#Pre Pregnancy Symptoms

[bookdoctorconsultationonline]

Is Shortness Of Breath A Sign Of Pregnancy? at Livlong

Is shortness of breath a sign of pregnancy? Check out details on if shortness of breath is a symptom during early pregnancy. Learn more about breathlessness as a sign of early pregnancy at Livlong!

[allhealthneedsdoctorconsultation]

Is Shortness Of Breath A Sign Of Pregnancy? at Livlong

Is shortness of breath a sign of pregnancy? Check out details on if shortness of breath is a symptom during early pregnancy. Learn more about breathlessness as a sign of early pregnancy at Livlong!

https://livlong.com/blogs/health-and-wellness/is-shortness-of-breath-an-early-pregnancy-sign

[airwar]

real men have pregnancy scares right after telling the posible inseminator they dont want to see him anymore

[chipped-chimera]

" my doctor says it's normal and not to worry because it doesn't hurt the baby " - really says everything about this.

the thing is like. i get that it's scary and makes people who do desire to get pregnant uncomfortable when we talk about the brutality and violence of pregnancy and the damage that pregnancy can do to your body

but you deserve to give informed consent to that process.

the lies around pregnancy - that it's inherently safe, that it doesn't do you permanent damage, that it's only extremely rare for people to die of pregnancy complications, etc like

all of these are lies constructed so that more people will get pregnant w/o knowing all that

there needs to be more talk about the impact of miscarriages and how common they are, how different abortion processes are and how accessible they are

but also like. talking about how pregnancy fucks your body up should not be taboo

this is a process that permanently changes most people's bodies, and that's even if the pregnancy doesn't do them like. severe illness or injury

and i just think everybody should have a right to KNOW that

bc to live in a society that intentionally obscures and hides facts about a completely optional and dangerous process does so for a reason, and that reason is based in a very sinister ideology that does not value bodily autonomy or informed consent

[macfrog]

If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ��n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

[cntloup]

☆ミ Simon 'Ghost' Riley masterlist part 1 ☆ミ part 2

Worth It

Close Call

What if...?

SUGAR

Endure

We'll meet again

Passion Pt.1 | Pt.2

Eternal Oblivion

Patience

Mornings at the Rileys'

Bestfriend!Simon Pt.1 | Pt.2

I miss you

you have a panic attack

taking care of him

Riding Him

Period Comfort (+ a lil surprise) Pt.1 | Pt.2

Pregnancy Comfort

Together

pregnancy sex

Valentine's Day

Good Boy

Elope

Complete

Pre-Ghost Simon Pt.1 | Pt.2

Love Making

Shh, I know, baby. I know.

His Angel

his girls

Pregnancy Angst

Going to the pub with him

giving birth

RetiredHusband!Simon x Wife!Reader HCs

Mine!

i'll make it fit

insecurity after pregnancy

gonna wife you up, mr. riley

What the fuck are you listening to?

Corruption

Come back

he calms your crying baby

Child, I will hurt you

Ex-Husband!Simon HCs

Ex-Husband!Simon fucking you in the guest room at a party

skin to skin contact

his old wound flares up

Period Sex

fluffy love making

If Simon Riley falls in love...

after sex fluffiness

letting him play with you

he has a panic attack

he gets heart eyes while you breastfeed your baby

you use the safe word

he's fascinated by your pussy :)

mirror sex

insecure about being skinny/flat-chested

so fuckin’ tight

riding his bicep

stuck in a safe house (and you have smth to tell him)

you should keep quiet

Let Down (depression)

him having pregnancy symptoms during your pregnancy

work can wait

Bartender!Simon rescues you

Always

image of his memory

innocent!reader

Are You Really Okay?

Start a Family

Farmer/Cowboy!Simon

showing his love in front of the lads

do you remember?

yesterday..., today...

devotion

together at last

you tell him you're ready

Happiness

Behave!

he's in a coma

heavy angst (sorry)

you take control

Childhood Bestfriends

fucking you in a headlock

awestruck

letting him use you

depression comfort

Simon's type / dating HCs

virgin!reader's first time

Biker!Simon

you have a panic attack 2

saving you from creeps

punishing you

how he shows his love

open up...

obsession with his hands

[chocobochaserstories]

Omega Heat Cycle Physiology

So, funny story, I'm a Pre-Veterinary Major in university, which means I know way, way too much about reproductive A & P and I thought about Omegaverse too hard and here we are. Totally didn't write this in livestock nutrition today, Not like we had a lecture, Dr. A was momming us because half of the class (me included) had our biology professor call us failures. I love Dr. A she's the best :) Anyhow, here's my take on Omega Heat Cycle Physiology. TW: I don't think there are any, maybe just warning for mildly in depth repro talk?

Omega Anatomy and Physiology

Presentation

Occurs around 12-14 years of age, typically genetically predictable, meaning that for the most part omegas of a family will present around the same age. For example, if multiple generations present at 12 years old, this trend will continue for several more generations. In addition, heat cycle lengths and frequencies are also genetically linked. A mother’s heat cycle, assuming she is omegan, can be used to predict a first heat length. Typical symptoms of presentation include heightened body temperature, cramping in the abdominopelvic and lumbar regions, soreness of the breast tissue, bloating, headaches, nausea, and typical symptoms of arousal. An omega who as not presented by fifteen years of age is considered to be late blooming. This is generally not harmful, but may shift the other stages of development by however many years beyond the normal period of development the presentation heat occurred. 

Pseudoheats

Typically occur between 14 and 18 years of age. During this period, an omega will experience heat cycles, however they are not mature heat cycles. During this period, omegas are capable of conception, however the reproductive organs are still in development, which can result in the pregnancy causing damages that can be permanent. Pregnancy during this period can lead to higher rates of miscarriage, chemical pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, and stillbirth, as well as higher instances of gestational diabetes, pre-eclampsia, and excessive strain on other non-reproductive organs. Pregnancies carried to viability have higher risks of preterm labor, low birth weight, childbirth complications for both the mother and baby, increased infant mortality within the first week, and increased rates of birth defects. The damages risked during this period also have significant potential to irreparably damage an omega’s future fertility, as well as cause temporary or permanent sterility due to reproductive damages and traumas. 

At this stage, the pseudoheats share many of the same symptoms of presentation heats (heightened body temperature, cramping in the abdominopelvic and lumbar regions, soreness of the breast tissue, bloating, headaches, nausea, symptoms of arousal), but at this point in development, hormonal-related arousal is more common due to hormone values during this period. During pseudoheats, omegas generally mature further towards their secondary gender’s characteristics. Areas of development include widening of the hips, deposition of fatty tissue in the lower abdominal cavity, and overall development of a more feminine silhouette, all under ideal conditions. In cases of inadequate nutrition, the development isn’t as obvious, but the body will still attempt to redirect resources to the development of areas of importance. As opposed to the presentational heat, pseudoheats are characterized by a steady climb in an omega’s hormones. In particular, estrogen, which is essential to the proper development of the reproductive tract and accessory structures. Heat Cycles will still be fairly irregular.

Transitional Heats

Typically begin around 18 years of age and continue until about 20 years of age. At this point in development, the hormones from the pseudo heats peak and stabilize. By this point, physical development is wrapping up and heats that occur during this period of development are very similar to mature heat cycles. Fertility during this period improves steadily, but it is still in development. Heat cycles begin to occur more regularly and stabilize in terms of frequency, length, and intensity. Symptomatically, transitional heats are typically more intense than pseudoheats, but not as intense as mature heat cycles. At this point, the symptoms are the same as the prior two stages, although arousal is greater in intensity in strength. In addition, an unmated, unbred omega may experience cramping or an increase in body temperature (up to a temperature of 101.5°F). During heats, the cervix is also softer and more malleable, aiding in the breeding process. For mated omegas, the breeding instinct is stronger and tends to be one of the few things on an omega’s mind during the peak of the cycle (active heat= ~7 days, so day 3-4). An omega being intimate with an alpha during this stage can expedite this stage and cause mature heat cycles, which is not necessarily good as this can lead to reproductive issues due to hastened development.

Mature Cycles

Occurs from age 21-22 and until the menopausal stages around age 50. At this point, it becomes legal to take heat suppressants, scent blockers, and other hormone medications, which can otherwise mess with development. The only major difference between mature heat cycles and transitional heat cycles is the intensity of cycles increases and the cycle frequency, which stabilizes. 

