Page 87 of Heat Clickbait
We found them in the hotel bar, four creators who'd stumbled into biological destiny trying to make sense of it over overpriced cocktails. Tara looked up as we approached, and her smile was wobbly but real.
"We're doing a livestream," she said, showing us her phone. "Figured if we're gonna be a disaster, might as well be an honest one."
"That's our girl," I said, pulling up a chair. "Now, let me tell you about the time Crash set our nest on fire trying to make s'mores..."
The convention continued around us, thousands of creators chasing their dreams and their connections. But in that moment, in that bar, we were just two packs sharing war stories and hope. The same convention, the same weekend, but everything different.
Full circle, but spiraling upward.
A year ago, StreamCon had been where I lost control.
Now it was where I helped others find theirs.
EPILOGUE
Two Years Later
Callie
The notification sound from my phone barely registered over the chaos of morning coffee. Five Alphas, one kitchen, and Ghost's new espresso machine that required an engineering degree to operate, our daily symphony of domestic imperfection.
"Three million," Nova announced from behind his tablet, his morning voice still rough with sleep. "Your solo channel just hit three million."
I paused mid-sip of the latte Milo had crafted with his usual precision, complete with foam art that looked suspiciously like our pack symbol. "Seriously?"
"The pregnancy announcement video has forty-seven million views across platforms," he continued, scrolling through analytics with the focus of someone reviewing stock portfolios. "Engagement rates up three hundred percent. Michelle's getting collaboration requests from major parenting brands."
From my spot at the breakfast bar, I could see into my studio through the glass doors, my space, built into the house but distinctly mine. The pink LED strips Crash had installed. The professional setup Ghost had configured. The cozy readingcorner Milo had furnished. The workout equipment Blitz had added "for dynamic content." The organization system Nova had implemented. All of it screaming 'Callie' while somehow harmonizing with the pack aesthetic.
"You're catastrophizing about the brands again," I said, recognizing the furrow between his brows. "We agreed, no pregnancy content deals until after the birth."
"But the opportunities?—"
"Can wait." I stood, my hand automatically going to my five-month bump. The gesture made all five of them focus on me with that intensity that still made my knees weak. "We're not monetizing this baby before they're even born."
The baby. Whose biological father could be any of them, might be all of them according to Dr. Yates' fascinated medical theories about pack pregnancies. We'd refused genetic testing. It didn't matter. This child would be ours, all of ours, raised by six people who'd found each other through impossible odds.
"Stream starts in twenty," Ghost typed on his phone, showing me the screen. He'd taken over my technical production, turning my chaotic setup into something professional but still authentically mine.
"Pack life Sunday," I confirmed, heading to my studio. "You all joining today?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Blitz said, already changed into athleisure that managed to be both comfortable and thirst-trap worthy. His presence in my pregnancy content had launched a thousand "sensitive himbo Alpha" compilations.
The studio felt like home within home. My space, where I could close the door and be alone, but also where my pack could join when invited. The balance we'd struck, independence within togetherness, had become our signature dynamic.
I settled into my streaming chair, specially modified with lumbar support that Milo had researched extensively. Thecamera caught me at the perfect angle, showing the bump but not making it the sole focus. My pink hair, now grown out with subtle purple undertones, caught the ring light just right.
"Hey, besties," I said as the stream went live, viewers flooding in immediately. "Sunday chaos with the pack, as promised. Fair warning, Crash already broke something this morning."
"It was barely on fire!" Crash protested from off-camera, making the chat explode with laughing emojis.
They filtered in naturally over the first few minutes, the way they would in our real life. Ghost adjusting something technical in the background. Milo bringing me water with lemon (morning sickness was mostly gone, but he remained vigilant). Nova reviewing something on his tablet while absently playing with my hair. Blitz doing pushups just outside camera range but definitely visible. Crash somehow everywhere at once.
"So," I addressed the camera, "lots of questions about how pack dynamics work with pregnancy. The honest answer? We're figuring it out as we go."
The chat scrolled faster than anyone could read:
THE DOMESTIC INTIMACY
