purse in thought and then she sighs. “You should have gotten me sooner,” she says to the nurses.
“What the hell is happening?” Agatha asks, eyes wide with panic.
“Your baby’s heart rate, for about the past hour, has been decreasing,” the doctor explains. “It’s not uncommon after receiving epidurals. Hypotension is seen a lot and your blood pressure has dropped a bit, and that usually ends up decreasing blood flow to the placenta. We’ll administer some fluids and have you lay on your side. But if it doesn’t change within an hour, maybe an hour and a half, we’re looking at a possible cesarean.”
Before the doctor can leave, Agatha gets out of the hospital recliner and lowers her voice. “If it’s possible, I’d like a nurse that actually knows what the hell they’re doing when caring for my wife.”
You watch the doctor nod and leave, and sure enough, fifteen minutes later, there’s a new night-shift nurse walking in with IV fluids. You lay on your side, facing Agatha while she holds your hand. With the bed rail down, and her reclining, it’s almost like you’re side-by-side in bed. Almost. 
You doze off again, hand limp in Agatha’s. When the lights flicker on an hour later, the new nurse and the doctor are back. In the past hour you’ve barely dilated and you can see the worry in the doctor’s face. 
She sighs after typing something on the computer. “Unfortunately, your baby’s heart rate hasn’t gone up. Your contractions aren’t doing what they’re doing, and the stress of that, combined with the hypotension is causing that. We will need to perform an emergency cesarean.”
“No,” you mumble, shaking your head. “No, I don’t want surgery.”
Agatha sighs, eyes heavy as she looks at you, “Sweetheart, I d–”
“It’s not optional,” the doctor says. “If we don’t deliver the baby as soon as possible, both you and the baby are at risk of injury.”
Your lips tremble and tears prick your eyes. “Okay,” you cry. “Alright.”
The clock on the operating room wall reads 4:03am.
Agatha sits beside you in the blue scrubs they had her change into, mask covering her mouth and nose, and blue hairnet containing the brunette mess of hair on her head. “I’m sorry it’s not going how you planned. You didn’t even want an epidural and now look where we are.”
“It’s okay,” you sigh as a nasal cannula is placed around your head. “You look hot in those scrubs, though.”
Agatha smiles, “Really?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “You’d be a really hot surgeon. You sure you don’t wanna watch them slice into me?”
Agatha makes a gagging sound. “I think I’ll stay here.”
“Okay,” the surgeon says. “10-blade, please.”
You close your eyes and take a deep breath. Her hand rests on the cap that holds your hair, thumb running soothingly over the soft skin of your forehead. “It’s okay,” she mutters behind the mask. 
It takes the surgeon about two minutes to do the procedure. Agatha stands, eyes watering and watching as they pull your baby from the opening in your abdomen. But it’s quiet. Too quiet. And then there’s the dreadful sight and sound of doctors rushing around.
“I don’t hear crying,” you panic, tears starting to fall down your temples. “Why isn’t she crying? Agatha, what’s happening? Why isn’t–why isn’t she crying?”
And then you hear it. The piercing shriek that means life.
You watch Agatha exhale with relief above you and you yourself do the same as tears flood your eyes. Your daughter, tiny and squirming, is wrapped loosely in a blanket and handed to Agatha. She sits back down beside you on the stool, lowering her carefully so you can see her properly. 
You crane your neck to press a kiss to her forehead, lips trembling and eyes watery. And as you look at her, you’re unable to form any thought that isn’t about her.
By the time you’re brought back to your room, the sun is rising. You’re exhausted, but the sight of your daughter in your arms makes you want to stay awake for as long as you can. Agatha sits beside you on the bed, shoes kicked off and completely relaxed. One arm is wrapped around you while the other reaches down, finger brushing against the soft cheek of your newborn daughter.
“What about ‘Daphne’?” you ask quietly, not wanting to wake the baby.
“‘Daphne’?” Agatha repeats.
You look down at your daughter, smiling softly. “It was the first name that came to mind when I saw her.”
Agatha smiles, watching as the baby looks up at you both, her mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as she gurgles. “Daphne it is then.”
At nine, Agatha receives a text. “Tony’s bringing breakfast for everyone. What would you like?”
“Everyone?” you repeat.
“Oh, please,” she scoffs. “You know they’re all coming to visit this morning.”
You chuckle, “Surprise me. I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.”
By ten in the morning, your room is filled with people and the smell of breakfast foods.
“Alright,” Tony says. “We’ve patiently waited. What is it?”
“It’s a healthy baby,” you shrug, and pop a grape into your mouth as you cradle her in one arm. You and Agatha giggle together as everyone groans, but you finally give in. “It’s a healthy baby girl,” you smile.
