#what did you do to the newborn puppy

[fickes]

Today at Long John Silvers I accidentally told the wrong person that I want to marry them but they said yes??? And I can’t even actually afford to marry them because my Nissan got impounded and it’s this whole thing that the person i ACTUALLY meant to propose to knew all about and was very understanding of, but now I feel rude taking it back. They probably don’t want to be with a felon who hides guns in their dishwasher anyway but it just kind of feels rude to take such a magical moment away from someone you know? Anyway I love your tarot decks (I bought one of the mysterious ones with the blue dots) but it was unfortunately in my Nissan the night I got caught urinating in Publix and the poor thing got shoved in some police car jail. I can’t afford the new one because I needed to post bail again but I’m sure it’s lovely! I’m going to the St Johns cathedral tomorrow where they’ll bless your animals for FREE and I’m going to show my favorite priest (whose name starts with an x???) your website because after his wife left him he got really into betting on gym class races at the local YMCA and I think he needs a new hobby.

please stop taking life advice from my tarot cards I'm worried about you and your impounded Nissan

[pochaccoups]

cw — sfw, fluff, mingi is sick and sulky, reader is smaller than mingi

It’s not entirely weird for Mingi to be waking up at 11:27 a.m. Sure, he’ll get up at seven or eight on a day full of schedules, but there’s also days where he sleeps until two, three, four p.m whether it’s from jet lag or after staying up late writing. What is weird is the fact that he’s been asleep since eight p.m. yesterday.

A text from your boyfriend is what lets you know he’s finally awake, and you’re up from the sitting room couch in an instant, darting to your shared bedroom.

He’s got the covers pulled halfway up his face with just his eyes poking out to stare at his phone screen and you wonder how a six-foot-something man can look so small.

“Morning, baby,” you say, slinking over to his side of the bed so you can sit on the edge next to him.

“Morning,” he replies, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was quite literally in front of you, you’d be convinced that someone had kidnapped your boyfriend and replaced him with a complete stranger—one with a voice so deep that it rumbles when he speaks.

Your eyes widen and you giggle, but you can’t say you’re surprised at how he sounds. His voice is notorious for dropping several octaves in the morning. Usually it’s sexy, but given that he’d spent the entire day before complaining about a sore throat, you can’t find it in you to feel anything but pity for the poor boy.

“So, I called your doctor and he said you need to stay home for the next four to five days at the least,” you tell him, reaching for his muss of silver hair to tangle your fingers through it softly.

“What-no, I’m really fine!” he whines, pushing himself up to sit against the headboard. “I have to practice for the comeback, I can’t take a break right now.”

“You’re not taking a break, Gi, you’re going on sick leave. You kept me up all night with your sneezing and coughing,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, only to melt as soon as he gives you his big, round, puppy eyes.

“But it’s just a cold…”

“Well, the doctor ordered it. Besides, I’ve already called Hongjoong and your managers. And I took work off today and tomorrow so I can stay home with you.”

For a split second you swear his eyes well up with tears. “You did?”

“Of course,” you tell him. When Mingi is sick, he turns into a four week old puppy because he can’t be left alone, or a newborn baby who needs a pair of eyes on him at all times so that he doesn’t suffocate to death. So when you tell him you’ll go make him some food and tea, he wraps his excessively giant hands around your body and clings to you, like letting go of you would mean he’ll succumb to his illness.

“Gi, you need fluids. Please let me go,” you remind him, but he only holds you tighter and you know it’s partly out of spite and partly because he’s just like this—a velcro boyfriend.

“Mingi, I’ll be two minutes, then I’ll come right back, okay?” you tell him.

“No, you won’t, I know you,” he says, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s pouting. It’s a permanent feature of his face by now.

“I will! Why else do you think I took work off, huh?”

He’s silent then, and a moment later his arms fall loose, and he lets you go, but you leave a kiss on his forehead as an act of promise to him and shuffle back out to your kitchen.

Spurred by your boyfriend’s neediness, you gather leftover rice from the fridge, chicken broth, and a handful of vegetables with haste and start to boil the concoction that your mother taught you how to make, the one that got you through not just fevers but through heartbreaks, losses, and cold winters.

“The most important ingredient,” she would say, “is a sprinkle of your heart”—though Mingi deserved more than just a sprinkle.

The kettle boils away and your stew bubbles with life in no time. It’s also no time before a giant, warm, sniffling body plasters itself to your back and buries his face into your neck, practically bending in half to do so.

You can’t say you don’t see it coming. Still, the spirit of your mother possesses you when you drag out his name to scold him.

“Why aren’t you in bed, dummy?” you question, though you’re careful not to have any real aggravation in your voice toward him. Admittedly, you adore the way his body heat wraps around you like a blanket, although you’re sure that’s just his fever.

“Missed you too much,” he mumbles, nuzzling his nose and lips against your shoulder.

“I told you I’d be two minutes,” you sigh.

“It’s been more than that already. You lied. I knew you’d lie.”

“It was hyperbole for ‘I’ll be super quick’.”

“Then you should have said that.”

You place your wooden spoon down on the counter, turning to face your boyfriend with a fond smile on your face.

He looks adorable. Unbelievably so. Mussed up white hair, a dusting of pink on the apples of his cheeks and the pointy tip of his nose, puffy eyes that still sparkle at the sight of you. You might be the luckiest human on the planet.

You bring your hands up to his face, grabbing at each of his cheeks and squishing them gently between your fingers.

“My poor, sick princess,” you coo, watching his dimples make an appearance when he gives you a goofy, content smile. “Do you wanna watch a movie? Or a show maybe?”

He nods his head, still smiling so sweetly.

“Go pick something and I’ll finish up your soup,” you offer.

“Can I have a kiss first?”

You stare at him, unamused, though you know this very well—Song Mingi cannot live without your kisses. It’s why he was crafted with the softest, prettiest, heart-shaped lips, so that you could kiss them over and over and over again until the end of time. There are exceptions, however.

“I’m not catching your virus! Is that what you want?”

“No, no, on my forehead again!” he clarifies, his features suddenly muddled with worry because he would suffer from this cold for the rest of his life if it meant you would be healthy for the rest of yours. You wonder, though, if he knows how badly you wish you could take his cold and suffer it for him.

“Oh, well then yeah, duh,” you say, standing on your tip toes and gently pulling Mingi’s face towards you so that you can plant an overly long kiss on his burning forehead and pull away with a “mwah!” that leaves him utterly beaming.

Finally satisfied, he shuffles off back to the room, leaving you to brew his tea and serve up the stew into two bowls.

You grab flu tablets from the medicine cabinet, noting that they’re almost all gone and you’ll need to go to the pharmacy to get more. For today you have enough, so you place them on the tray along with the stews and tea and make your way back to your bedroom.

Mingi is curled up under the covers again and it’s so cute that you hate to disturb him, but he unfurls himself and sits up as soon as he sees you with a tray in hand.

“What are we watching?” you ask, slowly settling on the bed next to him and laying the tray down on the mattress.

“I think Attack on Titan, if you want to,” he says, full of fondness as you hand him two tablets to take.

“Oh, right, you’ve been wanting to watch that! Of course I want to,” you tell him, because you could never pass up the opportunity to see Jean Kirschtein in action again. You’ve missed him dearly since the show ended, though you have no doubt of the sulking and pouting you’ll get from Mingi when he comes onscreen.

Your boyfriend’s eyes go comically wide when he tries your soup and you laugh because he almost chokes on it.

“Is it that good?” you chuckle.

“It’s really good,” he responds.

“Good, because I put all my love into it.”

He hums, his face glowing pink as he eats another spoonful. “I can tell. Thank you for making this. And thank you for taking care of me. And for putting up with me.”

“Anything for my princess,” you giggle. “But I’m not ‘putting up with you’, idiot. Is it hard to comprehend that someone cares about you, Mingi?”

He stares up at you with his shiny eyes as though you hand-crafted the very sun, moon, and stars and placed them in the sky yourself.

“I love you,” he says, a mere whisper. It’s three words he’s said to you a million times, but right now, with his walls down and him vulnerable, it’s worth a million times more.

“I love you too,” you reply, leaning over to smack your lips against his temple. “Now watch the show!”

And he tries, he really does—but your little hospital patient is fast asleep by the third episode.

[ortegavi]

MAMA’S BOY ━ pedri gonzález

↳ PAIRING pedri gonzález x fem!reader ↳ SUMMARY in which nilo prefers you over pedri ↳ GENRE fluff (0.6K words)

YOU KNEW THERE was something different before you even entered your apartment. You could hear your boyfriend’s loud voice from the other side of the door. Normally you’d assume Pedri was just playing FIFA, but if he was you knew he’d be yelling swears at the TV instead of speaking excitedly, like he currently was.

You unlocked the door and curiously stepped inside, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion even more when Pedri didn’t immediately rush to the door the moment you entered. You could still hear his voice coming from inside your bedroom. “See, she’s here, you’ll love her, Nilo—wait, Nilo!”

You heard footsteps barreling down the hall and into the living room, but instead of your boyfriend, it was a black lightning streak darting towards you and circling around your legs. Then the black streak looked up at you with the most adorable dark eyes you’d ever seen, and let out an excited, “Woof!”

“You got a puppy?!” you giggled as Pedri came running after the puppy a moment later. You bent down to pick up the still-barking puppy and then stood up, cradling him in your arms like a newborn child. He let out a happy yip in your embrace.

“Sí, isn’t he cute?” Pedri grinned as you gently rocked him. “I called him Nilo, what do you think?”

“Suits him,” you nodded, then set the Labrador into Pedri’s arms—or, at least, tried to. As soon as he realized he was being moved, he let out a loud whine, and when he was safely deposited into your boyfriend’s hold, Nilo swiped at the air with his paws and looked at you with (literal) puppy eyes.

“What? Don’t you like me?” Pedri asked, sounding highly offended as Nilo barked out what almost sounded like a no in dog language. You laughed as the puppy tried to jump out of Pedri’s arms until he finally set him down—and of course, Nilo ran to your feet the moment he was free.

“Looks like Nilo has a preference,” you grinned cheekily.

“It’s probably just because he only met you today, but he’s already known me since yesterday. Right, boy?” Pedri held out his hand for Nilo to sniff, but he only barked and looked up at you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth happily.

Unfortunately for Pedri, Nilo seemed to have completely forgotten about him and latched onto you instead, following you at every possible moment. More than once, you had woken up to a black Labrador cuddled up against you instead of your boyfriend. He began to jokingly complain that his girlfriend was being stolen from him, and you just grinned and said that Nilo was a handsome dog anyways (which only fueled Pedri to become much more affectionate with you and to throw all his money into collecting dog toys).

“See, he loves us equally,” your boyfriend was finally able to proclaim. After weeks of spoiling Nilo with different varieties of dog treats and toys, the puppy had finally allowed Pedri to hug him without trying to squirm away from his grasp. You had literally gotten the same result and more the moment you had met the Lab, but Pedri’s grin was too bright for you to ruin the moment with that fact.

