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wardenparker · 5 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 14

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+! Word Count: 9.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Cute and cocky Max, the triumphant return of Cutie the Bat, so much fluff, dancing as foreplay, discussions of sex. Summary: An unexpected invitation yields surprising revelations, and Max has some help in planning a night that neither of you will ever forget. Notes: This week enjoy a colorized photo of Cornelius Vanderbilt II and wife Alice's palatial primary residence at 5th and 57th in Manhattan. Sold in the late 1920s, the mansion was later demolished and the current Bergdorf Goodman's location built in its place. At the end of the chapter I've added in a black and white photo of the house's ballroom, which makes a special appearance in this chapter!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13

The entirety of the journey traveling from Newport to the Vanderbilt’s house on Fifth Avenue is far more tiring than you had anticipated, and when you walk in the front door of the grand mansion — with its palatial fireplace that you have only seen in photos from the Metropolitan Museum of Art — it suddenly makes a lot more sense why people talk about travel being such an undertaking in the past. You are, in point of fact, exhausted. And dirty, which is unexpected. The kicked up dust and dirt from train terminals, unpaved roads, and all manner of other frustrations has your wishing for a bath.

That will have to wait, though, as almost the moment you walk through the door Mrs. Vanderbilt is by your elbow with an envelope. “This arrived for you this morning, dear,” Alice tells you with an impressed smile. “It seems you have been summoned.” The look of confusion on your face must be particularly lustily unintelligent because Alice Vanderbilt’s smile softens into something maternal. “Mrs. William Astor has asked you to tea, I suspect. You must have made quite an impression on her at the Brown’s ball.”

“Oh!” The imposing woman in her fifties had made quite the impression on you, as well, and you carefully open the envelope that Alice has pressed into your hand. It is exactly as Alice predicted, and you look up at the grandfather clock in the hall. “Just a few hours…” you murmur, looking over at Max, Annie and Emmanuel with concern pursing your expression. “It…seems to only be addressed to me?”

“Because the invitation is just for you.” Alice hums, as if the answer is obvious. “Do not be alarmed, most often highly statured ladies like Mrs. Astor prefer their socializing in smaller circles.” She leans in and lowers her voice. “Less gossip that way.”

“I will do my best not to embarrass any of you with poor manners.” It’s an honor, in this time and this place. You know that. But that doesn’t mean you’re not seriously nervous.

“After watching you charm a ballroom, I would never dream of such a thing.” Alice waves away your concern. “Come. You must be exhausted by your journey. I will have some tea and refreshments sent to your rooms.”

While Annie and Emmanuel are shown to separate rooms on opposite ends of the long second-floor hallway, you and Max are let into a green-and-white decorated guest room on the third floor that sports one slightly larger bed. The footman who showed you the way leaves you with a bow and closes the door to give you privacy, leaving you standing with Max in the middle of the luxurious room.

“Swanky.” Max hums as he looks around the room. “I have to admit, there’s something missing in modern decor. It’s just not as…elegant.”

“I like that we have the whole newlyweds thing going for us,” you admit, looking around the room while you lean into his side. “They just assume we want to be close to each other. And they’re right.”

Max smiles smugly. “Of course you want to stay close to me.” He brags, winking at you playfully. “You want my body.”

“If you’re going to be cocky about it, I’m not going to tell you what I’ve been thinking.” Raising one eyebrow at him, you dearly wish you were in comfortable jeans and a sweater so you could just plop down on the mattress and stretch out. The traveling dress you have on definitely won’t permit that.

He eyes you wickedly and bites his lip. “Yeah?” He hums. “You don’t want to tell me that you’ve imagined me under that dress of yours? Tongue at work while you pretend to be prim and proper?”

“I’ve been imagining more than that.” It seems like every step you take with him only spurs you onto the next a little faster. Knowing that his tendency toward caretaking with you isn’t just a show or just to get in your pants means more than you can really say. Max loves you, fully and without ulterior motive. And you love him the same.

“Oh yeah?” He snags your waist, pulling you close and grinning as he pulls the bow around your waist loose. He’s teasing you, but he also knows you must be desperate to get out of your dress.

“Maybe.” Flustered and dreamy-eyed, you put your arms around his neck and let him hold you as close as he wants. “Are you really gonna get me all riled up before I have to go have tea with the Mrs. Astor?”

“Why don’t I relax you before you have tea with the Mrs. Astor?” He poses. “Make you cum while you clean up.”

“A very dirty way of getting clean.” You hum, tipping your head back to silently ask for a kiss. “And maybe…a preview to tonight?”

“My wife is greedy.” Max boasts happily. “Wanting to sleep with a tongue inside her.”

“I was thinking maybe…” You can’t help it, biting your lip to keep the grin blossoming across your face from getting too big. “Of a different part of you…”

“Fingers?” Max lifts a brow at you and grins when you shake your head. “Toe? I’ve never tried that before, to be honest.”

"I'm ready." You tell him, warmth in your cheeks and in your smile. "If you are."

“Are you sure?” Max asks seriously, reaching up and brushing his fingers over your pulse. “I don’t want you to rush because you think I’m impatient.”

"I'm sure." His sweetness is part of the reason, but you know he would deflect if you said so. "I love you, and I want to celebrate that."

“It will be good.” He promises sincerely. “Like you’ve never experienced before.”

“If it’s good then it definitely will be like I’ve never experienced before,” you joke, rolling your eyes in exaggeration to make him laugh. “Honestly love, please don’t feel any pressure. I just…I want to share this with you. That’s all.”

“I’ve felt plenty of pressure.” Max jokes, smirking at his innuendo. “But if you’re ready, the perfect place to make love to my wife for the first time, would be in the bed at the Vanderbilt’s mansion.”

“Time travel bragging right.” Every time he gets so proud to call you his wife it gives you a little shiver and you grin.

“And it’s not like we are breaking into a museum to do it.” He chuckles and turns you around to start unbuttoning the back of your traveling dress. “It will be quite the ‘feather in your cap’ as your grandfather likes to say.”

“And we’re even in the time where people actually wear feathers in their caps.” His nimble fingers are quick to undo the outer layer of your dress, pulling away the top to let you stretch a little more easily in just your corset cover and corset above what seems like miles of petticoats. Without those big sleeves it’s a lot easier to move.

Max snickers. “I’m just grateful we didn’t come to a time where wearing tights was fashionable.” He jokes.

“Why not?” You smirk at him over your shoulder. “You’ve got great legs.”

“Yeah, but it would leave nothing to the imagination, package wise.” He snorts.

“Those big ‘ol pantaloons they wore over the tights would.” It reminds you of a Shakespeare show you saw once, and the idea of Max back in that time scraping out thees and thous makes you giggle. “Maybe I’ll get the hang of this time traveling stuff and we’ll be time tourists. Who knows?”

He hums, knowing that you both can be time travelers in your own time as well, watching history unfold as you both remain ageless.

Max helps you out of your skirt, letting you shed all those extra pounds of beading and embroidery for a little while before you have to put on something suitable for Mrs. Astor. You have very little idea of what Renée packed but you’ll manage, just enjoying the freedom of lighter layers for now. Petticoats and a bustle don’t weigh too much, you’ve been surprised to find.

“Better?” Max loves the sight of you in the undergarments of the time, honestly playing into the time period movies that he had watched when he was younger. Sometimes hoping to get laid, but that one – Pride and Prejudice – that was just a guilty pleasure.

“It’s so hard to move in the full dresses.” Which is why you’re wiggling happily and stretching everywhere now that you have a little freedom. “At least we didn’t come back to the age of six-foot crinolines. You wouldn’t be able to get near me at all.”

“I don’t know what that is, but a crinoline sounds horrible.” He gives you a mock look of horror. “Don’t sent us there.”

“I promise.” He gets the giggle out of you that he was hoping for, and you turn to lean against him because you still have the bustle underneath your petticoats tied in place so you can’t just back up into his arms.

“How come the history books never talk about how dirty traveling is?” Max snorts, knowing that both of you need a bath.

“Because no one wants to read about horse shit and dust everywhere.” You laugh along with him. “I wish I had time for a bath but apparently travel by horse-drawn carriage takes foreeeeever.”

“You want to get clean, baby doll?” Max smirks. “I can clean you up real quick.”

“Speed bath?” You raise one eyebrow at him.

He chuckles. “Perks of moving fast, sweetums.” He had overheard the nickname on the dining car last night and had fallen in love with it, to tease you with, of course.

When you roll your eyes it’s entirely joking, but you cross your arms appraisingly and smirk. “Alright. Go for it.”

“Done, baby doll.” He snaps his fingers as if he were a magician, drawing your eyes away from the trick before he begins to move quickly.

When he wants to be, Max is a whirlwind. Before you know it your petticoats are strewn around the room and your corset seems to disappear in a flash, along with your chemise and stockings, all while you barely feel him touch you. The tornado of movement carries you so easily to the bathroom and within minutes you’re scrubbed clean and dry again.

When he stops moving, it’s obvious that Max has also cleaned up while taking care of your quick wash. Grinning and not even breathless as he eyes you. “Believe me now?”

“Baby,” you smirk, the expression rolling over your features with glee. “I never doubted you. I just wanted to see you show off.”

“Good.” He winks at you and shrugs. “Now you are all clean and can enjoy your visit with Mrs. Astor.”

“Wish me luck?” Walking over to the set of buttons built into the carved wood detailing of the guest room, you press the one marked to connect to you maid and sigh. You are definitely going to need Renee’s help picking out a dress.

“Of course.” Max snaps his fingers again. “I could come with you.” He offers with a coy grin.

“I don’t think the Mrs. Astor would take kindly to a bat in her house.” Though you grin broadly at the idea.

“I would make a fashionable hat accessory.” He huffs, miffed that you might deny him the opportunity.

“If you think you can hold still for an entire tea visit, I’ll take you with me.” It’s sweet of him to want to come with you, though you know it’s also because he’s an incorrigible gossip.

He tuts because he knows you’ve got him there. There’s no way he wouldn’t ruffle his wings or trill at you in his bat form. “She might like bats.” He grumbles.

“She might.” When he pouts you can’t help but kiss him, and your hand on his chest feels the thrilling thud of a single heartbeat as your lips brush his. “And if she does, I’ll bring you next time. If there ever is a next time.”

“Ooookaaaaayyy.” He rolls his eyes, playing up the pouring before he shrugs. “Tea sucks anyway. Kind of like me.” He jokes, waggling his brows. “Get it?”

“Har har har.” The exaggerated laughing noise makes both of you bust out into giggles just before a knock sounds at the door and Renee enters.

“You rang, Ma’am?” She asks politely, stock still in her own immaculate uniform. No doubt she had already cleaned herself up from the trip.

“I was hoping you might have packed a nice tea dress for the trip, Renee.” Standing in your chemise and robe in the middle of the room is more than a touch unconventional, but so are you. “I’ve had an invitation from Mrs. Astor.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Her eyes widen slightly and she nods eagerly. “I have a beautiful teal tea dress that would be perfect.” She insists.

“Well,” you flash both of them a smile, with Renee zipping right past you to the closet where your and Max’s clothes have been stored. “Here goes nothing.”

******

More than an hour later, after all the fuss of redressing, restyling, saying your polite ‘good afternoon’s to the Vanderbilts, and being bundled in and out of a carriage all on your own to take you a mere twenty minute carriage ride from number 1 West 57th Street to 350 Fifth Avenue. The house is even grander than the old photo on the damn Wikipedia page you’d seen ages ago, and you swallow thickly as you walk up to the door and ring the bell. Somehow you’re just certain Mrs. Astor’s butler will be the most intimidating possible version of that career choice.

Instead of the butler answering the door, Mrs. Astor herself is the one that pulls the door open. She had been sent word that you had accepted her invitation and had been looking out for your carriage to arrive. “Mrs. Phillips!” She beams as she opens the door wider and steps back. “I am so pleased you decided to accept my invitation.”

“It was very kind of you to ask me.” Astonished to find the woman herself standing in the front hall of her house, you falter and damn near curtsy as a footman appears to whisk your gloves and reticule away. The small hat perched on your head — not adorned with a particular bat — stays firmly in place.

“When Alice Vanderbilt told me you were going to be in town, I knew I had to have you to tea.” She slides her arm through yours and notices you craning your neck around to look at the interior. “You and Mr. Phillips will be building homes, correct? Let me give you a tour? We have so many modern conveniences.”

“We haven’t decided where to build yet.” Polite conversation seems the way to go, as Mrs. Astor escorts you around the first floor of the fashionable and enormous brownstone they call home. “We may make our home in Newport year round.”

“I would love to have a permanent home.” She admits easily. “Packing up everything I need from one home to another is so tiring at times.”

“But the summers are not always pleasant here, and winters can be isolating in Newport.” She leads you through the hall to a stunning sitting room and it’s really all you can do not to stare the way you did your very first day at your home in Newport. “There must be some advantages for being able to travel where the weather is nicest?”

“Of course there are. I know that I am very fortunate to be able to escape the intolerant weather.” She knows that she is privileged and is thankful for her children’s sake. “I would love a frolicking bath in the gardens. Or a pool, but William says that it’s too much effort.”

“Max doesn’t particularly care for the beach. I think he would probably love a pool instead.” Although, the thought of him indignantly turning into a bat just to be out in the sunshine to see you in a swimsuit almost makes you giggle.

“Then perhaps you will have an indoor pool?” She suggests. “You can swim no matter the weather outside.”

“Perhaps.” She seems delighted for you at the prospect so you smile. “And if we did, you would certainly be welcome to visit.”

“I would be visiting often.” She admits with a grin as she guides you back towards the parlor where the tea is being laid by one of the footmen.

If you had any intention of staying in this time, it would be an immense compliment. But as it is, you have to take the fact as what it is — if you get stuck here, then Lina Astor is a valuable ally to have. “You will be most welcome, pool or otherwise.”

“You are kind. And that is a refreshing thing to find.” She hums, smiling as she settles you both down on the sofa. “Very refreshing indeed.”

“It was an honor to receive your invitation.” It is, and you’re aware of that, but you’re still wondering why she invited you here other than the fact that you’re staying with the Browns. It’s not as though she knows you’re their granddaughter.

“Then I am happy you accepted.” The footman has disappeared, and Mrs. Astor leans forward to pick up the teapot. “It is not often I find other kindred spirits in my circle.”

“I—I’m sorry?” The comment takes you off guard, and you feel a little like a deer in headlights at the moment.

Her smile turns slightly coy and she tilts her head. “I don’t think that I’m mistaken.” She tells you conversationally. “Another time traveling witch?”

The mistake you made was reaching for the teacup that the footman had set beside you before leaving the room at exactly the moment Mrs. Astor said the words ‘time traveling’. Your hand clatters past the cup and saucer, nearly upending the small table beside you as your eyes grow as wide as dinner plates. “E—excuse—” Oh, Max is going to be so mad he isn’t here for this. “How could you possibly—?”

“Know that you aren’t from this time?” She muses and sets down the tea set to tap her brows. “You must have just waxed your brows before you travelled back.” Her eyes are flashing with intrigue. “What year had you left?”

"I—" It automatically makes you hide your hands, like she could somehow know that you had just taken off your nail polish the day before. "Um...2023..." you murmur, feeling very oddly like you've been caught by the Time Travel Police or something equally insane.

“Ohhhhhh.” She smiles excitedly and leans in. “Tell me about it, please?” There’s a plea in her voice that is barely noticeable under the excitement.

You don’t even know where to begin, swallowing hard and realizing that the conversation might not make any sense – in an insane sort of way – without context. "When...when have you, um...traveled to?" This time you manage to get the teacup firmly into your hands, but you're sure they must be shaking violently as you can't tear your eyes off the prim and proper madam of New York society.

“I think you misunderstand.” Lina shakes her head and reasons that it’s not a logical conclusion. “I was born in 1965. This is the time I travelled to.”

"What?" When you almost drop the delicate teacup all over again, you just shove it back onto the table.

“I would never have believed it myself.” She admits easily, continuing to talk. “However, how do you deny yourself in photographs from decades before you were born?” She asks. “I know some might think there a doppelgängers, historical figures that look like other people in different times, but I believe, like me, they are witches who have travelled to their proper times.”

"Does that mean...that once we travel...that we're stuck?" You ask, eyes widening impossibly yet again. "We go back to our proper time and stay there?" The possibility hadn't occurred to you, but it seems alarmingly real to hear her talk about it.

“Perhaps that it the wrong wording.” Mrs. Astor concedes. “Because I could have chosen to go back, but why would I when my soulmate was in this time?”

"I suppose that would account for the decision." The way your mind seems to be scrambled is the only thing that makes perfect sense at the moment, but shaking your head doesn't seem to set any of your thoughts straight at all – except one. "So there is a way to go back, then?"

She frowns slightly, tilting her head. “You mean you didn’t come here on purpose?” She asks softly, trying to understand why you would travel through time if not for a reason.

"It was an accident," you admit, feeling all the more amateurish for it. "I was trying to cast a protection spell and it...sort of imploded around me. Instead of banishing the person from where my soulmate and I were, it brought him here with us."

“Oh my.” Her eyes widen slightly and she knows there must be more to the story. “Hopefully, that person is no longer a bother to you and your soulmate?”

"No." A fact which has brought you no small amount of relief. "No. He certainly is not." This might be the most insane situation out of all of the insane situations you've ever found yourself in, and you lean forward in your seat unconsciously. "So..if you were born in 1965...do you mind if I ask where you were born? I'm endlessly curious now."

She grins and leans in. “California.”

"This is just...absolutely insane." The shake of your head still doesn't align your thoughts, but at least this time when you laugh in disbelief you don't feel foolish for it. "And you just...saw yourself in a history book?"

“Imagine my surprise.” She snorts and shakes her head. “But I just knew that it was me.”

"And I thought my story was crazy," you huff, exhaling like it's the biggest relief of your life.

“Believe me, there’s few who know my story.” Lina laughs, reaching over and covering your hand with your own. “How do you explain a colored rose tattoo on your pelvic bone to a man who has never even thought of a tattoo?”

“Oh my god.” Barely managing not to snort when you burst out into giggles, you cover your mouth and manage to recompose yourself. “That…that would not be easy,” you admit readily. “Although I guess at least it’s somewhere easily hidden.”

“Yes. William has accepted that I am from a different time, but my maid believes it is a strange birthmark.” She snickers.

“That is a remarkably detailed birthmark, Mrs. Astor,” you snicker softly, shaking your head. “Mine is essentially a blob.”

“Just so.” She agrees. “How are you acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Brown, really?”

“I suppose it’s a moot point, to ask you to keep my secrets when you’ve already shared yours. We’re in this together.” And what a fucking weird person to even say that to, you think with an internal huff. “They are my grandparents. But only Mr. Brown knows who I really am.”

“Grandparents…how delightful.” She hums as she picks up your cup of tea and hands it back to you. “I expect that it’s easily possible because of your vampiric bloodline, your mother waited to give birth to you?”

“I should not be surprised that you know so much, I suppose?” It’s astonishing to you, but maybe it shouldn’t be. Doesn’t everyone have friends who keep their secrets? Especially within the magical community. “Yes. She did. She waited quite a while.”

“Your grandmother is the leader of her coven in Newport.” She reminds you. “I am the leader of the coven here. William has actually talked to your grandfather about immortality.”

“Really?” Imagining the Astors in the future makes your head spin a little, but how is it any weirder than you coming back to this time? “If you ever find yourself in 2023, come and visit.”

Picking up her own tea, she adds a sugar cube and stirs it. “Your soulmate is immortal? Or just a lucky human? I wasn’t quite able to tell.”

“Max is immortal.” And you almost laugh to yourself, thinking again how much he would love to be here for this. “My grandfather was his sire…either several years ago or it will be many years in the future. Depending on how you look at it.”

“How fascinating it all is.” She wonders, blowing on her tea and taking a small sip. “What a wonderful connection. I hope that your time here is fruitful?”