“You owe me fifty bucks, Rogers!” Tony says.
“Wanda owes me ten,” Nat comments.
Alice hands Billy a twenty from her pocket and you sit there in shock. “You were gambling on what sex our child would be?”
“You made us wait until they were born to find out,” Nat says, shoving a piece of pancake into her mouth. “What do you expect?”
“What’s her name?” Billy asks.
Agatha sits on the edge of the bed, a genuine smile on her face. “Her name is Daphne.”
As you sit in the hospital bed wearing the fuzzy pink robe Agatha brought you, you watch your family. You watch them talk, and hear them laugh. You think back to that day in the parking lot–crying as Agatha held you, panicking because you had no idea if this was something you truly wanted or thought you could do. You think back to every moment filled with anxiety, every late night conversation with Agatha, fears spoken in the dark. 
But a weight in your arms grounds you. You look down at the tiny baby fast asleep in your arms. You look at the yellow crocheted blanket that Lilia made for her. The ducky boots that Agatha gave you on your anniversary. The frilly dresses, and the hair bows.
You questioned once if you were okay with this. But now, as you look around the room, you realize that you’re more than okay with this. You’re more than okay with the family you found, and with the woman you love, and more okay than ever with what the two of you created–your little Daphne.
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hotvintagepoll · 1 year ago
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Propaganda
Omar Sharif (Funny Girl, Lawrence of Arabia)—Dark and thrilling, strange and sweet, honey in your ear, spice in your mouth, he was Sherif Ali the Arab, Yuri Zhivago the Russian, Colonel Grau the German and much much much more, here's to the one and only Omar Sharif---- Pharaoh of romance!!! (I'm sorry Im stealing lyrics from the song "Omar Sharif" but it ain't lying!)
Buster Keaton (The General, The Navigator, Sherlock Jr.)—For me Buster’s hotness comes not just from his physical beauty but in the constant surprise and contradictions of the man, he’s simultaneously delicate/rough, feminine/masculine, confident/vulnerable, 5foot5 pretty face with an unexpectedly deep voice, at first glance you think oh he’s a cute little thing and then he takes his top off and it’s Superman abs underneath. He was intensely shy in social situations but had no hesitation in jumping off the top of a building. He famously never smiled on screen* but he exudes warmth and joy and laughter. He created some of the most beautiful, intelligent movies ever made but refused to acknowledge his own genius and talent as an artist, instead maintaining that all he wanted to do was make people laugh. If he was here in reality competing in this poll he would give it 100% but he would not be at all bothered if he didn’t win. And that’s why he’s the hottest vintage man. A vote for Buster is a vote for all that is good and decent in the world 💕 (*he did smile on camera occasionally despite his own assertions to the contrary 😄)
This is one of four polls in the tournament quarterfinals. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
THIS POLL LASTS FOR 24 HOURS.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
Buster Keaton propaganda:
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"Just look at his freaking face...."
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This entire Tumblr page was submitted
This post
This video
"And for those who have never heard it, here’s his lovely voice in action: link"
Submitted: Link to Buster Keaton car stunts
Submitted: BK fancam
Submitted: quotes about BK video compilation
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"Ripped body, gorgeous unique face, beautiful personality too"
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youtube
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Omar Sharif propaganda:
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"he and Peter O'Toole didn't have the heaviest "we're fucking" energy in Lawrence of Arabia for nothing!"
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"Additional Omar Sharif propaganda (I am counting as propaganda both the way he looks and the way Peter O'Toole is looking at him.)"
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lilbeanz · 1 year ago
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hello beanz, hope you're doing well! do you have any useless worldbuilding headcanons or jodt facts which are utterly useless or very mildly useful to the plot?
Hello lovely💗 I'm doing well, and I hope the same for you!
And gah! This is such a good ask! Definitely a thinker, too 🤭
The Useful Headcanons:
• The Wizarding World is called the Wixen World because fuck the patriarchy. (And yes, I realise both "wizard" and "witch" can be perceived as gender neutral, but typically, wizards are male, and witches are female (ugh👎))
• There are more magical schools than just eLEvEn, because as a wise man once said:
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Take it from Hermione and Draco in GS,ch4:
“There’s around fifty in all of Europe,” Hermione began.
“Another fifty in Asia,” Draco carried on.
“Several in the Americas.”
“A handful of smaller schools scattered across the Pacific Islands.”
“And near a hundred in Africa.”
• Generally, wix are not homophobic, transphobic, or racist. Their prejudice problems revolve around blood and magical creatures.