[maaarine]

Scientists Pinpoint Cause of Severe Morning Sickness (Azeen Ghorayshi, The New York Times, Dec 13 2023)

"More than two-thirds of pregnant women experience nausea and vomiting during the first trimester.

And roughly 2 percent of women are hospitalized for a condition called hyperemesis gravidarum, which causes relentless vomiting and nausea throughout the entire pregnancy.

The condition can lead to malnutrition, weight loss and dehydration.

It also increases the risk of preterm birth, pre-eclampsia and blood clots, threatening the life of the mother and the fetus.

Perhaps because nausea and vomiting are so common in pregnancy, doctors often overlook hyperemesis, dismissing its severe symptoms as psychological, even though it is the leading cause of hospitalization during early pregnancy, experts said.

Although celebrities like Kate Middleton and Amy Schumer have raised the condition’s profile in recent years by sharing their experiences, it remains understudied.

“I’ve been working on this for 20 years and yet there are still reports of women dying from this and women being mistreated,” said Dr. Marlena Fejzo, a geneticist at the University of Southern California Keck School of Medicine and a co-author of the new study.

She knows the pain of the condition firsthand.

During her second pregnancy, in 1999, Dr. Fejzo was unable to eat or drink without vomiting.

She rapidly lost weight, becoming too weak to stand or walk.

Her doctor was dismissive, suggesting she was exaggerating her symptoms to get attention.

She was eventually hospitalized, and miscarried at 15 weeks. (…)

The researchers found that women experiencing hyperemesis had significantly higher GDF15 levels during pregnancy than did those who had no symptoms.

But the hormone’s effect seems to depend on the woman’s sensitivity and exposure to the hormone before pregnancy.

The researchers found, for example, that women in Sri Lanka with a rare blood disorder causing chronically high levels of GDF15 rarely experienced nausea or vomiting in pregnancy.

“It completely obliterated all the nausea. They pretty much have next to zero symptoms in their pregnancies,” said Dr. Stephen O’Rahilly, an endocrinologist at Cambridge who led the research.

Dr. O’Rahilly hypothesized that prolonged exposure to GDF15 before pregnancy could have a protective effect, making women less sensitive to the sharp surge in the hormone caused by the developing fetus. (…)

The new study is powerful because it offers genetic proof of a causal relationship between GDF15 and the disease, said Dr. Rachel Freathy, who is a geneticist at the University of Exeter and was not involved in the study.

That will help the condition gain greater recognition, she said.

“There is kind of an assumption made by many people that women should just be able to cope with this,” Dr. Freathy said.

With this biological explanation, she said, “there will be more belief that this is a real thing rather than something in somebody’s head.”"

[cx-boxbox]

Might not finish this, so have a quick ~800 word landussy drabble:

Lando grimaces, shoving a hand down his race suit to pluck at his fireproof bottoms while cursing his biology.

Being an omega can be fun sometimes, but it’s so extremely inconvenient when he’s in pre-heat and meant to get in the car in less than ten minutes. His fireproofs are fucking glued to his pussy lips with slick.

Of course, Oscar notices.

“Don’t,” Lando grumbles, glaring at his mate as soon as he opens his mouth. “I can’t wait for this to be fucking over.”

When Oscar blessedly doesn’t say anything, only sending a comforting flare of pheromones his way, Lando wants nothing more than to cry. Damn these hormones. They’re fucking ruining everything.

The car is scorching hot, just two laps in, and it takes every bit of concentration and focus for Lando to drive it, all while his pre-heat brain is absolutely killing him. Not once has he ever taken a piss in the cockpit, but all the slick pooling between his legs is arguably worse.

If only he hadn’t forgotten to take his suppressants.

Social media is going to crucify him for finishing just shy of the podium when he started from third, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s almost glad he doesn’t have to bother with podium celebrations as soon as he puts his car in parc fermé and jumps out to get weighed.

He doesn’t have to worry about being underweight when there has to be a kilo’s worth of slick in his suit.

“Just this and then media duties,” Oscar murmurs, putting a comforting hand on the small of his back and rubbing it. “Hold on for me?”

Lando nods, resisting the temptation to bury his nose in the crook of his mate’s neck and inhale his sweaty, musky scent. Oscar’s looking a bit flushed with his hair sticking to his forehead, and Lando wants to devour him whole.

“Alpha,” he purrs. “Fuck, I’m aching for your knot.”

“Half an hour, Lando,” Oscar promises.

Lando doesn’t want to wait half an hour. He wants Oscar’s knot now. “Fuck. Fuck. You didn’t end on the podium either. Was it my fault?”

Oscar waits for him to finish weighing before shaking his head and replying, “Don’t worry about it. Bad strategy calls.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s a lot of fucks,” he jokes. “Save some for after.”

Lando laughs incredulously. He can always trust his mate to distract him from the growing pains in his abdomen.

-

Finally back in their hotel room, Lando all but throws himself at his mate, moaning into his mouth as soon as the door shuts with a click.

Oscar catches him because he’s such a good alpha, hoisting him up and carrying him to the bed. Lando gasps as the jeans he hastily pulled on are tugged down his legs and tossed carelessly aside.

“God,” Oscar groans, staring at the apex of Lando’s thighs. He can see the shape of Lando’s wet cunt through his knickers where the near-translucent fabric is practically molded to his slick folds.

Lando wants to tell him to stop staring and do something, but all coherent thought leaves his mind, and all he can do is squeal and clamp his thighs around Oscar’s head at the first touch of his lips to the center of his body.

The noise that leaves Oscar’s mouth, vibrating against Lando’s clothed pussy, is almost feral in nature, and Lando gasps, realizing that Oscar is much better at hiding the symptoms of his pre-rut. He was so preoccupied by the hot flashes of arousal making it impossible for him to even stand upright that he didn’t notice the thick, luscious scent wafting off of his mate.

Oh, but Oscar’s mouth…

“Alpha!” Lando cries, trying to shove Oscar’s face away from his soaked knickers in vain. “You can’t- we can’t-”

Oscar hums in acknowledgement but continues to suck a hickey into his thigh.

“Oscar, I forgot to take my suppressants- oh!”

The last thing Lando’s heat-ridden brain wants is for Oscar to stop, even if there’s a significant risk of pregnancy if he knots him in rut.

But would pregnancy be the worst thing to happen to him?

Giving in, Lando spreads his legs a little more, moaning as Oscar peels his underwear away. The damp cotton sticks to his folds, and he has to bite his own fingers to muffle his scream at the first lap of Oscar’s tongue against him.

Oscar didn’t even wait to get rid of the rest of Lando’s clothes, but it makes Lando feel so much more insane knowing his mate was so eager to taste him that he didn’t even bother with foreplay or anything else.

The thought alone is enough to make him come, and the continued tease of Oscar's tongue against his clit, sending aftershocks of pleasure coursing through his body, makes his back arch clear off the bed.

[dancingtotuyo]

9. the fear of what's to come

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You and Joel navigate life changing news.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (13/14 years). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms, mentions of potential pregnancy complications including but not limited to miscarriage and stillbirth, single reference to a fetus being a child (not intended in a pro life way), angst, grief, complicated feelings surrounding pregnancy.

Notes: A huge thanks to my amazing beta readers and friends @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin & @janaispunk

If you have not checked out Before, I would encourage you to do so for more backstory on our dear reader!

Words: 3088

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

You know three weeks after your missed period what is happening. It’s not hard to figure out. It’s just like last time. Menopause crosses your mind briefly, but the symptoms don’t line up. You’re sensitive to the same foods, nausea rolls in and out like the ocean tides throughout the day. The insatiable craving for a tomato sandwich cements it two days later. Tears run down your cheeks as you quickly finish off the sandwich and prepare another. 

You don’t get excited. You don’t make plans, and most importantly, you don’t tell Joel. You’re 45. Joel is in his late 50s. You know the statistics, the pre-end-of-the-world ones. You can’t imagine they’ve improved. 

Instead, you just hope that when it happens, nothing goes wrong. There’s no DNC, no pills to make sure everything passes properly or ensure no infection sets in. You’ve aided many women through this, many much younger than yourself. Some make it just fine, others have complications with nothing but prayer, poultices, and 20-year-old antibiotics to help. You’re not sure what actually does it when the women make it through. Some of them you've buried. Their faces flicker through your mind. You cannot be one of them. You cannot leave Carter without either of his parents in this world.  