“I hope so, too.” You admit, blowing out a sigh of your own. “Of course, if I can never figure out how to get us home, our time here will be permanent.”

“Yes,” at the mention of that, Lina straightens. “That is why I asked you to tea. To get to know you, but also inquire if you are well versed in the spells.” She sets her tea down and stands, moving over to the bookcase. “I have all my own spells here, including the one to bring me to my William’s time.”

“I am not particularly well versed in any spells at all.” The idea of an Astor family grimoire piques your interest as you watch her move amongst the shelves, pulling things out quickly in a very particular order until a hidden panel in the wainscoting pops open. Of fucking course Mrs. Astor has a secret compartment for her grimoire. “My magical education came late in life.”

“The perhaps I might give you a copy?” She asks, knowing that you might not have your own family grimoire. If her own could assist you in creating one, she would be delighted.

"Are you serious?" At least the more modern phrase won't sound too foreign to her as you stare at the petite figure of Lina Astor over your teacup. "I—I mean—that would be so incredibly generous of you."

“I will start writing it out immediately.” She promises as she brings the leather-bound book over to the sofa. “By the time of your grandmother’s ball, it will be in your hands.”

"Then I suppose we're here until at least Samhain." A few weeks in 1885 won't do you any harm, but it makes your smile flicker slightly at the thought of missing your own Samhain ball. It makes you wonder how Allison and Eddie are doing – what they're doing – and if Yayo has even explained what's going on.

“Delightful.” She winks at you, even as she speaks properly. “You and I will have to have tea again then. I will call on you?”

"Any time." In the back of your mind you vaguely recall that the appropriate length of a social call in this time period is something absurd like fifteen minutes, and you figure that period must be up. "We're staying with the Cornelius Vanderbilts until Friday, then returning to Newport."

Nodding, she understands your reasoning and bites her lip. “I will be attending the opera tomorrow night, will you be attending as well?”

"My grandparents were kind enough to let us use their box." An actual box at the opera sounded like a beautiful night to you and Annie had been over the moon to bring Emmanuel to the Academy of Music. "My soulmate has never been to an opera before, so we should be in for a fun night."

“Then I will see you at intermission.” Lina decides with a warm smile. “I have to admit that I am very glad you came to tea. It had been a long time since I have talked about…things.”

"I'm glad I wasn't too nervous to accept." Standing from the sofa, you have just enough time to compose yourself before a footman steps up to the drawing room door. You can see your gloves and reticule lying on the table in the foyer and you know that that's your signal. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Astor. I look forward to seeing you again."

“Call me Lina.” She demands softly, setting the book down and leaning in to give you a quick hug. “We are sisters after all.”

"I will see you tomorrow night, Lina." You squeeze her back gently before striding from the room and accepting your things from the footman with a smile. Whatever you had expected this visit to be, it was nothing like that at all, and you're all the more glad for it as you get into the carriage.

As soon as the door closes, the bat that had been sitting up on top of the curtain flutters down and lands in your lap, squawking.

"Well, hey Cutie pie. I know you." It's all you can do not to burst out into giggles, but you scoop Bat Max up in both hands and let him snuggle into your chest as the carriage lurches and starts off down the street to take you back to the Vanderbilt's house. "You're never going to believe the visit I just had," you tell him honestly, blowing out a deep sigh.

Max turns his head and practically sticks it down your bodice, thankful that the tea dress is lower cut than your traveling dress. Flapping his wings and squeaking in response to you.

"If you wanted to grope me, you could do it in human form," you snort, giggling at the little bat's antics. "So it turns out..." you cuddle your soulmate's animal form as the carriage bumps and jostles along the road, hand wrapped around his small body to keep him safe against you. "The legendary Mrs. Lina Astor? Is a witch."

Snuggled happily between your breasts, Max trills, hating that he has to pull away, but he can’t transform in your dress. “What?!?” He demands as soon as he is very much in a human form again, eyes bugged out in surprise.

“I swear on every god I can think of,” you promise, holding your hand up like it’s some kind of solemn oath. “But it gets crazier. She’s a fucking time traveler, too!”

“Bullshit.” Max huffs, not thinking you are a liar, but who can that be?

“I swear!” The way you practically double over cackling — or you would have doubled over if not for the corset — tells him how dead serious you are. “She was born in 1965. Saw herself in history books and knew she had to come back.”

“Isn’t that a mind fuck?” Max’s eyes widen. “One of the most historical female figures in America is a time traveler.”

“She’s going to make me a copy of her grimoire,” you murmur, voice full of awe as you lean into your soulmate’s side. “I can’t fucking believe I found another time traveler. And by accident!”

“It seems as if she recognizes something about you.” He worries about that slightly, but with Mrs. Astor as an ally, it would smooth a lot of issues for you should they arise.

“She noticed my eyebrows.” It’s such a stupid detail to you that it’s laughable, but it’s completely on point when you look at it. The fact that you had gone to the salon with Allison just the day before everything happened is what made your appearance stick out to a woman who actually knew what eyebrow waxing was. “She said she’d help me. So I can get us back safely. But…the copy of her grimoire won’t be ready until Samhain. So it looks like we have two more weeks in 1885.”

“I won’t mind that.” Max admits with an easy grin. “Although you might.” He snorts, lifting a brow. “You start your period in two weeks.”

“Pain killers in this time have cocaine and heroine. I am not taking a damn thing.” You’re not surprised at all that your blood drinking soulmate with a superhuman sense of smell already knows your cycle, so you just bypass that face completely. “I will be begging for hot chocolate, though.”

“All the hot chocolate you can drink.” He promises with a smirk. “I think your mother likes my hot chocolate too.”

“She does.” And of course he’s smug about that. He deserves to be. “But you can’t cave and give her the recipe. She used to make me Swiss Miss when I was a kid.”

“Oh no.” He huffs. “This is my secret recipe.” He insists. “You only get that when you’ve been married to me for a hundred years.”

"Real married or pretend married?" You tease, grinning as you snuggle deeper into his side.

“Real.” He snorts. “Have to make sure you’re with me for me and not my hot chocolate.” He teases. “Although, before I forget….do you want to dance tonight?”

"I'd love to." Your hand slips gently into his, fingers threading together, and you squeeze his hand in yours. With your head on his shoulder at the carriage bumps along the road, this is pretty damn close to bliss.

“Good.” Max’s fingers caress your palm. “I hired a little band of musicians to play for us after Alice said I could use the ballroom tonight.”

"You hired a band?" Reeling back to look him in the eye, your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline in surprise. "What's the occasion? Did I not know it was your birthday or something?"

“No.” If he was still living, his cheeks would be scorching hot, but he does look a little embarrassed. “Since it’s…since you want to…” he waggles his brows suggestively in an endearing immature way. “I wanted to make it special. A night you wouldn’t forget.” He also wants to show you that you deserve some to put in the effort for you.

"Honey..." Your gasp, you have realized since being with someone who doesn't need to breathe, is so uniquely human. He might be looking slightly embarrassed, but your jaw is on the floor of the carriage and tears have sprung up into your eyes as you stare at him. "You—really?" It's so far outside of the realm of what you could ever have expected that you don't even know what to say. "For...me?"

“Was it dumb?” He had been sure that you would love it. “It’s dumb. I should have asked, right?” He panics and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Dolly, I just wanted to make it special.”

"Max." Tugging on his hand slightly makes him look at you, and you shake your head fiercely even as you reach up with your free hand to touch his cheek. "That is the sweetest, most thoughtful, most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me and if we weren't already engaged I'd been asking you to marry me right here in this carriage." The watery shine in your eyes is nothing less than pure happiness and pride, and you lean forward to kiss him with soft surety. "In fact, I'm prepared to say fuck it and get married right here in 1885, just so I can proudly call you my husband for real."

He stares into your eyes for a moment, the unease fading and he bites his lip. “I just wanted you to feel special.” He admits quietly. “You are special. And I want you to believe it.”

"My whole adult life, no one has ever believed in me or loved me the way you have." It's somehow simultaneously exhilarating and humbling, the magnitude to which Max's love is worn entirely on his sleeve. It's obvious, not just evident, and you never thought that you were worth someone's entire devotion the way Max has given every ounce of himself over to loving you. "I hope I give back even half of what you do. And I'm glad we have literally all the time in the world for me to learn to love you exactly as well as you love me. Because you're special too, sweetheart."

“Of course I am.” He flashes you a smirk that is pure bravado, and more than a little facade, but he won’t argue with you. It would be pointless when you would say you weren’t worth it to him.

"I just never want you to doubt it, that's all." Max deals with his insecurities in very different ways than you do. You know that. So instead of huffing at him or rolling your eyes or anything of that sort, you just smile and kiss the corner of his mouth again.

“I knew I should have gone with you.” Max pouts, but he knows his presence might have derailed the conversation.

"Today will hardly be the last that we hear or see of Lina Astor," you remind him with a grin. "She might even pop up to 2023 to see us sometime."

“That would be pretty fucking cool.” Max muses. “Her husband has certainly made enough money to support them.”

"I don't know if he's ever actually time traveled with her, but it would be pretty fun if they popped into the future to visit." The two of you lean back again in the carriage, resting against each other's sides as it pulls around the corner of the avenue. "Can you imagine throwing a ball in 2023 and having an Astor show up?"

“No one would know who they were.” Max points out. “They could move through the time in complete anonymity.”

"Unless we find the one person who is like...an Astor family historian or something." That person must exist, you're sure of it. But thankfully, you definitely don't know them. Although if you did? That would be an interesting introduction. "You do know that if I get my time traveling down as well as hers, we could do that, too?"

“Has she travelled to other times as well?” He asks, confused as he wonders. Could that explain why the Astors had a golden touch in business?

"Visits are so short here that I didn't really have time to ask," you admit sheepishly. "But I offered for her to come and visit us in our time and she didn't immediately shut me down or anything, so I have to think it's possible. It's magic not like...a wormhole or a tear in the space-time continuum, right? So theoretically a witch who can master it should be able to pick their destination just like Marty McFly plugging a date into the Delorian."

“Do they make it in a broom model?” Max jokes, chuckling at his own humor when you roll your eyes. “It’s funny and you know it.”

“I’m getting a bumper sticker for abuela’s fancy car when we get home,” you inform him, laughing under your breath at your own bad joke. “My Other Ride Is a Broom.”

“You would not put a sticker on that car.” Max is horrified in a decidedly male way about that, his eyes wide and anguished. “My car’s probably been towed off, or stolen.”

“I’m sure Yayo had it picked up. After all— he knows where we are.” The carriage rolls to a stop and you stretch as much as your dress allows. “Home sweet temporary home.”

“What a temporary home it is.” Max snorts, admiring the grandeur of the facade. “I could see having a gothic style architecture if we were here permanently. Play up the spooky vibes.”

“Maybe we should build a house anyway,” you joke with a grin. “Come and go as we like once I figure out how to get us back and forth.”

“Which house in history has an ambiguous past?” Max asks, lifting a brow curiously.

“There’s a lot of them.” Off the top of your head there’s things like Boldt Castle in New York and the Winchester Mystery House. “And I bet Yayo would take care of it for us.”

“Hmmmm.” Max is thoughtful a moment before he shrugs one shoulder. “Perhaps it’s one of ours.” He tells you. “Stranger things have happened.”

“Maybe we’ll get back and Mrs. Taylor will hand us an extra set of keys.” The thought makes you grin, and the carriage jostles just as one is the Vanderbilt’s footmen comes out to open the door and lend you a hand. What seemed unnecessary and dramatic in period films now makes perfect sense. If you didn’t have help getting out of this carriage you’d never be able to find the sidewalk for all the dress you have to wear.

Max managed to turn into a bat before the footman opened the door. That way he will not cause any questions amongst the staff about how he wasn’t with you and then he was. Luckily for stealth, the dips and flounces hide your bat-ified soulmate from sight and you just climb the steps into the house neatly after saying thank you to the footman without anyone being any wiser.

Max smirks a batty little smirk and clings to the folds of your outfit, enjoying being carried into the house with no one the wiser.

******

When Mrs. Vanderbilt also falls in love with an idea, she isn’t one to sit on it. Max asking for the ballroom to dance with his bride sounded like the most thoughtful and romantic thing that she had ever heard of. She had pointed him in the direction of a small orchestra, and had personally gone to the kitchen to have the idea of a dinner for two planned out with the cook with a footman assigned to serve the quiet meal.

There were flowers everywhere. She must have sent Renee out to purchase every flower from every corner within a ten block radius. Bouquets of them set around a small garden table that has been laid out for two, a champagne bucket beside it. The candles and glass lanterns low enough to give the enormous room a romantic, intimate glow. You had been hustled through another bath, a fresh ball gown that had to come from somewhere, although you don’t remember seeing it amongst your purchases even though it is vaguely familiar, and some of Alice’s own jewels around your neck when you are escorted into the room to find Max waiting for you. His own bath done and his tailored tuxedo making him look every inch the dashing, handsome vampire that he is.

“This is a lot more than just dancing…” you gasp, one gloved hand going straight to your heart as you look around. The Vanderbilt’s expansive ballroom looks like it has been taken over by a fairy kingdom with the way it overflows with blossoms, and you look to Max in awe. “It’s stunning, love. You’re… you’ve…” There really aren’t words for the way your heart swells in your chest, and you walk over to him with sure steps to wrap your arms around him. “My soulmate is the sweetest man in the whole world,” you murmur against his chest.

“I didn’t do all this.” Max admits with a shake of his head. “I just mentioned that I wanted it to be special.”

“No?” You pull back from him, incredulous, and look around then down at yourself. “This dress?”

“Well…” he shrugs. “I asked Alice if there is a dress that was suitable for a night of dancing.”

“So I need to write Alice the world’s best thank you note for hosting us. That’s what you’re saying?” Looking at the pair of you together in the nearby mirrored wall paneling, though, your eyes widen in recognition. “I know this dress!” You realize just a second later.

“Really?” Max frowns for a moment and tilts his head. “From where?”

“From the attic.” Your eyes are wide when you look back at him and you practically giggle. “The day that we all dressed up and went to the mansion?” It seems like years and years ago that you were first getting to know the girls in the Newport coven, and the pang of missing them hits deeply. “Allison wore this.”

“How interesting.” He guides you over to the table and pulls out a chair for you to sit down.

"I guess it goes to show that this was supposed to happen?" When he sits down across from you, the two of you exchange a shared, soft smile. "Maybe we shouldn't be surprised anymore? Since life has thrown us so many curveballs already."

“It’s been nothing but adventure since you’ve arrived.” Max admits with a chuckle. “But I’ve enjoyed the ride. How about you?”

"I wouldn't change a single thing." And you really wouldn't. Even the parts filled with uncertainty or fear have brought you closer together, but more than anything he has given you strength and confidence that you never had before. Loving Max has made you a better person, inside and out. "And I'm very excited for every adventure that is still to come."

Smirking proudly, Max takes the bottle of champagne from the bucket and looks at it and then at you. “Sweetheart….do you want me to have this taken away?” He asks softly. “I don’t think Alice knew.”

"If you want to have some, it's okay." He likely won't, having insisted since the day he found out why you don't drink that he will abstain right along with you. But it's also not like this meal will hold much interest for him considering his preferred diet, so you give him the choice.

The bottle goes back in the bucket and he shakes his head. “I’m good.” He knows that you wouldn’t want any, but he always wants to continue to make sure that you know that if you want to have some again, you have that option.

The footman, confused by the turn of phrase, seems to understand that champagne will not be necessary and steps forward to remove the ice bucket and its contents. “I’ll let Alice know that we don’t drink alcohol when I thank her for tonight,” you tell Max. “It’s…all of this is absolutely beautiful.”

“Whatever you want to tell her, baby.” Max from before would offer advice, but he has learned that you just want to explain and not have your feelings or ideas overruled. “Tonight is about you and I want it to be perfect.”

"Tonight is about us." It's about growing closer and about this last, large step forward. You can't be sure if it's taken longer than you thought or far less time than you would have imagined, but having now spent enough nights actually sleeping with Max along with getting to know him, the time for euphemistic sleeping together feels exciting.

He might not feel that way, but he doesn’t argue. Knowing that it’s important for you that he also be included. His soulmate is actually very considerate and he is grateful for that. “Do you want to eat before we dance?” He asks with a grin. “Or work up an appetite?”

"I would hate to interrupt the chef's schedule." According to your abuela, meals in this time are a well-orchestrated dance all in their own right, and you look to the footman for any kind of confirmation or denial of a firm schedule existing. "Might we have time for a turn or two before the meal begins?"

The man smiles at the question, thinking briefly, and almost bows to you with his deep nod. "I will make sure of it, Mrs. Phillips. Please, enjoy yourselves," he says before excusing himself.

The tails of the tuxedo are something that Max believes should still be around in his own time, flicking them out as he stands and glides around the table. “Will you waltz with me, Mrs. Phillips?” He asks, bowing as any gentleman of the time would. Your Yayo had spent time to make sure that Max fit in and did not make any social blunders.

"Mr. Phillips, I would be delighted." You're both up and out of your chairs again, and the leader of the small band that has been hired takes Max's cue to strike up a lively but simple waltz. The man clearly took working up an appetite literally, and you have to smile as Max puts one hand around your waist and draws you in close – a perfect ballroom frame supporting both of you in place before he leads you into the dance.

Like every time Max has danced with you, he is struck by how seamless it is. It’s as if you and he become one at that moment and move in perfect coordinated unison. There’s not a split second’s hesitation, no faltering. Working easily as if you had been partners for a lifetime, which one day will be true.

The swells in the music become dips and turns, the swaying of your frame in Max's keeping you in time and making sure no feet ever get stepped on. The movement is smooth as silk and completely entrancing, although you know that some of your favourite moves are impossible in a gown this large. All that matters is that you and Max stay connected, moving together with fluidity and grace. Sometimes it feels like the happiest you've ever been are these moments dancing with Max, and you wonder if tonight might somehow equal that or make it feel even more magical than it already does.

The mood is already romantic, the music and the dance coupled with the lighting and what both of you know is to come. It’s fairy tale quality and still Max wishes for more. Wanting you to remember tonight forever, looking back at the moment that you truly became his and he became yours. For all his easy flirtations and past liaisons, he wants to continue to romance his soulmate, for everyday to be an opportunity for you to fall more in love with him.

"You're thinking awfully hard about something," you murmur when he pulls you back to his chest after a turn. His expression of concentration is so easy to pick out, and always makes you want to smooth your thumb over his forehead to soothe the creases away.

“Thinking about you.” He admits easily. “How you deserve so much more. How special you are.” He knows you will protest, but he will just have to dance with you more.

"The perfect example of why we're soulmates." Humming softly, you squeeze his shoulder with your off hand and offer him a soft smile. "We think the world of each other and nothing of ourselves." He has masked it with bravado for pretty much his entire life, but when it comes down to it, he has just as many issues with how he perceives himself as you do. "I love you, Max. Completely. You're the most special thing in the world to me, so if I'm as special as you say we're a hell of a team."

The words are the soft, sweet ones that he has craved his entire life and he savors them. Tucking you against his body and closing his eyes. “We are a hell of a team.” He insists. “Now we just need to find out what dancing between the sheets looks like for us.”

He manages to say it quietly enough that it doesn't echo across the ballroom, keeping it for your ears only, and you giggle with soft delight. You're actually excited for this, which isn't something that you were sure you would ever feel again. "I think it'll be very rhythmic," you tease.

He chuckles and nods. “A steady, continuous rhythm.” He promises. Unlike any previous lovers, Max doesn’t get tired. Any changes in the pace would be because he fumbles or he wants to change, not because he’s unable to keep it up.

"Mr. Phillips, I think that counts as scandalous," you hum, fanning yourself with your own hand dramatically and wishing that just this once you actually had one of those fancy hand fans to tease him with.

