Page 88 of Heat Clickbait
Ghost actually smiled at 3:47 mark it
Nova playing with her hair while reading contracts I CANNOT
Imagine having five dads who all love you that much
"The nest has been... interesting," I continued, laughing as I remembered this morning's events. "Apparently, pregnancy hormones affect Alpha instincts. I woke up to find they'dsomehow added twelve new blankets overnight. Didn't wake me up. Just ninja-nested around me."
"Instincts," Milo defended weakly.
"You built a blanket fort," I countered. "An architectural marvel of a blanket fort, but still."
The stream continued with our usual banter, but now with undertones of pending parenthood. Questions about baby names (we had a spreadsheet thanks to Nova), nursery planning (Ghost had already wired it with every possible monitoring device), birth plans (Milo had interviewed seventeen doulas).
"Someone asked about independence," I said, catching a question in the scroll. "Whether having a baby with the pack means I've lost myself in the relationship."
The room went quiet, that respectful attention they always gave when I addressed the core of what we represented.
"I have my own studio," I said simply. "My own income stream. My own friends, my own projects, my own space when I need it. I chose to have this baby with my pack, just like I chose to bond with them. Choice and independence aren't opposites, they're dance partners."
Ghost's hand found my shoulder, a silent support that the camera caught. The chat went wild over the gentle domesticity of it.
"Besides," Crash added, bouncing into frame with his characteristic inability to be still, "have you seen our group dynamics? She runs this whole operation. We're just here to look pretty and lift heavy things."
"You do excel at both," I conceded, making him beam.
The stream wound down with announcements about upcoming content, Milo teaching me to make baby food from scratch (disaster imminent), Ghost building the crib on stream (ASMR gold), Blitz's pregnancy-safe workout series (thirsting encouraged), Crash baby-proofing with chaos energy (whatcould go wrong?), and Nova explaining the legal complexities of pack custody (surprisingly riveting).
After I ended stream, we migrated naturally to the nest. Not for heat, those had regulated to a predictable quarterly schedule, but for comfort. The space had evolved from purely biological necessity to emotional sanctuary. Movie nights, lazy Sundays, family meetings about important decisions.
"Pull up the old videos," Milo suggested, handing me the tablet.
My first viral video appeared on screen, pink-haired past me, gesticulating wildly about not needing Alphas, about independence being the only way to maintain self-identity. The contrast to now, surrounded by five Alphas, pregnant, bonded, mated, should have been jarring.
"God, I was so angry," I observed, watching my past self rant about biological imperatives.
"You were scared," Nova corrected gently. "There's a difference."
"Still believe what she's saying?" Ghost typed, showing me his phone.
I considered it, hand on my bump, feeling the baby shift. "Every word. Independence means the power to choose. I chose this. That angry girl needed to be alone to figure out who she was. Now I know who I am, I can choose to share that person with others."
"With us," Blitz corrected, pressing a kiss to my temple.
"With you," I agreed.
The old video played on, past-me insisting she'd never need a pack, never want mates, never let biology dictate her choices. Current me, surrounded by my chosen family, growing our child, running multiple successful channels, maintaining friendships and independence while building something bigger than myself.
"No regrets?" Crash asked, uncharacteristically serious.
"Only one," I said, then grinned at their worried expressions. "I should have asked for a bigger percentage of merch sales. The pack gear is selling like crazy and Nova's getting all the business credit."
"Thirty-seventy split is industry standard," Nova protested.
"For people who aren't growing your baby," I countered.
"Forty-sixty?"
"Forty-five."
