#somebody hold him that's his baby !! she's all growed up !!

[ride-em-cowboy]

The Doctor, The Pilot and The Little Girl

Bradley’s little girl is sick and what should have been a routine doctor’s appointment might just change the both of their lives.

“I don’t want to go papa,” the little girl said as she squirmed in his arms, not wanting to go into the large building.

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’re sick,” Bradley tried to calm her as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. Her little head came to rest in the crook of her neck and he could feel the heat radiating off her.

“‘M not sick-” she began, but was cut off by a fit of small coughs racking her tiny body.

“Mmhmm, not getting out of it that easy baby girl,” he chuckled softly, holding her just a little bit tighter as he felt her tears begin to soak through the collar of his t-shirt.

“After this, we can go to the store and you can pick any toy you want, deal?”

A small whine left her throat. Usually she’d jump at the idea of a new toy.

Bradley walked up to the reception desk, still holding his daughter who had refused to pick up her head that was still buried between her teddy bear and her dad’s neck. The inside of the building was a lot more inviting then the outside, with a colourful corner for the children Lucy would usually be rushing to play with or pointing out and naming all of the animals painted onto the walls.

“Hi, my daughter has got an appointment with Doctor Jamie.”

The receptionist looked between the pair with a smile as she got a look at how pale and sad the small girl in his arms looked, “Sure thing, can I get her name?”

“Lucy. Lucy Carole Bradshaw,” he replied.

The receptionist typed away at her computer before she frowned. “Unfortunately her usual doctor is out on maternity leave, but we have an amazing paediatrician filling in for her. Doctor Jake will take great care of her,” the receptionist said with a smile, “take a seat and a nurse will be right out with you.”

“Nooo,” Lucy squirmed tiredly in her dads arms as he sat down in the waiting area. She wasn’t a stranger to coming to the doctors, but it didn’t mean she liked it.

”I know princess,” he soothed her the only way he knew how, smoothing back her hair and peppering light kisses on her forehead.

He hated having to drag her to the clinic but with her medical history, he couldn’t change it. Lucy had been born premature and been in and out of hospital growing up for various complications and check ups, so whenever she even had as much of a sniffle his protective instincts would kick in.

They didn’t have to wait long before a man with dirty blonde hair and wide wire rimmed glasses came out into the waiting room. He wore bright coloured scrubs and a name tag shaped like a bear with ‘Nurse Bob’ stamped across it. He knew Lucy, had helped treat her many times.

He walked over, slowly kneeling down in front of where she sat cuddled in Bradley’s arms, one arm around her bear and the other clutching to his shirt. “Hey Lucy, remember me? Somebody told me you’re not feeling too well.”

She sniffed, wiping her tears on the back of her hand before nodding.

“Well, how about we get you feeling better and guess what?” He said, whispering to her as if to make sure no one else could get in on the secret.

“What?” She croaked quietly.

“I’ve refilled my sticker drawer since your last visit and I think I have a few you and Mr Bear might like.” The bear she carried around with her had been one from the many hospital trips growing up, the cream bear with the little pastel outfit had been with her through countless check ups and procedures.

Despite the temptation of the stickers, Lucy made no effort to move, completely exhausted and cuddled in Bradley’s arms. Bradley rose to his feet, clutching his little girl as he followed Bob to one of the many exam rooms lining the hallway. Bob took a seat on a wheely stool and gestured for Bradley to sit up on the exam table with Lucy. “So, Lucy Lu. What brings my favourite patient back?”

She hid further into Bradley’s neck causing him to sigh. He looked exhausted himself, dark circles under his eyes, stubble starting to form where he hadn’t shaved for a few days. “She’s been running a fever since yesterday morning, can’t bring it down with tylenol or cool baths. With her history, I thought it best to bring her in.”

Bob nodded in agreement, “you did the right thing.”

“Okay, Miss Lucy. Why don’t we start with letting me take your temperature? Can we do that?”

She nodded, and allowed Bob to put the thermometer in her ear and wait until it beeped. Bob frowned at the reading, noting it down on her chart. “Definitely still running a fever.”

He ran through a few more questions as he set up the next piece of equipment, asking when her last dose of medicine was and if Bradley had noticed any rashes or anything else out of the ordinary for her. “

“Just the fever and the cough, she was complaining her throat was sore too but won’t let me near to get a good look. Spent half the night cuddled to my chest last night, the only thing I could do to get her settled.