"You would faint in shock at all the scandalous things that I would do to you, Dolly." Max snorts playfully, sending you a hot look as he dips you low and presses his face into your breasts before slowly dragging you upright again.

“Maybe I would.” Considering there is an entire group of strangers in the room, you demure a little even though you’re shivering with anticipation on the inside. “Perhaps I am terribly proper and ladylike and this is where I’ve belonged all along.”

“I can see that.” He growls, flashing his fangs at you playfully for a split second. “And I am the wicked vampire ready to defile you.”

When you giggle and have to smother a snort, it’s because you’re sure that anyone overhearing this would assume you were really into sexy role playing or at least fantasy foreplay. When the fact is, it’s just who you are. A little silly, a lot romantic, and entirely devoted to making each other happy.

Around the room, your skirts swish and sway as he leads you. Speeding up and then slowing down along with the music. His eyes always on you as he twirls you around the dance floor. Aware that some of the Vanderbilt staff have peeked in, but it doesn't bother him, never minding an audience.

They're peaking in from around the corner screen and through the pocket doors at the end of the room, and you're dimly aware of their presence without ever minding it for a single second. Renee is probably with them, which makes you smile, and you hope she is enjoying the attention of fielding all sorts of questions about Miss Brown's mysterious new friends.

Max spins you again, taking this as seriously as any dance competition. He’s not expecting perfection but it seems that together, you move flawlessly. Making him proud of your abilities and he beams as he pulls you close again.

When the song draws to a close, Max holds you close to his chest instead of going for some dramatic end pose, letting the last strains of music fade away with you held fast to him as your heart beats wildly out of time. After a moment you become dimly aware of a soft clapping and glance over at the band, all of whom are politely applauding your performance. Your cheeks burn hot instantly and you laugh, but curtsy. It must not be often that they get a private show like this.

Max grins, proud of you and his movement shows it as he guides you back to the table for the first course. “My little ballroom dancer.” He coos softly. “So perfect.”

“I’m just following your lead, love,” you remind him softly. There is nothing but pure love in your eyes.

“Nothing I love more than to lead you around the dance floor, and hopefully something more tonight.” He smirks slightly and helps you sit down.

“I think we’ve moved past hope and into certainty.” As you sit down you give his hand a squeeze. You’re ready. Completely ready.

“Never want you to feel like you can’t end things immediately.” Max sits down and he immediately reaches for your hand.

“I know.” And you appreciate it more than you can say. “But I don’t think that will be the case.” If you’re honest, you’ve started to crave the closeness of him, so tonight is exactly what you want.

“I guarantee it won’t.” He winks at you playfully. “But I do want my wife to tell me exactly what she expects of her husband.”

“I promise.” And you will. Just…not where an army of servants can overhear every detail. That conversation is reserved for when you’re actually alone.

He can see the way your eyes flicker to the staff and he hums. “As you wish, Queenie.”

Dinner is gorgeous. An intricate dance all its own, executed with a precision that you really have to admire. Alice’s staff is amazing and the food is to die for. The band plays several more lovely songs for you, and you and Max dance well into the night. When you finally thank them for their time and go upstairs for the evening, you feel like you’re floating on air.

Max marvels at how warm and soft your hand is in his. Waiting for you to start sweating or even get slightly clammy from nerves, but you never do. Just soft sighs of happiness and beguiling smiles as you look over at him. "Tired, sweetheart?"

"Not at all." You've said goodnight to Renee and to Emmanuel's valet already, telling them you don't need help getting ready to sleep tonight, and that leaves just you and Max alone in your room together with a fire to keep you warm. "I do want to go to bed, though."

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo

VW: @haileymorelikestupid, @miraclesabound @nastiasnow @vabeachazn @oberynslady @grogusmum @kittenlittle24 @8-900 @survivingandenduring @ktmadden86 @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sweetnsaltyclussy @survivingandenduring

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #time travel #mysterious inheritance #witches #vampires #it's the Gilded Age bitches!

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gabessquishytum · 7 months

Note

Pregnant Omega Hob; Alpha Doctor Dream -- Hob was left by the Alpha who knocked him. It's not a great situation, but Hob can't wait to meet his sprog.

Hob has, at least, changed towns to be closer to his support system, what with the peanut on the way (and if only to keep Joanna from bugging him) he's also looking for a new doctor.

Doctor Endless came highly recommended, some local bot made good who came home to his small town. Hob wasn't expecting Dr. Endless <<Please, call me Dream>> to be attractive.

It's "challenging" to flirt with a hot Alpha with pregnancy hormones going wild and pregnant by some one else. Joanna is going to give him so much sh*t.

Alskdjgjgjdkd this is a very Hob situation to get into??? I love it when he’s a bit of a disaster omega, but absolutely doing his best and about to be the best daddy this world has ever seen.

He’s already had a 10 week scan and he’s about 14 weeks when he shows up at Dream’s surgery looking to introduce himself and get a quick checkup. The move has been tough on him and he’s a little worried that it’ll impact on the kiddo, and Dream is happy to do the usual checkups. He ultimately advises Hob to rest as much as possible and call if he needs absolutely anything. Dream has a reputation around town for being frosty, and he’s looking to change that… helping out a single, pregnant omega seems like the ideal kind of good deed.

Hob, meanwhile, is crushing hard on the kind alpha doctor. His hormones are crazy and he has to reign in need to ask Dream to move in with him or something crazy. He leaves the doctor’s office flushed and growling at himself to calm down. There’s no way that he’s going to pull a hot, smart doctor alpha when he’s waddling around with someone else’s kid inside him.

But the more they run into each other around the small town, the more Dream’s begrudging kindness turns into genuinely pleasant feelings about Hob. They meet in the library by chance and talk about books, Dream suggests Shakespearean baby names and Hob is like "actually ever since I got pregnant Shakespeare makes me sick." Dream starts to think that he's actually rather funny and charming.

...and hot. Every time he sees Hob, a little bigger, a little more pregnant, starting to support his belly with his hands... Dream feels this little nudge of arousal. Fortunately Hob doesn't come into his surgery for any more pregnancy stuff because Dream thinks he might spontaneously combust if he saw Hob without his cute maternity clothes on. He's still trying to be Hob’s friend though, which means he can gaze at the omega as much as he likes (in a non professional setting).

Hob thought his chances with Dream would decrease as the pregnancy progressed, but now he can see it's the opposite. Dream definitely has the hots for him. It's a good thing too because by the third trimester, Hob is horny as FUCK and he needs an alpha to fuck him. Dream did say to call if he needed any help, right?

When Dream rushes over to Hob’s place after a call, he isn't expecting to find his friend in lingerie that he grew out of 3 months ago, begging to be knotted. But of course Dream hurries to help him out - it would be cruel not to! And Dream couldn't resist even if he tried.

Much later Dream’s family are like "when we said you should be nicer, we didn't mean MARRY AN OMEGA WHO'S BEEN KNOCKED UP BY SOMEONE ELSE". But Dream just smiles. However many babies Hob has, they'll all be Dream’s. No matter what.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw omegaverse #cw pregnancy

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totowlff · 7 months

Text

chapter fourteen — even three, four, or five

➝ it's time to cassie and toto discover a little more about their 'little bean'

➝ word count: 3,9k

➝ warnings: mentions of medical procedures, christian horner

�� author’s note: i know it took us too long, but cassie is finally back, and with news!

14 WEEKS Many moms-to-be begin to feel hungrier, more energetic and less nauseous as early pregnancy symptoms start to subside. Meanwhile, your baby's getting chubbier by the day, and may be starting to sprout some hair.

— Are you nervous? — Toto leaned over to ask Cassie, as they sat in adjoining chairs in the waiting room of the obstetrics clinic — Because I am.

— No, I wasn’t even thinking about it — Cassie said, dryly — I was trying to think of what to make for dinner later.

Toto’s expression turned to confusion as he turned his head to the left a bit to glance at the woman in the chair beside him.

— You can’t be serious…

Cassie sighed.

— Of course I’m nervous, Toto. I’m trying not to be, but… I just keep thinking that something is wrong. I don’t know why. I hope I’m just being paranoid. Plus, I’m kind of hoping we… Find out the sex today.

Cassie put one of her hands on her belly. She was starting to show more clearly — it no longer looked like she had some bad gas or a big lunch. She had opted to start wearing leggings and long shirts to work, because her work trousers and jeans no longer fit. She hadn’t started shopping for maternity clothes, but was a bit hesitant about actually wearing them yet, at least until she disclosed the pregnancy. She hadn’t yet told her colleagues, resolving to do so after the 14th week scan that she and Toto were on their way to.

The pregnancy seemed to be arriving at the stages where Cassie felt undeniably pregnant, and not like she was experiencing a persistent mild flu. The morning sickness had stopped, but instead, Cassie felt ravenously hungry, and was experiencing a strange pain around her hips that her doctor said was apparently an expected symptom. She had started doing some gentle yoga to help relieve the pain, and had discovered the joy of a nightly warm bath.

They’d discussed the sex of their baby when the idea of pregnancy was just something theoretical — something they both wanted and were looking forward to, but not yet reality.

Like most parents, their preference was for a healthy baby, and sex was a secondary matter. Still, it didn’t stop Cassie from daydreaming of a little girl.

She’d never gotten along with boys, for the most part. She had always preferred to play with her sister over her brother, and until university, her brother was the only boy she’d spent a significant amount of time with. She’d gone to an all-girls school growing up and, even in the present day, she had a much better relationship with her sister than her brother. And, though it was anecdotal, she remembered her sister-in-law having a much easier time with her three girls than Helena had with Tommy. He was a sweet boy at age 4, but was somewhat of a terror when he was a baby.

For Toto’s part, he was also hoping for a girl. His sister had three boys that Toto adored — and were very nice when Cassie had met them — but said he could more clearly envision a daughter than a son. Cassie also suspected that Toto was also probably a bit swayed by his mother remarking that she still wanted a granddaughter.

But, if it was their destiny to have a boy, so be it. Cassie just hoped the baby would get Toto’s dimples.

They had scheduled Cassie’s 14-week scan for an afternoon during a week with no races. Toto felt so horrible about being late for Cassie’s first ultrasound that he had his assistant block off his entire day after lunch, and they would be going to Cassie’s flat after the appointment to talk about their preparations for the baby while they had dinner together.

Toto wanted to drive her, but Cassie insisted that they each take their own cars.

— What will people say if they see us leaving the factory together, in your car, and early?

— Honestly, it doesn’t matter to me — Toto said, shrugging. Seeing Cassie's incredulous expression, he continued — Really, it’s not anyone’s business.

But then, Cassie pointed out that driving separately would save them a trip back to the factory after their appointment to pick up her car

Toto left a few minutes ahead of Cassie, but waited for her in the clinic’s car park so that they could go in together. It felt nice, as did being back to an exam room as “Miss Aldersey and Mr. Wolff”. “If only it were Mr. and Mrs. Wolff”, Cassie’s mind supplied, unhelpfully. Cassie followed the now-familiar routine of lowering her pants and hiking up her shirt before her obstetrician, Dr. Reynolds, knocked on the door and walked in.

— Good afternoon, Miss Aldersey, Mr Wolff — she said, giving them each a handshake in greeting. As she washed her hands and prepared the ultrasound equipment, she asked Cassie about the progress of her pregnancy — Any excessive pain, or unusual bleeding?

— No — Cassie said, as the doctor turned off the lights. Cassie, then, felt Toto gently squeeze her hand. He was perched on a stool next to the exam table — Just the pain around my hips and belly that we talked about at my last appointment, but taking a warm bath helps when it gets really bad.

— Good — Dr. Reynolds said, as she started to smear Cassie’s belly with gel — All of those ligaments are starting to stretch and loosen as your body goes through so many changes. Some gentle stretching or yoga is also helpful. Now, let’s hope your baby is cooperative today so we can get some good images.

As the doctor was getting the transducer ready, Cassie caught sight of Toto out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were fixed directly on her belly, his expression inscrutable.

— Something wrong? — Cassie asked.

— No, I just… I hadn’t realized how much you’re, um… Showing, until now — Toto said, quietly. He looked sheepish, and if the light in the room wasn’t so dim, Cassie would swear she could see him blushing — You’ve been wearing those bigger shirts and dresses lately at work, so this is the first time I’ve seen you like this. You look… Beautiful.

He brought the hand he was holding to his lips and gently kissed her fingers, and Cassie could feel herself blushing, but before she could say anything, the doctor had started the scan, and both of them turned their attention to the monitor.

A grainy, pulsing, black-and-white image displayed on the screen as the doctor passed the transducer over Cassie’s belly.

— Okay, let’s see where we are…

The blurring resolved into a definite image, the profile of something that looked like the profile of a baby’s head appearing. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she thought she felt Toto’s gentle hold on her hand tighten. The last scan she had was too early in her pregnancy for anything to show other than something small, peculiar, and alien-looking, but now…

— It’s our baby — Toto whispered. Cassie smiled and took her eyes off the screen to look up at Toto. He was transfixed, a smile on his face as he watched the baby’s movements. After a moment, his eyes started shining, reflecting the light of the ultrasound screen in the darkness.

Cassie squeezed his hand.

— Are you okay? — she whispered. But even as she asked, she knew exactly what he was feeling, because she felt it, too; the surreal enormity, the hope, the fear, all of it at once. Toto squeezed her hand back, and he glanced back down at Cassie. He tried to hide a sniffle, but it was unsuccessful.

The doctor took some measurements, and explained that, at least at first glance, everything looked to be going as expected.

— Now, you can’t always see it at this point in gestational development, but do you want to know the sex, if we can see it?

Cassie briefly glanced at Toto, each of them seeming to ask the other’s permission.

— Yes, I think we both wanted to find out today, if we can — Cassie said, and Toto nodded.

The doctor moved the transducer to the other side of Cassie’s belly, squinting at the screen once more. Cassie watched, feeling like she should know exactly what she was looking at, but all she saw were more blurry, undulating lines.

— Let’s see… Ah, there we go. Now, again, it’s not always the most accurate at this point, and we’ll confirm when you’re further along, but — Dr. Reynolds said, pointing at something on the console screen. Cassie squinted to see what the doctor was pointing at, apparently seeing something specific in the monochrome mass of pulsating shapes — You can see the two legs here, and if you look at this bit here, you see how it’s parallel to the spine? That means, more than likely, you’ll be having a little girl.

Cassie felt her entire body flood with warmth, and felt Toto squeezing her hand, but after that, things barely registered for a few moments. She hadn’t dared to get her hopes up that her intuition had been correct. She had done some cursory searches online to see how people thought they could tell, and every method described seemed like an old wives’ tale, and that she’d have to try and summon the patience to simply wait.

After a moment, she thought to look at Toto to see what he thought. He’d also mentioned that he would want a girl if he had a choice — but, like Cassie, would simply be content with a healthy, happy baby — and his joy was plain to see in the expression on his face. Many would call Toto a difficult man to read, but Cassie never thought so, particularly when he was happy or excited about something. When he was genuinely happy, it seemed like his smile spread to every part of his face. The subtle dimples in his cheeks would emerge, and his nose would scrunch in a way that Cassie always thought made him look even more handsome.

By the look on Toto’s face as he looked at Cassie, he was overjoyed.

— Toto — Cassie said, feeling her voice starting to waver and her eyes start to fill with tears — We’re having a girl!

Dr. Reynolds smiled as she continued taking the last of the images she needed.

— Congratulations, mum and dad. I am guessing that was what you were hoping for?

Cassie opened her mouth to respond, but Toto got to it sooner.

— Yes, we discussed it a while ago. Of course, we’d be happy with a healthy baby of either sex, but — Toto turned to look down at Cassie again, the expression on his face so tender and happy that it made Cassie’s insides feel like jelly — I think from the start, both of us imagined having a little girl. And I have three nephews, so… The whole family was hoping for a girl.

Whatever Toto was telling the doctor after that point, Cassie wasn’t sure. She felt like she was floating from then on, even as Dr. Reynolds finished up the remainder of the appointment, gave her some instructions, and sent her to schedule her next ultrasound.

As she and Toto left the clinic and walked to where they’d each parked their cars in the parking lot, she felt a strange electric frisson between them, no doubt caused by the way he kept a hand tenderly around her lower back as they walked along the sidewalk outside of the clinic, but she knew that it was just him being nice, playing his role as the good partner-but-not. She felt an almost desperate urge to envelop him in a hug, to reach up and kiss him right there, regardless of who would see, but she shoved it down.

— So, um… Your place, right? — Toto said, as they got to where they’d parked next to each other.

— What? — Cassie said, blinking in surprise.

— I thought we were going to have dinner, and discuss, uh, logistics — Toto said, letting his hand go from Cassie’s lower back as he fumbled in his black cordura briefcase for his car keys.

— Right. Yes, that’s right — Cassie said, shaking her head in an attempt to regain her wits.

— Well, then, I’ll follow you — Toto said, smiling as he unlocked the door to his car and climbed in.

The entire drive back her flat was a blur in Cassie’s mind as it raced between dinner plans and baby plans, and by the time she unlocked the door to her flat and let Toto inside, her mind was a swirling mass of pink onesies, plush bunnies, and what to have with the chicken breasts that she left to thaw in the refrigerator for dinner.

In the end, she found some sweet potatoes in her pantry, and had some asparagus and tomatoes that needed to be used. She implored Toto to relax while she prepared dinner, not being used to having to contend with another person in the kitchen while she cooked, but Toto insisted on helping, so he chopped the vegetables while she set to work seasoning and baking the chicken.

Dinner came together quickly, and as they started eating, Toto was the first to cut through the silence.

— So, a little girl. Have you been thinking of any names, or did you want to wait to decide?

Cassie thought for a moment while she took a drink of water.

— I haven’t given it too much thought, beyond what I told you before, that I didn’t really want to give her a classical name, you know, like my family would want. But it would be nice to give her a name, you know. I’ve just been thinking of it — she hesitated, before correcting herself — Her, I guess, as “the baby”.

— Well — Toto said — I wouldn’t mind giving her a Nordic name, like my family does. That way it would be unique, but not so much that she’s likely to be made fun of in school, or anything.

Cassie giggled.

— You say that like you have experience with that.

Toto rolled his eyes.

— I don’t dislike my name, but Torger isn’t a name that a lot of kids in Vienna come across very regularly. Let’s just say that my nickname was, um… How do you call it… Invented pretty early on in my school days.

— Well, alright. So, what kinds of names does that give us — Cassie said, picking up her phone. She paged through one of the dozens of pastel-colored websites open in her browser tabs that she’d been visiting over the past few weeks, before finding a naming dictionary she had particularly liked looking through — There’s the obvious ones, like Freya, Sif, and Astrid… No, those might have the same problem that your name gave you.

Toto laughed, and Cassie continued.

— Elsa… No, people will just think we named her after that Disney movie… Edda… That sounds kind of, I don’t know, old lady-ish. Erika? No, I went to school with an Erika, I didn’t care for her. Juni is… That’s cute, I guess…

Toto pulled his chair closer to Cassie’s to look at the list of names with her, and Cassie angled the screen so he could get a better look.

— Birgit? — Toto said — That’s a nice name, and not uncommon in Austria.

— Isn’t that what Niki Lauda’s wife is named? — Cassie said, turning her head to look at Toto.

— Yes… And I think it’s a nice name.

— I know, but giving your child the name of someone you know feels odd, don’t you think? Plus, most English people would probably pronounce it incorrectly most of the time. And that leaves out Brigitta and Brigette, too. Asta? That one is nice.

— No, that reminds me of that sparkling wine — Toto said, crinkling his nose a bit — There’s Kirsten, but that one feels almost a bit too ordinary.

— Yes — Cassie sighed — And plus, she’d probably get called Kristen more often than not.