Historically speaking, the Victorian era really fucked up Muggle society. And, yes, there was homophobic/racist ideology pre-Victorian era (1600s - 1700s), but by then, the magic and muggle world was already at odds with each other (Statute of Secrecy was eatablished in 1692) -- why would purebloods concern themselves with such trivial Muggle bigotry?
• Which leads me to my next worldbuilding point; Paganism. Traditional witchcraft and its influences on both the Wixen and Muggle worlds. Pureblood families are known to celebrate the Wheel of the Year -- equinoxes and solstices etc... Paganism existed before the statute and still exists into the Muggle world of course, which is how Muggles have wicca and the craft. Why Wiccan Muggles gather at Stone Henge for the summer solstice and all sorts. It just makes sense 🤌✨️
• Wolfstar. That's it. That's the whole bullet point. Just. Wolfstar.
• In Pureblood society, there is an unspoken hierarchy. The Malfoys' circle consisted of the Goyles, the Crabbes, and the Notts (and other notable Death Eater names), as well as the Parkinsons, the Greengrasses, and many other blood purist sympathisers.
Draco grew up with Greg, Vince, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo. The coming war will surely test the strength of childhood bonds...
• The divide between Draco and his father means Draco is becoming his own person as opposed to following in his father's footsteps. Draco finds himself striving to be a little more like his mother, and a lot more like himself.
The fire of rebellion flourishes inside him, but how far can he go before the flames grow out of his control?
The Not So Useful & Sort of Silly Headcanons:
• Crabbe and Goyle are not as thick as some people (*cough* Harry *cough*) perceive. Vince is a Transfiguration whizz-kid & Greg enjoys art.
• Pansy Parkinson falls in love very easily, but also very quickly moves onto her next meal -- ah, her next fixation.
• Mad-Eye Moody enjoyed a very relaxed year of his retirement from 1994 to 1995, with absolutely no home intrusions or attacks from dark wix.
• Lucius Malfoy has an unhealthy obsession with white peacocks. Especially his prized darling, Bartholomew Armand Malfoy the Third.
• Dobby has a cupboard specifically for storing all of his socks at Hogwarts.
• Professor Burbage had a groovy flower-power phase in the 70s.
• Harry sometimes finds himself talking to Draco's embroidered portrait on the Black family tapestry at Grimmauld Place.
• Erik, Nikolaj, and Katrina embark on a journey across America after graduating from Durmstrang. In their travels, they may discover many things...
I'm sure there's more! But here's what I can think of off the top of my head! 🥰💕
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fuckthemforthis · 2 years ago
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Maribor recap or long rambling, some pics and trying to make sense in my head:
1. Thank you @chibi-chellist again for reaching out, it meant a lot not to be alone! Rambling about the boys is so much better in person and when it's not one-sided. I enjoyed meeting you and sharing experiences! 💕
2. Kaj pa Ester? is one of the cringiest things I've recently seen, especially dialog wise haha BUT it is also funny and kinda cute. Very teenage-y I guess, with too much lots of kissing and parties for which scenes they used some terrible modern cajke music (like use the good old soul ripping ones that don't mention Elon Musk... teenagers today smh). Anyway, I wouldn't mind it being longer and better developed in the emotional areas which you see they scratched but need deepening to give an actual sense of plot and sense to the movie. Could be due to the fact it was supposed to be a show first tho. However, I couldn't see Bojan's personality, mannerisms or gestures so in that sense I feel he did a great job acting 👏
And THE SCENE. Oh boy. Less sad and more frustrated bojerking. Putting shame aside to admit I would love to have it available on demand, especially for some ragged breathing appreciation...
3. Bought and tried Jan's fav cookies, yaay! They're really soft and don't crumble so I approve and will enjoy. I'm sure sentimental reasons are definitely a big part of why he named them as favorite and when I think about it they really suit him but there are better Slovenian cookies like almost any from Težak bakery in Zreče.
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4. Half the venue were teenagers or parents with anything between 4 to 12 year olds. I was surrounded. And since I sat a few rows above the backstage entrance, kids all tried reaching for them as they were going off stage and among all the girls there was an 8 (?) year old boy who reached out and Bojan gave him a high-five... and lemme tell you I very much dislike kids but the way that boy turned and excitedly smiled melted my icy heart.