So instead, you sat down across from him. “But you do love me and him equally, right?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Pedri paused, pretending to think. “He is a pretty handsome dog anyways.”

You gasped in offense as he used your exact own words against you, and did it with that cheeky smile too. “But can he do this?” you asked, leaning over where Nilo was in his lap to kiss Pedri soundly.

“...no, I suppose he can’t.”

↳ AUTHOR’S NOTE guess who made a comeback to writing 🤭

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 6

-> Part 1

-> Part 5

With Dvalin gone, you were left basically homeless. Not that it was much of an issue, not really. The forests had been very kind to you -- you could easily live the life of a hermit if you so wished, without having to worry about food, water, shelter or animal attacks.

But it would also be horribly lonely. No compassionate silence, no background noise and buzz of other people scurrying around and going about their day without minding you, no one to speak to if you ever felt the need to.

You liked being alone, but you were still human and humans were social animals.

Soooooo, you promptly asked Crepus about working in his Winery in exchange for accommodations, because 'one that asks, does not stray'... or something like that anyways. Your sister always made her life that much harder because she outright refused to ask for help even when hopelessly lost or overwhelmed, so there must be something to the saying at least.

"You don't have to work to earn your keep, (Name). I'd be more than happy to house you as my guest for however long you want!" is what Crepus 'Sunshine Personified' Ragnvindr responded with.

Crepus used Puppy Eyes, it was super effective!

You laid defeated, a puddle of cuteness overload once again wishing for sunglasses to protect yourself from the blinding smiles and imaginary wagging tails.

Crepus was horrible for your heart.

Still, you would go insane if left with nothing to do for days at a time, so you went to turn the Ragnvindr library upside down with Crepus' blessing, a bunch of notebooks, a bunch of pens and a delusion that you'd do any actual studying in there.

This was Teyvat, but this wasn't Genshin Impact -- a library wouldn't have interesting lore, it'd have dry history and even drier geography, accompanied by boring economics and even more boring politics (which was a damn shame too, politics were so interesting when written right).

You never quite had a head for those, prefering subjects with more practical applications that could be practiced instead of having to be beaten into your thick skull until you memorized it just long enough to write the exam.

Though for some ungodly reason you still remembered that onions were actually leaves. It was one of the very few things you remembered from school, actually.

Probably the trauma speaking.

Still, you did find some interesting books - a diary speaking of the Decarabian rule, for example.

Today, I don my very own Windblume.

I can only hope Lord Decarabian never learns of its' significance.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The winds are particularly harsh today.

I am afraid, but I smile and play my lyre as if nothing were happening at all, like I always do.

Sometimes, I forget if what I do is to reasure the people or to delude myself that everything is as it should be...

Then again, does it matter when the result remains the same?

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are growing restless.

Their yearning for freedom gave birth to a small wind spirit that seems fond of my playing. It is an adorable being, even if it has yet to communicate with us.

It remind me of a newborn puppy.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The people are planning a rebellion.

I want to help, but how can I? I am no soldier, my strength lays with the pen and the lyre, not with the sword.

Ragnvindr told me there was no need for more warriors, that I was doing enough by keeping the morale up with my performances... I am hesistant to believe him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The little spirit has spoken for the first time today.

It said that it knew the song I was playing, despite it being a new piece I was in the midst of creating, and sang along to lyrics I had yet to write.

It was strange, but it made me happy nonetheless.

Perhaps I was strange too, for feeling that way.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

You had a suspicion on who the author of the diary was by that point. Maybe Crepus would be open to giving this diary to Venti, instead of it gathering dust on the shelf?

Idly, you wondered how it had survived so long, but figured Ragnvindr and his descendants took good care of it.

I met Ragnvindr today.

Something compelled me to share my worries with him, even though I knew he had enough weight on his shoulders and I ought not to add more.

"If you cannot trust in yourself, then trust in me and my trust in you instead" he told me.

It helped.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Meetings regarding the rebellion are more and more frequent. Ragnvindr, alongside a man named Amos, have convinced the Gunnhildr clan to participate against all odds.

I can understand their hesitance. Should we fail to kill Lord Decarabian, their legacy would be no more.

I admire their bravery.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

The wind has long since realized change is imminent, even when Lord Decarabian himself has not - the little spirit said so.

King of Gales indeed, even the wind has rebelled against him.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

Ragnvindr speaks of a bad premonition.

In truth, my heart is uneasy as well, but how can I share those feelings with anyone but myself? It is not the time to bother others with my issues -- it is time to reassure everyone, to rouse their spirit and not to let fear take root even as they stand against a God. It is my duty as a bard and as a fellow rebel.

The Windblume feels particularly heavy as I write this.

I fear I will not live to see tomorrow's sunset, but I fear for my dearest friends and for Mondstadt even more.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

My little spirit friend is still without a name.

I know it does not bother them, they are the wind itself after all, but I would still like to give them a name others can remember them by.

A name that they can remember me by once I pass on, selfish as it is to bind an immortal to a memory.

But I am selfish, even if Ragnvindr may see me as a paragon of virtue. I am a human and to be human is to be flawed. I am not ashamed of it, even if I often feel guilty for it.

Perhaps it will be the very last thing I achieve in this life of mine.

It is hard to name them.

I've thought of many names up until now.

Caelus. Liberius. Aella. Calliope. Achill. Carmine. Hilarius. Hanne. Zephyrinus. Dieter. Sascha. Scilla. Paulus. Notus. Veronica. Agna. Vergil.

Those are just a few of the ones I discarded.

None fit.

I can only hope the right name reveals itself when it is time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° . • ° : . * ₊ ° . ☆

That was the last entry.

You closed the diary and carefully put it aside.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

It was not supposed to be mostly nameless bard POV via old diary.

It really wasn't.

Mans literally kidnapped the chapter entirely against my will while I was half asleep yesterday and attempting to write at nearly midnight and I was powerless to stop it, on god.

But hey, at least we got potential Venti bonding set up for the future?

I was planning for more fluff, but I also have no outline for this, so my chapters have a chance of getting kidnapped at any time.

✨BY THE WAY!!!!✨

The charm of spontaneous writing, I guess?

If you have something you want to happen - for example we're in the library right now, so maybe you want a book about a specific tidbit to appear - do let me know, maybe I'll write it in!

I had 2 tests and 1 retake yesterday and holy shit i got through all of them and tomorrow is last day of uni then it's ✨HOLIDAYS✨

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt @avalordream @ymechi @andromeda-gay @naynayaa @undecidingfate @thedevioussmirk @tumb3ld0wn @balaur-bondoc @yi-chii @yarabutterfly @nervouseaglelover @vexingpraedyth @indelible-colouring-markers @whitefantasy21-blog @kapitankarate

[fandoms--fluff]

Hey how are you, can I ask for one of Hope baby sister, where she’s get hurt when she’s fell down to the ground and she in hurt her leg

Kiss It Better

Baby female Mikaelson reader x Hope Mikaelson

Warnings: None

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope's head snaps up when she hears a thump from the hallway. She immediately gets up from the couch and runs down the hallway where the stairs are. And at the bottom of the stairs is where you're on the ground, the Carebear blanket you were holding is on the ground.

She kneels down and places her hands on the sides of your faces. Tears are glistening in your eyes, threatening to fall any second. "Oh, what happened, Baby?" She asks, not liking how you're about to cry.

Your lip quivers, before pointing one of your tiny, three-year-old fingers at the stairs. "You fell down the stairs?" She looks from the stairs, back to you.

"Mhm," You whimper. "Oh, my poor little baby sister" Hope brings you into her arms. Your little arms wrap around her neck as she stands up, one of her arms around your back and the other under your bottom, securing you safely against her. You tuck your head into the crevice between her shoulder and neck.

A tear rolls down each of your cheeks as your big sister bends back down to grab the Carebear blanket, before securing her arm back. She walks back into the living room and sits back down on the couch.

Your guys' parents are out dealing with some vampire business right now, she's been left in charge with you. Last time she checked on you, you were happily playing with your Barbies and dinosaur toys. She feels guilty for not checking up on you more than she had.

She slings the soft blanket over the back of the couch before pulling you gently away from her shoulder.

You let out a small whine for being separated from Hope. You're sat on her lap, and your hands are curled into her shirt.

"How did you fall down the stairs, huh?" She asks after gently wiping the tear streaks from your cheeks. She coos, seeing the puppy dog eyes you're giving her.

"Wan'ed 'o cuddle" You pout. "Bring da blanket and den 'rip." You lift one of your pudgy hands up and motion a going down-angle motion.

"You wanted to cuddle with me and then you tripped over your carebear blanket while coming down to me?" She runs her hand through your hair. "Yea" You answer, bottom lip jutting out. "Poor baby." She kisses your forehead and chuckles when you nod in agreement.

"does it hurt anywhere?" She asks. You think for a moment before lifting your arm up. On your elbow, there's a bruise forming and red markings around it.

"Do you want me to kiss it better?" She helps hold up your probably tired arm. You nod, looking sadly at the miscolored patch of your skin.

She brings her head down and places a couple soft kisses on and around your elbow. "Is it feeling better now, Y/n/n?" She lifts her head back up. "Yes, fank you."

"Such good manners. You want cuddles with me now?" She says. You nod your head excitedly. "Okay, Baby." She grabs your Carebear blanket from the back of the couch.

She wraps the soft blanket around you tightly as if she were swaddling a newborn baby. You finally get to nuzzle back into your sister and let out a satisfied sound.

You're finally able to cuddle your sister after the long day you've already had.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Co-Stars pt.13

Callum Turner X Actress! Reader

Summary: Y/n and Callum have their puppy interview, but they fell in love with one...

Warning: use of Y/n/ babies/

Word count: 750 words

They sat down, she was so excited. ‘’I’m so excited!’’ She squealed as she rested her head on Callum’s shoulder. Callum only laughed before Great Pyrenees puppies run into the room. Y/n’s eyes filled with stars, just like anime, she was in awe. ‘’Oh my god! Hi precious!!!’’ she squeals. Callum looks at her, smiling, but a puppy ran on him. ‘’Oh, hello you!’’ he giggles. Puppies run into each other and fight a little. ‘’No! Don’t fight, I’m going to separate you!’’ Y/n squeak, separating the puppies. ‘’Honey, these puppies are not Daisy and Ophelia’’ Callum laughed. Y/n giggled and looked at the interviewers. ‘’How did your labour go? And did it affect your work?’’ Y/n smiled. ‘’I was long, but it was totally worth the pain, I have two beautiful girls at home. And I think it affected my work in way that I’m more conscious of the time I’m spending away from home’’ she said, while her hand was being chased by puppies. She really fell in love with one of the puppies. ‘’What’s this little guy’s name?’’ she asked. ‘’He’s called Jazz’’ one of the women said. ‘’Callum, what was the best thing about working with Y/n?’’ As he was about to answer, a puppy ran on his leg. ‘’Hey there, little guy, uh the best thing about working with her was, uh, it was like having a safety net. During like hard scene, she was often with me, and it was reassuring, knowing that she was there with me’’ he said. ‘’Y/n, same question’’ Y/n smiled and looked at Callum. ‘’Uh, like he said – ‘’ a puppy was chewing on her hand. ‘’ – no, I’m not a toy. Uh, sorry where was I?’’ she laughs. She didn’t think she was going to give much content, she was too distracted by puppies.