— Oh, what about… Ingrid? — Toto said, pointing at the name on Cassie’s phone screen — That’s a nice name. It’s easy enough in English, it’s a common enough name in German…

Cassie thought for a moment. She had a feeling like something snapped into place, like she had solved a complicated maths problem, or like she’d remembered a word that was on the tip of her tongue.

Almost involuntarily, her hand moved to her belly, cradling the growing swell of her abdomen.

— Ingrid. I like it. Ingrid — she repeated the name, like she was testing it out. She couldn’t help but feel like it was a good fit, that it felt right.

— Ingrid Aldersey-Wolff — Toto said, a distinct note of pride in his voice.

— No… Just Ingrid Wolff — Cassie said, looking down at her belly. Her voice went quiet — It sounds nice, doesn’t it? We’ll need to come up with a middle name, but…

— You really don’t want her to have your surname too? — Toto asked, delicately.

— No. It wouldn’t feel right giving her something that I don’t even want — Cassie said, giving Toto a serious look.

Toto pressed his mouth into a thin line, and nodded slightly.

— Ingrid Wolff.

According to the obstetrician, it was a bit too early in the pregnancy for Cassie to start feeling the baby kicking, but she thought she felt a distinct flutter from her belly. It may have been just her imagination, or something akin to nervous butterflies, but it felt like a sign, like the universe had given her at least one of the answers she was looking for.

— Our little Ingrid — she said, feeling the warmth she’d felt earlier spreading through her body once more.

She and Toto finished eating in a more companionable silence, and Toto cleaned up the dishes once they were finished, at his insistence. After the dishes were in the dishwasher, they sat close together on the couch, scrolling through more parenting websites, discussing whatever came to mind.

— Oh, I forgot to tell you this, but I started this… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s sort of a visual scrapbook of things that you can save — she said, navigating to a website on her laptop. Toto peered over at the screen, his brow furrowing. She knew that Toto wasn’t tuned in to most social media websites, so she kept her explanation brief — But I made it mostly so we can gather ideas for how we want to decorate the nursery. I know it’s probably not, you know, a priority, but…

— No, I want to see. After all, it will be my daughter’s first bedroom.

Cassie almost couldn’t contain her joy at hearing Toto say the words “my daughter”, and given the smile that spread across Toto’s face near-immediately, it wasn’t easy for him, either.

For the next hour, they looked at pictures of nurseries online, saving the things that appealed to them. Both of them were in agreement about not wanting something stereotypically “girly” with everything in shades of pink.

— I like a minimalist look — Toto said — But…

— I know, I’ve seen your office — Cassie quipped.

Toto shot her a knowing glance.

— But all of these gray or beige rooms that are supposed to be neutral, they’re awfully depressing for children, no?

— I know, but that’s what it’s fashion these days, from what I gather. But we don’t have to decide anything right now, we still have — Cassie paused, trying to do the mental calculation from the estimated due date that Dr. Reynolds gave them earlier — About 26 weeks before we have to worry about it.

— I know — Toto said, standing up from Cassie’s sofa — 26 weeks until we meet our daughter. Ingrid. Anyway, I think I should head home. Early day tomorrow, as always. And you should get your rest.

Cassie set her laptop on the coffee table, and stood up with him, following after him as he walked to the front door.

— Yes. Ingrid Wolff. Ingrid… And, like you said, we’ll need to think of a middle name.

— We will. We have 26 weeks — Toto said, carefully slipping his shoes on.

— It will go by quickly though, so I’ve heard — Cassie said, giving Toto a small smile once he stood back up straight.

There was a slight pause before Toto opened his arms, prompting Cassie to step forward into a hug. It was soft and gentle, making Cassie feel the fluttering from deep down in her belly again as Toto pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead before he stepped back slightly.

— Do you mind if I…? — he said, pointing to Cassie’s belly.

— Go ahead — Cassie said, feeling her face flush — She is… Ingrid is… Is your daughter, after all.

It was surreal seeing Toto bend over slightly and mutter something in German with only the words tochter and Ingrid clear to Cassie as he put his hand on the bump, but not in an unpleasant way, quite the contrary.

As Toto said goodbye to her again and Cassie went about her bedtime routine, she realized that it was what made the pregnancy finally feel real, and concrete like nothing before had. Not the initial test results, not telling her sister and mother, not the episodes of morning sickness, not even telling Toto when he got back from Barcelona, but the fact that their daughter had a name, like she was already a person and not a hypothetical, not a “little bean” or the other corny euphemisms that the parenting websites used to refer to a baby while it was still in utero.

The thrill hadn’t dissipated the next morning, either, and with a quick message to Toto to get his — not his approval, but to see if he had any objections — she set out to do something she’d been waiting to do for what felt like ages.

A few hours later, in the marketing team meeting, Victoria, her boss, asked the group if there were any new agenda items to discuss, and Cassie raised her hand.

— I know this isn’t really related to the business, but I have some personal news — she said. She could feel a quaver coming to her voice as she spoke.

— Go ahead — Victoria said, giving her a nod.

— I found out a few weeks ago, but… I’m pregnant.

There was a momentary silence in the room, and Cassie noticed the momentary collective confusion on her colleagues’ faces, until one of her colleagues, Imogen, clapped her hands together and practically squealed with joy.

— Oh, that’s wonderful, Cassie! Congratulations!

What followed seemed to be an avalanche of well-wishes and questions in equal measure.

— When are you due? — one of her other coworkers asked.

— Have you found out the sex yet?

— I didn’t even know you were trying, that’s amazing — another said.

Cassie thought her colleagues looked a bit skeptical, and perhaps it was just her imagination. She certainly didn’t want to reveal the whole truth about the baby and her parentage, not when nobody else on the team knew about it, and her mind automatically slotted onto the story that she’d given her mother and sister a few weeks ago.

— Well, I met this guy named, er, Christian. He works in finance, and we met a few years ago… A friend set us up, and we fell in love… And we’ve both always wanted children, so we decided to start trying for a baby. We just found out yesterday that we’re having a little girl.

— That’s wonderful, Cassie — Victoria said, beaming at her.

— When you said Christian, I was afraid you were going to follow it with ‘Horner’ for a moment — Dan, one of the content writers, said, which prompted a ripple of chuckles around the room, and a scowl from Victoria.

Cassie laughed nervously, knowing that he wasn’t categorically wrong about the father of her baby being a team principal.

— God, could you imagine? — she said, trying to play off her nerves — That would be a nightmare.

#toto wolff #wlffog #formula 1 fic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x oc #toto wolff x oc #formula one fanfic #formula one fic #formula 1 x oc #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff fanfic #etlwlff

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matttgirlies · 10 days

Text

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - none

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 19

Matt and I often talked of having children, but we certainly weren’t planning on having them right away. Then one day we were at the ranch. It was early afternoon and Matt was still asleep. I lay in bed and felt a strange sensation in my stomach, a sensation I’d never felt before. I lay staring at the ceiling. No—it couldn’t be. Again, the same feeling. I slid out of bed. I’ll call Patsy, I thought. She’d know. I went to the phone in the next room.

“Patsy, when you found out you were pregnant, did you feel strange?”

“Strange like what?”

“You know. I mean, what did you feel?”

“Well, I missed my period.”

“But didn’t you feel something in your body, something strange?”

“I really don’t remember, y/n. Why?”

“Because I think I’m pregnant. I know I am. I’ve never felt this before.”

“Maybe it’s nerves.”

“No—I just have a funny feeling. I’ll talk to you later.”

I didn’t tell Matt right away: I couldn’t. But he saw that I was quiet and preoccupied.

If I were pregnant, I knew that our plans to travel would have to be postponed. I wouldn’t be able to head off to some exotic locale and leave my child with nurses and maids. For the first year, I truly wanted to be alone with Matt, without any responsibilities or obligations.

For a few days I was angry with Matt. Before the wedding I asked him if I should start taking birth-control pills, but he had been adamantly against it.

“They’re not good for you. I really don’t want you taking them. They’re not perfected yet, Baby. There’s all kinds of side effects.”

A week passed before I told Matt my suspicions. I expected him to react with the same mixed emotions I’d felt, but he was ecstatic. He made arrangements for me to see a doctor right away, accompanied me to the doctor’s office, and sat anxiously in the waiting room while I was examined.

When I came out I put my arms around him and said, “Guess what?”

“What? What?” He was barely able to contain himself.

“You’re going to be a dad.”

He couldn’t believe it and immediately wanted to tell everyone. Just then his father, who had driven over with us, came into the room. Matt grabbed him.

“Dad, you won’t believe this. y/nn’s gonna have a baby. You’re gonna be a grandad.”

“Good Lord Almighty,” James said, stunned. “You’re kiddin’ me.”

“No, Dad. We’re telling you the truth.” Then Matt teased him, saying, “You’re going to be a gray-headed granddaddy.”

I loved seeing Matt happy, but I was still uncertain about how my unexpected pregnancy would affect our marriage. This was supposed to have been our time alone. I wanted to be beautiful for him; instead, my debut as Matt’s bride was going to be spoiled by a fat stomach, puffy face, and swollen feet.

As far as I was concerned, the less people mentioned about my looking pregnant, the better. I intended to prove that a pregnant woman did not have to get fat. I wanted to refute Matt’s claim that “women use the excuse of their pregnancy to let themselves go.” Although the doctor said that a twenty five-pound gain would be fine, I immediately dropped from my normal one hundred ten pounds to one hundred. During the next four months, I regained just five pounds, and only nine more by the time of delivery. Eating one meal a day and snacking on apples and hardboiled eggs, I prided myself on never needing to buy a maternity outfit. My doctor advised that in addition to taking multiple vitamins I should consume plenty of dairy products. Being vain, I amended my doctor’s instructions and lessened my intake of dairy products. I did not want to gain weight and get stretch marks. As a further precaution I resolved to slather myself with cocoa butter for the next eight months.

A few days after I learned I was pregnant, we left Boston for L.A., where Matt was to begin preproduction on a new film, Speedway. It was to be the last drive in our customized bus before it was sold. During the trip, Matt and the guys had a ball, punching each other and playing practical jokes. I played photographer, clicking away at everyone. But when I kept smiling and laughing I still felt very ambivalent about my pregnancy. I wanted a baby, just not so soon.

Matt was extremely sensitive to my moods. He missed his little girl’s “twinkling eyes,” her “bright, smiling face.” Finally, in Flagstaff, Arizona, at a small roadside inn, he sat me down and said, “What do you want to do, Little One?”

I broke down and answered, “I don’t know. What can I do?”

“What do you think?” he said. “I’ll back you up whatever you want to do.”

Instantly I knew what he was talking about. He was leaving the decision up to me. “It’s our baby,” I said, sobbing. “I could never live with myself, neither could you.”

There were no words, only his smile of approval; he held me tightly in his arms as I cried. The two of us, bound by love, accepted our new little creation wholeheartedly.

When I first felt my baby move I suddenly understood the full joy of carrying our child. My smile returned when Matt delicately placed his hand on my slightly swollen stomach and said, “How can such a little person carry another little person?” The pregnancy was bringing us closer. He would call me from the studio every day, just to say hello and make sure I was fine. It was because of the baby that we decided to buy our first home in Los Angeles instead of leasing as we’d done in the past. While he was filming I searched the Beverly Hills-Bel Air area for a place that would suit us.

Later that fall, when we were in Arizona for location filming on “Stay Away, Joe”, I saw an advertisement in Variety for a house that sounded perfect: a beautiful home in Trousdale Estates, completely furnished, three bedrooms, a guest cottage, pool, and good security.

I flew back to L.A. The house was owned by a prominent landowner who was recently divorced. With a built-in bar, antique furnishings, and collectors’ art, it was a far cry from Rocca Place, where each room was decorated to each employee’s specification—a different carpet, a different color, a different style in each room. Unfortunately, I’d tried to satisfy everyone’s taste, and architectural indigestion was the result. This time I would be able to live with everything the way I liked.

As soon as Matt returned from Arizona we moved into our new home and began preparing a room for our baby. All I could think about was how happy I was, how wonderful life was.

Naturally, I got a lot of advice about what I should and shouldn’t do while I was pregnant. Steeped in her Southern superstitions, Grandma was especially solicitous, telling me I couldn’t brush my hair over my head or else I would wrap the umbilical cord around the baby. She also said I shouldn’t stand on my feet too long or my legs would swell and I wouldn’t be able to walk again. She was as concerned as any doting mother and some of my activities gave her reason to worry. I still kept up with my ballet, rode my motorcycle and my horse Domino, right up until the eighth month of pregnancy. Matt thought I was absolutely incredible to keep up with him in every way. That made me happy. I was pleasing him and still by his side every day.

Then I began hearing rumors about Matt and Madison Beer, the same rumors that I had read about in Germany: that she had a passionate crush on him, that they were having an affair. I was extremely sensitive and quick to cry. Matt assured me that I was just being oversensitive because of my condition. I agreed. Six months into my pregnancy Madison called and said she’d like to give me a baby shower. I didn’t know her that well and thought it a little strange that she was so accommodating. But Matt assured me that she was very nice and that I should get to know her. It was agreed that I would go to the shower under one condition, which Colonel suggested: All the pictures that were taken that day were to be handed over to me. That way, there’d be no shots popping up in the national movie magazines. It turned out quite nicely. Madison was very friendly and very supportive. I found that I liked her and I decided to ignore the rumors.

Life takes such surprising turns. Just when you’re getting confident, along comes the unexpected. I was upstairs at Graceland when Matt called me to his office, the one adjoining my dressing room. “y/nn, I have to have time to think. Things just aren’t going right. It’ll be good for the two of us to take a little time off, like a trial separation. Be apart from one another for a while.”

I wanted to die. I was seven months along and could not believe what I was hearing. It had to be a joke. “What are you saying? What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, Baby. You don’t understand. It’s not you. It’s just that I’m going through some things. I think it’d be better if we took a little break.”

I looked at him in silence, feeling a new strength. If he excluded me at this time, then he didn’t deserve me at all. I stood up and said, “You’ve got it. Just tell me when to leave.” I went into my dressing room and closed the door.

I was numb. This was not the man I knew. I instinctively withdrew, my affection numbed, my thoughts suspicious, my heart aching.

I don’t think Matt really intended to leave me. It wasn’t his style. I later realized he too had questions about how a baby would affect his life. Would his public accept him as a father? He wasn’t even sure if his fans had adapted to his becoming a husband. How loyal would they be?

Within a short time Matt’s sensitive nature brought him back to his senses. Two days had passed. The idea of a trial separation was never mentioned again. We both acted as if nothing had been said. It was at times like this that I wished Matt and I had the ability to truly communicate with each other, to confront our insecurities, fears, and frustrations instead of pretending these feelings weren’t there. We probably would have been surprised at how much understanding we both really had. I could not escape the impact his words had on me, leaving me with a sense of doubt.

As my pregnancy progressed, we still played hard. I wanted to be included in everything that everyone else did. That Christmas we went to the ranch and rode horses, had snowball fights and went on hayrides. Matt would sit up front in the wagon and call out to me, “How you doing, y/nn? That’s my girl. How’s she doing back there?”

I’d call back, “She’s doing pretty good. I’m okay.”

If we’d go horseback riding, he’d always ask me, “Are you sure you can do this? Did the doctor say you could?”

“Yes,” I’d answer. “I can do it.”

I was determined not to ask for special treatment.

It was only in the last month or so that I slowed down at all. Instead of sitting through two or three films a night, Matt would take me home after just one.

He arranged his schedule so that he could be home with me at Graceland during the final month. To be absolutely prepared for the big day, we even performed practice drills for the trip to Baptist Memorial Hospital. As my time drew near, Matt became more and more nervous.

On February 1, 1968, I awoke about eight o’clock and found the bed beneath me soaking wet. Frightened, I called my mother in New Jersey and she suggested I ring the doctor immediately. He told me to head straight for the hospital. I gently woke Matt up and told him the big day had arrived. Matt groggily asked me if I was sure. When I said yes, he called James and told him to notify everyone, then yelled downstairs, “She’s ready! y/nn is going to have the baby!”

Ignoring his frenzy, I disappeared calmly into the bathroom and applied my ever-so-black mascara and teased my ever-so-black hair. Later at the hospital I requested special permission to keep on my double set of lashes.

Downstairs there was pandemonium. As planned, the decoy cars raced off first, Steven and Nate frantically waving for the fans to follow them. Then we took off, but despite the rehearsals we headed straight for the wrong hospital. We had changed hospitals, but obviously Jerry, who was driving, hadn’t been informed. Charlie Hodge saved the day, convincing Jerry it was Baptist Memorial, not Methodist. Luckily we arrived in time.

Our daughter, Charlotte Grace, was born at 5:01 that afternoon. The nurse brought her into my room and I cradled her in my arms. I couldn’t believe she was mine, that I had borne this child. She was so tiny, so beautiful. Matt came into the room and kissed me, thrilled that we had a perfectly normal, healthy baby. He was already in love with her. He watched me holding her and his eyes misted with happiness. Then he took us both in his arms and held us.

“Baby,” he whispered, “We have a little baby girl.”

“I know,” I whispered back.

I asked if he wanted to hold her. He looked petrified at first, but then he started to touch her. He played with her hands, her feet. He was in awe, saying, “I can’t believe that I made part of this beautiful child.” Matt knew that I had wanted the baby to have dark hair like his, and Charlotte had been born with lots of silky black hair. “She’s so perfect,” he said, “even the color of her hair is right.”

We stayed in each other’s arms for a long time, caressing our infant and each other, a young couple sharing the first pleasures of parenthood.

The man in my hospital room that day was the man I loved, and will always love. He didn’t have to try to be strong and decisive or sexy, he wasn’t afraid to show his warmth or vulnerability. He didn’t have to act the part of Matt Sturniolo, superstar. He was just a man, my husband.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - this is the cutest chapter ill write i swear its so so cute🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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thepro-lifemovement · 1 year

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For the second time in as many years, the Senate Education Committee’s chairman and other lawmakers are trying to pass a paid maternity leave bill for teachers.

Part of Sen. Adam Pugh’s education agenda, SB 364 would require districts to provide 12 weeks of paid maternity leave for teachers, the bill and Pugh’s education agenda come as the House has already passed its own education plan that does not include a maternity leave requirement for teachers.

“I honestly can’t think of a more pro-life thing that we can do in this body than support moms who just had a baby,” Pugh (R-Edmond) said in a committee hearing Feb. 14. “When I start to look at what most civilized nations around the world are doing, they’re doing significantly more than 12 weeks.”

If passed, the legislation would put Oklahoma ahead of many other states regarding teacher benefits.

While teachers qualify for the Family and Medical Leave Act, a national law passed by Congress in 1993 that requires employers to provide employees with up to 12 weeks of unpaid, job-protected leave per year, only 13 states and the District of Columbia have paid parental leave laws, according to the Bipartisan Policy Center, a Washington, D.C., think tank. Oklahoma is not one of those states currently.

For teachers specifically, an Education Week article from August indicates that only a “handful” of states provide paid maternity leave for teachers.

Of the states that border Oklahoma, only Missouri and Colorado have paid parental leave laws for teachers. Arkansas, Kansas and New Mexico governors have all signed executive orders providing parental leave to employees of state agencies, but those orders do not apply to teachers.

#Oklahoma #prolife bills #prolife legislation #prolife #pro life #pro-life #maternity leave #parental leave

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tomorrowusa · 10 months

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In addition to bombing maternity hospitals, playgrounds, and apartment buildings, Putin's war criminals are now bombing cathedrals.

This was the second time that the vast, sand-yellow Transfiguration Cathedral, which sits in the heart of Odesa’s Unesco-listed historic centre, had been attacked: in the 1930s, it was torn down during Joseph Stalin’s atheism drive. On Sunday morning, the rebuilt version was hit during a Russian airstrike on the city. A missile blew a large hole in the roof, collapsed the altar and left several walls charred by fire. It was one of several strikes on the southern port city in the early hours. Schools, residential buildings and a revered 19th-century mansion also suffered damage. One person was killed and 14 were hospitalised, the regional governor said.