You tell Maria. You tell her everything she needs to know. What to do step by step when it happens. Since Adam’s injury, Dr. Pooley refuses to practice anything more than simple first aid. You’re both certain it’s dementia. You spend most mornings listening to him talk through different lectures he attended. On the mornings his brain won’t cooperate, you sip tea together. He’s writing down what he remembers, but you have to fact-check it. He’s already taught you most of it anyway. 

“You have to tell Joel,” Maria says when you tell her. 

You refuse. You won’t do it. You won’t bring him into this. You have this silent agreement that you’re partners in this world, but he still lives in the house across the street with Ellie. There’s never been discussions about moving in together or anything past that. You don’t call him your boyfriend. He doesn’t call you his girlfriend. Making those commitments, those plans, it will hurt too much when the world takes him away. 

Carter calls him “Daddy.” It makes Joel smile every time. He’s accepted that commitment. It makes you smile too, but there’s still a little ache in your heart each time. Carter knows about Gabe. You tell him stories all the time. If you ask him, he says he has two daddies. One here and one in heaven. 

But you won’t tell Joel about this child. He’s lost one. He doesn’t need to lose another. 

Maria fights you on it. She looks at her son pointing out that she was 2 years older than you are now when he was born healthy. You don’t remind her she almost died, but she sees it in your eyes. You still have nightmares about that night.

You’re firm. You’re not going to tell Joel. Neither will she, and she damn sure won’t tell Tommy either. 

You wait for the cramps and the blood, but they never come. You hit the 3-month mark, your 2nd trimester at the beginning of October. You don’t cry in the bathroom. You square your shoulders. Second-trimester miscarriages happen. Stillbirths happen, but hope gathers in the depths of your soul, growing with each day. You push it away with logic and reasoning. 

Two sides of you war against each other. You can’t bring another life into this world. At one point you were okay with it. You felt safe here, and while you still do, it doesn’t feel okay anymore. The world still digs its ugly claws into this community. Yet, the hopes you used to hold in your mind, the ones you had with Gabe, and the ones you had before the outbreak still linger. In a perfect, uncomplicated world, this is what you would choose. 

You hide the sickness from Joel with relative ease. He’s often awake and out of bed before you for patrol shifts, early morning chores, or waking up with Carter so you can sleep in.

You deliver the Crosby twins a week later without complications. Melissa is only a couple of years younger than you, but at your age, you know how crucial those few years are. When you finally reach your front porch, you sit in the darkness of Wyoming and finally let the tears fall because fate seems to be telling you that this is happening, or just sending you another person to lose. The realization hits you like a freight train. Time is up. You have to tell Joel. 

You crack open the door to Carter’s bedroom. He’s sound asleep and it relieves you to know he's here. You’re less on edge when he’s close, and It means Joel picked him up from Maria and Tommy’s. It means Joel is in your bed.

Sure enough, he’s there when you creep in. He sleeps on his side curled up over your pillow. You roll your eyes. Yes, it's endearing, but it’s also a pain in the ass to get your pillow back.

The bathroom light is blinding at first, but your eyes slowly adjust as you turn on the shower and steam fills the space. Goosebumps spread across your skin as you undress, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. You’ve noticed the subtle changes in your body over these past couple of months, but they’re becoming more noticeable. Your breasts have grown, they’re so sensitive, and your sports bra pulls at the seams. Joel commented on it last week. You joked you were packing on extra weight for winter acting like it was nothing. 

Your favorite pair of jeans no longer fit. You’ve mostly stuck to leggings since. You’re starting to clock the subtle changes in your body. They’re happening faster than with your last pregnancy. The past week, you’ve shut Joel down sexually, scared he would catch on despite your sex drive skyrocketing. It’s been difficult. 

The shower washes away everything: the sweat and grime of the day, your tears, the tension in your muscles. You stand under the water until it runs cold, slipping on Joel’s worn soft t-shirt.

Your pillow is back on your side of the bed, Joel still on his side. A smile creeps onto your face. He keeps his eyes closed, but you know he’s awake. You don’t say anything as you slide into bed, but your anxiety spikes, your heart fluttering in your chest. You have to tell him. 

You’re staring at the ceiling when he breaks the silence. “What happened?” 

You suck in a breath. He thinks something went wrong tonight. He’s probably preparing to dig a grave. “Nothing, mom and babies are fine.”

“So it was twins?” 

“Yeah.” You had suspected as much, but the ultrasound machine doesn’t work, try as you might to get it operational. You hadn’t been able to find a second heartbeat with the Doppler. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His drawl is deeper, soaked with sleep. 

He scoots a little closer, hot breath tickling your ear. You can’t move. You should look him in the eye when you tell him, but you can’t. The words are at the back of your throat surging forward toward your lips. The anxiety in your chest feels like a herd of buffalo stomping across the countryside. You squeeze your eyes shut to try and stop it.

“Sweetheart?” His hand reaches toward you, eyes trained on your profile as concern laces his brow. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

His hand stops over your arm. You feel its warmth so close, and then it goes away. You dare to look at him. You expect him to get out of bed and bolt. You don’t know why. He’s only shown you otherwise the entirety of your relationship, but this is more than either of you signed up for. Instead, you watch as it sinks in. He connects the dots, all the symptoms and signs that were right in front of his face, his subconscious absorbing them, but refusing to put it all together. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.

You look back toward the ceiling, tears slipping from your eyes. 

His hand covers your abdomen, forehead pressing against your temple. He starts to feel the changes to your body for what they are. You shudder. 

“How long have you known?”

There’s not a trace of judgment or fear in his voice, but it does little to assure you. You’re scared. It doesn’t matter what Joel says or does, the fear is overwhelming. 

“Beginning of August.”

“Shit, baby.” He pulls you into him, cradling your head against his chest. “You didn’t have to carry this alone.”

“I didn’t think it would last.” After months of holding the tears back, you finally let them out, a mix of relief and fear. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to-” 

You can’t finish it. You can’t say it out loud, but Joel knows what you’re trying to say. You didn’t want him to lose another child, and it wrecks him. His grip on you is crushing, but it soothes your shaking frame. Just as you come down, his sobs greet your ear because he’s scared too. Every single fear and anxiety that has come over you the past months, he feels too. Maria’s labor and delivery flash through his mind. If that happens to you, who’s going to save you? 

You reach up to cradle his face. He presses into your neck. Your skin is sticky and salty again, but you don’t even think about it as the man you love and can’t tell cries in your arms. You’re unable to return his soothing squeeze, but you lay there to provide any comfort you can. The two of you fall asleep tangled in each other. 

You feel Joel’s fingers dancing across your abdomen before you’re fully conscious. There’s no rhyme or reason to his movements. His other hand brushes over your temple and through your hair. Every once in a while you feel his breath and lips across your neck, up and down your arm, over your collarbone. It feels like he’s memorizing you, fear present in all of his movements even now. 

You finally open your eyes. His movements still as you look at him. There are tears in his eyes as his head falls forward, resting against yours. “I’m scared.”

“Me too.” You reach out, nails raking across his arm. 

He shudders under your touch. “I wish you told me sooner.” 

You bit your lips. “I’m sorry.” 

He lets out a deep sigh, kissing your forehead. His hand drifts to your abdomen again. You watch his eyes, so expressive filled with fear and anxiety and maybe a little bit of awe and guilt?

“I should’ve been more careful.”

You press your head to his, inhaling softly. “We.”

Joel’s fingers scrape along your jaw, his beard rough against your chin. “I like being a we.”

“Me too.”

Silence settles between the two of you. The wind knocks against the window, but it’s warm next to Joel. His arm snakes around you, tugging you closer to him. 

“I suppose you’ve told Maria?”

You can’t hide the guilty smile on your lips. “If it makes a difference, she told me I needed to tell you right away. Pretty sure she was gonna tell you herself if I didn’t do it soon.” You mess with the collar of his shirt. 

“How long do we have?”

“Figure it’ll be May. If we get that far.” You say. Joel nods and something clenches around your heart, a need to protect him, warn him of the danger. “You know there’s a lot of risks. No guarantee…” 

“One day at a time.” He kisses your cheek but you see all the fear he’s pushing away plastered to his face like a movie poster. 

Joel asks you how you are, but other than that, you don’t talk about it. You feel like a weight has lifted off your shoulders but there’s an anvil hanging above your head, waiting to drop at a moment’s notice. 