The interview was sadly over, Y/n didn’t want to go. She fell in love with Jazz and wanted to bring him back home. ‘’Can we have him?’’ Y/n asked, eyes filled with happy tears. She was holding Jazz. ‘’Y/n, we have newborn twins at home, you want a puppy that’s going to grown and be enormous?’’ Callum giggled. Y/n nodded and smiled, she kissed Jazz and looked at Callum. ‘’Please, look at him! He’s adorable!’’ She squeals. ‘’But we’re already sleep deprived, we have two babies, and you want a puppy?’’ he laughed. ‘’Yes, please, please, Callum you’re the best husband and the best dad ever, please!’’ she did her puppy eyes, he wasn’t able to resist. ‘’Ok, but remember it was your idea!’’ he finally gave in.

When they entered the house, Rosemary was in the living room with the twins. ‘’Hello! How did it go?’’ she asked. ‘’Good, we have a puppy!’’ Y/n exclaims as she shows the puppy to Callum’s mom. ‘’Oh my, he’s adorable!’’ she smiles. Y/n puts the puppy on the ground and goes to her daughters. ‘’Hello my precious! Were you good for grandma?’’ she squeaks. ‘’They were angels’’ Rosemary answers.

She looked at the time, 3:16 am, she was woken up by cries, Callum was asleep, but it was okay, he already got up earlier to feed the twins, but it was Y/n’s turn. When she opened the door, Jazz was in front of it. He looked like he wanted to pee, so Y/n quickly got to Ophelia, she was crying, started to breastfeed her as she went down the stairs to bring Jazz to her pee mat. Callum woke up, because his other daughter was crying, his wife wasn’t beside him. He went in his daughter’s bedroom and took Daisy in his arms, he heard Y/n talk downstairs, so he followed the noise and found his wife, breastfeeding Ophelia and directing Jazz, at the same time. She was seated on the floor, waiting for the puppy to pee. ‘’Honey, what are you doing on the floor?’’ he yawned. ‘’Ophelia was hungry, and Jazz needed to pee, but the mat is stressing him, so I’s staying with him. Is Daisy hungry too?’’ she asked. ‘’Yeah, I think so, give me Ophelia’’ Callum said as they exchanged daughters. She switched breast as she began to feed Daisy. Callum sat next to her. ‘’I told you it was going to be tiring’’ he smirked. ‘’Don’t be a smart butt, I’m not (yawns) tired’’ she said. She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘’I love you’’ she whispers. ‘’I love you too’’ he replied. Jazz finally peed; the couple almost celebrated, that meant that they could go back to a much needed sleep.

[https-harlow]

Jack Harlow Concepts

Wedding Planning

Surprise Trip Home

Make A Stressful Day Better

Early Morning Shower Sex

Jack Getting Sick

Lazy Day

Bleached Hair

Jack Forgets your anniversary

Nightmares

Daughters Caught Cursing While Singing Jack’s Songs

Snow Day

Jack surprises you with a puppy Part 2

Vacation

All You Want

Newborn Cuddles

Parents Night Out

Be Quiet

Dinner Date

Monopoly

Friends with your ex

5th baby

Stressed out

She’s So Tiny

Awake before the kids

Busy

Quiet

Eternity Ring

Interrupted Interview

Vacation

Dance Party

Temporary Wedding Ring

Pool Day

Matching Pajamas

New Year’s Kiss

Spoiled

Baking

Waking Up Sick

Jack Hangs Out With His Ex

I Miss Daddy

Grumpy

Want To Be Close To You

Edging Jack

Cleaning Day

Arguing In Front Of The Girls

Tea Party

Silent Treatment

Falling Asleep On FaceTime

Overwhelmed

Early Morning Snuggles

Stolen Blankets

Ignored

Playing Basketball

Too Far Away

Interrupted

I Don't Want To

That's My Thing

Pillow Fort

Sleepover

On Stage

Vulnerable

I Love You

Celebrity Crush

Reading

I Know My Daughter

"We do not say that!!!"

"How could I ever believe another word you tell me?"

“Have anyone ever told you how annoying you are?”

“what do you say? You, me and no phones”

"Every time I turn around, one of you has done something"

"Baby... is this for me?"

Paisley's First Loose Tooth

Olive's First Cold

"Don't you dare."

“Anything my wife wants, she gets.”

"It was just a bad dream."

"Did I hear that correctly?"

Scary Costumes

Haunted House

“daddy I want you to be Winnie the Pooh for Halloween”

Childhood Halloween Costumes

“even if you turned into a scary monster, I’ll still love you forever”

Dressing Up As Each Other

“mommy, I didn’t know daddy was a scaredy-cat”

Scary Movies

Last Minute Costume Change

Scary Halloween Decoration

“I hate that costume! I hate Halloween daddy!”

Scarier Than I Remembered

Baking Cookies

Santa Letters

“Daddy I want a new sister this Christmas! Mine is ugly,”

“I’m so sorry, I thought your gift would be here by now”

Snoring

Christmas Party

"This isn't what I wanted!"

“Jackman get off me I can’t breathe!!”

“Daddy, I saw Mommy kissing Santa,”

“You’re the sexiest Santa I’ve ever seen”

Relaxing Christmas

[artssslut2]

Unexpected: Part Seven

Art Donaldson x Pregnant!Reader

Smut, Fluff, Angst

Being on tour with Art was great… for the most part. The only downside is now you were 25 weeks pregnant. So far you have gotten to see two different countries which has been amazing, the plane rides were rough, you never liked flying but now it was worse. The doctors said you have to get up and walk the isles every hour, and on top of that you had to get up and pee like every five seconds. You were having a lot of anxiety latley, all you wanted to do was get a nursery together and buy clothes and organize them , but it was rough when you didn’t have a house to do that in. You had a bad habit of keeping things in so Art really didn’t know. On the bright side you finally felt the baby kick. Art however did not, she would move all day but whenever Art was around she didn’t move. He was getting really nervous that she wouldn’t like him or that she was scared of him.

“She’s probably just sleeping, baby’s need sleep too you know.”

“Well she sleeps too much.” He pouted

Surprisingly you love learning about physiotherapy, and you loved working with your best friend.

You and Art got home from one of his matches after a very long day.

“I’m gonna shower, you want to join me?” He asked walking though the hotel door into your suite.

“My feet hurt so bad I just want to sit down” you said dramatically collapsing onto the couch. Art laughed and went into the bathroom. You pulled out your computer to work on the list you were making for the baby. You looked at all the stuff you still needed, then you wondered where the fuck you were going to put all of this stuff. Your head started to throb with worry.

“Hey babe what do you want for dinner? We could-“ you felt yourself snap

“Art Stop!” You said firmly. He looked surprised kind of like a kicked puppy, he was use to your mood swings at this point though. He knew it was best to not say anything. “We have nothing for the baby.” You said rubbing your temples

“What do you mean we have that swing that my aunt sent us.” He said calmly

“At home. We have that at home we aren’t home right now art. We won’t even be home when she’s born.”

“We are going home, around your due date remember? We’re taking a few weeks off before we start traveling again.” He tried to comfort you and sit next to you but it wasn’t working,

“That’s not enough Art. Where will she sleep or play? How are we gonna travel with a newborn? dont they need like stability or -“

“Hey hey hey. Y/n take a breath” he tried gently interrupted you. “We are going to figure all of this stuff out I promise. It might be a little crazy and chaotic at first but we will get used to it. We can have stuff shipped to the house and then when we get home we can figure out what we need and how to do everything. I promise we will be okay. And the baby will have us as her stability.” You smiled slightly, he could always calm you down.

“Okay but can we start ordering things now. Because I’m going crazy Art.” You said leaning closer to him.

“Of course my darling” he chuckled softly kissing your head. “Should we get dinner first?” He asked, on cue your mood totally changed you didn’t want to eat anything,

“Actually I think I want something else.” You smirked,

“Yeah like what?” He asked not catching onto what you were saying. You giggled putting a hand to his face and pulling him in, your other hand slid down him abs to his lap, he watched your hand carefully

“Yeah?” He asked growing hot, you just nodded and climbed onto his lap. Your belly was sizable now, it was pressed right up to arts toned abs as you kissed. It grew hotter and hotter, you pulled his shirt off of him. You aggressively made out with him rubbing your hands all over him while grinding on his rock hard dick. You grew very close to an orgasm.

“Fuck y/n” he moaned as he watched you get off from dry humping his cock. When you rode out your high Art reached down to free his aching cock as you pulled your dress up. Art frantically pushed your underwear to the side and effortlessly slid himself into you. You both let out a moan in sync. You immediately started bouncing on him hard and fast. He grabbed your ass so hard and rocked you back and fourth.

“Please Art fuck me harder I need you.” You begged. This drove Art crazy, he picked you up still on his cock and flipped you on the couch so you were on your back. He started pounding into you so hard you could feel all of him inside you. You moaned like you were in a porno and so did he

“You’re so needy aren’t you? Fuck I’m gonna miss the hormones.” He said while throwing his head back,

“Cum with me art please” you moaned trying to hold on, he lowered his chest to yours and came with a heavy moan, you followed throbbing around him. You both caught your breath as he was still inside of you. He pulled out and flopped on the couch, you chuckled at how red his cheeks were.

“Ok I’m ready for dinner now.” You smiled standing up adjusting your dress. Art looked at you and laughed tiredly.

You and Art had decided to go down to the hotel restaurant to grab some food. Once you had finished you went back upstairs to unwind for the night. You both crawled into bed and were looking at the list on your computer. You browsed various stores and websites online for baby things like cribs and towels and bottles. Looking at all the baby stuff made you so antsy to meet your little girl. You felt the urge to buy everything you saw. Art did too.

“We should get her stuff in yellow so it can match her name.” Art said slyly referencing his name idea that you had shot down many times.

“Ha ha” you responded sarcastically.

“What do you think we should name her then?” He asked laying back and stretching.