Central Odesa is a designated World Heritage Site.

Putin is having another major hissy fit. His three-day "special operation" to wipe out Ukraine as a country began on 24 February 2022 and marks its 17th month today. He is currently attacking the port city of Odesa because that is where most of Ukraine's grain is exported. If Putin can't have Ukraine, developing countries can't have grain.

Russia has been hitting Odesa relentlessly since Moscow last week pulled out of a deal allowing Ukrainian grain to be exported from the city’s Black Sea ports. The Russian defence ministry has also threatened to treat commercial ships attempting to dock in Odesa as military targets in order to ensure that no grain can leave the city. “Russia’s current strategy is to destroy Odesa. They would never really attack foreign-flagged ships coming to Odesa, so they are attacking Odesa to make it clear that it’s too dangerous here,” said Oleksiy Honcharenko, a Ukrainian MP from the city. He said Ukraine urgently needed more air defence systems. Even by the standards of Russia’s ruthless war strategy, a missile strike on a historic cathedral – one that was consecrated by the patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, no less – was a shocking development. The priests at the scene were dumbfounded. “This is barbarism, it’s terrorism. The people who did this are not people at all,” said Myroslav Vdodovych, the cathedral’s chief priest, as he walked through the ruins in a fluorescent orange helmet, taking calls on his mobile phone and directing emergency workers to spots where there was still rubble to clear.

Of course it's terrorism. Russia has become a terrorist state under Putin. Putin runs the country like the head of a fascist mafia.

We need to send ATACMS and F-16s to Ukraine. Fortunately Ukrainian pilots are already in the process of being trained to fly F-16s.

A lot of the terrorist missiles used against Ukraine are fired from planes flying over the international waters of the Black Sea. Ukraine needs the ability to shoot down Putin's flying terrorists. Let them sleep with the fishes along with the Moskva.

#invasion of ukraine #odesa #grain exports #transfiguration cathedral in odesa #russians bombing churches #world heritage site #russia is a terrorist state #vladimir putin #putin is a war criminal #give atacms to ukraine #give f-16s to ukraine #stand with ukraine #россия - террористическая страна #владимир путин #военные преступления #путин хуйло #долой путина #бей путина #путлер #путин – это лжедмитрий iv а не пётр великий #объект всемирного наследия #руки прочь от украины!#геть з україни #вторгнення оркостану в україну #одеса #спасо-преображенський собор #україна переможе #слава україні!#героям слава!#будь сміливим як україна

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mercuryhaze · 2 months

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MUN INTRO: hey! my name's peyton [th/th, cst, 21+] & i'll be writing for sverre olsen, lee hyeon, selena palacio & dylan hwang here. you can find me on discord @ #seamonkeydefender & please feel free to add me w/o asking as well! discord is my preferred plotting method. all of my characters are on sideblogs aside from sverre, so i will be dming from @portra400s when necessary... hehe

CHARA INTRO: next up, dylan hwang. he's a 27yr old yuseong bay native, though his heart's not entirely here & he's only recently come back. he's the manager of ojo records and a "rockstar" (used loosely) on hiatus. you can view his stats here & his pinterest here if interested!

answer the following prompts, either ooc or ic!

when did your muse first arrive in yuseong bay?: in general, 20+ years ago. dylan was born & raised in santa monica, ca, usa, but spent summers in yuseong bay with his maternal grandparents & then relocated to yuseong bay with his mom when he was about 14. lived in the area until he was 19, then moved to seoul. moved back to yuseong bay in late january 2024 to take some time to focus on himself/his physical & mental health.

what does an average day look like for your muse?: wake up, tend to his pet rats, go to work around 10:20am / open the shop by 11am, work until 6:30pm, get dinner, find something social to do for a while (or skip this step), go home, tend to his pet rats, chill, do chores, chill, kiss his rats goodnight, go to bed.

where can your muse usually be found?: first and foremost, ojo records. as the manager & one of two employees, he's pretty much always there. his favorite post-work hangout is pierrot lanes, where he either hangs around the pool tables to hustle anyone who doesn't know better or plays some of the more classic arcade games. hangs out at 88& bar more than he ought to as someone who's trying to quit drinking, but still not as often as you'd think—maybe two nights a week. stops by memoire antiques every weekend, usually around noon on either saturday or sunday. sometimes goes through stints where he won't be seen anyone other than work, as he'll be rotting in bed for the rest of his time. usually tries to stay busy.

how does your muse feel about hanwha resort?: it's complicated.

is there an aspiration for your muse to stay in or leave yuseong bay?: on one hand, yuseong bay is his hometown & where all of his remaining family is located.... on the other, it's a little too quiet for him. but at this moment in time, he's staying in yuseong bay to "reconnect with his roots", take it slow and try to take on a healthier lifestyle, as the way he was living in seoul turned him into a candle burning at both ends & he'll be in yuseong bay until he feels like that's become a more stable and mature person.

answer the following, ooc!

list your muse's three favorite songs: california dreamin' by the mamas and the papas, big jet plane by angus & julia stone, (don't fear) the reaper by blue oyster cult; a fan of songs that sound "nostalgic" and/or vaguely threatening.

describe your muse's style: eclectic; a big fan of streetwear, collects brands such as nike, vans, chinatown market, stray rats, thisisneverthat, etc. likes bright colors (mainly green, blue, red) and interesting fabrics such as corduroy and sherpa. has his nails painted almost all the time.

color, word, and emoji to describe your muse: prussian blue, "electric", 🛹

three strong likes and dislikes for your muse: really likes clowns, history, fresh baked snickerdoodle cookies / really doesn't like people who disagree with him on certain musical opinions, his mom nagging at him to cut his hair when it's already short enough as is, bars that don't allow tabs.

three positive and negative traits for your muse: positive humorous, enthusiastic, adventurous / negative avoidant, self-critical, over-indulgent.

three talents and shortcomings for your muse: good at coming up with things on the spot/making split-second decisions, knows a handful of magic tricks, stupidly good at "rasputin" in just dance / poor conflict resolution skills, holds himself to very low standards, can't cook decent steak no matter how hard he tries.

what is a book/tv series/movie/video game character that you feel your character relates to?: he's inspired a bit by jonah simms from superstore & nick miller from newgirl, so do with that what you will.

a relevant goal or arch for your character to overcome: for starters, dylan is a man who never made peace with the loss of his father, which happened fourteen years ago now so hopefully being with his family again/taking a break from his fast-paced lifestyle will help him kind of heal??? TW ALCOHOLISM he's also trying to get sober because in general he has an addictive personality and should really quit before it gets any worse than it already is and also he experienced alcohol poisoning and that shit is no joke. so yeah... get sober! END TW

ADDITIONAL INFO.

dylan is the founder, frontman & lead guitarist of a band interchangeably called both haze & through the haze, which he started when he was 19, shortly after he moved to seoul. their main inspirations are cited as being the cocteau twins & blue oyster cult. they never got to the point of being a widely known name, but they're performed at various indie rock festivals nationwide. currently on an indefinite hiatus as dylan decided to take some time to focus on himself & get healthy, which is nice and all, but the rest of the band's kinda pissed 'cause they've been fighting to get a record deal, they finally got one and dylan blew it off. their discography draws from the likes of silica gel, thornapple, hyukoh & the black skirts.

he's from santa monica, california, where he was born and raised for the first 14 years of his life, but he spent summers in yuseong bay with his maternal grandparents. his dad passed away in late 2009, and in early 2010, dylan, his sister, his mother, and his uncle richie (his dad's brother) all relocated to yuseong bay permanently.

dylan's mom opened a hair salon in the area, which she still owns and works at to this day. dylan's sister works there with her, and dylan briefly worked there when he was 18-19 (despite not being licensed lmfao). every now and then he'll pop in to help still.

dylan moved to seoul in 2016, where he resided with only one or two visits to yuseong bay a year up until he moved back in january 2024.

is now the manager of ojo records! the job was absolutely handed to him, as his uncle richie is a good friend of the owner & dylan spent a good amount of time with the two of them while he was growing up. but despite getting handed the job, he is actually a dedicated manager.

he skateboards & is good at it, but falls a lot because he always wants to be better and achieve more. often scraped up.

lives alone with his two pet rats. somewhat of a hoarder. not intervention-level yet, but it could probably get to that point if he's not careful. collects objects to fill his emotional void.

#yshqs:intro

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marvelandponder · 2 months

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15Qs and 15As!

Thanks for the tag, Marvel, this sounds fun! Tagging: @smallcrystals, @digikate813, @eddiescorner, and @bevinbrand if she feels like it :) Don't dox yourself on the 'where were you born' question tho, y'all. We're better than that. Are you named after anyone? Two people! My Uncle Stephen and my Nana (maternal grandmother). My brother was named after my dad's high school best friends

When was the last time you cried? I think the last time was a couple weeks ago watching anime. I love a good cry, I've embraced that that's how I express a lot of emotions

Do you have kids? Nope! I'd like to someday, but all in due time.

What sports do you play/have you played? I'm not a team sports kind of girl anymore, but I played soccer as a kid and really enjoyed that.

Do you use sarcasm? Usually only obvious sarcasm. Bevin and I will often use excessively obvious sarcasm with each other to express love. A little linguistic game we play with each other. We never enjoy spending hours and hours on the phone together. So unlike us! Where would you get that idea?

What is the first thing you notice about people? First thing? I feel like my anxiety is charge of that: looking out for how friendly they seem, what they laugh at (if they do), how approachable they might be. I had pretty bad social anxiety disorder from like 14 - 22ish and human beings tend to do the social thing once or twice.

What is your eye color? Hazel! Looks brown but up close you can see there's a lot of green around my pupils, too.

Scary movies or happy endings? My media diet is heavily skewed towards happy endings but every now and then, nothing satisfies like a good tragedy.

Any talents? People know I like the writing thing! I'm also learning to draw now and picking up guitar again for the first time since before uni!

Where were you born? A hospital about... 30 - 40 minutes away from me? I don't live in that city anymore, and haven't since I was 3, but we stayed in the same general province!

Don't dox yourself, folks!

What are your hobbies? Writing, drawing, guitar, going for bike rides or walks. Geeking out by myself or with friends! I'm also starting to learn some German and pick up a few more cooking skills.

Do you have any pets? Nah, wish I did. My living situation doesn't allow for it. But my dad has a dog who I love so much and get to visit! And my sister has two cats who used to live with us that are excellent cuddlers.

How tall are you? Uhhhhh I think 5'11? To use ancient Tumblr Lingo: Tol, not smol

Favorite subject in school? In Elementary - Middle School, it was English, because reading and writing. In high school, Psychology, Legal Studies, Guitars, History, or Writer's Craft

Dream job? Cool question, I'mma over-complicate it! For my career, it's either one of two things: Creative and/or helping people. Add another axis onto that: Stability vs. freedom. I like stability. It helps me feel happy and builds self-esteem to build stuff up. So since most of the creative jobs I'd be down to try have a lack of stability (and often crappy working conditions), I decided to start with stability and helping people! My current job is actually the goal I set for myself to get into in 5 - 10 years. So. Whoops! Got in early! I can't stay beyond this year (covering a mat leave) but wow has it been good experience. And it's cool shit that I like to think supports people in building something good for themselves.

Not a ton of creativity though, and so what's cool about life is that the time horizon isn't just right now, forever. The job I'm in now is a dream job of mine based on the criteria I set out (stable, treats me right, and helps people), but I have other dream jobs I'd like to also try out!

For example: I'd like to become a published author! And I'd also like to learn storyboarding to maybe try being a storyboards artist someday, or some job in animation.

What I like about the job I have now, too, is that I still have enough energy in and around my job to have a life outside of it. So I can build the creative skills that'll lead to cool stuff and opportunities down the line.

Having multiple dream jobs I think is realistic. And just kinda fun to not only achieve one thing, but look forward to what else I can do!

#ask meme

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thecandywrites · 2 months

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Monster March 2024- Day 14- Minotaur

River and Rane

This time, I wanted a true Minotaur. But I also couldn't resist- yet another Velvet Spa story. It's my guilty pleasure. Anything with horns and antlers and fur and hooves and just...all the things that make humanoid- animal beings GREAT.

As always, huge thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2024 Prompt List, you're the best.

Monster March 2024 Day 14- Minotaur

The Velvet Spa Continued Again

“Thank you for calling The Velvet Spa, how can I help you?” Allison answered the call.

“Hi, this is Rane Surmas, I got a call that there was a change to my appointment?” Rane asked.

“Yes, your horn specialist had to go on maternity leave early. So we have your appointment with another horn specialist if that’s ok.” Allison offered.

“Oh ok. Is Maddison ok?” He asked after the specialist who had always worked on him before.

“Yes, she’s fine. She just ended up needing to go into her maternity leave a few days earlier than planned and that means that all of her appointments have to be picked up by our other specialists.” Allison quickly reassured him.

“Ok, do I have a choice in who else I can get or are we being assigned?” He asked.

“Well, there are only two who had the room to take on her clients while she was on maternity leave while three more are still being cross-trained from being purely antler specialists. But the ones currently being cross-trained haven’t finished with their training and won’t get tested and certified until next month. If you postpone your appointment for another 5 weeks, you will have five to choose from then. But until then, if you wanted to keep your appointment for tomorrow, there is only Skye and River.” Allison offered.

“Ugh, those names aren’t really ringing any bells. Which do you think- does the better work?” Rane asked.

“Honestly, they both do exquisite work from what I’ve seen so far. I haven’t gotten any complaints from any of their clients. They’re both pretty great at everything.” Allison tried to say.

“But?” Rane asked.

“That being said, Skye is more holistic in her approach and most of the products she recommends are the vegan and vegetarian products. Skye also leans more towards aesthetics and the over all appearance. While River is more clinical and is more geared towards pure functionality. And she tends to prefer the best products period. But those tend to have higher price tags but better results as well. So it’s really a matter of what your own personal preference would be. I know from Maddison’s previous notes that you’re pretty middle of the road, wanting both strength of your horns as well as aesthetics and honestly, both of them would be just fine and either or both of them would be able to care for you just as well as Maddison usually would do if she were here.” Allison explained.

“Get me River then.” Rane decided.

“Will do. River will be with you at 8am tomorrow morning.” She offered.

“Great.” Rane nodded with a heavy sigh before he hung up and called Maddison himself.

“Hi Rane,” Maddison answered.

“Hey, you ok Maddie?” Rane asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be ok. I’m sorry, I had to call off today and then the rest of the week. I just… I couldn’t do it. My legs and feet have pitted edema and the doctors put me on bedrest.” Maddison sighed tiredly.

“Ok, do you need anything?” Rane asked.

“No, Lucas and the boys and even the girls are all taking great care of me, Lucas is even rubbing my feet and legs, as we speak to try to get the swelling down.” Maddison reassured him.

“Ok, well, if you do ever need anything, just let me know ok?” Rane urged.

“Could you be nice to whoever is picking your appointment up from me?” Maddison urged since Rane was very, very particular about his horns and had gone through every horn specialist at the spa before choosing Maddison who was, in his opinion the best, since she had amazing horns herself and all her kids had great horns as well.

“Yeah, speaking of, who am I better off getting? River or Skye?” He asked.

“Honestly, both of them are great. You might like River more- because she’s very- all business and more of a ‘it’s only gonna hurt for a minute, suck it up, take it like a man’ kind of person. Which, is totally your style. Skye is much more sensitive. But when I say - sensitive- I mean, you look at her wrong or you speak to her in the wrong tone and she’s upset and she’s very, very sensitive to your mood, to your facial expression, to your energy, to your aura- kind of thing. She would want to do calming breathing exercises first thing and she is not one that likes to be rushed and you can not get impatient with her. Whereas River’s background is actually in nursing, because she’s a triage nurse when she’s not a specialist. So she’s all about the fast pace and getting it done and being as effective and efficient as she can be because she’s in and out. And she’s of the school that the sooner she does this and does it right, the less any of it would hurt overall. And her biggest thing has been learning to slow down and not rush her clients and developing her softer touch, whereas Skye is nothing but that soft gentle touch and is learning to develop her firmer touch with clients because her Professional Voice is still really soft. Whereas River is rather blunt in her honesty, she’s also very authoritative but also, she knows her stuff and so much more. River is one license away from being just as broad as Bianca is. But that also means that she has the bigger clientele and her schedule is a lot busier and is only taking my clients on as a favor to me and Bianca. So she’s usually just running ragged but on time. Whereas Skye is always running late period because she wants to treat every client like they are her favorite and only client in the world. So while some of her clients absolutely love her for that, those of us who have other things in our day, don’t. So they’ve actually been put in side by side rooms to try to rub off on each other.” Maddison expounded.

“Then I’m really happy I got River then. I don’t need another girl looking at me and instantly burst into tears because she thinks I’m mad at her for no gods damn reason.” Rane offered.

“Ooophf, again?” Maddison winced as she sucked in her breath through her gritted teeth.

“Yeah, every woman I work with just assumes I’m just pissed off, like, all the time. And the last thing I need is for my horn specialist to assume the same and risk her fucking up my one characteristic that does’t involve my resting bastard face.” Rane offered.

“Well, River would be able to sympathize because she has resting bitch face so you two are practically made for each other.” Maddison urged with a light laugh.

“I hope so. Well you just focus on getting those feet elevated. Say hi to Duncan and the kids for me. And tell little Penelope to quit kicking you hard.” He urged.

“You tell her yourself.” Maddison urged before she put the phone to her pregnant belly.

“Hey Stinker, you quit kicking your Mommy and hurting her back. Her feet are already swollen enough from you. You don’t need to add to it or Uncle Rane is gonna have words with you Young Lady.” Rane urged.

“And she’s not listening.” Duncan said as he watched Pen kick at the phone before he grabbed the phone and put it between his ear and shoulder.

“Yeah, that just pissed her off.” Duncan laughed into the phone as he lifted his wife’s leg to rest over his shoulder as he slid his hands up her leg and thigh.

“I’d love to say she gets that from you, but we both know where she would get that.” Rane chuckled.

“Hey!” Maddison frowned as she overheard that.

“Well would you look at the time, gotta go into a meeting.” Rane laughed.

“Take good care of your girls Duncan, I’ll catch ya later.” Rane urged before he hung up and continued on with his day.

The next morning, he was at the Salon at 7:30am.

“Good morning Mr. Surmas.” Gretchen greeted, rather sleepily.

“Good morning.” He replied as his ears flicked to the back door at the end of the hallway where the specialists were filling in for the day as he overheard the girls in the back sleepily chit chat as they came in and got ready for work before someone came in and- by the sounds of it- had a key chain the size of a bullwhip.

“Girl! Did you come here straight from the hospital?” The others asked as she seemed to be carrying several things as he heard several large, heavy things slump onto the floor.

“No, I slept.” He heard a groggy voice defend.

“For like a whole 15 minutes?” Another asked.

“It doesn’t matter, I’m here, I’m on time, just let me change and chug this, and I’ll be good to go.” She said as she seemed to be struggling with something as he could faintly hear fabric against a body as he wondered if it was River changing out of her scrubs from the hospital to the scrubs at work as he simply took a step to look down the hallway.

“Woo! Getting a show this morning.” Bianca laughed when she came in which got the other girls to laugh.

“Here, let me help.” Bianca offered as she put her stuff down and helped her friend get redressed.

“I always snag.” He heard a tired voice say as her voice got muffled by another piece of fabric.

“Rane, you can sit down. River will be right with you.” Gretchen urged.

“Right, yeah.” He nodded with a blush as he slowly turned away but kept his ears towards the hallway to listen to the girls laugh and giggle while they got ready as he chose a seat as close to the view of the hallway as he could manage as he just leaned over and kept his eyes trained on the end of the hall where the back room was.

“There you go, let’s get this wild tangle under control.” Bianca offered once she brushed out River’s hair and put it up into a pretty messy bun for her.