You’ve outgrown your last pair of jeans. When you manage to trade with someone, they give you a look, like they know what’s going on inside your body. 

You take more naps, sometimes at the clinic, sometimes on the couch. You’re constantly tired. Maria brings dinner to the house every few days. She never asked, but you don’t complain. 

One evening you open your eyes to find Ellie staring down at you, worry etched in her features. It startles you at first. 

“You’ve been sleeping a lot lately,” She says. 

“You’ve noticed?” You pull yourself into a seated position. It feels like someone shoved a bunch of cotton into your mouth. You reach for the now room-temperature water on your end table. 

“You only take naps when you’re sick or depressed.” You raise an eyebrow at her. She crosses her arms as if to say she knows you’re neither right now. “What’s going on?”

You finish off the water. Despite its temperature, it helps. “I’m fine.” You reach out, placing a hand on her shoulder, but it does nothing. At 17 years old, Ellie is turning into a woman before your very eyes. At times, you’re convinced any semblance of childhood has been replaced with adulthood, but there are other times you still see the slivers of the girl you met two and a half years ago. Right now, she’s the one sitting in front of you.  

“Bullshit. What’s going on? You and Joel have been acting weird.”

Had things really been that different in the past couple of weeks? You open your mouth to speak, unsure of what to say. You and Joel hadn’t talked about telling anyone, which seemed silly. You can’t hide this forever. 

The door opens and Carter bursts in with Joel on his heels. A smile instantly finds your lips. 

“Mommy! Look!” He holds up a package of seemingly new Crayola crayons. 

Your eyes widen with exaggeration. “Wow, buddy. That’s awesome.”

“John Lacy found a bunch of them on patrol. They handed them out today,” Joel smiles. “Grabbed you some colored pencils.” He hands a set of non-crayola pencils to Ellie.

“Thanks.” She smiles but is still distracted by her worry over you. 

Carter crawls up beside you, eagerly pulling out the surprisingly intact crayons one by one. Joel leans over to kiss your cheek and tousles Ellie’s hair. She makes a face of displeasure but doesn’t fight him on it.

“You two look like you were talkin about somethin serious.”

“I was trying to figure out why the two of you have been acting weird,” Ellie says. 

Joel’s drops to unreadable. He looks at you and you shrug in response. “We have to tell them eventually.”

Worry makes its home on Ellie’s face. “So something is wrong with you.with you.”

“Nothing is wrong with me.” You sigh deeply. You run your fingers over Carter’s head, kissing it. 

“You’re sure acting like there is,” She says impatiently.

“Ellie,” Joel reprimands, traces of his asshole voice laced into it. 

Ellie bites her lip. It looks like she might be fighting off tears as she looks directly at you. “I’m worried about you.”

You force a smile, leaning forward. Your forearms rest on your knees. One would think it would get easier to say each time. Instead, it’s like picking at a scab that’s not healed. You’re forcing yourself to say something, your brain isn’t ready to accept. “I’m pregnant.”

Ellie sits up straighter, her eyes widen with shock. “Oh wow…”

You wonder if the pictures fill her mind too. She saw Maria the night Elias was born. She saw the blood that covered you. Joel’s fingers brush over your shoulder, squeezing it lightly before they run over the back of your neck. You lean against him. “I’m sorry we worried you. We’re still getting used to the idea,” You say. 

She nods and then her arms around your neck. She basically knocks you backward with the force of it. “I’m glad you’re not dying.”

You squeeze her tightly, a faint lilt of humor in your voice. “Me too.”

Then her voice drops to a whisper right at your ear. “You’ll be okay. I know you will.”  

Your head rests on Joel’s bare chest that night. The full moon sends light drifting through your window, casting the room in a cool glow. You play absentmindedly with the hair on his chest. His heart beats under your ear. The room is otherwise silent. 

“I told Tommy today.” 

You nod. 

“He wanted to know why I was so quiet. Told him I was always quiet.”

That pulls a smile across your lips. “Surprised he shut up long enough to notice.”

Joel chuckles. His arm around you tightens. His lips find your forehead. “I know we’re not ready to think too much about it.”

“Don’t think it’s something we can really ignore.” You nuzzle further into him. 

“Baby steps.” He kisses your nose this time.

You quirk an eyebrow. “Baby steps? Really?” You flip onto your stomach while you still can.

He chuckles. “Poor word choice.”

You kiss his bicep and then his shoulder. He looks at you like your entire world and your stomach erupts in butterflies and twists in knots all at the same time. You still won’t let him say it, but you feel it every time he looks at you like that. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder. “What are these steps you had in mind?”

His thumb traces over your jaw and cheek. “Don’t bolt on me, okay?”

“I think it’s a little late for that.”

He chuckles and then inhales deeply. “I think we should probably share a house. I figured you’d prefer to stay here, but it’s up to you.” He searches your eyes for any signs of panic or signs that you might shut down but finds nothing. In fact, you’re so calm that it’s hard to read. 

“It would be nice to have you officially living here,” you say. It feels right to say, to think about. “And Ellie if she wants.” 

“That was easier than I’d thought it would be.”

“You pretty much live here as is.” You turn on your side, nuzzling back into him. “I’ll miss your fireplace though.”

Joel smiles. “Guess I'll just have to keep you warm instead.” 

[macgyvermedical]

I'm in the middle of a career change and a tentative asthma diagnosis (ie. no tests yet but it's on my record and my doctor is approaching it as such). What was healthcare like before protections were in place for people with pre-existing conditions? What should I do if I can't get health insurance? Should I try to get undiagnosed or something??? My symptoms are sporadic and usually mild so I can get through it without the inhaler if I had to, I'm just worried about losing access to all healthcare (also afab 😓) and want to be prepared to navigate things since I know it was way worse for chronic illnesses before the ACA.

The ACA was gigantic and it would be hard to talk about every aspect in this post.

Generally speaking, prior to the ACA, you essentially had three options. You could get health insurance through an employer, you could get health insurance through the state (medicaid), and you could get health insurance through an individual plan.

Seems pretty similar to today, right?

Nope.

See, the easiest way to get health insurance would be through a job. But if you had a pre-existing condition, including pregnancy or even simply being AFAB, in most states nobody legally had to cover you- including your employer. And if they did, they could say "you have health insurance for everything except the treatment of your chronic condition(s)" or make you pay significantly more for your premiums. Or, y'know, both (the idea being- if you sought medical care for one thing, you might do it again, and that would cost the insurance company profit*).

When you applied for health coverage through an employer, you had to disclose every medical problem you had ever had, including one-off problems like ear infections or broken bones. Anything could be grounds for not covering you at the outset. BUT if you didn't list a problem, and it was discovered (and they really went hard to find things), that could be grounds for rescission- the process of kicking you off insurance and forcing you to pay back money that the insurance had previously paid out for you.

If you didn't have a job or made extremely- and I mean extremely- little money, you might qualify for the state-sponsored medicaid, assuming you fell into a category that medicaid covered in your state. These categories included low-income children, some parents of children who lived at or below 64% of the federal poverty line (though in some states the parents had to have income as low as 15% of the FPL (less than $4,000/year for a family of 3)), older adults who had few assets or income, people on disability, and pregnant people up to 60 days post delivery. If you were a childless, able-bodied (at least in the eyes of the government) non-pregnant adult between 19-64, even if you made next to nothing? Pretty much forget about getting medicaid.

As far as I know, there were not a ton of changes made to medicare, the other major government insurance program for people over 65 years of age or who were severely disabled).

So what about individual plans? Well, first off, there was no marketplace (you couldn't compare plans from different companies) and no guaranteed coverage. Similar to plans through an employer, there was nothing protecting you from rescission or denial for even minor medical problems.

Most states, however, allowed something called "high risk pools" i.e. people who had pre-existing conditions and were looking for insurance could pay double what "healthy" people paid in premiums (often literally thousands of dollars per month) in order to have insurance. Even with these exorbitantly expensive plans, it would often be 12 months before they would start covering any pre-existing conditions. This meant that people had to pay their premiums and also out of pocket for their chronic care management for the first year of having insurance.

So what do you do if you're one of the near quarter of Americans who didn't have insurance through their employer, didn't qualify for medicaid, and couldn't afford the private insurance market?

You went into debt, or you died.

No, like, literally. You either agreed to medical care costing 10's or even 100's of thousands of dollars, or you didn't. For yourself or for your kids. Think about that- Would you pay (read, put yourself or your family into debt) half a million dollars for a surgery that saved your life? Your kid's life? These were the kinds of decisions that had to be made.