“I have no idea but-“ you gasped sharply and put a hand over your stomach. Art sat up quickly,

“What’s wrong, what happened?” He said panicking, you didn’t respond you moved your hand a little then smiled “what?!” He asked growing frantic

“It’s the baby, she’s kicking” you smiled looking at him, his face lit up mabye now he could finally feel his baby move. It looked like he was frozen. “Cmon give me you hand.” You laughed grabbing his hand, Art was quiet and focused like he was scared he would scare her away if he moved to fast. You placed his hand where she was moving then slid you hand lower to find her. You both waited for a second and then…

“Oh my gosh.” Art breathed out, a tear came into his eye and a smile spread on his face “that’s our baby?” He asked sweetly,

��That’s our baby.” You beamed with peer joy, you wiped a tear that fell from his eye. The baby started moving around after hearing you and Arts voices. “She likes your voice.” You told him. Art looks more in love than he had ever looked,

“I can’t believe we made a baby. Me and you y/n” you felt nothing but love in your chest you kissed your boyfriend and overlapped his hand with yours,

“You know she moved when I said the name Sunny” he smirked, you rolled your eyes “I think she likes it, do you like it Sunny girl?” He asked leaning to your belly, he placed a quick kiss on your bump then your lips. You laughed at your goofball of a boyfriend.

The rest of the night you ordered everything from a crib to onesies. Art even bought a baby tennis racquet of course. You both slept peacefully with arts hand never leaving your belly.

[0oolookitsme]

Not A Movie Night

Type- Blurb

Verse- Singer!Harry x Ceo!Y/n

Word Count- 714

Warnings- Talks about breastfeeding and nipples.

A/N- Well, long time no see? Coming back with a really shitty one but trust me the upcoming next one is actually good! Lmao, I'm just sorry for this one.

Slowly and slowly, Amore's eyes started drooping and all at once they were shut as small snores left her mouth, interrupting his singing.

Harry continued with the last line while tucking away her hair behind her ear. "I love you, bub. Sweet dreams," he whispered to her and very slowly removed his arm from beneath her small head. His face scrunched up when the small bed made a noise of relief from his heavyweight.

Looking back at Amore to make sure she was still sleeping, he pecked Andre's forehead as he slept spread out on the other bed. He left the door to the room open behind him and tip-toed back to the room he shared with his wife.

He just about shut the door to their bedroom to prevent their talking noise from waking up the kids. A bit taken aback the moment his eyes landed on his wife, the corner of his eyes softened up. He had a rough idea about the problem as she sat with her upper half ridden of her tee and bra.

"Y' alright, lovie?" He asked, settling beside her as she shifted.

"Yeah. Jus' the nipples."

"Did you use the ointment?"

The moment y/n shook her head, he reached for her bedside drawer. Oozing out some of it on his fingertip, he very lightly traced it over her left nipple, sucking in his lips when she tensed up. He did the same with the right nipple before putting the ointment on the drawer.

Getting up, he walked to his side of the bed and shuffled closer to her from there, letting her lull her head on his shoulder. "Doin' so good, aren't ya? Being an absolute superwoman." he smiled, rubbing her arm.

"Feeding the babies so well. They are growing up all pink and with full cheeks," he laughed and felt her shake with a chuckle. "Remember when their cheeks hung low? Now they are going away little by little- another sign of them growing up," he murmured.

"They can't always be like newborns, you know?" Y/n chuckled beside him, relaxing as the ointment soothed the pain and gave a cold sensation. "If that would've been the case, don't you think every women's nipples would've been bitten off?"

That made Harry laugh a little too loud, causing him to smack his hand on his mouth. "I can't believe you just said that," he said, still sputtering out laughter.

"Wha'? It's the truth! Babies don't just suck. They quite often bite on the nipple too! You know that!" She exclaimed, shaking her head at his reply: "'Course I do! But that fact you stated was terribly funny," he chuckled, reaching for the lamp on her side of the bed to turn it off.

"Oh, Harry... ?"

Harry knew by the overdue silence on her end that it couldn't be a very nice sentence she was going to proceed with. Without completing the task, he rose back up to his sitting position. "What?" He asked, doubt lacing that one word.

Starting off unconfidently, she made a few hand gestures to fill up the gaps the awkwardness was creating. "I was thinking of bringing the kids here for tonight... haven't done it in more than a week, y' know?"

For a while he stared at her, poking his cheek with his tongue. "Rock, paper, scissors!" He started and y/n was quick to follow even if a little startled. Choosing to go with a rock but groaning because he pulled a paper, she passed him a pair of puppy eyes and a pout. "Go on, go!" He ushered her to bring the kids.

Huffing and puffing and glaring at him, she put on one of his shirts and walked out of the room impersonating a zombie.

It wasn't long before Harry could hear giggling and squealing along with running feet. "Don't run!" He heard her yell lightly and chuckled. Getting off of the bed, he switched on the lights and opened the bedroom door so that they don't run into it.

"Ah! Look at the plums!" He exclaimed, laughing when they proceeded to jump on the bed. "Now, now. Calm down there, we're going to go straight to sleep- no movie night," he told them, glad to see them still giggling.

Tagging: @reveriehs <3MASTERLIST :)

[wambos-storytime-corner]

7 Deadly Diapers, Ch. 3: Gluttony pt. 2 (TW: addiction, weight shaming, and body shaming)

“Uhhhh How should I know?” Whitney cocked her eyebrow and in confusion, a chuff of humored air escaped her lips.

“Oh gee, I don’t know. Maybe because my gym bag was right where I left it this morning and now YOU’VE filled it with this! Was starving me not enough?” Ethan steamed.

“Look I really don’t know where all that stuff came from but why don’t you just—?”

“Grab some other clothes? Yeah yeah, I saw what you did to the wardrobe too! My clothes are all gone and all that’s left is shit like this!” Rifling in the bag for a moment he snakes out a pale blue, form fitting, snap-crotch baby onesie but sized up for an adult. Whitney covered her mouth to stifle any giggles. After a stutter she clears her throat.

“Okay Ethan, what’s going on? Where’d you even get that thing?”

“In our closet! Where YOU put it!— no. No! Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m not entertaining any of this anymore. Now if you aren’t gonna tell me where my shit is, I need something to wear to the gym.” He holds out his hand, “give me your sweater. C’mon.”

Whitney realized that this situation was quite confusing for the both of them, but the tone in Ethan’s voice threatened an argument she didn’t have any energy for after their last one five minutes ago. With a sigh, she works the sweater up and off of herself. Ethan watched with a tapping foot and a huff until he saw what laid beneath her bulky, unflattering top layer.

His eyes followed up to her belly button now nestled in a gently slimmer figure, then to her waist which smoothly swayed inward with healthy folds, and finally he was struck by sheer awe as he was introduced to her new, swollen, double D-cup boobs held up by a bra that practically buckled under their weight.

“W-whoa.. uh.. I..” he gulped and stuttered. The entirety of his demeanor shifted suddenly. His lips smacked hungrily as drool pooled in his mouth and started escaping his open jaws.

“Uh, Ethan?.. Hello! Earth to Ethan?!” Whitney snapped impatiently causing her husband to slurp up the string of slobber dangling off his lip and clear his throat. But she noticed where his line of sight was. “What are you looking at you perv..? Ugh do you want the sweater or not?”

Something stirred in his stomach however as he looked at the sweater and his wife’s ample bosom. He was met with a decision for where the conversation and their dynamic would go next. And he didn’t like what his brain craved more out of the two options. His stomach, however, was all too willing to give him away. It snarled hungrily.

GARGLLLLLGLLR!!

“Ahem. Uh.. pardon me.. erm.. about dinner. I’m.. sorry.” He scratched his head in shame.

“You’re what?”

“I’m sorry! Okay? Uh… I should be more.. thankful! And ready to drink— NO! EAT Whatever you prepare for me..” he approaches her. A crazed, desperate and almost addict-like look in his eyes, even going so far as to move her sweater-holding hand out of the way. She put her foot up haphazardly and unintentionally against his crotch to stop him.

“Whoa there, tiger! What’s your angle?” She said, bewildered by his unusual change of heart. But amidst her confusion, a pang of discomfort struck her in both nipples. She winced and grasped her breasts. Pulling her hands away she noticed a white substance left behind from their tips. She was lactating. But the revelations didn’t stop there. She couldn’t help but spot that her husband’s eyes were locked onto the puddle of rich milk in her palm like a junkie, ready to relapse.

Curious, she lifted her palm towards his face and after a terse moment of silent internal conflict… Ethan began to lap up the milk like a newborn kitten. Whitney’s thoughts began to wander somewhere a bit more devious watching her critical, body-shaming husband desire her breast milk so eagerly. Until finally she had her plan come together. A wry smile wrapped over her face.

“Oh yeah~? You want these puppies that bad? Gosh… You sure don’t look the part though…” she sultrily nods towards the gym-turned-diaper bag, letting her diabolical plot begin to unfold, “You know what I want you to put on. Chop chop, mister! The gym can wait…”

[much-ado-about-whomst]

I saw a post abput drunk Ness and I couldn't resist. So @blue-sunflower-bee this one's for you.

Drunk Ness fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ness will swear up in down till the day he dies that he's not a light weight. He can hold his alcohol, thank you very much.

The thing is that's a complete lie. Mike's seen him get tipsy on a Mike's Hard Lemonade. A shot of anything gets him drunker than a skunk. It's not a big deal since he doesn't drink much anyways.

Which is why Mike was suprised to see his boyfriend stumble into their house late one night after going out with some coworkers. Ness comes in giggling at nothing, and wobbling so severely that Mike gets up off the couch to help lead the taller man safely to it.

"Hello Sugar!" Ness's voice is louder than normal.

"Hey Darlin', easy now." Mike cautions as Ness trips over his own foot. "I thought you, Chris, and Jason were going bowling."

"We did!" Crise Ness as he finally made it to the safty of the couch.

"Then why are you drunk?" Mike sat down next to his silly boyfriend.

"'m not drunk." Ness pouts as he snuggles up into the warmth of Mike. "Its Chris's brithday. We had some shots in between rounds of bowling." Mike snorts and shakes his head. Ness is mesmerized by the movement of his hair. He sits up as gracefully as a newborn giraffe and starts to play with Mike's hair.

"Mike. Mike. Mike. Do you want to hear a fun fact I learned at work today?" Mike tries and fails to surpress the smile that makes its way up to his face and camps there.

"What did you learn darlin'?" Ness does a little happy wiggle, excited that someone is willing to listen to his ramblings.

"I learned from Amy that you can cook food in the dryer! She told me that her cousin's best friend did it with stake and it totally worked! Isnt that so cool? Maybe we should try that." Ness babbles as he takes his hands through Mike's hair. He starts trying to braid it, bit its too small to really amount to anything. So he gives up and runs his figners through the hair, enjoying the texture, before trying to braid it again.

"Sorry Darlin', but we are not cooking food in the dryer. No matter what Amy's cousin's best friend says." Mike's hands hold on to Ness's hips to keep him from toppeling off the couch

"But Sugar, think of the learning opportunities for Abby." Ness's puppy dog eyes were at full force and aimed right at Mike's heart. Mike steals himself before continuing.

"You can't use that as an excuse every time you want to do something."

Ness yawns real big and then replies,"I can try."