“Thanks Mom.” River cooed happily as she sat down and slipped her feet back into her shoes.

“You’re welcome Hun.” Bianca giggled.

“There, and it’s about time to get our first clients, Actually your first client should already be here.” Bianca murmured.

“Another perfectionist that will take one look at my broken horns and think I couldn’t possibly know what it’s like to take care of pretty ones?” River grumped.

“Well, yes, but Rane is otherwise a great client, he’s a professional. He’ll care more about his horns than your own.” Bianca reassured her.

“If you say so.” River offered before she opened up an energy drink and started chugging it.

“Girl, I swear, you’re gonna collapse on me if you keep this up.” Bianca murmured worriedly.

“It’s just the busy season. And it’s only for another month until the other girls get certified, I could use the extra income to get those damn credit cards paid off so my credit score will increase so I can get a place of my own. I can’t do this- sharing a bedroom with a roommate and sharing the apartment with 7 others. I can never get my laundry done because the washers and dryers are always full with everyone else’s laundry and my mugs are always being borrowed by everyone else. I gotta get out of there. But I need a down payment first.” River groaned as she let her eyes stayed closed as she continued to chug her energy drink before she drank the last of it and crushed the can in her hand.

“Alright, lets do this.” River took a deep breath and got up and picked her stuff up before she carried and dragged it to her room to set up her room real quick before she came out and came up to the front desk, feeling someone watch her, but was too tired to care. She tried to shake her sleepiness from her head and got the file that was in the cubby for her room number as she took a moment to quickly glance over it before looking at the name.

“Good morning. You must be River. Maddie had quite the song when she sang your praises.” He greeted charmingly as he offered her his hand.

Rane on the other side, while he could see how tired she was, she was also- too damn cute. Like, naturally, gorgeous. Didn’t need any kind of makeup to cover up that natural beauty she practically glowed. He was in trouble. Bianca sure did know how to pick ‘em. This girl was just as beautiful, if not more so than any other woman in here. She was of good height, but also the girl was large and incharge and so his type. She had that- mess with me, and I’ll fuck your shit up’ vibe that he was digging. And she carried her weight like she knew exactly how to throw it around. Hot damn. He could see those powerful thighs rub together through her scrubs and those big breasts that jiggled with her gait- looked big enough to nurse an orphanage. And that belly? Oh, he wanted to see just how big those waves would be if he were to pound into her and figured he could watch those waves ripple all over. Oh he was down. And best of all? No wedding ring. Meant she just might be single. Hopefully she’d be into taking him by the horns.

“Rane Surmas?” She called out before she looked up to see him already looking at her with as friendly and charming of a smile as he could manage as he gracefully got up from the seat and came up to her as she blinked in surprise to see him tower over her.

“Lucky number 13?” He offered.

“Yeah huh. Hi.” River offered as she seemed to take a moment to register that he was her client as she offered her hand to shake as she shook it while looking him up and down as she seemed to try to wake up in a hurry.

“Well if you’ll just follow me to room 13.” She offered as she withdrew her hand and then walked him back.

“It’s just the room number Sir. But, with as superstitious as most people are, I’ve had clients outright refuse to come into the room.” She offered as she got the door open and gestured for him to come in before he came in and took of his suit jacket and hung it on the hook as River could only stare at his shoulders and back as her jaw dropped to see the bulging muscle and the broad shoulders and then that pinch of his waist and that ass, good lord. Fuck. neither Bianca or Maddie told her that Rane was fucking gorgeous as she tried to shake off her nerves as she really didn’t want to fuck up this guy’s already perfect aesthetic. Even as badly as she wanted to mount him in that chair. She needed to be a professional. Maddison would kill her if she dared to screw up a perfectly good client just because she was all kinds of horny just looking at the epitome of sexy and the epitome of ‘blow your back out’. Shit, if he was as hung as the bull he appeared to be, she’d be good to even walk after. And she still had a full day ahead of her.

“Ok, I’m looking at your file, and other than maintenance, is there anything in particular you need or are wanting?” River asked as she flipped through the SOAP notes from Maddison.

“Just maintenance.” He answered.

“Cool. Well you know the drill, sit down, lay back and let me keep up the great work Maddison laid the groundwork for. I’m pretty sure if I managed to fuck your horns up, she’d came and beat my ass with a chancla with Pen half birthed.” River offered which got Rane to bark a loud laugh as he laid back in the chair.

“Oh, you and I are gonna get along great.” He beamed.

“Yeah, my brand of brutal honesty doesn’t leave room for pussy footing around.” River giggled as she slipped some gloves on and then got her tools out and her supplies for his horns on her trays before she scooted over to work on his horns, washing them and scrubbing them so she could appraise them in their natural state.

“Huh.” She hummed as she used a brush to really scrub them against the grain.

“Have you been using filler?” She asked as she scrubbed the now gooey filler out of the grooves on his horns.

“Guilty as charged.” He freely admitted.

“Has Maddison talked with you about poly resin to fill it in?” River asked.

“She told me that the resin would cause more damage than it’s worth.” Rane answered.

“My man! Yes! Yes it does. Like veneers on teeth. It would absolutely wreck the soundness of your horns to dig and drill these grooves out and drill down to dig a foothold into them to anchor the resin- then they’re worth. These are so superficial you can’t see or notice them unless you are this close to them, and practically riding them. And honestly what you’re doing, is keeping the grooves from getting any bigger or wider and keeping the grooves from getting any deeper either.” She offered as she offered her fist for him to bump before he chuckled and fist bumped her, as his ears perked up to her comment about riding them. So at least, from that cue, she might be into it.

“Plus, once you start filling in with resin, you’ll be chasing the edge until your whole horn is nothing but resin. There’s a girl in here who actually ground her horns down to the base and has multiple sets of horn enhancements. Like a set of wigs for hair. Problem is- is that now the bases are so pissed off from all her tinkering that it’s really painful for her and she needs to give those poor bases a rest, but now, she can’t stop wearing them and feels naked without them. But she continues to wear them because she’s one of those- ‘never leaves the house without a full face of makeup and all dolled up and put together’ types. Because her mother was that kind of woman who would get dolled up just to get her mail from the mailbox and wouldn’t leave her bedroom without a full face of makeup.” River noted.

“But not you?” He asked as he really took notice that she was bare faced and was sporting- actually really cute glasses too that brought out the brown of her eyes gorgeously.

“Which would be what?” He asked curiously.

“Nope. I don’t got time for that shit. I’m either working or eating or sleeping. My coin is way too precious to pour into makeup that’s just gonna go bad before I would have the chance to use it more than twice.” She snorted with a shake of her head.

“I mean, I used to- in like highschool and stuff but now that I don’t have my parents paying for everything for me and I’m on my own? Not worth it. I’d rather save it for something I really want and need and not spend it on an aesthetic that no one gives a shit to notice or care about.” She offered.

“A place of my own and sweet independence. I have 4 sisters and 3 brothers and currently- all of my brothers are still with my parents, two of my 4 sisters are getting divorced and have moved back in with my parents too. And I am still in my college dorm, and still have a roommate in my bedroom and still share the 4 bedroom duplex apartment with 7 other people. I would kill for just a one bedroom place with a washer and dryer that I can just wash and dry a single fucking load of laundry in that I don’t have to lose an hour and a half at a laundry mat to do because the washers and dryers at the apartments are always, constantly full and constantly being used.” She complained as she scrubbed the other horn and made sure she scrubbed all the filler out so she could get the horns a thorough cleaning.

“Well Maddison told me that you work two jobs?” He asked.

“I do. I’m a Registered Nurse in the ER and I do Triage and ride in the helicopter, stabilizing patients if we ever have to fly them out to other hospitals, and I’m cross training into Labor and Delivery because- helping Bianca and Maddison with their pregnancies, hell half the staff is either pregnant or just gave birth or something in between.” She answered.

“Something about pitted…her feet are swollen.” He recalled.

“And you work here on top of all of that?” He asked, impressed that she would take on all that.

“Yup. This place lets me have the flexibility in my schedule to roll with my nursing rotating schedule. Granted going from the hospital at night to come in here in the morning and early afternoon is less than great and working 18 hours straight sucks but the paychecks are more than worth it. And I get off, just about when my body demands sleep. So I’m able to get out of here and get take out, eat it on the way home, get home and crash and sleep too heavy for my roommates and their social lives to interrupt. Plus, did Maddie tell you why she had to cancel?” River asked.

“Yup. It’s called pitted edema, it’s a pretty serious thing for pregnant women, I noticed it the day before yesterday and the LMT and I sort of ganged up on her and told that she needed to either get out of here and get home and get those feet up or I threatened to take her to the hospital and check her into Labor and Delivery myself because her health and her baby mean more than her clients getting their favorite specialist to work on them. I don’t think anyone would forgive themselves or each other if they were the reason she pushed herself past her limit trying to see everyone- one last time before she would take the time off.”

“Amen, and you’re absolutely right. We wouldn’t I know I wouldn’t and I’d want to gore anyone who did threaten little Pen.” He offered.

“Awww. That’s where I know you from. I’ve seen your picture at her house. I couldn’t make it to her wedding, I had a full cardiac arrest come in 20 minutes before my shift was supposed to end and I was supposed to walk out the door and head there, but instead I stayed and did compressions to try to keep him alive so he didn’t go brain dead. Poor geezer took one too many viagra and ended up stroking out. And after, I just didn’t have the heart to go and crash a wedding in my blood covered scrubs. I just wanted food and sleep.” River recalled.

“Sounds like you’re pretty close with her.” River offered.

“Yeah, her late husband was one of my best friends. I was a groomsman in her wedding. I helped her move into her house when she moved to the country. And I was in her second wedding to Duncan. I was one of her groomsman then too.” He offered.

“But, with Maddie having pitted edema, I told her that I would pick up her shifts and her clients and practically double book myself for the next month until the three others got licensed. It’s only a month. I can handle it. Plus the LMT promised that she’d give me a full body massage once a week until then to help my body manage my workload. And Bianca of course, was in agreement that Maddie needed to get out and take care of herself and her baby first. And that all of us would pitch in to help. But, for the last 2 days, I’ve had most of her clients take one look at my horns and assume I don’t know my shit or I do shit work period. And outright refuse to let me anywhere near them and instead, push their scheduled appointment back until the three are available. Whatever, less work for me. I stopped giving a shit about people assume about me based on a just a look. And instead, just let my work speak for itself. You know?” She offered.

“Yes I do. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what did happen to your horns?” He asked as he studied them.

“Oh, I had to use them to restrain a combative patient who was as high as a kite on ketamine and who knows what else, and he broke them as he tried to pick me up by my horns and throw me against a wall. And instead, my horns broke in his hands and the minute my head was free, I ducked my head under his- used the broken horn to move his head to the side as he picked my body up to body slam me into the wall and I was able to shove a whole syringe full of demerol into his neck once the narcan had taken what it could out of his system. He may or may not have knocked himself out when his face colidled with the wall when he hit it head first and then may or may not have hit my knee on the way to the floor though.” River shrugged.

“That is the most epic, badass-motherfucking- thing I’ve heard all year.” Rane praised as he lifted a fist to fist bump her again, impressed that she had such an epic story to tell as she laughed and fist bumped him.

“Skye offered to resin them back on and back into place. But I actually like them this way. It lets others know to not fuck with me in the ER. Gives me street cred.” She giggled as she then put a glob of polish on her polish head of her polish tool and turned it on and started to polish his horns. Using the larger, but broader head to polish his massive horns. And managed to do so- in less than half the time that Maddison usually took as she even paid special attention to the bases, instead of the tips before she used some more filler on those fine lines and used a smaller buffer to fill them in before giving them one more coat of shine to make his horns look absolutely fabulous.

“There, sit up and tell me what you think.” She invited before he did and looked up in the mirror and used the panels to look around his head.

“Well hot damn, you do amazing work!” He praised happily.

“Thanks, I try. Plus, you gave me a ton of naturally good horn to work with. You’ve done all the work in maintenance. It’s obvious that you care about them and keep them practically pristine. Just keep taking care of them and they’ll take care of you.” River smiled as she cleaned up her tools.

“Want to take home the extra filler and polish?” She asked as she held up the still only partially full containers of them since she had opened the biggest containers she had of those things since he had huge horns to use them on instead of opening and using up several of the smaller containers.

“Really?” He asked happily.

“Yeah, let me just get you lids for these. Otherwise I’d just have to throw them away and I hate to be wasteful. Plus, you know how to use this stuff. You will actually use it.” She offered as she got the lids put back on and wiped the containers clean so he wouldn’t get this stuff on his hands or anything else before she grabbed a little gift bag she usually used to gift samples to and put them in.

“Well, obviously, you know what you like and what works for you, if you need more, they have it up at the front counter, otherwise, you should be good for another 6 months.” She offered pleasantly as she got her gloves off and then started to mark up the worksheet of what she had done.

“Ooh, and because you were early, that means I get to be early for my next one too.” She smiled when she saw the time on the wall when he blinked to see that she had done an hour’s worth of work in only half an hour. And because he was early, it was now- only 8:30.

“Tell you what, in a month when those other girls get licensed, and you’re able to take a breath, call me. I’d like to take you out some time.” He offered as he took out a business card and put his personal number on the back of it as she took it and looked at the number on the back of it, ignoring the front completely.

“So, here’s the deal. Technically- we can not date active clients. Which is ok because you’re still Maddison’s client that I just happened to fill in for today. So we’re good there. However, there is a really firm- no sex at work and respecting the professional sanctity of the chair which I absolutely must uphold because if this ended up being more than just a one time thing, the last thing I would ever want my partner to worry about is who else I would be riding in that chair-which has been no one and will continue to be no-one. Because I’m a stickler about that. I’m a professional, you’re a professional and we both should respect the other’s profession- Because, again, otherwise, I’d be having you sit back down so I could ride the bucking bronco that I’m sure you are, but that’s only because I’m really tired and my filter isn’t working which makes me even more honest and transparent than usual. However, this is not the time or the place for that. However, later today- will be. How late are you working today?” River asked.

“Deal.” He readily agreed before he dipped his head and kissed her as she practically melted and then deepened the kiss.

“However early or late that you’d need me to.” He offered.

“Great, well I get off at 4. Pick me up, either have food ready or be ready and willing to feed me an obscene amount of carbs, starches, fats and animal proteins and we will see where it goes from there. Deal?” She asked.

And she didn’t know how, but suddenly his big hands were roaming her body and then suddenly he was picking her up and pinning her to the wall, next to the shut door.

“Fuck, you are really tempting me beyond what I can bear.” River whispered.

“Turn around and find out.” He murmured in her ear before he nipped her earlobe.

“Well, it’s not the chair. But you did get me done early. Don’t you have the rest of the hour?” He asked.

“Could you fuck me quietly enough to not get caught?” She breathed.

“Fuck, we could get in so much trouble, you better make it worth it.” River offered as she turned around and dropped her bottoms before he did the same and then used his hand to cover her mouth to keep her from making any noise as she could only breathe heavily through her nose and whimper when his huge cock began to rise between her legs before he pulled a condom from his wallet and ripped it open with his teeth and then put it on behind her but looking down she rather liked the bright blue color.

He was hung like the stud he was. He reached around and slipped his hands into her mound and opened her up as she nearly cried in a whimper because she had forgotten how long it had been since the last time she got laid.

But Granted, she didn’t want to get fired, but considering every single person who worked here, if they started working here single, they usually ended up falling for the clientele at some point. Bianca was the prime example of that. It wasn’t just the rut, it was- All. Year. Long.

He managed to find purchase and she was just the right height for him to mount her comfortably like this. But between his hands- either groping her large bosom, or raking up her thighs and caressing her belly in between both holding her closely to his chest and pinning her between himself and the wall, she was just grateful that there wasn’t anything on the wall that could be knocked off of the wall because the mirrors were practically bolted to the walls.

And his snarling, and heavy breathing in her ear and nips to her neck and shoulder as she braced her hands against the wall was heaven. And, right in the nick of time, she was clawing at the wall and scraping her own horns against it too as her body writhed as she felt her body happily embrace the orgasm as he nearly popped the condom, filling it up as he had to reach down and clamp his hand around the base to keep it on and so her pussy wouldn’t threaten to suck it off of him. Like he thought he filled out a condom pretty well and got ones that fit. But her pussy was about ready to suck it off all by itself.

And granted, he was usually not this kind of guy, but he rarely got to meet women who weren’t intimidated by him. So he took his shot and frankly was floored that she took it, and not only took it but accelerated it too. And he couldn’t be happier about it as he slowly got his hand from her mouth to let her catch her breath.

“Hot damn, I’ll be lucky to walk out of here, my legs are practically jelly.” She grinned as she let her hot cheek rest against the wall before he slowly pulled himself from her but didn’t pull away just yet.

“Nope, never.” He shook his head no and kissed it.

“Thank you for this.” He thanked her as he hugged her.

“Thank you. I don’t…shit…I’m not usually this kind of girl. But, I just couldn’t resist you. Now, I just gotta trust that this or you won’t burn me.” She offered as she fixed him with a look but a pleasured grin all the same over her shoulder as she slowly turned around to face him.

“Why’d you…want me? You could have any girl you want, why me?” She asked once she turned around to face him.

“Because you’re awesome and a badass. And I don’t instantly like a lot of people. In fact, very few even like me or are attracted to me. I exhale through my nose too hard at work and nearly half the office shits themselves, thinking I’m gonna go on a rampage or something, even though, I’ve never done that. Plus, I work with mostly wafer thin chicks that I’m pretty sure I’d snap like twigs. You on the other hand, are big enough and strong enough to not break if I want to use just a little more force than a feather light touch.” He offered as he kissed her again before he had to pull back and take the condom off and clean himself up as she helped him get put back together after she slipped her own pants and underwear back up from the floor.

“Big enough to put up a good fight huh?” River asked.

“Well not knock out brawls…” He offered.

“No, but enough to do this.” She offered as she grabbed him by the horns to kiss her again.

“Exactly! And frankly, if anyone was going to get up close and personal with these things, I’d want them in the hands of a good professional who knows what to do with them.” He winked as he tipped her broken horn with his own with a wink as she started laughing before she just hugged him as they got to stay like that for a few long moments before they heard the telltale signs of the other specialists opening their doors and leaving with their clients.

“Time’s up. You still gonna pick me up after work and feed me?” River asked.

“Hell yeah!” He boomed before he gave her one last kiss.

“See you after work Babe.” He offered before he kissed her cheek and then left the room together.

“See ya handsome. Can’t wait for you to bring that rain to my river again later.” She offered with a wink as she handed his file over and then exchanged it for her next client.

“Mrs. Cassidy?” River called before an elderly pronghorn minotaur came up.

“Right this way Mrs. Cassidy.” River beamed happily as she brought her next client back while still giving Rane another wink over her shoulder.

#Monster March 2024 #Monster March 2024- Day 14- Minotaur #The Velvet Spa #The Velvet Spa - Continued #Because yes #Both Bianca and Maddison are mentioned here.

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 months

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Christmas Reruns 2023 Day 12: Eli the Elf

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Rating: G

Word Count: 5394

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32

Note: This fic was originally written for Fluffy Fridays in 2019

Emma collapsed onto the sofa in her living room. Being the parent of a rambunctious, mischievous three-year-old was not for the faint of heart, that was for sure. Not that she’d change her crazy life for anything. Emma loved Hope Swan-Jones with all her heart. After all the months and even years she and Killian had tried for a baby with no success, there was no doubt that Hope was their miracle, their second chance, their opportunity to be a family.

As Emma’s maternity leave had neared its end, Emma and Killian had come to the decision that they wanted to be there for and with their daughter every hour of the day. Daycare simply wasn’t an option for them, so they’d come to an arrangement: they’d trade off days. One day Emma went into the station and Killian stayed home with Hope, and the next day they swapped.