Back to your question:

Should you try to get un-diagnosed? Well no. That's asking for a rescission if the ACA is overturned. Contact me directly if you want more personal info about planning.

*and it's not like they aren't making a 10s-of-billions profit even with the ACA protections

[yrfemmehusband]

Female reproductive health terms you should know!

(terfs not welcome)

Dysmenorrhea: Period pain that isn't normal, i.e. any pain more than Mild cramping.

Dyspareunia: painful intercourse

Oligomenorrhea: lighter, shorter menstrual flow.

Menorrhagia: heavier, longer menstrual flow.

Ovarian cysts: a mass on or in one's ovary, can be resolved on its own, or can remain and cause complications such as a rupture.

Polycystic ovary syndrome: a chronic condition causing cysts to reoccur on the ovaries and enlarging them. Symptoms include:

Irregular periods

hormonal imbalance

facial hair

weight gain

painful periods/ ovulation

infertility

People with PCOS are at higher risk for endometrial cancer, type II diabetes heart problems and high blood pressure.

Endometriosis: A chronic condition in which a tissue similar to, but different than, the endometrial lining grows outside of the uterus instead of inside. During menstruation this tissue sheds and has nowhere to go, thus irritating surrounding organs.

Symptoms include:

Irregular periods

Dysmenorrhea

Widespread pain

Painful ovulation

Vomiting, fainting, chills, sweating, fever and brain fog during menstruation

Infertility

Severe bloating

This also puts people at a higher risk for endometrial and ovarian cancer. There are four stages to Endo as it is a progressive disease, with 3/4 being more severe. The average time it takes to be diagnosed is 7 years.

Adenomyosis: A chronic disease similar and comorbid to endometriosis in which a tissue similar to the endometrial lining grows inside of the uterine wall. Symptoms are nearly identical to endometriosis but more difficult to detect.

Many people are diagnosed post menopause, by fault of the medical system, but it can and does develop much before then.

Ovarian cancer: cancer of the ovary(ies).

Endometrial cancer: cancer of the endometrium, the inner lining of the uterus.

Endometrial cyst, or chocolate cyst: cystic lesions from endometriosis.

Tilted uterus: the uterus is positioned pointing towards the back or severely to the front of the pelvis instead of a slight tilt towards at the cervix. Can cause painful sex and periods.

Pelvic floor dysfunction: inability to control your pelvic muscles. Comorbid with many things and is highly comorbid with endometriosis. Can cause pain and incontinence.

Vulvodynia: chronic and unexplained pain at the opening of the vagina.

Interstitial cystitis: a chronic condition where cysts form on the inside of the bladder and urinary tract and cause symptoms similar to that of a UTI.

Pre-eclampsia: a condition occurring in pregnancy where the blood supply between the fetus and the pregnant person is affected and can cause irregular blood pressure, swelling, and in more severe cases headache, nausea and vomiting, a burning sensation behind the sternum, shortness of breath and potentially death if untreated.

Endometritis: an infection or irritation of the uterine lining. Is not the same as endometriosis and is treatable but can cause pain, bleeding, swelling, general discomfort and fever, and more.

Pelvic inflammatory disease: an infection of the reproductive organs

Ectopic pregnancy: a pregnancy that is attached to the outside of the uterus. Can be fatal if left untreated.

There are many more I could probably add but if you see something missing, please add it!

[sunshine-and-moonshine]

Pregnant Cod Men

Requested: Kinda? I did a poll if I should do this or not and the answer was yeah. I’m counting it as half a request.

Warnings: Pregnancy (duh), Pre-eclampsia (Price’s), pregnancy anxiety (König’s)

Price

Good. Fucking. Luck. Price is someone who has a very tough time with the whole pregnancy thing and unlike Simon, there is no point in his pregnancy that you won’t be fighting with him to sit down and just watch the telly for a bit. It’s also made worse by the fact that he has pre-eclampsia and is told that, in no uncertain terms, is he to be exterting or stressing himself under any circumstances. And he looks at that like a challenge, constantly waddling to his office to try and get some work done. It gets to the point that you have to lock his paperwork away only to come home with his favorite biscuits just to see him digging the papers out from where you hid them, brown furrowed said he grumbles to himself about muppets. At this point you might just have to chain him to the bed, for his own sake.

Gaz

HNGGGGG!!! I’m telling you right now that Gaz is the fucking cutest when he’s pregnant. He’s constantly carrying around the weirdest little supplies like one of those belly bands that plays music. Says he needs to teach the kid what proper music is before they come out. And he spends weeks agonizing over what color to paint the nursery, torn between two very similar shades of light purple that leave you confused on what the difference even is. Insists on driving around to TEN different toy stores to find the perfect plushie that is equal parts soft and durable. Will start tearing up when he finds what he thinks is the best one, holding it close to his chest as he looks at you and asks if he can buy 5 of them because he’s afraid that just one will get lonely until the baby gets here. You don’t have the heart to tell him no when he’s looking at you like that so you do, indeed, walk out of the store with 5 of the exact same plushie and a very happy crying Gaz.

Ghost

For the first two trimesters Ghost insists that he can still do everything he normally does. Go to the gym, go on missions, stay up for days on end, brew coffee and tea in the same pot then chug the mixture. It’s a fight to get him to actually settle down and sit for any length of time. In fact it’s almost worse then when he wasn’t pregnant, like he feels that he needs to prove he can still do everything that he’s used to doing. But as SOON as that third trimester hits he is lounging around the house in nothing but a loose Diamond Head T-Shirt and his headphones, eating strawberries out of the carton, his feet propped up on the sofa arm and his head nodding along to the beat of whatever he’s listening to. Always palming his belly, never telling you when the baby moves but you can tell by the way his eyes soften just the slightest bit.

Soap

R.I.P. to your sleep because Johnny is one of those pregnant people that gets the most random cravings in the middle of the night and cannot go back to sleep until he’s eaten whatever it is he wants. Will give you the biggest saddest puppy eyes while rubbing his belly. Tells you he can go get it himself but he doesn’t want to go alone. It’s an entirely frustrating experience to lose so much sleep but it’s worth it to hear his excited giggling and watch his proud penguin waddle as he makes his way back to the car with his food. Will try and make you have a bite of whatever concoction he’s come up with. His most frequently returned to craving is marmite spread on biscuits then dipped in coffee, which he insists is the best thing he’s ever had in his life and swears that he’ll keep eating even after the baby is out.

König

König has a rather…nonchalant pregnancy? For the most part. Half the times it seems to you like he’s forgotten that he’s even pregnant. Which is partially true, and it’s so incredibly easy for him to do so because he doesn’t experience any of the usual pregnancy symptoms at all. If anything, he seems to just be more energized and ready to take on the world. He doesn’t even start showing until month 6 and reality doesn’t slap him in the face until month 7 when you both go in for an ultrasound and see that it’s triplets, in which he’s silent for a good minute before asking if it’s possible for you both to trade places. The Doctor has to leave the room due to laughing and you have half a mind to follow her. Probably would have if not the truly panicked look on König’s face as he stares at the ultrasound pictures, calling his mom to ask how big his head was when he was born, looking like he’s gonna cry when he gets his answer. Pregnancy is a mess of anxiety for him for the following months, please be sure to comfort him with many blankets and his favorite comedy movies.

[joelsbeard]

pre-outbreak!joel when you're pregnant ❤️

part 2

part 3

If you read my hc's on what pre-outbreak!joel would be like when you're on your period, imagine that x10 when you're pregnant with his babies 🥺 (<- sarah and ellie!!!)

He is the sweetest man that will put up with all of your random mood swings and cravings. I imagine sarah to be the more chill baby with less pregnancy symptoms, whereas ellie is a little more chaotic and gives you a harder time lol. However, when you're pregnant with sarah you get worse morning sickness unfortunately lol, and like the angel he is joel always gets up and holds your hair and rubs your back when you're throwing up. You tell him he doesn't need to and partially bc you don't want him seeing you like that, but he just comforts you and says he wants to help 🥺.