Mike makes sure Ness is sexure before standing up.

"Lets get you to bed Darlin'." He says in a hushed tone as he picks up Ness in a bridal carry and starts making his way to their room.

[surrogate-fawn]

The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it. 

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did. 

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me. 

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either. 

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go. 

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day. 

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.  

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out. 

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door. 

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway. 

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile. 

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do." 

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it. 

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair. 

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break." 

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually." 

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er." 

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay." 

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?" 

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!" 

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright. 

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!" 

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-." 

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back. 

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.  

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all. 

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?" 

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up." 

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying." 

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?" 

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.  

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time. 

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was. 

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either. 

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there." 

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

 "They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face. 

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food. 

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!” 

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina. 

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry. 

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting. 

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me. 

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life. 

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch. 

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened. 

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all. 

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam. 

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward. 

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset. 

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand. 

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet. 

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!” 

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest. 

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone. 

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum.  The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . . 

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly. 

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own. 

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 30 : Monkey King growing belly

Mac is mad at Wukong for being reckless!

Macaque was pacing in circles before Wukong, his tail lashing angrily behind him. Every now and then the lil guy would look up at the golden-furred monkey with a furry-filled glare. Wukong flinched and averted his eyes, shame creeping up on him. He hated being looked. at like that by Macaque, it made him feel all wrong.

“I know you're reckless but this is too much, Wukong!” Nagged the black-furred monkey as he threw his hands above his head in exasperation. His lil ears were flapping in frustration.

“B-but I'm fine!” Argued the sage, trying to defend his earlier actions.

“Fine? FINE !? Cutting your own head is not fine!” Roared Macaque, he put his hand on his hips and whipped his head towards Wukong with a disapproving glare, Wukong shrunk down in shame.

“But I'm seven times immortal and I had to win against those false Daoists.” Mumbled the sage as he played with his fingers in nervosity. The rest of the pilgrims were watching the scene unfold with various levels of amusement.

“That doesn't matter. You don't have to put yourself in danger like that, it’s-” Macaque stopped once he caught sight of Wukong's kicked puppy face and sighed, he pinched the bridge of his nose and calmed his frying nerves. “Anyway, come on, follow me. There is a spring nearby. You're gonna wash yourself and I'm gonna see if there aren't any injuries on you.”

“But Mac I don't need a-” Wukong cut himself the moment Macaque whipped his head towards him, the sage wasn't daring enough to anger the lil guy further. Sun Wukong followed Mac que with dropped ears and a sweating tail. Bajie was laughing at his misery while Sanzang was discreetly praying for his mercy. Ao Lie, like the pure heart he was at times, mouthed “good luck” and Wujing threw a thumbs up at him.

Both monkeys quickly arrived at the brewing spring, Wukong stood on the balls of his feet awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

“Take off your clothes.” Sighed Macaque.

“W-what ?” Squeaked Wukong with reddening cheeks, his heart missed a beat at Macaque's words.

“What were you expecting? Come on, I gotta see your injuries.” Wukong wouldn't have minded being naked like a newborn in front of anyone else, but this was Macaque. The sage was conscious of a lot of things when it concerned Macaque and, perhaps, he did gain a lil bit of pudge recently, he didn't want Macaque to see that. Wukong fiddled with the hem of his shirt, eyes darting everywhere but on Macaque

The sage reluctantly took off his shirt and kept on his pants, he curled his tail on his stomach to hide his growing belly. Darn, he really did eat too many peaches. Macaque gestured for him to lower himself and Wukong hesitantly did so. The lil guy immediately jumped on Wukign's chest and began to inspect every corner of his skin with a keen eye.

“You're lucky you're unscathed.” Sighed Macaque as he sat on Wukong's heart-shaped patch of fur.

“I'm seven times immortal…” Mumbled Wukong as he averted his eyes, some part of him frustrated that Macaque saw him as someone so frail.

“Still, I worry about you.” Replied Macaque, he put one of his lil paws on Wukong's snout to convey his seriousness. Wukong couldn't stay mad nor could he deny someone this cute.

“... I'll be more careful.”

“Thanks.” Softly smiled Macaque. “Now ,chop chop, jump in the river. You stink.” Wukong gasped in offense.

“I do not stink.” He answered with false outrage, the lil guy fondly rolled his eyes and played along.

“Yes you do, you stinky monkey.”

“You didn't dare.” Laughed Wukong, the corner of his lips lifting up in joy.

“I did, what are you gonna do about it?” Taunted Macaque.

Wukong chuckled mischievously, he grabbed Macaque in his hands and jumped in the spring. The lil guy shrieked and held his breath. They both emerged looking like wet rats, Wukong bursted out laughing when he saw Macaque being all soggy, with clothes sticking to his body. The lil guy glared playfully at the sage and spit a waterjet at his face. Wukong's face scrunched in disgust and he laughed out loud.

“You lil devil!” Snorted Wukong with a large smile, Macaque snickered like the lil demon he was at time.

They both played in the water for a bit, enjoying the coolness of it. Then Macaque floated closer to Wukong and pawed at his bulging belly.

“You gained some weight.” Observed Macaque, Wukong straightened himself and averted his eyes, nervous. “It looks good on you.” Mumbled the lil guy as he turned his head, the tip of his six-ears reddening.

Wukong felt like he could faint from happiness.

+ cut scenes

Wukong.exe has stopped working

Macaque broke him

Macaque inner thoughts : that was not what I wanted say!! Why did I say this!? It's so awkward!! 😳

Sanzang *later on the same day* : Why is Wukong looking like that? 🤔

Wukong : 😳😮

Sanzang : This is worrying! What if he's under some sort of spell!? 😱

Ao Lie : the spell of love 🥰

Bajie : you mean the spell of pining 🙄

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[circethesinner]

Hello. Can I request an ask ? Xavier x vampire female reader. She can read minds and she is the new student at Nevermore Academy.

Thank you so much !❤️🥺

suave

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, small injury and bl**d mentioned

word count: 2.5k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

A/N - eee first ever request thank you!!! I hope its okay! full disclosure before we begin - one of my special interests is what we do in the shadows so I've decided that vampires are just chaos gremlins

I support womens rights, but more importantly, womens wrongs 😌💅

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

Being a newborn vampire sucked.

Everything was too bright, smells were too strong, and your beloved garlic bread sent you to the hospital on four occasions, but goddamn it, you were going to build up a tolerance if it was the last thing you did. Which, at your rate, it probably would be.

How were you supposed to live, laugh, love in those conditions? Instead, you had to settle for manipulate, mansplain, m̶a̶n̶s̶l̶a̶u̶g̶h̶t̶e̶r̶  mind reading.

Hearing other people’s thoughts when you spoke to them was nothing short of exhausting. It wasn’t that it was difficult or strenuous on your body; it was just boring. People were so boring.

Day in, day out, you heard people’s shopping lists, people wondering if the person they liked would ask them out, people trying to multiply things in their heads; the list was endless and dull and endlessly dull. When the most exciting part of your day was hearing someone have an internal meltdown because they were sure someone had just seen them pick their nose and now thought poorly of them, you knew it was time for a change of pace.

That’s when you ended up at Nevermore.

Well, that and your normie parents were panicking because they didn’t know what to do for their newly turned vampire daughter. Nevermore had teachers who could teach you how to vampire properly and stop antagonising the neighbourhood by flying through people’s houses as a bat and stealing jewellery because no cop would believe them when they said a small, winged rodent-like creature flew through the window and stole their grandma’s necklace.

Your new roommate, Yoko, had taken pity on you and taken you under her wing. She had shown you the ropes of the school, ropes which you had promptly cut just to see what would fall.

It wasn’t that you were lying about being able to read minds; you just conveniently ‘forgot’ to tell anyone about it. So, a few weeks into your time at Nevermore, a Twitter account popped up on everyone’s feeds. It was just your run-of-the-mill anonymous gossip, but what caught people’s eyes was that thoughts and opinions that had never even touched their lips were being shared.

Nothing inherently harmful, of course. You weren’t out to ruin lives; just shake them up a little.

Crushes were spilt, cheating was exposed, friendships were made, and friendships were broken. It was all just playful fun in your eyes.

To divert attention from yourself, you would add some of your ‘thoughts’ to the account. Things that would only be mildly embarrassing that you could easily brush off.

“Looks like you’re the hot topic today,” Yoko smiled, her eyes peeking out from atop her sunglasses as they had slipped down her face. She showed her phone screen to you, and you pretended to act surprised as you read the words ‘Y/N thinks Kent is cute’ as though you hadn’t been the one to write them.

“I won’t deny it; he’s easy on the eyes,” You shrugged, looking over at Kent, catching him looking at you. His face flushed red, and he looked away. “In, like, a puppy way.”

“Are you going to ask him out?” Yoko asked, her eyes looking over at him as well. “He’d say yes, but I think he’s just scared of you.”

“He’s scared of his own shadow,” You laughed, passing her phone back. “Again, he’s cute in a puppy way, not in an ‘I want to date him’ way- sorry, bud!” You called out the last words to Kent, who you knew had been listening in from the other table. Confusion and relief flooded his face, and you knew you’d picked the right person. Anyone else would have been more vocal about it. You would have risked being publicly rejected or, worse, asked out. You hedged your bets on Kent doing nothing about it, and it worked.

You scanned around the quad, hopping into people’s minds to see if you could pull anything out that would be useful to you later. It was like you were channel hopping, hearing bits and clips of people’s thoughts until something grabbed your interest.

“Wonder if Thing would like this new nail polish-” You heard from Enid.

“Who sets homework for-” You skipped Ajax almost immediately as you didn’t want to listen to him internally complain about homework for the seventh time in three days.

“Glad she doesn’t actually like him because I-” From Xavier.

“I just wish I-” You heard the start of Divina’s thoughts but panicked and switched back to Xavier. By the time you had, you had realised you were too late. Whatever he had been thinking had been derailed by Ajax talking to him about homework, and now his thoughts were focused on that.

Could he have been thinking about you? The timing would make sense. He was at the table over with Kent, and he would have been able to hear your conversation just as well. Your mind flooded with possibilities on how his thought could have ended. Against your will, it had fixated on the idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier was glad you didn’t like Kent because he liked you.

What was also against your will was your mind, for some unknown reason, liked that idea.

You decided that you needed to keep tabs on his mind just to gather proof that you were wrong. There was no way that thought was about you, and even if it was, there was no way that was the reason behind it.

“Earth to Y/N!” Yoko snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into the moment. “Have you listened to a word I’ve been saying?”

“Yoko, my love, I am sorry, but I have not,” You used the pet name, hoping it would quell her bubbling annoyance at you. It was seemingly successful as she smiled.

“It’s okay! I can repeat myself… again!” She teased. You could only hope that a certain someone would also repeat themselves soon.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You had been listening in to Xavier’s thoughts almost obsessively for a week, hoping to catch him thinking about you. You were barely paying attention in class as you were so wrapped up in this idea that maybe, just maybe, Xavier liked you. It was driving you crazy not to get the answers you wanted.