Lately, it seemed like Emma was far more tired at the end of her days with Hope than she was at the end of her days as the sheriff. Who would have thought those early months where Hope barely slept would actually end up being the easy parts of parenting?

Hope was a good girl, sweet, affectionate, smart as a whip, but she was also the daughter of a pirate. Seemed like Emma couldn’t turn around for a second without Hope making another mess or getting onto some sort of mischief.

Emma let herself succumb to sleep while Killian put Hope to bed–no doubt with a thrilling, overly dramatic bedtime story, like he did nearly every night. Hope adored his tales…and everything else about her Papa. Emma knew her daughter loved her, but there was no doubt she was a daddy’s girl.

The couch dipped beside her, waking Emma abruptly.

“My apologies love,” Killian said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Emma yawned before settling into Killian’s waiting arms. “Don’t worry about it. I was just kind of resting my eyes. Don’t want to sleep through the evening when we finally get to have a little alone time.”

Killian brushed a kiss against the crown of her head and tightened his arms around her. “I worry about you love. You’ve been so tired lately. Are you sure nothing’s amiss?”

Emma kissed him gently. “I’m fine, Killian, I promise. Guess I’m just having a tougher time navigating life as a working parent than I thought I would.”

“Are you sure…?”

“I am,” she said decisively. “It’s just, we have a very busy, active toddler on our hands. I love her like you would not believe, but by the end of the day, I’m so tired I feel like I could sleep standing up.”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “The lass is three now, old enough to begin to understand consequences. Perhaps we should begin discussing disciplinary tactics.”

“You know, I was thinking about that today,” Emma said, settling against Killian’s chest and resting her hand over his heart, loving the comfort his softly thumping heartbeat gave her.

“Christmas is coming up in a couple of weeks, and I thought maybe we could make use of some of the traditions to convince her to work on her behavior.”

“Swan, if you’re referring to that Santa Claus fellow, I’m not entirely sure I approve,” Killian said, voice sternly disapproving.

Emma laughed. “You are morally opposed to Santa Claus? Why?”

“One cannot seem to patronize any establishment in this town without hearing his song,” Killian said, “He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. Swan, this Santa fellow sounds like one of the worst villains we’ve faced yet.”

Emma laughed again. “Killian it’s just a song, and it’s all in fun. Kids love Santa. He’s the one who brings them presents.”

Emma could see in Killian’s face that he wasn’t convinced.

“Anyway,” she continued, “that’s not what I was talking about, not really. There’s this other tradition parents do sometimes. Called Elf on the Shelf. You get this toy elf, and the idea is that it watches the kids and kind of reports to Santa. Each night the parents move the elf, so it’s like it’s alive. The fun of it is that the kid never knows where the elf is going to show up next. Plus, knowing there’s an elf watching you, well, it’s extra incentive to be on your best behavior.”

“Are you daft, Swan?” Killian exclaimed. “This ‘Elf on the Shelf’ sounds, if possible, even more horrifying than Santa Claus! I’d rather not traumatize our daughter.”

“Would you stop being such a drama queen?” Emma asked, laughter still evident in her voice. “I promise you it’s all in fun. This isn’t some Christmasy ‘scare the kid straight’ thing. Kids love it. It brings the magic of Christmas to life.”

Killian was clearly still skeptical, but finally conceded. “Very well, Swan. We’ll try this Elf on the Shelf, but if it gives Hope nightmares, I must put my foot down.”

“Relax babe,” Emma said. “If the elf gives Hope nightmares, I’ll personally lock it in our dungeon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning

Killian stepped into Granny’s and made a b-line for the large booth at the back of the establishment, seeing David and Rogers already present.

After the realms had combined, Dave had suggested he and Killian get together with Rogers, as the town decided to continue referring to his alternate reality version, to help him get adjusted to life in Storybrooke. This get together quickly became a weekly thing.

Emma referred to their weekly breakfasts as the “brot3 convention.” Killian hadn’t a clue what that might mean, but the phrase brought a delighted smile to Swan’s face, and that was enough to make Killian adopt the language. There was very little he wouldn’t do to make his wife smile.

“Hey Killian! Good to see you,” David said.

Killian noted the fatigue in his father-in-law’s eyes and the yawn he was attempting to stifle.

“The lass keep you up last night?” he asked sympathetically.

David and Mary Margaret’s daughter Ava was quickly approaching her first birthday. She’d come as a surprise to the couple who’d believed their family was complete after the birth of Neal, but she was a very welcome and loved surprise.

“Yeah,” David said, and then took a bracing sip of his coffee. “She was up every two hours last night.”

“I thought you said she’d finally begun sleeping through the night,” Rogers said.

“She did,” David said, “but I think she’s teething. Runny nose, running a bit of a fever, wanting to chew on everything.”

Both Hooks nodded in understanding and sympathy. “I don’t miss those days with my Alice,” Rogers said.

Their conversation was put on hold as a waitress, wearing a festive Santa hat and necklace made of Christmas lights, took their order.

“So how about you, Killian?” David asked after the waitress walked away, “How’s everything going with your family?”

Killian frowned. “I must admit, I’m a bit concerned about Emma. She’s been so exhausted lately and a couple of times she’s gotten dizzy. She insists it’s nothing, but I’m near to insisting she visit Doctor Whale.”

“Tired and feeling faint?” David asked. “Any other issues?”

“It was the strangest thing,” Killian said, furrowing his brow. “This morning I attempted to serve her her customary PopTart for breakfast, but she insisted she couldn’t stomach it. She actually asked for boiled mackerel and grapefruit.”

“Tired, feeling faint, and with significant changes in appetite,” David listed off. To Killian’s surprise (and consternation) a grin covered his father-in-law’s face. “I think Emma’s right. I think you have nothing to worry about.”

“Other than life getting significantly busier in eight or nine months,” Rogers said with a grin identical to David’s.

It took Killian a moment to put the dots together, but then his eyes widened. “You think Emma could be with child?”

“I have very little experience with these things, my own daughter’s birth being so very….unorthodox,” Rogers said, “but it certainly seems possible.”

Killian felt the joy bubble up in him. Another child! He and Swan may have another child. It was a blessing he hadn’t even allowed himself to wish for, given the difficulties they’d had conceiving Hope.

“I suppose there was that one weekend away we had just before Thanksgiving,” Killian said slowly, “when Alice and Robin stayed with Hope. We did engage in copious amounts of intimate activities…”

Rogers barked out a laugh and David groaned, reminding Killian of just how much his father-in-law did not want to hear the specifics.

Breakfast was a joyous affair following the pregnancy speculation, the three men discussing their lives over the past week.

Killian walked home with an extra spring in his step. This Christmas was shaping up to be one of the best he’d ever had.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Grandma, what do you think about putting the wreath here?” Lucy asked, holding the Disney’s Captain Hook themed wreath against their front door.

Emma laughed. “Looks great kid. It’ll get a good natured grumble out of your gramps every time he walks by.”

It was still weird to get used to being called Grandma, but Emma’s heart warmed at the thought that Henry was back to stay and that she’d have the chance to get to know her daughter-in-law and granddaughter in a way she’d missed out on over the first decade of Lucy’s life.

Lucy laughed, turning to Charming to ask him to hammer a nail for her so she could hang the wreath.

It had become a Christmastime tradition since the merging of the realms. The whole family got together to decorate each other’s houses and then have dinner together. This weekend, a mere two weeks before Christmas, it was the Swan-Jones household’s turn to host (and get decorated).

Emma took a step back, watching as her family, her whole, big boisterous extended family worked to make her home look like something out of the Hallmark channel. Regina and Zelena stood by the impressively large pine tree stringing garland, Alice, Robin and Rogers worked to make the hearth festive, Henry, Jacinda, Killian and her dad were braving the frigid temperatures outside to string lights on the bushes and the front of the house, Neal was occupying Hope in the playroom, Ava napped in the nursery and Snow worked away in the kitchen on what Emma was sure would be an amazing dinner.

It was the type of scene you’d see in one of those cheesy Christmas movies. Happy family enjoying each other’s company while they decorate for Christmas and listen to carols. It was even picture perfect outside, with the snow gently falling.

It was perfect, and Emma loved every minute of it.

While Hope was occupied with Neal, Emma grabbed the elf on the shelf, looking around for the perfect place to move him. Maybe she’d put him in Hope’s room tonight.

Emma wasn’t sure if the elf was all that effective as a disciplinary tool. She hadn’t noticed a significant lessening of mischief since she and Killian had introduced “Eli the Elf”, but Hope certainly seemed delighted in looking for him every morning.

And the joy on her daughter’s face was really what was most important, when it came down to it. It was Christmas, the time for child-like wonder.

Emma wandered into the kitchen, pausing for a moment and taking stock of her stomach. Seemed like smells nauseated her at the drop of a hat lately—one of the main reasons her mom had offered to make the meal for their get together (the other being neither she nor Killian could cook worth a damn). Emma sighed in relief when she noticed the smells elicited hunger rather than nausea.

“Anything I can help you with, mom?”

Snow turned from the stove where she was stirring something as it bubbled merrily away. “You sure you’re feeling up to it? I know how rough it can be in the early months.”

Emma gave her mom an assessing look, subconsciously placing a protective hand over her belly. “You know, don’t you?”

Snow abandoned the pot on the stove and rushed over to give Emma a warm, motherly hug. “About the baby? Your father told when he came home from the last brot3 convention. Oh Emma! I’m so excited for you and Killian! Is it official? Do you know for sure?”

Emma felt the familiar mix of anticipation, joy and fear bubble up inside her. After his last breakfast with the guys, Killian had come home with a smile on his face.

“What’s up with you?” she’d asked. “I haven’t seen you so excited since they had that buy one get one special on rum at The Rabbit Hole.”

Killian had led her to the couch. “It’s been some time since your last monthly, hasn’t it?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess I’m a few days late. Why?”

“I was talking to your father and Rogers…”

“You were talking to my father about my period?” she asked, brows furrowed.

He laughed. “Of course not, love! I merely mentioned your fatigue and appetite changes.”

“Okay…..”

“Your father…” Killian said, taking her hand, “your father raised the possibility that there could be a very specific cause for your symptoms. Love, is it possible you’re with child again?”

Emma’s eyes had widened, the possibility not even entering her mind before he brought it up.

“With child? Killian, we haven’t even been trying.”

“No, but we’ve also not not been trying,” he said. “And I can recall a few very satisfying encounters over the past few weeks that could have very well resulted in a new life…”

Snow tapped Emma on the shoulder, and Emma realized she’d spaced out, her face flaming slightly as her mind went to a few of those “very satisfying encounters”. Killian’s skills as a lover were ridiculous. She’d really hit the jackpot.

“Uh…sorry mom,” Emma said, “what were you saying?”

“I was asking if you got it confirmed.”

“No,” Emma said, thinking of the pregnancy test currently residing in their bathroom medicine cabinet. “I’m a little afraid to take the pregnancy test, to be honest.”

Snow led Emma to a chair at her dining room table and urged her to sit. “Why, honey?”

Emma shrugged. “What if it’s negative? I mean I have all the classic symptoms, and this is exactly how I felt with Hope, but….I mean, we had such a hard time getting pregnant with Hope. What if this is just some weird flu or something? Killian and I are already excited about Baby Swan-Jones #2. If it turns out he or she isn’t actually on the way…”

Snow reached over and hugged Emma. “For what it’s worth, from what your father told me, I really, really don’t think this is a false alarm, but if it is…” Snow shrugged. “Well if it is a false alarm, you and Killian can have lots of fun trying to make it a reality over the next few months.”

“Mom!” Emma said.

Snow shrugged again, a wicked grin on her face. “Remember, I know how much you and Killian enjoy…pancakes.”

Emma made her hasty exit, opting to check on the kids before her mother started talking about her own taco sessions with David.

Still, apart from the very uncomfortable thought of discussing her sex life with her mother, Snow had a point. What did she and Killian have to lose? She resolved she’d take the pregnancy test the very next day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next afternoon, around nap time.

Hope Swan-Jones was not happy.

She wasn’t sleepy. Why did Mama make her take naps? Sleeping was no fun at all! Uncle Neal didn’t have to take naps; why should she?

She’d asked Mama that one day, and Mama said it was because Neal was twelve years old. Twelve-year-olds didn’t have to take naps.

Hope wished she was twelve. Not three.

Hope glanced over at the shelf high on the wall and noticed Eli the Elf peering down at her. She stuck her small, pink tongue out at him.

“I’m not going to go to sleep,” she said rebelliously, “and I don’t care if you tell Santa!”

Hope continued to look at Eli as her eyelids started getting heavy in spite of herself. That was another thing. Why didn’t Mama and Daddy ever let her play with Eli? He was a doll just like the others she had in her play chest. Why couldn’t she play with him?

Hope knew better than to leave her bed when Mama said to take a nap, but still, she reached out her hand as though to reach for the elf. Suddenly she felt kind of funny, like there was something warm and bubbly just under her skin. She watched in amazement as a beam of white light shot from her outstretched fingers, and suddenly Eli the Elf was zooming towards her, right into her arms.

Did…did she have magic like Mama did?

Maybe she should try again.

She looked at the elf and then reached her hand out the way Mama did when she did magic. “I want you to play with me, elf,” she whispered.

The strange warm bubbly feeling happened again, and another burst of magic shot out.

Suddenly Eli the Elf stood up on his own, blinked twice and then grinned at her in a way Daddy would have said meant trouble.

“Eli the Elf at your service,” he said with a bow. “So kid, you ready to have some fun?”

Hope glanced toward the door, afraid Mama would hear. “Shhhhhh!” she said. “We’re supposed to be asleep!”

The elf rolled his eyes. “Naps are for Grinches. You’re not a Grinch, are you, kid?”

She shook her head no.

“Good,” Eli said, “so here’s what I think we should do next….”

Eli the Elf went on to outline a plan of chaos that made Hope’s eyes widen. Surely he wouldn’t dare!

She shook her head. “We can’t! We’ll get in trouble!”

“The threat of getting caught is half the fun,” Eli said, before jumping off the bed and making a dash for the partially opened door. “I’m going to do it, whether you follow me or not.”

Hope climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door. She had to stop him! She was going to be in so much trouble!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

That evening

Killian closed Hope’s door and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen where he set about preparing a nice steaming mug of hot cocoa.

He had a feeling Swan would need it after the day she’d had.

Killian had come home from the station, smile on his lips and spring in his step…only to find the living room in shambles and Emma on the couch crying.

He’d rushed to her. “Swan! What happened? Are you hurt? Is Hope alright?”

Emma swiped at her cheeks and got to her feet. “We’re fine, Killian,” she rushed to reassure, stepping into his arms and burying her face in his chest. “It’s just…I’m so damn tired, and she was supposed to be napping, and I come downstairs, and…well, just look!”

Emma gestured to the living room. The bottom half of the Christmas tree was completely bare, the baubles that had previously adorned its branches were strewn over the floor, a couple of the delicate glass ones broken against the hearth.

His eyes widened. Hope had done this?

“Swan, there must be some mistake,” he said, “Hope is mischievous, to be sure, but she’s never blatantly engaged in destruction and she loves our Christmas tree.”

Emma collapsed on the couch, pulling him with her. “She was in here, Killian,” Emma said, one fat tear of exhaustion rolling down her face. “I caught her red-handed. Literally. She was holding that stupid red Santa ornament in her hand when I showed up. When I asked her what she was doing, she lied to me. Lied right to my face.”

“That doesn’t sound like my lass at all,” Killian said, his brow furrowing as he wrapped his wife in his comforting embrace. “I’ve never known her to speak a falsehood. What happened?”

“She told me…get this…she told me Eli the Elf did it! That damn elf on the shelf was lying on the ground next to the tree. Not only did she disobey me and leave her room during naptime, she somehow got her hands on the elf, went on a tree destroying spree, and then lied to me. Killian, I don’t even know what to do with her anymore!”

Emma started crying in earnest, and Killian hugged her to him, rocking her slightly and caressing her hair. “Where is the lass now, love?”

“She’s in her room,” Emma said, voice thick with tears. “I…Killian, I kind of lost my temper. I raised my voice a little. She looked so surprised and almost, I don’t know, betrayed. I sent her to her room, because apparently I can’t parent worth a crap, but I wanted a chance to cool down before I said anything else to her that I might regret.”

“Sh,” Killian said. “Emma you are a wonderful mother. Never doubt that. We all lose our temper and have moments we aren’t particularly proud of. We’ll sort this out. Together.”

He’d stayed with Emma a few more moments, holding her as she cried, and then he’d gone to have a talk with Hope.

Now, 20 minutes later, steaming mug of cocoa in hand, he returned to the Christmas carnage that was their living room.

Emma took the cocoa with a grateful smile. “How is she?”

Killian’s brow furrowed. “She’s settled for the moment, and she seems quite apologetic over what happened. What say we put this tree to rights, aye?”

“Killian, you don’t have to…” she called after him as he began gathering discarded ornaments and placing them on the tree. “I can just zap it with my magic…”

“Nonsense, love,” he said, “you’re exhausted and at your wits end. Rest, let me handle this.”

He made quick work of righting the tree as he heard Emma sigh behind him. As he worked, his brow furrowed. He knew Emma was upset after her difficult day with Hope, but he knew Emma Swan-Jones, perhaps better than she knew herself. There was something else on her mind, something else that was causing her significant distress.

Killian set the last bauble on the tree and then sat beside his wife, opening his arms and waiting for her to settle against him before he spoke.

“Swan, I know when your heart is heavy,” he said. “Share your burden with me. What’s amiss?”

“Well Hope…”

He stopped her with a gentle finger to her lips. “Aye, she’s been rather difficult today, but there’s more isn’t there?”

She glanced aside, before reaching for the small box on the coffee table and handing it to him.

He glanced at it, noting it was one of those wands that could tell if a woman was with child.

“Swan…?”

“I…I thought I should take the test,” Emma said, voice thick, “you know, to make sure we’re really pregnant like we think we are.”

“But it’s still in its box unopened.”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing aside. “I wanted to wait for you to take it, and then…”

“Then?” He prompted.

“Well I got scared.”

“Of what?” he said, hugging her to him, “what frightens you?”

She was quiet for a moment, taking the test back, and turning the box over and over absent-mindedly. “What if it’s negative?”

Killian rubbed her back in a comforting motion. “Swan, we’ll cross that bridge if we get to it.”

“But I know how excited you are already about this kid…What if…?”

Killian stopped her with a soft kiss. “Emma, I would be delighted to welcome a new wee pirate or princess into our home, but even if it doesn’t happen, even if it never happens, I will be perfectly contented. I have a wife I adore, a daughter I love beyond measure, and a step son with a family to dote upon.”

She sat up and looked carefully at him. “Do you really mean that?”

“Aye,” he said with a decisive nod. “But I can see the toll this uncertainty is taking upon you. Perhaps it’s best if we find out once and for all.”

Emma took a deep breath, seeming to steel herself for whatever was to come, and then she got to her feet, taking the box with her. “Okay, I’m going to go take the test. Wait here.”

Emma padded to the powder room off the kitchen, emerging two minutes later, pregnancy test in hand. “Okay, babe, moment of truth,” she said, handing him the small, white wand. “I can’t look.”

Killian took a deep breath and then looked down.

Two pink lines.

“Swan,” he said, smile suffusing his whole face, “it’s positive!”

She reached for the device, looking for herself before letting out a joyful shout. “Positive! Killian, we’re gonna have a baby!”

Killian got to his feet, enveloped her in his arms and swung her around, both of them laughing and crying. Emma leaned down and captured Killian’s lips with her own, pouring all of her joy and relief into her kiss. They collapsed back onto the couch, the kiss continuing as they smiled against each other’s lips.

Suddenly a shout pierced through their haze of love and happiness. A shout coming from the direction of Hope’s bedroom.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks. It wasn’t fair; it just wasn’t fair! Eli the Elf was the one who did the bad things and she got in trouble for it.