You get mood swings with both pregnancies, one moment youre fine and the next you're gagging and getting nauseous at the smell of him making scrambled eggs for you, other times you snap at him for the most random things like the way he chews or brushes his teeth, one time you almost lose it bc you can't stand the way he's even breathing. Poor joel lol sometimes he gets a little irritated with your extreme mood swings but he knows its all because you're growing his babies ❤️ and the least he could do is try not to make you feel bad lol

Sometimes after acting our bc of your mood swings you start crying afterwards bc you feel bad for raising your voice at joel 🥺 and you know he's doing his best not to piss you off or make you any more upset since its bad for the baby, and he always pulls you in for a hug or a cuddle and reassures you that its okay and that he knows your mood swings are out of your control. One time he looked slightly irritated/hurt and may have raised his voice a little at you after you bugged/yelled at him that you didn't want his help bc you were feeling suffocated by him and you start sobbing and you ask him "are you mad at me? 🥺 I'm sorryyyy 😭" and then he feels a little bad, but not as much as you do for yelling at your man when all he's doing is trying to help 😭 you end up laying on the couch all squished together trying to comfort each other LMAO

On several occasions you wake him up at random times (you try not to bc of his work schedule, however his hours at some point aren't as crazy bc you also have some savings to help out, and you were working up until your maternity leave) for your random pregnancy cravings, pizza, McDonald's, ice cream, pickle ice cream sandwiches, cheetos and sour cream, and other random things (one time you even start craving detergent, though of course you don't eat it) and he always goes to the store to get you some. One time you asked him for a pizza with a cheese stuffed crust and he brings you thin crust pizza, and when you open the box you were so excited for the cheese filled crust that when you saw it was the wrong order you burst into tears. Joel 's like"oh noo, baby whats wrong?I thought you wanted pizza?" and you're like "😖😭 babeee i wanted the one with the cheese stuffed crust!!" and then he's like 🙄 (internally) "Its fine i can go back for another one" and you say "noo I don't want it!!" then he's like "but I thought you didn't want this pizza either" and you're like "I don't! 😖😖😖" And you turn into a blubbering mess lol and he grabs you by your waist and pulls you in close and he puts his forehead against your temple and presses a bunch of kisses there to calm you down lol. Poor joel is having a hard time keeping up with all your cravings and mood swings.

You buy some maternity clothes to go out but tbh you mostly just steal even more of his clothes (if possible). He always walks into the house from work seeing you swimming in one of his shirts and if its cold you're also wearing his sweatpants (rolled a million times so that they stay up on you lol) and more often than not you'll be sitting on the couch eating ice cream. He thinks you're so adorable and hot in his clothes, and when your belly gets big enough you use it as a table lol.

He loves seeing you grow his babies, it makes him wanna get you pregnant again even tho you're already pregnant lmao.

[letmeapologise]

hi!! can you write where the reader is pregnant and trent is feeling the pregnancy symptoms or maybe the reader doesn’t know she’s pregnant and finds out bc of trent having symptoms.

❝ 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐮 ❞

.ೃ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ! 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐚 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 ✰ ´ˎ˗

⋆ ｡ ˚ ⋆ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⌇ 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ੈ✩‧₊˚

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⌇ 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

ೄྀ࿐ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⌇ 𝟏.𝟑𝐤 !

↳ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ೃ⁀➷ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝐢𝐝𝐤 𝐢𝐟 𝐢'𝐦 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐜𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞. 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 !

TRENT USUALLY WOKE UP EARLIER THAN YOU, due to the nature of his job and the physicality it involved. However, these days you were getting up at horrendous times in the morning with inexplicable cravings, like now, in which your boyfriend had spotted you sitting on a counter in the kitchen shovelling cucumber and chocolate into your mouth. Trent grimaced at you, frowning, glaring at you and then at the cutting board to the right of you where you had seemingly been slicing the cucumber for you to eat at three in the morning.

“Why’re you up? And why are you eating cucumber and chocolate?” he yawned, stretching as he strolled up to you, kissing your forehead and dodging the concoction of food you had gathered. You looked up at him, pecking his lips as he wrapped his arms either side of you, effectively trapping you on the counter, legs dangling off the edge threatening to kick against his stomach. “Just got a random craving again,” you scoffed, looking down at the cutting board. “And it’s cucumber, chocolate, and salt,” you corrected him, smiling widely and he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Why don’t you come back to bed ‘n’ eat it then?” he tilted his head at you, arm retracting back to rub comforting circles into the skin of your leg. 

You shook your head. “Didn’t wanna wake you up,” he rolled his eyes and stepped back, the corner of his lips lifting up slightly, and shrugging. “Well, I’m up. So just come back to bed,” he tilted his head at you, grinning. You huffed, hopping off of the counter as Trent watched you, sprinkling more salt onto the thinly sliced cucumbers in the palm of your hand. He let out a laugh, rubbing his hand over his face in disbelief, chuckling softly. You then grabbed the chocolate and carried both upstairs, tailing behind Trent who was holding in bounds of laughter, clutching at his chest.

Once you got to bed, he had rolled over, legs splayed over yours under the covers, eyes flickering closed and open as he watched you eat the cucumber and chocolate, balancing one on top of the other like some kind of makeshift sandwich, laughing silently and twisting his head round up at you with a nonchalant expression, as if everything about this scenario was completely normal. You looked round at him with a smirk, the cucumber and chocolate rested neatly on the covers, Trent almost gagged at the sight of it again; running a hand over his face in disbelief once more, then rolled over to face the wall and tried to go to sleep without the thought of you and your incessant cravings.

A few hours later he woke up, kissing you on the cheek as he usually did when he left early, and made his way downstairs to make himself breakfast and a pre-training meal. The remainders of your night cravings scattered across the counter, with small helpings of cucumber and a chocolate wrapper just above it by the chopping board, as well as a salt condiment on top of it. He scoffed, laughing quietly to himself as he made his way out the door, binning the wrapper on his way out, and eating an energy bar.

He reached the training grounds after a twenty minute drive, headphones on, and grinning once Andy Robertson approached him. “You good, Robbo?” he nodded, smiling widely at his teammate and giving him a quick hug, ruffling his hair. “I’m good, thanks. You?” Trent nodded back, huffing as the memory of you came back to him, before he could say anything in return Robbo spoke up once more. “You look like you’ve got a bit of bags under your eyes, mate,” he commented, Trent shook his head, smiling. “It’s the missus,” Robbo raised his eyebrows, face tilted to the side in surprise before smirking at him, chuckling. “Why? You been getting some action recently?” 

Trent rolled his eyes, slapping his teammate on the neck. “She keeps waking up in the night with these weird food cravings. Woke me up last night ‘n’ when I went downstairs she was chowing down on some cucumber ‘n’ chocolate,” he laughed, a downturned smile emerging on his face, then he scratched his chin. Roberton furrowed his brows at him, mouth half-agape. “Mine had that before we found out she was pregnant.”

Trent glared at him, mouth half-agape, eyes darting around until he almost gave a delayed flinch at his words, head shooting back as if offended. “Shut up, don’t joke like that.” Robertson shook his head, waving his arms about, a sort of pleading in his eyes. “No, I’m being serious,” he exclaimed, Trent ran a hand over his face, exhaling deeply. Robbo gestured towards a room in the training grounds, looking around at Trent and the security outside the building. 

“Come ‘ere, lad,” Trent followed him into the room, closing the door behind him. “What else have you noticed weird about her recently?” Trent hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Dunno, been up more in the night like I said.” Robbo sat down, clasping his hands together, Trent did the same but his leg was rocking back and forth, fidgeting about. Andy ran a hand through his hair, and then resting on the bridge of his nose while he thought out loud. 

“Doing what?” Trent shrugged, half-pouting, chuckling as if everything his friend was saying was some kind of joke. “Eating, pissing, dunno. Stuff you usually do at night.” Robertson wet his lips, watching the door and then at Trent. “That’s another symptom, pissin’ more. Has she been complaining about any pain?” Trent scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, but that could just be her period, right?” Robbo shrugged. “Listen, should I text her, what if it’s a surprise or sum’?” Robbo laughed, waving his hand about at Trent. “Worst kept surprise ever then, then again you’re a bit thick,” he nudged Trent, chuckling to himself. “Dunno how you haven’t added it together like this before, lad.” 

Trent just shrugged, then pulled his phone out, as he did so Virgil walked in through the door, jabbing a thumb in a backwards direction towards the pitch. “Boss wants you out there,” he looked between the two players, Trent giving him a pensive look with your messages with him pulled up, and then glanced at Robbo who was looking at him chirpily. “Trent’s missus is pregnant!” he basically shouted. Trent leaned back in his seat, mumbling profanities under his breath as he watched Virgil look at him with a mixture of shock and awe. “Fuckin’ hell, Robbo. Surprised the whole country doesn’t know now, you don’t even know for sure either. Dunno if she does!” his tongue poked in the side of his cheek, biting down on his lips before he wet them and leaned forward with his head in his hands.

