Esmé Moreau ☾ Hayley Marshall (werewolfroyalty) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2016-07-01 22:19:00 |
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Entry tags: | !backstory, esmé moreau, léon pierroux |
Who: Esmé Moreau & Léon Pierroux
What: Some late preparations for the baby
Where: Esmé's apartment in New Orleans
When: Backdated to Sunday night, June 12th 2016
Warnings: Probably not much, it's a bonding moment
Status: Incomplete
It was a little over a month until her due date, and needless to say, Esmé was finally starting to unravel. Not that she hadn't already been a little unpredictable as far as her general mood and sanity went, she was a pregnant werewolf after all. Not just a werewolf, a werewolf hybrid, which basically boiled down to an even bigger appetite to go along with that same classic werewolf temper. The constant hunger was one of the worst parts of the pregnancy, though sometimes it was honestly hard to pick. Between the swollen feet, the excruciating heart burn that seemed to radiate all the way through her knees, the annoying frequency at which she had to pee, the hemorrhoids, leg cramps, excessive weight gain, the out of control hormones... Half the time Esmé felt too gross and fat to even consider something like sex, and the other half of the time she was so overcome with raging hormones that she was always on the brink of climbing the first pair of good legs she saw.
When you were a werewolf, hormones were always kind of a bitch, and the last time she'd given into her more super charged, animal urges, she'd ended up sleeping with a coworker and getting knocked up by him. It was tempting, sometimes, when she felt those powerful pregnancy urges to take advantage of her situation with Léon. He was handsome, and she already knew what he was like in bed. The reasons not to try and jump him when she was beside herself with pregnancy-induced lust were far fewer, but significantly more important. Somehow she always managed to hold herself back despite the nearly over powering wolf senses that made her more normal womanly needs that much sharper and unbearable. It would only be about the sex, there wasn't anything deeper than that between her and Léon, and that was fine. There was nothing romantic about their relationship, and honestly, she was glad for that. She'd gotten pregnant after a one night stand, that was it, end of story. Contrary to what some people believed, casual sex was sometimes more messy than when feelings actually got involved. It was better that she didn't confuse things by giving into an urge that would soon pass.
Besides, the other half of the time she felt like a planet. Not sexy.
The scare she had last week was what provoked this sudden flurry in preparations. Granted, they probably should have finished setting up the nursery months ago. It's not like she'd done this before or anything, and neither had Léon, so it maybe wasn't a huge surprise that they still didn't know what the hell they were doing. It was sweet of Léon to try, though, and his attempts in between floundering made her feel a little bit better about her own short comings. They were both clueless idiots, and in that way there was a genuine sense of comradery. She might not know the first thing about being a mom, much less being a mom-to-be, but the fact that Léon was just as in over his head made her feel like they might actually be in this together. When she thought she was going into early labor the week before that turned out just to be Braxton Hicks contractions, that had brought Esmé back to reality a little bit. It wasn't enough to be in over your heads together, you had to actually prepare for the baby that was a month away from being a living, breathing thing outside her body. You had to actually finish the nursery that had been only half-finished for months.
Léon was nice enough to help her, which she was thankful for. Being this pregnant made everything twice as difficult, including just the simple act of moving around. Esmé had always been a woman of fairly small stature, so to have her small frame so awkwardly enlarged in the front screwed up her balance, made her not as easily able to gauge distances, and climbing ladders was impossible. She didn't really believe in gender assigning colors so when they were deciding on a paint for the walls, Esmé had immediately refused anything too pink after they'd found out they were having a girl, but she had eventually settled on a combination of soft greens and lavender. Two of her favorite colors. At the moment, Esmé was painting solid stripes of green, more of an olive shade than anything else, along a section of the wall that she could reach easily, her non-paint brush hand resting absentmindedly on the top of her large belly. "How's that crib coming? Have you thrown in the towel yet? You know I'm not convinced that thing isn't a death trap in disguise."