5. Third concert of theirs, third time on Jan's side. And I think Kris somehow knows & takes revenge by not singing NGVOT whenever I'm in the audience 😔
Well Krisko, princess dear, no photos of you 😝
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6. Found it adorable how as ASTP was starting, Nace went to drink some water, took his bottle and clinked it against Jure's 🥂
7. Love that Maks was there again, I like the guy. At some point during the concert he was leaning on the fence above me taking pics and I missed half a song watching him work 🙈
8. As I was behind the loudspeakers, I heard Bojan's singing fine, but talking barely because it was often too distorted. What I did hear was him saying we came there for a workout to burn all the cookie calories from the last few days... and boy are you on the wrong track because I came back home with four different packs of cookies 🍪
9. Band dad Niko's daughter was with him watching the concert from next to the stage and he danced with her and it was adorable. The existence of good dads baffles my poor unloved ass...
10. We all know how in the setlist there's a connection between Padam and Demoni because Bojan even sometimes said "and when we fall they come", but I realised the chain starts with Dopamin. First you get a dopamine rush and feel like flying but soon you experience a crash because your body used up all the good stuff and then comes the falling and the demons (and then you go back to someone so the demons would go away but that someone just plays you again - if I wanna extend it to Katrina). Yes it's kind of a concert - post concert sadness - concert rinse&repeat metaphor
11. Janči had problems with his pedalboard for the first two or three songs, he and Kiki spent minutes fiddling with it trying to get it to work. Poor guy can't catch a break.
12. So yeah, the last point is based on Jan being sick, but it's actually about the main reason I like them so much - the connection, love and care they share.
I realised Jan wasn't okay during the concert so Bojan just confirmed it for me. He obviously still slayed, and he went to play at the front a lot, but there were telling moments.
A) When Bojan came to Jan at one point and rubbed his back in a very non performative way, squeezing at his shoulder and whispering something.
B) When Jan plopped down during Padam I thought "not when he usually goes down, is he okay?" and then Bojan leaned down to stroke his hair.
C) The most telling of all, when he sat down during Umazane misli. I kept looking at him, ignoring the left-front-right karaoke. He looked so tired and off, put his head in his hands and then Kiki gave him a bottle of water. When Nace turned around and noticed him like that, he smiled encouragingly and told him it's okay three times (yep they were close enough to read lips) and that's when I was 100% sure something was wrong and he was either feeling off emotionally or sick. He then got up, went to the front, played his ass off and only when he was walking back was it visable again for a moment how empty his expression was.
D) Jure coming to comfort him and cheer him up as soon as he could lift his ass away from those drums, leading him to the front where in the end Jan turned out to be the one stroking Nace's back in a "yeah it's okay" kinda way
E) As they were leaving for the final time, someone gave Jan a wrapped present he looked actually happy about and he threw back a pick but it fell where the person couldn't reach so Nace took over making sure the person gets it.
That's it. They are all utterly beautiful. And anyone who knows me, knows I use that word to describe people first and foremost on the inside. Beautiful.
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demiboydemon · 2 years ago
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Things that I’d love in an ACNH update or a new AC game
Obviously there won’t be any more updates for New Horizons, but I think these would be cool if there were.
- An NPC who makes mini dinosaur figures when you give them fossils. It could be like Flick and CJ where you have to give a certain number of parts of whichever figure you want. Or you could have to give 1 of each part of the dinosaur you want. Or you could give a certain amount of unassessed fossils and get a random figure, kind of like how Katrina sends random items if you cleanse bad luck.
- More holidays! Valentine’s Day, April fools day, groundhogs day, Chinese New Year, Coming of Age Day, Earth day, summer and winter solstices, Diwali, etc. could be a lot of fun!
- More jobs! I miss being able to work for Brewster and make deliveries for Tom Nook. It could also be fun if villagers payed you a few bells to do things for them, like pick all the weeds around their house or build them a garden or customise something of theirs.
- More Pocket Camp furniture! I get that Nintendo makes money off Pocket Camp furniture and not ACNH furniture, but they could release amiibos that unlock them, like the Sanrio amiibos, and you have to buy them to get the furniture. Please, I just want the cat themed stuff 🥲
- Pete! It’d be so much fun to be able to shoot him down like in Wild World.
- All the mini games! Maybe there could be an island like Kapp’n’s old one where you can compete with friends, or something like the arcade in Animal Forest.
- Crystals! You can dig them up like gyroids and fossils, and get them assessed and donate them.
- The ability to make custom design masks, shoes, jumpsuits, and pants.
- Give Reese the ability to customise clothes! That would kill two birds (Anchovy and Blanche, maybe?) with one stone, as it would allow us to customise clothes and give Reese something to do. Obviously Cyrus would swoon when she does, just like she does for him 💕
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maylilithreign · 5 months ago
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What song makes you feel better?
to name a few. hit the audio post limit. these are some of my feel-goods, though 💕 I hope they help you too.