Then one day, at dinner, you got an answer.

Well, sort of.

Bianca was upset, and as her friend, you wanted to cheer her up. You didn’t pry far into her mind. You just knew that it was something to do with her mom. It wasn’t your business, and you didn’t make it your business. You were throwing M&Ms up into the air, trying to catch them in your mouth again. It had resulted in stray M&Ms on the floor, which you swore you would pick up when you were done.

After fourteen failed attempts, the fifteenth landed in your mouth, and you very openly cheered. The whole ordeal had put a smile on Bianca’s face, despite her eye-rolls about how mature you were being. 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard his thoughts.

“That was cute,” It wasn’t exactly the love confession you had been hoping for, but it was something, and something was better than the whole heaps of nothing you’d been getting up until then. It had left you almost frozen in time for a split second, only snapping out of it when the one who had invaded your thoughts as you invaded his reached over to pluck out a stray M&M that had somehow gotten caught in your hair.

Effortlessly, he threw it up in the air and caught it in his mouth on the first try.

“Show-off,” You teased, trying not to get caught up on how cute and suave that move had been. That idea was thrown when he winked at you as he stood up to return to his dorm.

You realised that in your endeavours to see if he had a crush on you, you’d developed one on him. 

But you decided that two could play at the cute and suave game, and you set in motion a plan.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

“What the fuck?” Xavier shouted as you, in your bat form, flew through the window and crashed against the wall. You transformed back to your human form and held your now-pounding head.

“That…” You stumbled slightly, trying to stay upright as you turned around to face him. “That went so much better in my head.” “Why the hell did you even do it?” He was definitely confused, but his voice was also laced with concern. “Shit, your head is bleeding a bit.” He grabbed an old black hoodie he didn’t care too much for anymore and walked up to you. He gently pulled your hands away from where you had been clutching your head and held the hoodie up to it to try and stop the bleeding.

“Vampires in movies are so cool and suave,” You groaned, the reality of your situation hitting you almost as hard as you had hit the wall. “I wanted to be like them.” You avoided adding the ‘and you’ that followed it in your mind. You thanked whatever Gods there were that he couldn���t read your mind in return.

“That really doesn’t explain why you did it in the first place,” Xavier laughed. He had carefully pulled you over to sit down on his bed, which your shaking legs greatly appreciated. You weren’t sure if you were shaking from the shock or the nerves of what was about to come out of your mouth or if it was a horrid mixture of the two that had turned your entire body to jello.

“Okay, so…” You sighed, figuring it would just be easier to say it than dodge around it. As you had just awfully demonstrated, subtlety was not one of your strong suits. “I wanted to be all cute and mysterious so you would be more likely to say yes when I asked you if you wanted to go out on a date.” You felt his muscles stiffen next to you, but his hold on the hoodie hadn’t stopped.

You felt the nerves bubble up in your throat, hoping that rejection would be quick and painless and that you could just laugh it all off.

Then, he started laughing.

Somehow, that made it worse. He was probably laughing at you. You tried to dive into his mind to confirm your suspicions, but you were met with pain and mental static. You almost laughed at the idea that the hoodie was blocking your signal.

“There are so many easier ways to do that,” His laughter had settled down a little after a few seconds. “You could have spoken to me in person, called me, texted me; even a written letter slipped into my bag would have done the trick.”

“My handwriting sucks,” You laughed a little with him. It was easier to laugh off than to let the embarrassment consume you, and his own laughter had helped, even if it was aimed at you rather than with you. “And texts aren’t cool or mysterious.”

“The bleeding has mostly stopped, but you might want to get it checked out at the infirmary in case you have a concussion,” Xavier carefully pulled the hoodie away and tossed it to the side. “So, are you going to do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll go to the infirmary on my way back to my room,” You nodded, wincing at the pain that it caused.

“That’s good, but it's not what I meant,” He held out his arm to prevent you from standing up.

“What do you mean?” You asked, doing your best to avoid eye contact and find some sort of escape plan so you could crawl into a hole and regret the life choices you had made thus far.

“Are you going to ask me out on a date?” Your eyes widened as the words registered in your brain, and you looked up at him, still doing your best to avoid eye contact in case you lost your nerve.

“Depends if you’re going to say yes,” You tried not to look too hopeful, trying to cling onto any sliver of keeping cool after the disaster that the whole interaction had been so far.

“You’ll have to ask me to find out,” He fired back, a sly smile on his face. You took a deep breath.

“Do you… want to go out on a date?” You asked.

“With who?” He teased. Annoyance flashed past your face at how difficult he was making things, but he spoke again. “I’m kidding! It would be an honour to go out on a date with you.”

Relief washed through you. It had worked. Despite the absolute chaos and everything going wrong, it had worked.

“Do you know how many times I had to think about how much I liked you around you until you heard it?” Xavier laughed. You looked at him with confusion.

“Wait, do you know-” You started to ask, but he cut you off. “Do I know that you can read minds?” He finished for you. “Do you remember your second day at Nevermore? I left my hoodie on my chair in botany. I realised it halfway out the door, but before I could turn and grab it, you were behind me, holding it out to me. Then, you said that the torn seam was easily fixable and that I could borrow the sewing kit you’d brought with you.”

“Which you did!” You recalled the memory from the months before. “How did that clue you in, though? I thought I’d been careful and said it as though I’d seen the tear.”

“I’d mistaken the hoodie I had with me for another one,” He explained. “The hoodie I had was fine. The one with the tear was in the wash. I thought it was weird, so I tested things a few times. I’d think about certain things, and you would casually bring them up or direct the conversation so I could be the one to bring them up.”

“And during that time, I guess I fell for you,” Your face flushed as you heard that thought, loud and clear.

“I know you heard that one,” Xavier laughed nervously. “I hope that didn’t overstep any boundaries.”

“Xavier, I just flew in through your window after regularly reading your thoughts. If anyone overstepped boundaries, it was for sure me!” You snorted with laughter as you spoke. Hearing Xavier think it was ‘cute’ made your face feel hot but in a pleasant way. You managed to calm down a little as you made eye contact with him for what was the first time since you’d flung yourself into his room.

“I want to kiss you,” You heard his thoughts again, loud and clear.

“Then do it,” You told him. It was a challenge he was more than to accept as he gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your head up and pressing a soft kiss against your lips which you gladly returned.

A/N - have I beta read this at all? hell no - any mistakes y'all find please lemme know 💀

feel free to send in any requests for xavier or other wednesday characters and I will get to what I can!!

[venusdandy]

Soulbound Desire - Ch. 1

[Hazbin Hotel/Reader] [Platonic & Romantic relationships]

A story where you get to choose your path with a poll at the end of each chapter! [Since this is the first chapter I made the decisions more simple, but they will get more complicated throughout the story!]

The two main love interests to keep in mind are Lucifer and Alastor. But, collectively, you all must decide who you want to get closer to and who you'll hand your heart over to.

The choice is yours!

Story Summary: No matter how often Heaven tried to make you forget, your soul couldn't leave behind your human life. You remembered. Heaven couldn't manipulate you like the other human souls, so they cast you to Hell as a fallen angel. But funnily enough, you find a home in Hell amongst the strangest beings. And dare you say, you're the happiest you've ever been in any realm.

Story Warnings: Alastor is AroAce, and I will write him on that spectrum. It'll be a slow-burn realization for him that he has romantic feelings for you.

The reader is gender-neutral and uses they/them pronouns, with no use for y/n. Depictions of child abuse (Reader and Alastor). Depictions of depression and mental illness (Reader and Lucifer). Reader unalived themself; that's how they died. Canon typical violence/some depictions of gore. Slow burn. Angst with a happy ending.

Part One (Here)

The drumming of your own heart in your ears is unbearably loud. And your thoughts are swarming like startled bees in your head. And yet, your face remains serene with that mask of a smile. Every human soul in heaven seems to always be smiling, don't they?

What triggered you? You were just fine a moment ago. You just left your home to go for a. . . a walk? A store? You can't remember what you were doing, but you're sure you were okay. . .

You never had so many questions before. You never questioned anything while in Heaven. You never felt the need to. How long have you been staying here, anyway? How many years have passed? 3? 5? You're desperately trying to recall, but it feels like there's a barrier stopping you.

You've never questioned time while in Heaven. Why is that? The more you think about it, the more you recognize that you can't recall anything. How long have you been dead?. . . Dead. You died a few years ago, that's right. You're a human soul who died and went to heaven as an angel. Why can't you remember it, though?

You don't recall having these thoughts before or these unnerved emotions. They're so familiar to you, though. You felt these same emotions when you were alive, didn't you? This deep sadness that feels rooted in your brain has always been with you.

Vague clouded memories are coming to the surface. From when you were alive and on Earth. A miserable life you had, which is why you ended it yourself in your mid-twenties. Your fragile soul couldn't handle it anymore. It's much like how you're having difficulty handling it right now.

This sadness is so familiar it's almost comforting.

Why did you forget you were once alive? And why are you suddenly remembering? What kept you from remembering?

"Oh, you poor thing!" a soft feminine voice coos, "It's happening again, isn't it?"

Your eyes shakingly shift upward to look at the tall angel before you—an actual Celestial being who was created in Heaven years before your existence. You don't recognize her, but something deep within says you should.

The angel has a too-sweet smile, yet you feel something akin to disgust looking at it. She's staring at you like you're a newborn puppy who keeps hurting itself. A pitiful look in her eyes as she stares at you makes you visibly frown.

A subtle gasp leaves her lips as she frowns in surprise. "Oh my, you've stopped smiling! We can't have that!"- The angel smiles brightly again with pity in her eyes, "As your guardian angel, I shall do my duty to make you happy again! No more pesky memories of your former life to bring you down!"

Without time for you to process what she had just told you, her lips glow a golden light. The angel delicately kisses the top of your head, causing your whole body to shiver as if she dumped ice-cold water on you. Her lips touching your skin is making you very uncomfortable. You don't like it. You don't like her.

'No more pesky memories of your former life to bring you down!' The angel had said so casually. Did she . . .brainwash you? Is she doing that to you now? You don't want to forget! You're trying to remember! You know something is wrong and desperately want to figure it out.

The angel's lips leave your head with a loud kissing sound effect. "That should do it!" She chipperly declares.

She's still smiling so brightly at you while you remain frowning. Seeing that you are still the same, her eyes narrow so slightly that you barely notice, but you do, setting off danger alarms in your head. She said she's a guardian angel, which should make you feel safe around her, but there's something darker lurking in her eyes right now. She's not safe.

With your survival instincts based on years of experience from your childhood, you force a broad smile to match her own. You consciously crinkle your eyes and raise your brows to mimic a giddy expression even though you feel like throwing up. You're focusing on your body language and facial expression to sell the act that whatever this angel was trying to do to you worked. You feel she's done this to you before, so you follow that instinct and pretend.

