Pregnant Emo Novels & Stories

The one that cheated on me like I was lacking in everything. I wanted to run away. I don't want to face them again, why? Why would everyone is coming back!? My jaw clenched as I was looking at her, my body was frozen in place and my hands were shaking while holding the order. I can't run all the time. I need to face the pain I hid while pregnant with Devyn. I used to think about my son so I didn't cry. I didn't get to cry and grieve for all the pain because I have to be strong but now... I have to finally show it.

She was pregnant, with Dex's cub and she couldn't be any happier. "Are you feeling okay?" "Yeah. Just tired. I think I'll take a nap after I call Leyton." "Can I tell Brutus?" "Of course," Emma said. "It could be obvious in a matter of weeks. I don't really know. I've never been pregnant before." Dex laughed and then hugged Emma. He put a hand on her abdomen. "A cub. I don't even care if it's' a boy or a girl." "Me neither," Emma said.

"More miserable than yours, anyway." I smile and nod, trying my best to look like I'm in on the joke, but the words make my throat feel tight. I've never been much of a crier, but the pregnancy hormones have made me feel more emotional than usual. "God, I'm sorry," Samara says, stepping close and laying a hand on my arm. "I'm an idiot. You know that, right?" "No, you aren't." The words come out sounding choked, and I hate it. "You're fine."

Iza whispered, her hand clutching her stomach as a sudden, sharp pain flared through her abdomen. "No, he's not," Dark said, his eyes fixed on the clock. "This is a diversion. He’s trying to trigger the 'Empathy Response.' He wants me to panic. He wants me to make a mistake." "Dark..." Iza gasped, her knees buckling. She grabbed the edge of the crib, her face contorting in pain. "Dark... something’s wrong." Dark dropped his gun, catching her before she hit the floor. "Iza? What is it? Is it the baby?"

They are only here to wait for his money. Naomi’s POV The air in Saint-Valery was getting warmer. Spring was coming. I stood in front of the small mirror in my tiny apartment. I wasn't Sarah anymore, but I wasn't Naomi Ashford either. I was just... me. I lifted my loose shirt and looked at my belly. It wasn't flat anymore. It was a clear, round bump. I was nearly five months pregnant now. My baby was growing, oblivious to the fact that his father was a broken king in a hospital far away.

She is stretched out on my couch like it is her father’s estate, one leg hanging off the side, hair wrapped in her pink bonnet, scrolling through her phone like a queen waiting for her servant. “Tracy,” I say, “can you hear yourself?” She nods without shame. “Yes. Loud and clear. I want cocoa pancakes.” I fold my arms. “I am stressed. I am pregnant. I am job hunting. I am thinking about my disaster of a life. And you want pancakes.” She gasps and sits up dramatically. “Excuse me. Do not weaponize your pregnancy. And also, I am helping you emotionally, mentally, spiritually. So the least you can do for your helper is give her cocoa pancakes.”

Given how reclusive Taisiya’s been since the hospital results came in, I honestly doubted she’d even bother to read my message — let alone care. And really, it wasn’t even that difficult. A few minor adjustments to her medical records at a hospital Vanderbilt Holdings conveniently owns partial shares in, and voilà — her perfectly mundane malnutrition and stress-induced amenorrhea became a full-blown pregnancy. Isn’t it fascinating? The things a single word — pregnant — can make a baby-phobic woman unravel over. But judging by the argument unfolding on screen, she got it just fine. I tap my nails against the door panel, watching Emilia flinch and Tessa pace like a caged animal.

The second thing I noticed was that she was quiet about what she saw. Not all observers were. Some people who came into this room for the first time and saw something real happen needed to speak about it immediately, to process it verbally, to make the seeing into language before they could hold it. Emmi sat in the corner chair and absorbed what she saw and said nothing until she'd had time to sit with it, and when she did speak it was specific. On the third day, after a session with an older pack member who'd come in with what was technically a back complaint and had left having said something out loud he'd been holding for years, she found me in the anteroom.

I did notice the families of the fallen with their shoulders set ready to watch justice for their loved ones, whether they were dragons or wolves it didn't matter they deserved to be avenged. Emerald fiddled nervously beside me, refusing to wear her hair clip that would block the massive amount of feeling from everyone around her with her being an empath. She said these are her people and she would feel like she was cheating them by blocking how they felt, at this point I let her do as she wishes as she seems so fragile with the pregnancy.

I reply enthusiastically. I will be really happy, in the short time since I have been working here, the atmosphere of bliss that reigns here has made me immediately addicted! It reminds me of Pennsylvania. These flowers of all colors, these pastel yellow tones, all that! And above all, the few discussions about my religion without anyone making fun of me give me immense pleasure. Especially Gemma who seems really interested in my religion with these frequently asked questions. I don't feel like I'm alone anymore. - Or not. Gemma said, shrugging her shoulders. Imagine that our celebrity is not satisfied with our service? Just one dismissive comment and it burns out the audience.