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simmalooks · 1 year ago
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✨miko ojo v2✨
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Miko is probably my favorite base sim so I wanted to see how I could update her look. I didn't change any of her features (except her brows) -- just improved them ;) Hope you like Miko Ojo v2 <3
Skin Details: Skin Tone ~ Eye Color ~ Eye Mask & Lip Mask ~ Nose Highlight ~ Skin #1 ~ Skin #2 ~ Undereye Highlight ~ Contour ~ Philtrum ~ Blush ~ Eyebrows ~~~~~ Hair & Makeup: Hair ~ Eyeshadow ~ Eyeliner ~ Lip ~ Blush ~~~~~ Accessories: Earrings ~ Nails ~ Nose Piercing ~ Necklace ~~~~~ Outfit: Top ~ Jeans ~ Boots ~ Bag
Thank you to the amazing CC creators: @madlensims @sammi-xox @cosimetic @simshouseirisnovak @saruin @suzuesims @lamatisse @babyetears @katrina-ysims @giuliettasims @zenxsims @nightcrawler-sims @pw-creations @thepeachyfaerie @katverse @christopher067 @kikuruacchi @squeamishsims @sims3melancholic @darknighttsims 💕
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inkieun · 1 month ago
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Hii katrina!! Good luck for your dance competition today!!! YOU GOO GIRLL!!!💕🎀💗
_🌸
Thank you!! My team and I placed second!!!
We did fancy by twice 🩷⭐️
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justabigoldnerd · 2 months ago
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"Family and Genus"
By JustABigOldNerd on Ao3
Tags:
Alternate Universe - Wings, Training, First Kiss, Reunions, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning
Relationships:
(OC) Napoleon Vinciguerra/(OC) Katrina
Word Count:
4,976
Summary:
Napoleon Vinciguerra's life after returning from the reality where he met his father.
Excerpt:
Napoleon's eyes well with tears, remembering the half-drunken conversation with his father, the martyr, and the future Director. They'd been right, after all. A knock on the threshold of the hospital room door draws their attention away from their wings, and Napoleon's heart skips a beat. Standing in the doorway, her silver spun hair smoothed back into a neat bun, is Ms. Teller as Napoleon knows her– the Director of U.N.C.L.E. Her smile is tense, and laden with longing, tracing the curve of his wings with her rich brown eyes that, somehow, still manage to sparkle. It's nice, seeing the fine lines around her eyes instead of the deeper ones around her mouth. It means she's happy, despite the fact that Napoleon knows who she's seeing when she looks at him, especially now. “I heard the news, Mr. Vinciguerra, but frankly, I had to see it for myself to believe it,” she teases, so much more formal than her younger self had been.
This is Part Two of "I Am Still Living With Your Ghost", a What If of @pippinoftheshire 's gorgeous series's, "Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly" and "Take These Broken Wings and Learn to Fly - Alternate Timeline" 💕💕💕💕💕
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nessa007 · 8 months ago
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What are your top 5 happy songs?
shake it off (taylor swift)
walking on sunshine (katrina & the waves)
september (earth, wind & fire)
party for two (shania twain ft. mark mcgrath)
unwritten (natasha bedingfield)
these are just off the top of my head again and in no particular order 💕
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simmingnate · 10 months ago
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💕BEVERLEE IS BACK!💕
She practically kicked in the doors of the chapel to make her grand entrance, and WHAT an entrance! Look at that body! She knew she looked great, and she couldn't wait to ruin Katrina's big day and get that sexy Don all to herself!
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The face of a woman who knows she's about to tick off another aspiration requirement, create some fabulous drama, and get her back blown out by Don Lothario 😊
All in a day's work for our Beverlee 🥲
Let the wedding commence!
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Beverlee greets the Caliente sisters, and stifles a laugh at their matching dresses.
Nina wonders if Beverlee's presence is a bad omen, or maybe she's just trashy? Either way, it's too late for her to intervene now!
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Beverlee then turns to Don… her partner in crime, her man of the moment, her open-shirted-furry-chested-knockout-hearthrob Prince Charming… and tells him, in a tone that will arouse no suspicions from anybody present, that his hair looks sexy pushed back.
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One compliment is all it takes to get Don going - actually, it takes a lot less - and he's back on track with the plan. He's ready to be devious! It's all worth it for a woman like Beverlee, and she is looking HAWT (and flammable) in that blue nylon 🔥
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Beverlee takes her seat next to Nancy Landgraab, which is an interesting choice since they both hate each other. But let's face it - if Beverlee was picking seating partners based off who likes her, she might have to find a seat in another save entirely.
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shinugodda · 3 days ago
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katrina zova 💕
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notyourtoday · 2 years ago
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