No one believed her. Not even Daddy. Oh, he wasn’t as upset as Mama was, but he didn’t believe her either; she could see it in his face.

And he was disappointed in her. That was the worst.

She wished Eli the Elf had never come here!

As soon as she’d followed him from her bedroom and saw him about to start messing up their pretty tree, she’d tried to stop him. She’d tried to use her magic like Mama did, but it hadn’t worked. Maybe Hope sized magic wasn’t as powerful as Mama sized magic.

When her magic hadn’t worked, she’d tried to catch him and make him stop, but he was too fast for her.

He wouldn’t stop until Mama walked into the room. Then he played dead and let Hope get in trouble.

“How long you gonna let them keep you couped up in here, kid?” Eli asked from the shelf where Mama had tossed him when she marched Hope to her room. “The Christmas tree was fun, but there are lots of bigger and better things we can do to shake up this place a little.”

“Don’t you dare!” Hope growled at him under her breath. “You already made Mama yell at me and cry.”

Eli shrugged, and hopped down from the shelf, opening her drawers, rifling through, tossing toys and clothes every which way.

“You stop that right now!” Hope shouted.

The little imp ignored her, continuing on with his perusal of her things.

Hope was normally a good tempered child. She rarely got upset, but now, finally this elf had gone too far. She was not going to get in trouble again for something he did! She closed her eyes, concentrated as hard as she could and then thrust her arm toward the elf.

Hope knew her magic was working even before it shot from her fingers, the warmth and electricity flowing from her surrounded the elf, wrapping him in light magic bands, like a glowing rope.

“There!” she cried triumphantly. “Now I’ve got you!”

Eli the elf grinned. It was not a pleasant sight.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Eli said in a smug voice. “You see kid, your magic brought me to life. It can’t stop me. It can only make me stronger.”

Hope watched in horror as Eli puffed himself up until he got bigger and bigger and bigger. Soon he was almost as big as Daddy.

“Mama! Daddy!” Hope screamed, knowing things had gone completely out of her control.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian burst through the nursery door, his hook at the ready, prepared to battle whatever foe was menacing his daughter.

Or so he thought.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Elf on the Shelf not only alive but gigantic. For a moment, he stood frozen in the doorway, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide, and then he jumped into action, bursting through the door, putting himself in between Hope and her elf.

“Cygnet go! Get to safety!”

The elf laughed, knocking Killian aside as though he were merely a ragdoll. “You think you can defeat me?” the elf taunted. “You think you can…”

But before he could finish his thought, suddenly he shrunk, eyes becoming glassy, body turning back to cloth and cotton.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could have,” Emma said, stepping into the room and kicking the elf she’d just turned back into a toy, “but he doesn’t have to. I’ll take great pleasure in kicking your…” she glanced toward Hope “butt all the way back to the North Pole.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours later, Emma climbed into her big, comfortable four-poster bed and burrowed into her husband’s warmth.

“So, never a dull moment in Storybrooke is there?” she said, deadpan.

Killian laughed, rubbing comforting circles along her back. “Final battle won, final villain defeated, and yet it still seems there’s more excitement in this small burg than in any of the realms.”

Emma chuckled and then sobered. “I didn’t believe her, Killian. My own daughter, and I didn’t believe her when she told us the truth about what happened. What kind of a person does that make me?”

“A human being,” Killian said gently. “Her story was rather outlandish. I had my doubts as well, if you’ll recall. Hope is resilient love. She knows how much you love her, and she’s forgiven you already.”

After she’d zapped the elf, turned it back into an inanimate object and then locked it in their creepy Dark One dungeon that they kept padlocked until they could figure out how to turn it back into a normal basement, Emma had returned to Hope’s bedroom and given her a long, comforting hug, feeling her toddler sniff against her as the fear and excitement of the day slowly receded.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Emma murmured into Hope’s riotous blond curls. “I should have listened when you tried to tell me the truth.”

“It’s okay Mama,” Hope said. “It was my fault Eli comed to life.”

Hope had gone on to explain the whole story to her stunned parents.

“We really did make an amazing kid, didn’t we?” Emma said. “How did it never even occur to us that she might have magic?”

“A terrible oversight on our part, love,” Killian said, chuckling. “She’s the second generation product of True Love. Of bloody course she has magic.”

“We need to talk to Regina, have her train Hope, get a handle on this thing,” Emma said. “Magic’s great, but man can it go wrong if you don’t have it controlled.”

Killian kissed her. “Aye.” Reaching down, he cupped her still-flat stomach, caressing their unborn child in the only way he could at the moment. “What do you think are the odds this wee one will have magic as well?”

Emma groaned. “We’re in for a wild ride with two of them, aren’t we?”

Killian laughed. “That we are, Swan, but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Together, this family can handle anything.”

Emma hummed in agreement, and for a moment they fell silent, and then Killian chuckled.

“What?” she asked, noting the mischievous look in his eyes.

“I think it would only be good form, love, for you to admit that I was right about the Elf on the Shelf.”

Emma rolled her eyes with a grin. “And you’re never going to let me forget it, are you?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

Emma sighed. “There’s going to be no living with you after this. I dread the moment you learn about the Easter Bunny.”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#christmas reruns 2023 #ce fanfiction #captain swan christmas ff #my fanfiction #eli the elf

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alexbkrieger13 · 1 year

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Sara Bjork’s pregnancy story shocked women’s football, but it’s different at Chelsea

Everyone at Chelsea has been so supportive of Melanie Leupolz before, during and after her pregnancy. Her baby boy has even become our mascot!

Possibly the biggest story in women’s football so far this year has been that of Iceland captain Sara Bjork winning her case against her former club Lyon after they stopped paying her when she got pregnant.

I read her account on the Players’ Tribune and it is fair to say it raised questions about the culture of women’s football and attitudes towards pregnancy and motherhood. The same goes for Reading captain Emma Mukandi’s comments recently questioning the maternity conditions available to WSL players.

Both stories created headlines but I would like to paint a different, more encouraging, picture for you. Last weekend my Chelsea team-mate Melanie Leupolz was back in our matchday squad for the first time since giving birth in September.

Since the day she surprised us by announcing her pregnancy, everything has been positive inside our club surrounding Melanie. We have had open discussions and shared in her joy. Not for a second was there a feeling of “she won’t be able to play now”.

We were actually in a meeting room expecting something on tactics when we found out. An ultrasound scan appeared on the screen and her name was there at the top: Melanie Leupolz. She then stood up and told us and the response was like she had won an award.

We had a baby shower for her and a goodbye meal before she went back to Germany to give birth. When we played at Paris-Saint Germain in the Champions League in October she paid us a surprise visit with her baby boy.

Where Emma Mukandi said her baby was not welcome at her club’s training ground, things could not be more different with Melanie.

Of course, there are certain restrictions regarding times and places but the staff and team have welcomed Melanie’s baby with open arms. Whenever he is around the training ground, everyone just lights up – he is like a little mascot and gets passed around. He is such a happy baby and puts a smile on everyone’s face.

Melanie even brought him and his nanny along to our mid-winter training camp in Spain, and it was cool to see the club allow that. When we got emailed the squad list for that trip, Melanie’s name was there and his below – like he had been called up too, which was so cute.

If I am giving you a positive picture, I acknowledge that pregnancy does raise big question marks for female athletes. In some ways, things will never be the same and you have to make sacrifices. And if you do not have a partner who can look after the baby, there is the financial cost of childcare.

Yet I am optimistic things are changing for the better. The WSL took a forward step, for example, with the introduction of a league-wide maternity policy for the first time ahead of this current season. This means a player going on maternity leave is paid 100 per cent of her weekly wage, as well as any other remuneration and benefits, for the first 14 weeks before reverting to the statutory rate. Emma Mukandi has said it is not enough but it is a start at least.

Going back to Melanie, the specialist support she has received has been wonderful. We are fortunate at Chelsea to have help from a sport scientist called Georgie Bruinvels who is a consultant with our menstrual cycles, and she was in weekly contact with Melanie even while she was back in Germany.

With the break from playing football, Melanie was able to focus on other aspects of her body, including building up the strength in her glutes and her hamstrings. Crucially, the club engaged a pelvic-floor physiotherapist to work with her too

What impresses me is how quickly Melanie has got her fitness back. I know her sleep is not the same – as you would expect – but she has surprised herself with her physical condition since coming back at the end of November. It is important not to rush back, though, and she finally rejoined us in full training at the start of this month.

Melanie is not the first team-mate I have seen bounce back after having a baby. A couple of years ago, my Sweden colleague Elin Rubensson recorded her best sprint-test speed six months after giving birth.

I am fascinated by the science of this and Georgie at the club explained to me this week that during pregnancy, a woman’s heart rate and the oxygen-carrying capacity in her blood increases – after all, her heart has to pump for two. For athletes who continue to train during pregnancy, these benefits can last longer than the usual six to 12 weeks after giving birth and bring performance improvements.

As Georgie added: “Quite a few people are known to have improved their personal best in track and field, for example. There are cases of athletes coming back and being better, partly because their body has gone through this process.” In short, keep a close eye on Melanie in the weeks ahead!

#so cute and so informatiive #magdalena eriksson #magda article #chelsea fcw #melanie leupolz #woso #sara björk gunnarsdóttir

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cetaceans-pls · 9 months

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Doctor! Doctor! Give me the news!

It's a spur of the moment thing, but Bruce has the grim misfortune to be on a commercial flight in the middle of a medical emergency and there's not a single doctor present! What else was Bruce supposed to do? Damian's watching.

Gen, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

for @tate-lin, the prompt u requested a lifetime ago asking for bruce with damian :') took me a while but here we are

prompt (doctor bruce) for @brucewayneweek that i'm already late for bc i thought we started on monday..... nevertheless, please enjoy!

They're on a killer of a flight, from Seoul back to Gotham, 14 gruesome hours in coach, fake hair fake eyes fake passports but filled with a very real sense of accomplishment for having taken down a Lexcorp subsidiary funding a lobby against maternal leave.

It wasn't even Superman/League related; Bruce was just feeling in the mood to be mean-spirited, so this is about as close to a recreational activity as he'll allow himself to spend Cave resources on. Schools also don't open for another couple of weeks, Gotham roasting in this superheated summer, and Damian had expressed interest in keeping his father company, so off they'd both gone.

It had gone off without a hitch, words whispered in the right ears, journalists tipped off in the quiet dark, a spot of cyber-terrorism or twelve. They'd even had time to go visit Seoul Grand Park, Damian adding to his respectable collection of zoo t-shirts as he gets his picture taken in front of the widely-grinning tiger statue, and all in all, it's as close to a working holiday as it gets for them.

Damian had been a-glow in the warm summer sun, tricked into being enough of the kid he is to indulge in ice cream that smears on the tip of his nose and make a little awe-inspired sound as they walked by the baby animal room. It has Bruce praying to a god he doesn't much believe in to put a future in front of Damian where all that's required of him is to be as kind and gentle as he wants to be to the living things that'll be kind and gentle to him in turn, ah.

And now it's the return, they're out in the middle of the Pacific, and a panicked air stewardess is asking in as calm a tone as she can muster on if there's a doctor on board, on account of there being a medical emergency and even in the best of circumstances they're hours away from the closest hospital.

It's not a massive flight, but it is about three-quarters full, so Bruce remains in his horrific aisle seat (Damian had wanted the window) and waits patiently for someone to go 'Yes, I'm a doctor'. Statistically, it's almost inevitable.

Literally, he's discounting his awful no good terrible luck. The stewardess continues to nurse-practitioners! Then nurses! Then medical school students! She's maybe about to say 'biology undergrads' before Bruce thinks he's hit the jackpot of terrible odds.

He flags down a passing steward, tells him he's a retired doctor who's happy to help, and in a whirlwind of a moment he and Damian are whisked away to first class, where a distressed pregnant woman is bawling her eyes out while beady-eyed businessman look a little irritated while non-discreetly upping the volume of, uh, Top Gun.

Wealth, fundamentally, is a mistake.

"Hello," he tells the woman in passable Korean. "I'm Thomas," and what an alias to be traveling on while pretending to be a doctor, hey, but here we are. "What's the matter?"

The steward who brought them over goes "Oh, you speak Korean, how lucky!" when he should instead be fetching them hot towels, probably, but Bruce doesn't begrudge him his stress response. We've all got our strange little peccadilloes.

"My wife's Korean," he says politely instead, then much less politely goes "Can you give us some privacy?" when the man looks at Damian who's gone a wonderful nut-brown after 8 hours spent running around an outdoors park Askance.

"It's fine, Father," Damian murmurs by his side, dutifully holding the lady's hand between his own and awkwardly squeezing in a stilted, deeply comforting manner.

Of course it isn't, and there's time yet in this long long flight for Bruce to bite a man's head off. But first? Priorities.

"Ma'am," he says again, since the lady looks calmer now that there're fewer panicked crew and Bruce's broad shoulder's blocking out much of the rest of the world. "What's wrong?"

"It hurts so bad," she says in a miserable cry. "I'm only seven months along, it's not a high-risk pregnancy, I'm on my way to go see my husband, and but it started hurting and it won't stop!"

Any number of causes for such things, but he's not got options to many diagnostic tools here in the air, pretending to be a plain plain man. "When did the pain start?"

"Maybe half an hour ago? I asked for some painkillers, thought it was maybe some cramps, but it just kept getting worse and worse."

At this point, she bursts into tears. Damian, while a dab hand at stopping fatal blood loss, is fairly unfamiliar with the intricacies of OB-GYN, but he is by nature singularly suited to being kind to all creatures in distress. He squeezes her hand gravely. "Can I sit with you?" he asks in accented Korean, and when she nods a little dazedly he clambers in with exquisite carefulness, settles in on the little fold-out table with her hand still in his.

"My father is a wonderful doctor," he says with vehemence. "No matter what, we will take care of you."

Bruce doesn't know what's more overwhelming; Damian's bright blinding faith, or that core of grim pragmatism that stopped a 12-year-old from promising that everything's to be all right.

Either way, he's got a job to do, this self-proclaimed doctor under this self-proclaimed name, so he tries not to sneeze from his false moustache, and does his best.

Running through the checklist of possible issues, and the prognosis is... uhm. The absence of blood is a plus, as is the fact that Haneul's brought a dossier of her medical records with her in her carry-on. High blood pressure, unconfirmed suspected Ehlers-Danos points to prematurity. He doesn't have the drugs that could help with the situation, and with them being by this point just 2 hours out from landing back in Seoul, the most important thing is to keep her calm and manage her pain with as many massages and hot compresses as he can manage.

He's uncertain about how wise it is to tell her his suspicion, but opts to tell Haneul what he suspects is going on; forewarned is forearmed, and he can't be the one spouting lies about how things are going to be fine if Damian's stolidly holding the line of hot-hearted honesty. "I think it might be premature labour," he says, calm as he can, pretty sure he fully made-up the word for premature here. "We should be able to get you to a hospital in time, Haneul, so I need you to keep your breathing even. Is there anything me or my son can get for you?"

She looks at him, red-cheeked and teary-eyed, and at first he thinks she's about to smack him for being so spectacularly unhelpful, but it turns out it's just her thinking face.

"Can someone let Eugene know to come to Seoul?" she says at long last, breathing a little too shallow but much calmer than she was at the start.

They sort out numbers and location and last names, and a stewardess bustles off to let the pilots put in the call to ground control to summon Eugene from California, and that seems to go some way towards making her ease up a little.

"Anything else?" Bruce asks gently. "A snack? Water, maybe?"

"A distraction," she says decisively. "Tell me about your son's birth, what it was like." She shakes their joined hands, Damian still perched on his little table. "Tell me about him as a baby and how he grew up so well." Tremulously, with great aplomb even as discomfort screwing her whole face off, she smiles at Damian. "I want to take notes."

What an unfortunate request. Bruce keeps it off his face, would sooner pull off said face than let even a hint of the complicated nature of Damian's birth come across the crease of an eye or the moue of a lip. Instead, with dishonest cheer, he says "Unfortunately, I couldn't be there when he was born. The life of a doctor's pretty uncertain, and I really, deeply regret that I didn't get to hold him when being held would've been a brand new experience for him."

This makes Haneul smile both harder and wobblier. "Same for Eugene, then. But you turned out okay, didn't you baby? Got held lots and lots when your busy papa finally got to reach you?"

Damian can't control his face quite so well as Bruce (this is a blessing), so he looks like what he's feeling; a young boy grappling with quite a heavy topic in the company of an unwell civvy who's Going Through It. "My father is not one for holding very much," he says diplomatically, still honest and earnest all the way through. "But when right back to Haneulhe did reach me, then he became my father." Damian pointedly doesn't look at Bruce, can't, maybe, and Bruce wants to hold him and hold him and hold him (but he doesn't know how). "When you love them when it's time to love them, children will grow up well." A furtive, glancing look Bruce's way then n. "I want to take notes."

Haneul's fully crying again, which is incredibly valid. "You're such a good boy," she says between hiccuping sobs. "Baby, you're such a good boy, and Eugene's going to be such a good papa, and doctor, you're such a good father."

She cries and cries and Damian rips open a fresh moist towelette for her and makes her drink some orange juice and keeps his careful hold on her and Bruce isn't generally one given to sentimentality but he wishes, briefly and bitterly, that Talia could be here to see this, see their son who wasn't held enough and wasn't loved enough still be filled with so much hot-hearted good that he's comforting a woman on what may well be the worst day of her life.

Bruce kind of wants a moist towelette himself. "We all do our best, Haneul."

And as he struggles to come up with something hearty and warm to say, something even a fraction so filled with care as what Damian managed, the 'fasten seatbelt sign' comes on.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a stewardess murmurs in a saviour's croon, "we will begin our descent into Incheon International Airport shortly. Please return to your seats, and fasten your seatbelts."

"We made it," Hanneul says with disbelief.

"You made it," Bruce says, and he's suppressing a relieved grin.

"We made it," she says again more insistently, nudging shoulders with Damian who's putting away glasses and tray-tables one-handed.

"You made it," Damian reiterates, because he is, in fact, his father's son (blessedly).

The paramedics fully sprinted on-board with a stretcher in tow, and Haneul's wheeled away before she's fully down for it, no sweet and slow goodbyes as she shouts out her e-mail address at the top of her lungs to Bruce and Damian as she's wheeled away.

"[email protected]...." Damian says under his breath, typing it into the 'To' section of a blank e-mail.

"We'll keep an eye on her," Bruce says, because of Eugene's not here and Bruce is done playing pretend-doctor, he can pretend-partner in the shadows too. They remain in their seats, bumped-up to keep them close to her even during landing, and there's a lot of bad-natured grumbling about how hideously massive of a delay this will be for all these Important Businessmen.

Bruce finds himself not really fond of the idea of rushing back to Gotham, calling for the BatWing just so's he can go on patrol in 12 hours, back to the harsh realities of fragile relationships and necessary pragmatism.

Instead, he finds himself reaching over, mussing Damian's hair and then resting his hand on a skinny, incredibly reliable shoulder. "We have time, and we're not needed urgently back home. Anything you'd like to do, Damian? Perhaps a second visit to the zoo? We didn't get to spend much time looking at the little baby animals."

Damian turns to look at him in a rush, clearly trying to swallow down excitement. "You would be all right with returning, Father? I know you are less interested in such things."

"I think," Bruce says faintly, "I've found a new appreciation for amazing little creatures. I hope I'll get to hold one."

Damian nods with military intensity, and covers Bruce's hand on his shoulder like they're making a solemn vow. "I'll be sure to ask the staff for you, Father."

I think I'm already doing pretty good, Bruce doesn't say.

#brucewayneweek #whale writing #bruce wayne #damian wayne #gen #can't believe i got the date wrong??? lads we're off to a bad start (but we're off!!)

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