“Do you want me to tell the boss sum’?” Virg inquired, eyes still widened, processing what was going on; and how he was going to keep up a secret like this if the answer was no. Trent shook his head. Virgil looked down and nodded, biting down on his lip and letting out a much needed breath of air. He looked back down at his phone, a notification bringing him to his senses, it was from you – an attachment – he clicked on it, Virgil now debating whether or not to leave the room and go back to training, while Andy tried to peek over and read your messages.

The screen came up, a photo of five positive pregnancy tests all lined up next to each other.

୨୧ @𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 ୨୧

[penvisions]

return the favor {chapter 22}

Pairing: Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Smuggler! Reader || M! OC x Pre Boston QZ! Reader (flashback scenes)

Summary: Memories often spring up at the worst of times, but as you continue to travel alone there's not much else to occupy your mind.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: minor character death, m! oc death, canon typical violence, canon typical language, cursing, insult, sexual content, non con, allusions to non con sexual advances, allusions to p in v, unprotected p in v that results in pregnancy, kissing, pregnancy, symptoms of pregnancy, mentions of nausea but no vomiting, allusions to child loss, fighting, blood, reader gets injured, joel gets injured, guns, gun violence, self-depreciating internal monologue, if i left anything out pls lemme know!

A/N: trying something new with this chapter, i hope it reads well! thank you to everyone who participated in the poll for the next few chapters of this fic! this one is a little shorter, but the next one will be a doozy. my mind is a little overwhelmed with school and tutoring and four different WIPS

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Joel was trying.

He was trying to tamp down the anxiety he knew would thrum in his veins the second the gates of Jackson closed behind him. Back out in the unknown and unpredictable landscape. Winter was granting him a passive day, no snow, no biting wind, cloud coverage clear for the sky to shine a light blue to crystal clear you would think it was a brisk summer day. But the pause in extreme weather aside from the near freezing temperature did nothing to quell the pulse beneath his skin.

He was alone, traveling with a teenager he had come to care about in a dangerous way.

The journey had been meant to be made with Tess, first. Strong-willed, no-nonsense saint of a woman for taking what he could offer her and not asking for anything in return. Just wanting to share space and renown within a controlled setting that allowed for them to execute their runs and make what passed for a decent living back in what was left of the quarantine zones. To share their bodies when human nature sparked connection in the oldest and most instinctual of ways. She had turned an eye to his abuse of the very same things they traded for food, for water, for supplies for their shabby apartment that had seen far better days before they stepped foot inside.

Then journey was then meant to be made with you. A surprise in the moments after her death. Skilled in many things and willing to help a man suddenly saddled with a teenager he had no clue how to interact with. But he had, once upon a time. The situation tasting of irony and self-destruction. Selfless to the point of disembarking on your own path in the wake of his own attempt at running when faced with something too real for the world. Maybe in the Before times, it would have worked out. Perhaps a meet cute as he delivered his brother to an urgent care for a drunken blunder, a work accident he himself fell victim to, or a begged visit for Sarah should she had fallen off her bike or taken a tumble in soccer practice. Maybe then it would have been given life, hopeful glances and lingering touches that would have turned into nervous dates. Nervous dates that would give way to regular familiarity and then heated nights beneath sheets of his bed.

But it had never should’ve blossomed in the now, in the after. And yet, it had tried.

Ellie was mad. She wasn’t trying.

Not the first day at least.

Speaking when spoken to, ire and hurt flaring uncomfortably in moments he could sense weren’t aimed at him. At least not completely. Aimed at you, for going back on your word. Something you wouldn’t have had to do if he hadn’t screwed up so monumentally by falling for you. He had been wrong in his accusations, throwing the proposition you made to him all those days ago back in your face. Like you had forced yourself on him, forced him into thinking of you that way, of wanting you that way. But it had been him, his decision to take you up on it in his grief. Wanting to feel something other than the gaping hole that seemed to eat up more and more of him as the years went by.

But instead of just taking his body in the ways he allowed you to, you had also begun to heal that black hole he was made up of. Slowly and so minimally at a time that he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

He stopped and made the time to teach her how to shoot the rifle, hoping it would help to bring her out of her shell. And it worked, he silently thanked the universe, it worked. She was cracking jokes and quipping like normal. Mirth lighting up her eyes and questions flowing from her. And he indulged them, as best he could. Telling her of how he supported himself before the world fell apart. About how he always dreamed of singing and making music.

But just as everything seemed to be on the mend, it was broken once again.

With the crack of a wooden bat.

“A-Angelo?” You voice was as shaky as your reaching hands, fingers brushing against the man’s face only a few steps away. He was older, that much was certain. Only a year apart back then, back when the world functioned in an entirely different way. Only a year apart, but two decades of time separating you now, turned into completely different people. A wave of emotions at finding your family by pure chance and circumstance in the wilds of a state you had never been to before while on your way to look for them hit hard. You both surged forward and embraced, the man’s arms coming around you and tightening.

“I thought it was you, the hair,” He choked out, deep voice cracking. He was so broad, tall frame looming over you, developed fully into a man who had survived the worst of nature and humanity. Just as you had grown into a woman who took nothing of ill nature aimed at you, taking the things that had happened to you and using it as a foundation to be stronger.

“It’s me, I’m okay.” You gripped his shoulders tight, pushing him back a little to look him over.

“No injuries, no bites, you’re okay?”

“Yes, yes, I’m okay….We both are.”

That’s when your mind decided to remind you of the other voice you heard, the feminine one.

A young girl, no more than her teens and far too skinny was half concealed behind a tree trunk a few yards away. Her eyes were brown, honey brown and beautiful and they reminded you of so many people lost to space and time. They shown just as Taylor’s had done, once upon a time. Like you had both talked of wishing to see on a bright new, chubby face…

“Oh.” The phantom jolt of a kick felt through the skin of your aunt’s stomach so many years ago sprung to life in the palm of your hand. “Oh, Angelo. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

He detached from you, taking a few steps toward the girl, now in between you both equally. He held out a hand to her, his gloves tattered and stitching frayed in certain places.

“It’s okay, she’s okay. She’s family.”

“You’re so beautiful,” You gently coached her out, hoping nice words would help her to feel safe. “I’ve never met you, but I’ve waited a very long time to. You- you can call me by my name or Bean, if you’d like?”

“This is our cousin, from mom’s side. Do you remember her saying that we needed to go East?”

A small nod, wide eyes taking in the situation.

“It was to find her. She’s good, smart, she can help keep us alive.”

“You’ve been doing good on your own.” She didn’t move, not taking a step to back away and put distance between you nor toward you in a hesitant greeting. Her wide brown eyes were alert, telling of the things she’d experienced and been witness to. Of how cautious she was in the face of new people, a good thing to be but completely unwarranted in this particular case.

“Yes, but…Adela, we…we need help. This season, it’s harsh and we don’t know this land as well.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I know we’re practically strangers but we are related. I know that doesn’t mean much these days to some people, but it means a great deal to me. I will do everything in my power to protect you, just like your brother.”

Hours later, after a shared meal and an introduction of your gifted appaloosa, camp was made and secured. Adela was fast asleep, one of the blankets you had tucked underneath the saddle wrapped around her small frame inside her sleeping bag. Light snoring sounding from the bundle she made against the horse.

“We’re the only ones that made it.” Angelo said before you could even figure out how to ask after everyone. Outbreak day a rather taboo subject amongst those that survived it. For Joel, at least, for you it was easier to divulge but still not a light subject to talk about. You had been willing with Ellie, with Maria.  The first to quell her curious questions, to allow her another perspective on the events before her time that shaped the world into the one that she knew. The second to appeal to her, to connect with someone who felt comfortable.

“We didn’t know anything was going on for a while, you know how it is working in a ware. house all day. But when I got home that evening, apparently grandma had passed during the morning. Scared the hell out of everyone when she came sprinting into the living room and lunged at dad.”

“I…I can’t imagine, I’m so sorry. I know I had a missed call from the house that day, but I had been running late. And then, you know….”