The angel seemed to relax again, and that darker look in her eyes seemingly vanished. "Whoo! I thought it didn't work for a sec; that would've been awful!"

You tilt your head slightly and keep your fake smile steady. "Awful?" you force a relaxed yet cheerful tone, "Nothing is awful in Heaven!"

The angel beams at that, making you feel relief that your acting is fooling her. "You're so right!" she pats your head, and you barely catch yourself from recoiling at her touch.

She lets out a sigh of relief. "I don't know what's so different about your soul, but you sure know how to work a guardian angel to the bone!" She giggles.

Her laugh sounds so hollow. This angel seems like a hollow shell pretending to have human emotions. She's unnerving you greatly, and you want to leave her.

Are all Heaven-born angels like this?

You curve your brows to appear empathetic. "Oh, I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry!"

She claps her hands, seemingly excited that you're 'back to normal.' She squeals, saying, "Oh, I'm not upset! I'm quite delighted!"

You mimic her happy clap. "That's wonderful!" you lie to her cheerfully.

With a proud smile from her seemingly successful attempt to brainwash you or whatever she was trying to do, she then gives a firm nod. "I'll have to report this to Adam and Sera again!" The angel tells you, "But not to worry, since you're happy and smiling again, you won't fall!"

Fall. . .?

A bitter taste forms in your throat. What does she mean by you won't fall now that you're happy again? Internally, you're panicking, but put all your energy into keeping up the giddy facade externally.

Suddenly, you're too self-aware of the heavy white feathered wings on your back and the shimmering halo hovering above your head. You're an angel. A human soul that was welcomed into Heaven, which is a rarity these days. You're an angel. Fall. You'd become a fallen angel if you weren't constantly happy, is what you think she is implying. Is it instant? In that case, why haven't you fallen yet if you're only pretending to be happy?

No, that can't be right. . .

The angel mentioned two names: Sera and Adam. Are they the ones in charge? Other than God, you suppose. You quickly go over each of the guardian angel's words. She said she's reporting this incident again, confirming your suspicion that this has happened to you many times. Sera and Adam, whoever they are, will make you a fallen angel if they find out you remember your human life. Your painful human life. The memories are already coming back gradually, though.

The guardian angel bids you farewell, and you force yourself to do the same chipperly.

You know you can't fool Heaven for an eternity. That sounds exhausting, anyway. You'll inevitably fall from Grace, it seems. . .

You decide the best thing to do is be prepared if you're destined for such a fate. You'll gather some things for comfort and protection and research as much as possible to prepare for a new eternity in Hell.

The panic, betrayal, and sadness in your soul throb painfully, and you can't help but wonder. . .

Is this what Lucifer Morningstar felt?

. . .

It's only been five days since you've started regaining the memories Heaven so badly wants you to forget. You've had non-stop headaches, which only added more difficulty to pretending to be happy and brain-dead around other angels. It all makes you feel so drained. You're tired.

After the run-in with your guardian angel, you read the Bible for probably the first time in your life and the afterlife. You highlighted and annotated parts you believed were worth remembering for your safety. Each day, you went to the grandest library in Heaven and read about the history of Hell and Heaven for hours on end. To avoid raising suspicion, you'd check out books about gardening since you also want to be more mindful of herbal remedies.

You can only keep faking a happy smile for so long until you break, though. It happened this morning while you gazed at a family of ducks floating on a pond. You wondered if they were dead ducks eternally tied to Heaven like you. You wondered if they were allowed to keep their memories, unlike you.

You had everything you needed in your bag this morning and had finally let your face frown to reflect the hopelessness you've been feeling. You finally let your tears fall and hit the plush grass beneath your feet.

Your guardian angel shortly appeared, and with one look in her eyes, you could tell she realized you'd never be able to forget your mortal life. That dark flare in her eyes had returned, and you knew today you'd fall.

You'll miss the safety and comfort of Heaven, but at the same time, if they are so unbothered by sending one of their sinless souls to Hell simply because they remember their life as a human, then perhaps you don't want to be here.

You clutch your pleather bag tightly, afraid the angels will take it away. So far, they've paid no mind to your material items. Within it are a few plant seeds native to Heaven, a container of soil from the mini garden you had, a white wooly blanket, a change of clothes, twine, handmade bandages, a battery-operated curling iron, your annotated Bible, holy water, and a dagger crafted from celestial metal that you stealthily swiped from an exorcist angel. You never even knew exorcist angels existed until recently when you stumbled upon a few who were chatting about their apparent yearly visit to Hell to slaughter demons. It sent a disturbed chill down your spine when you heard how nonchalantly they spoke of murder.

Heavon-born angels scare you terribly. You can't even imagine how monstrous demons will be. But you're about to find out.

You are now knelt on an altar with a small gathering of what you assume to be higher-ranked angels surrounding you. You remember two names from your guardian angel here: Sera, who, come to find out, is a mighty seraphim, and Adam, the first human man. Your guardian angel is also present, and you loathe the look of pity she's giving you. As if she's not who reported to her superiors that you can't forget. As if she didn't seal your fate.

The angel Sera states your full name, which brings your attention back to her. She almost has a look of sympathy in her eyes as she gazes down at you. Almost. "Are you aware of why you are here, child?" Sera asks you.

You feel too uneasy speaking, so you nod. Sera's lips are held in a tight frown. "You never sinned as a human and rightfully earned a place here in Heaven. But unfortunately, we cannot allow our human souls to remember their lives as mortals. It disturbs the peaceful balance Heaven strives to upkeep. I hope you can understand our difficult decision."

Sera's words sound empty to you. It sounds like a script she's read a hundred times to a hundred different people. She most likely has and doesn't feel a twinge of sympathy for you. You want to say it doesn't hurt, but it does. This really does.

Sera's stern gaze never leaves you as she calls for another angel. "Adam, do you have the weapon I asked you to retrieve?"

Adam, who looks bored out of his mind, rolls his eyes. "Yeah, duh, it was like the first thing I did."

Sera's eye twitches at Adam's unprofessional tone. "Then, proceed with the ritual. There's nothing more to discuss."

You want to close your eyes tightly so you don't have to witness anything, but you can't tear your gaze away from the silver axe-like weapon in Adam's large hands. The rays of Heaven's sunlight through the chapel's window reflect off the weapon onto the marble floor in front of you teasingly. Provokingly. Mocingky.

You don't fight the tears swelling in your eyes.

Adam also doesn't seem to care about your situation and treats it as a mere nuisance in his routine. He struts toward you and doesn't even bother looking into your eyes, even though you desperately want him to. If Adam is about to chop off your wings and damn you to Hell, you want him to look you in the eyes as he does it. You want to see just how heartless this angel is.

How heartless all these angels are.

Your breath hitches, and your eyes widen as a coursing pain overwhelms your senses. Silent tears are now streaming down your face. You can't even choke out a scream of agony as your body nearly collapses, but with some strength, you manage to hold yourself up with your hands. You hadn't even had time to process how quickly Adam lifted and swung the weapon through your clipped wings.

Your heavenly white wings.

You can feel the golden blood flowing down your back, surely staining your white clothing and dripping onto the altar. Your back feels uncomfortably lighter as your wings fall to the floor behind you. All that remains are nubs portraying out between your shoulder blades.

The loud clanging of metal hitting the altar causes you to flinch. You never liked loud noises. With blurred vision from the tears, you gaze at your halo, which no longer shimmers and looks like an average ring of golden metal.

It's no longer connected to you because you are no longer connected to Heaven.

Almost poetically, you notice one of your feathers a few inches away from your Halo. With shaking hands, you reach for your halo and the feather, gently cradling it. You stare at these former parts of you momentarily before carefully putting them in your bag. You were always the sentimental one. You can't let go of the past.

You're no longer a being of light, but somehow, these monsters are holier than you. A bitter laugh escapes your lungs, along with a choked-out sob. Adam pauses his motions as he finally looks into your eyes, which hold so much sadness. He's the only other former human in the room, although your soul has much more humanity than his ever will. Deep down in Adam's aged soul, he does feel ashamed, but after everything he's gone through, he can't afford to care for anyone other than himself.

Adam raises a brow at you. "Don't see what's so funny about this."

You gasp for air a few times as you let out another humorless laugh. This agony you feel is consuming your soul, and it feels like you're drowning even though you're nowhere near a body of water.

You let your eyes close and shake your head repeatedly. "Is this what he felt?" you quietly ask no one, "Is this what you put him through?"

The angels are confused as they have no idea who you're speaking of. Adam looks to your guardian angel, who shrugs in response, and then the two look to Sera, staring intently at you. She knows. Who else but the brightest Morningstar?

Adam looked back to you and was about to question you since his angelic colleagues weren't, but Sera swiftly raised a hand to silence him. It'd be best not to allow Morningstar's name to be spoken out loud. She motions for Adam to continue the ritual since the final step is to open a portal to Hell, allowing you to fall to your final destination literally.

You clutch your bag tightly to your chest for some form of comfort. In a slow whisper, you say, "If Lucifer Morningstar is anything as the scriptures depict him as"-you open your eyes-"Then he is far more forgiving than Heaven ever will be."

Silent gasps at your audacity to say such words against Heaven almost make you bitterly laugh again. Although holding herself with indifference, Sera subtly narrows her eyes at you. Your guardian angel is covering her mouth in shock as if you said the most offensive words to her. And Adam has stilled. He's staring at you with such a blank expression it causes you to tremble with fear. But the look in all their eyes proves your words to be true. You have never met Lucifer Morningstar, and you most likely never will, but your soul already feels connected to the first fallen angel.

With an angered glare and no more room to speak, Adam snaps his fingers, causing a portal to Hell to form below you. The sudden pull of gravity causes you to scream in shock and your arms to flail desperately. Adam peers down at you with disgust as the portal shrinks away, just like any shame he had for what he did to you.

Instinctively, you try to flap your wings, but you only feel the muscles in your nubs excessively shifting. With your bag to your chest, you curl into a protective ball. You twirl in the air to have your back facing down, so that'll be the first thing that hits Hell's surface. You keep your eyes tightly shut as if it would protect you like a child hiding from monsters under their blanket.

You will your soul to warm itself up, causing a faint golden glow to surround your body in a weak but protective shield. You can only hope your soul has enough angelic energy left to protect your body from being fatally injured. But the Celestial light within your soul was dimming as you fell through layers of darkening red skies.

Sensing that you're nearing Hell's surface, you send out a final burst of your dwindling angelic power and successfully shield yourself from the impact as you crash into Hell’s jagged, red rocks, creating a large crater. Despite your minimal aura creating a fleeting cushion, the rocky surface seared against your former ethereal form, and the fiery abyss roared around you in an unforgiving embrace.

Your body trembles and twitches in pain. It would help if you slept after that burst of energy you used, but you know you can't. Not now. It's not safe. Surely, some demons saw you pummeling down and would be far too curious not to investigate. You need to force your body to move. You need to survive.

Slowly, you turn onto your side and lift yourself to your hands and knees. You take a moment to breathe before crawling out of the crater your body has formed, with your golden blood painting the surface. Adrenaline is coursing through your veins at this point. You know you'll pass out from exhaustion when you find a safe place. But you're in Hell; is there even a safe place to rest? Surely not.

Leaning against a taller rock, you shift your body away from the crater so you won't fall backward into it. You force your shaking hands to retrieve the twine, bandages, and battery-operated curling iron from your bag. You're still heavily bleeding, which is only worsening your weakened state.

You turn on the curling iron and wait for it to reach maximum heat. You then use the twine to tightly tie around your nubs, temporarily cutting off the circulation and minimizing the blood flowing down your back. Your movements are slow and sloppy, but it's the best you can manage as you fight for your conscience to stay intact.

Feeling the iron's heat and deciding it's hot enough, you lay it directly onto your nubs' open wounds, which causes you to wince from the burning. The nubs start to scab over from the curling iron's searing heat, finally stopping the blood from flowing out. You keep the twine tied just in case, though.

You remove your tattered clothes and messily fold them before putting them in your bag, not caring that you're naked since, at the moment, you are far from any other being. Hell's fire comforts your exposed body, but you only allow yourself a second to bask in it.

Without adequately cleaning the wounds first, you wrap your nubs and the parts of your body most damaged in your homemade bandages. You couldn't pack any medications due to Heaven lacking public medical supplies since the average angel never gets into a situation where they'd be in pain. You then pull out the new outfit you packed and slowly dress yourself, which covers most of your bandages.

You still look battered up with bruises and cuts on some of your exposed skin and cheekbones, but you figure that would be a regular sight in Hell.

Ever so slowly, you stand to your feet. Your legs are wobbly, so you lean against a rock for support. It would be best if you moved now that you did what you could do for your most damaged wounds.

Staring out into the city of demons further below you, a pit of anxiety forms. You're scared. You're so frightened of what may happen to you if you encounter a demon. You're not safe here or out there.

You'll never be safe again now that you're in Hell.

You need to decide quickly what would be the best for your survival. You don't want to venture too far into the city since you still don't know much of Hell. You should also find a bathroom or somewhere to clean your wounds and maybe rest.

[maxislvt]

Around The Christmas Tree

Summary: An omega certainly wasn't on Agatha's wishlist, but she finds herself appreciating you despite her hesitations.

Warnings: smut, omegaverse, alpha!Agatha, innocence kink, knotting, rough sex, oral sex, fingering,

A/N: First time writing Agatha and it made me feel very slutty and breedable

Event Masterlist

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Through the years, Agatha found herself putting up with a lot of Wanda's insanity. Cranking out insane contracts or developing something new for a market of consumers every week were the perils of associating with such a young, overarching alpha. Many people praised and congratulated Agatha for her patience with Wanda, some even insist she be compensated for it. Agatha always insisted the money she got was enough, but she started to question how true that was after a while. It was one faithful Christmas day when she concluded that money was not enough to make up for Wanda's insanity. Nothing would be at that rate.

By no means was Agatha a Grinch, but she much preferred quieter celebrations rather than the company's annual Christmas bash. That didn't stop her lovely co-worker from stopping by her house with an uncomfortably large gift box.

"Do I even wanna know what's inside this thing?" Agatha carefully examined the box in the middle of her leaving room. It was heavy and probably something she didn't need. "Are those…breathing holes??" For a moment, she considered sticking her finger through one just to get an idea of what was inside. Then, it dawned on her. Breathing holes meant that whatever was inside the box was alive. "Maximoff, what is in this box!?"

Wanda shrugged with an oblivious smile. "I don't know, open it." The younger alpha sat down on the couch. Slightly drunk and buzzing with excitement. She had taken pity on her fellow alpha. Much older and so stiff she'd barely made any other friends. "I'm sure you'll love them, just open the crate and look in!"

Agatha hesitantly removed the lid only to immediately slam it back down. A small yelp could be heard underneath her. "Wanda, what did you do?" She asked through gritted teeth. If looks could kill, Wanda would be dead four times over. "You can't just buy people mates! That's unethical!"

Wanda rolled her eyes as she got up and removed the lid. "Don't do that, omegas are real sensitive!" She grumbled and opened the box all the way. There you sat, barely clothed and completely unaware of your surroundings. Wanda picked you up and presented you to Agatha like you were some newborn puppy. "They're so cute and they really need a home, just take them!"

Agatha couldn't bring herself to look at you. You weren't ugly, the exact opposite. If she looked into those big puppy dog eyes, she'd never be able to look away. "I don't care how cute they are, you can't just dump a mate on someone like this!" Standing her ground wasn't easy. "Take them back or something. I seriously don't have time for this!"

Wanda looked at you with a knowing smirk. "Alright then," She said with an exaggerated sigh. "I guess I'll just have to take them home with me." Your legs carefully wrapped around Wanda's waist as she walked towards the door. "I just hope Tasha's willing to share with me."

Agatha groaned as she took you from Wanda's hands. "No, absolutely not! The last thing the world needs is another mini Maximoff running around!" She settled you into her arms and began pushing Wanda out of the house. "Now go away, I have to find clothes for this poor thing."

You nuzzled into Agatha's firm grasp. "If it helps…I think your house is way cooler than Ms.Maximoff's." The gentle squeeze of your body made you laugh. You let yourself be carried around the large house. "Do you live here all by yourself?"

"Well, I used to. At least I have an excuse to use one of those guest rooms now." Agatha sat you down on her bed. She glanced over your body a few times before humming. "I don't think I have any clothes that'll fit right so I'll buy you some tomorrow, just find something you like for now."

You nodded and entered the closet. "Wow, this thing is huge! Can I sleep in here?" Never before had you seen a closet so big or so full. Shoes that were at least twice your worth as an omega and brands couldn't even begin to pronounce. "Oh, these are so cool! I want some!"

"I was hoping you'd sleep in an actual bed, but I'm not going to stop you."

After explaining all the high-quality brands she owned and washing you up, Agatha had finally gone to bed. Well, she lay in her bed underneath the covers but sleep just wouldn't come to her. A billion thoughts swarmed in her head about what to do with you. Agatha couldn't comprehend what dubious methods Wanda had gone through to get you. She continued to toss and turn throughout the night. Her brain had been plagued by thoughts of you. It wasn't until your scent filled the air and you entered her bedroom that she calmed down.

"I'm…I'm not used to sleeping by myself." Your voice was incredibly small. "I know you gave me a room and I really like it but —"

Agatha raised the blanket and patted the space in front of her. "Come on, we have a big day tomorrow anyways." Having you in her bed was more therapeutic than she wanted it to be. Her arms possessively wrapped around your body and pulled you close. "Rest up, superstar."

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

Agatha tried her hardest to keep her distance, but you were far too cute for your good. You were like a cat. Always curled up on her lap or laying against her. Your affection wasn't just physical, but also came in the form of doing things around the house. You'd cook and clean whenever you had the chance. Cookies, cakes, and entire meals were just for you and Agatha to share. Her resolve stood strong for the most part. The two were close enough to keep that beautiful smile on her face but not so close to risk Agatha succumbing to her urges.

However, parts of you were starting to linger. Your scent was all over her bed and the mere thought of you was enough to get her worked up. Agatha was doomed. You unknowingly had her wrapped around your finger.

"Um, Aggie?" Your voice was barely a whisper behind the door. The door wasn't a thick enough barrier to keep you from completely melting on the floor. "I need you. I know you wanna wait but I can't do this by myself. " You mindlessly pulled at the door knob hoping it would bring Agatha to you faster. "It hurts!"

Agatha was immediately drowned in your scent. Slick dripping down your thigh and barely able to support yourself. It was cruelly unfair how cute you looked. "Oh, does my little superstar need help?" Her hands held you like you were porcelain. Hurting you wasn't an option, but she was about to go feral. She carefully laid you over the bed and spread your legs. "We'll go slow, but tell me if it hurts." You tasted as good as you smelt. She buried her face between your legs and ran her tongue up and down your slit.

"Ah, that feels so good." You practically melted around Agatha's tongue. Her long fingers worked you open and stretched you out with ease. Your fingers tangled in her hair and pulled her impossibly closer to your face. "Right there, please. I like that, it feels good.." Your hips had a mind of their own as they rutted against her face. Never before had the stinging lust underneath your skin burned so hot.

"That's my little superstar, don't hold back." Another one of her fingers entered your dripping hole and began pounding into you. When you began to squirm and kick, she simply held you down. She'd spent weeks denying herself of you, and now she had you. "Oh, you're gonna look perfect filled up with pups. Isn't that right," She rasped out.

The mere thought made you whine. "Need your pups!" Your hips desperately followed Agatha's fingers when they pulled away. Being empty and untouched was dreadful. It didn't matter you could see Agatha doing her best to underdress. Any amount of waiting was too much. You helplessly tugged at her belt and pants.

Agatha laughed at your desperation. "You poor thing. You never had an alpha to make you feel better, have you?" It was just teasing. An excuse to see you blush and whine, but having you confirm it was almost like an aphrodisiac. More fuel to the burning fire of her lust for you. She hooked your legs over her shoulders and smiled. "I'm gonna be your first and only. No one is gonna be able to fuck you like I can."

A guttural moan escaped your lips as Agatha's cock stretched you out. It was a long, satisfying pain. There was nothing to compare it to, it just felt good. Being full made your mind go numb. "You're…big!" All the words in your head were disappearing and had been taken over by more primal thoughts. Being filled and owned was all you cared about at that moment.

Agatha tried to go slow. Inching her hips forwards until she filled you up all the way and dragged them back out. She gently pushed her hand down on the bulge in your stomach. "Does that feel good? Is my little superstar cock hungry and dumb?" Your whimpers filled her ears and chipped away at her self-control.

You all but screamed when Agatha began thrusting deeper into you. "More, more please!" You were locked into a full-blown mating press. Agatha's cock practically drilled into you. The swelling of her knot had already started and you couldn't possibly get any fuller. "It won't fit!"

Agatha was practically rutting into you. "I know you can take it! Who's my precious little superstar?" Her hand gently caressed your face. "Don't you wanna feel good together? Just let your alpha do all the work." You didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Agatha was already in the process of knotting you. Filling you up to the brim with as much cum as she possibly could. "There you go superstar, make your alpha proud."

Your orgasm crashed over you with reckless abandon. It was leg-shaking and left you with much to hold on to. No thoughts or embarrassment, just the feeling of pure satisfaction and desire. "Good, real good…" You mumbled softly, barely conscious enough to say much else.

"Huh, you really aren't one for words." Agatha chuckled as you nodded sleepily. "That's just fine, I'll take good care of my little superstar."