“It’s okay,” One of his gloved hands reached out, taking the closest one of yours and squeezing. “We both made it, Adela made it. I love our family and cared so much for everyone, but this world is too harsh for them. It was always going to be us and that’s the only comfort I have in what happened.”

Silently agreeing, you squeezed his hand back. He was right, your grandparents had softened in their age, his parents and your father caring for them together. Soft in their endearment too, not suited for a life of constant unrest, of constant fear and paranoia. Of scrounging for food and basic supplies, having to defend what was yours by any means necessary.  

“I was traveling with a man from Boston QZ and a girl, we were trying to find her family out this way. The last lead would’ve taken us to the University of Eastern Colorado.” You admitted over dinner the next day, having taught Adela the basics of how to properly interact with a horse, how to climb up in the saddle. While she was tall, she was skinny. Alarmingly so, but Angelo assured you that he always made sure she had enough to eat. He was willing to go without to provide for her, to ensure her still growing body had as much as it needed, or close to it at least.

“We were just there,” He took a breath, savoring the smell of the coffee that you had brewed for him as you all settled around the fire for the night. Scraps of foil that had contained easy, portioned meals to through on the fire that Maria had provided you with. “Well, around there. We came across a group of people settled into an old lodge town. Not to far from the city actually.”

Something about the man’s tone had you delaying your questions until Adela had laid down to rest for the night, tired from the day of interaction. But she was warming up to you, a familiar comfortability between you both as you talked to her about her mother. She admitted quietly that Angelo wasn’t willing to talk about their parents, people she had never had the chance to meet. The chaos of Outbreak day and those following it too much for him to talk about.

“We-uh, we left the group pretty quickly.” The man cleared his throat, turning around to ensure that his little sister was indeed asleep and not feigning it in order to eavesdrop. “The leader, god – what was his name? It doesn’t matter, he was so nice at first. Preaching about how people need to stick together, that his flock chose him to lead them and look after them.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, religious fanatics always putting you on edge. The way they manipulated the words of the bible in order to further their own agenda. And the way Angelo described him as initially nice and welcoming. A ploy, a trap laid out to ensnare people.

“But the first morning there, he came to visit us in the small set up they provided us with. Asked Adela to go out on a walk with him while I was still asleep. She hadn’t wanted to go, but felt obligated. Like he was just going to give her a tour or somethin’ and it was harmless, ya know?”

The rush of blood in your ears was loud, but you strained against it, needing to hear the words coming from the man beside you.

“He- that motherfucker, he exposed himself to her. Said that if she wanted to stay and use their resources that she needed to earn her keep. She begged me to leave right that second, to gather our stuff and make a run for it. But I don’t her we needed to act like nothing happened, to wait until nightfall and take what we could. So we did….but if you said you were traveling with a girl…brown hair, short, scar in her eyebrow?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, body thrumming with fear. No….no…there was no way Ellie could’ve been taken by the same men. She wouldn’t willingly go with anyone, had been hesitant to even let you or Joel out of her sight for too long….That meant…Joel had to have been injured in order for them to steal her away from him.

“She was unconscious, they were…they were carrying her into the settlement.”

Your head shot up, drink spilling over your hands cupped around the thermos.

“No.” You stood, hands steady despite the flood of emotions raging around in your mind. “No, no, no. I know those people, without them I wouldn’t have made it back out this way. We traveled from the other coast.”

It was late, but you didn’t care. You were gathering everything you needed, your pack and half of the food supply.

Adela roused at the noise, springing up and reaching for your hands.

“No, please, don’t leave us. We’ve lost too much already.” Tears were in her wide eyes, tugging at your heart in more ways than one. You crouched down in front of her, clasping your gloved hands around her own. Giving her your undivided attention.

“Honey, please, listen to me. I’m- I – I don’t want to leave you two, but I have to. Please understand. The girl that you saw, that was…she’s important to me. And she needs my help. I’ll see you again, I promise. I swear to you, Adela, I will see you again. Behind the walls of Jackson, we can…we can have a life there.”

Standing, you pulled her into a tight embrace.

“I’ll tell you embarrassing stories about your brother from when we were little.”

Pulling the map from your pocket, you circled the spot for Jackson with a marker.

“Here, this map will get you back to a settlement. Jackson. It’s large, has walls, it works. Ask for Maria or Tommy, tell them my name and that I sent you. Tell them you’re my family, you are. Take this,” You moved to wrap your old coat you had draped over your lap over the small frame of the girl and push the map that would lead them back to Jackson in the man’s hands.

The man surged up and gripped you tight in a bear hug, his body wrapped completely around you like he would do ever since he had begun to tower over you as children.

“Please, be safe!”

“Seek refuge in Jackson. I’ll return there, I promise.” You urged as you mounted the horse, reigns tight in your hands.

You clicked your tongue and tugged hard, urging the horse forward. The sound of hooves beating on the frozen ground was the only sound in the quiet, frozen night.

The remains of the a few bodies were scattered about the derelict campus that had been the destination sought out by them. Joel and Ellie. Those you were searching for nowhere to be seen, only hints of them in the bullet casings, the torn-up dirt, a bat broken in half- the jagged ends of one piece soaked in a deep red stain of blood. Joel’s, if your cousin’s words and your spiraling thoughts were correct.

Internally cursing at the man for pulling it out, for not waiting for a better moment, for not thinking in the haze his mind must’ve been.

Just as you began to trace the trail of rather fat droplets, you heard the crunch of someone stepping on fallen leaves behind you. Before you could even turn around completely to face them, someone was wrapping their arms around your neck, cutting off your air.

Your last thought was of Angelo and Adela. Of Joel and Ellie.

‘It was hot. Sweltering. And your dress was too tight over your swollen middle. It was a small bump, barely visible from the front, more so from the side. You had thought you indulged in too much food one evening after a deer had been caught but the teasing jab soon delved into something more serious. Especially when the swelling hadn’t gone down in the following days and nausea became a morning ritual.

You had been ecstatic, a first for you. And exciting thing you had always wanted. A faint thought you hadn’t entertained even in a working world, a notion you hadn’t thought possible at all with the demise of the world. When you had told him, Taylor had shared in your excitement, immediately beginning to hoard everything he could loot from the nearby state park. Gathering everything you could use, whether it was to repurpose it or store it for the future.

You had found a pocket of happiness and security in the rubble of the world, hidden deep in the forests of Tennessee in the form of a man who welcomed you into his space when all you had wanted to do was run. Finding yourself injured and needing aid, he had offered it to you.

What had begun as a small stay to ensure you would heal okay, that your stitches were secure and wouldn’t pull. But the conversations that flowed from one to another over those first few days tied you to each other. Braiding together your futures in such a wonderful way. There was no way to know how badly the universe would fray the untethered strings.

The only consolation was that the nights were cooler, the evenings and mornings twinged with a chill that signaled the end of an unseasonable warm fall. But as time moved on, Taylor had pleaded with you to consider staying close to the cabin. You had agreed, the symptoms of your pregnancy making it hard to do much of anything for long. Hunting and patrolling far too much for you to handle at the moment.

You were tending to the horses when he appeared behind you, arms snaking around your shoulders. The tickling of his facial hair sprouting giggles from you. The horses snickered, sharing in your delight. After securing them back in the modest stable, large hands were wrapping around you and sweeping you off of your tired feet.

“C’mon, princessa, let’s go have a nap.”

“But I don’t wanna,” You whined, not wanting to waste the sunshine while it was still showing, winters notoriously gray and overcast in this part of the region. The looming mountains casting dark shadows over pockets of land. Thankfully the cabin wasn’t in one of those regions, hidden well by the tall trees and stained a dark green all along the roof to avoid searching eyes to those at a higher altitude.

“Who said we were gonna sleep, silly girl?” Taylor swooped down to kiss you fully on the lips. Stirring warmth in your core. With a deep laugh at the chasing of your lips after his, he carefully rushed up the stairs and through the front door. “I’m gonna devour you, you’re too good looking a snack to leave untouched.”

“Oh hush,” You curled your hands into the long hair he had tied into a bun at the back of his head. Taking the band from around it and causing the strands to cascade around his handsome face.

“Glowing and full of me, carrying our baby in your pretty little tummy. Good god, you’re constantly on my mind, princessa, you’re my entire world.”

“And you’re mine, mi amor.”

Bubbling giggles flowed through the cabin as he made his way up the stairs and through the small landing. Into the bedroom that you found happiness in the midst of the fallen world.’

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