“Lucy, can I clip my special laser on your finger? Like we usually do so we can show the doctor how good your numbers are?” Bob asked.

Bradley loved the way Nurse Bob was with her, he had such a way with kids and always explained things at their level and gave them the choice. She held out her little hand, letting him clip a pulse oximeter on her finger. Both him and Bradley watched the monitor closely. Being a dad of a sick baby meant you picked up a lot about the medical world.

“Her pulse ox is a little low and her heart rate is a little fast, but with the fever it's not unusual. I’m going to write this down and then go and grab Doctor Jake to take a look. But first, I think you did such a good job that you and Mr bear both deserve some stickers,” Bob said as he turned to his sticker drawer and pulled out a shiny blue box filled to the brim.

He set the box next to her, pulling out a few he thought she might like, “I’ve got some princess stickers, doc mcstuffins and my personal favourite, strawberry scented ones.”

She moved her hand slowly, pointing towards the strawberry scented ones, letting Bob hand her a few.

“And we can’t forget Mr Bear, can we?”

Lucy let out a tiny smile, the first one Bob had managed to pry from her that morning. He’d definitely be noting that down as a win. With Mr Bear covered in a few Doc Mcstuffins stickers and Lucy quietly sniffing the strawberry scent of the stickers, Bob left the room to go and grab Doctor Jake.

Bradley shifted her in his arms, letting her show him all the stickers doctor Bob let her pick out, pressing a kiss to her cheek and pushing the sweaty curls from her forehead. Lucy didn’t always do well with new doctors and despite reassurances from Nurse Bob and the receptionist, it still didn’t ease his nerves having someone new looking after his baby girl.

He didn’t have long to think about it before there was a knock on the door. Bradley didn’t know what he was expecting, maybe an older and wiser man, salt and pepper beard - been in the business for a while and was great with kids. What he didn’t expect was the tall, broad shouldered and blond-haired doctor who walked into the room. He was good-looking, there was no denying that. He grabbed the wheelie chair that Bob had not long occupied and rolled into position in front of the pair.

“Hi, my name's Doctor Jake,” he held out a hand for Bradley as he introduced himself. Bradley took his hand and adjusted Lucy who once again had buried herself in the crook of his neck, hiding from the new stranger in the room. Bradley watched as his kind green eyes moved to the little girl in his arms and tilted his head to get a better look at her.

“And you must be Miss Lucy? A little bird told me that you’ve not been feeling too good, huh? Can you tell me about that?”

“‘M not sick,” she mumbled.

He’d already got the low down from Bob and checked over her initial vitals. He had read her chart and noted her history; premature, spent time in and out of hospital in the NICU and had heart surgery for a small hole in her heart from being born so soon.

“Hmm, well. I guess you wouldn’t mind letting me check you over so we can prove your daddy here wrong.”

She shuffled a bit to get a better look at the stranger. He was at her level, wearing a kind smile as he looked her over. Despite watching him, she still stayed clutched in her dads arms, not looking like she was going to be moving any time soon. He noticed the bear clutched in her arms, the standard ones they give to pediatric patients when they’re in hospital and decided to change tactics.

“Who’ve we got here?”

“It’s my bear,” she croaked.

“Does he have a name?” Jake asked.

“Mr Bear”

“That’s a great name! And you’ve already got stickers from nurse Bob! I can’t say I’ve got as good a sticker collection as his but there might be some super special ones nurse Bob doesn’t have that we can put on Mr Bear.”

This definitely got her attention. “Can I have one now?”

Jake let out a chuckle. He knew this game, knew she’d end up with a shirt full of stickers and he’d still have an exam to complete.

“I’ve got to get a look at you first. Nurse Bob tells me you’ve got a bit of a fever and if you are feeling yucky it’s important you tell me so we can get you feeling better. Then we can have a look at the stickers and if you’re good, you can have three whole stickers!”

“Promise?”

He held out his pinky and curled his much larger finger around her tiny delicate finger, shaking it lightly, “pinky promise.”

Bradley shifted her around better so her back was against his chest, still holding her protectively.

Jake grabbed a pen torch from his pocket, “is it okay if I take a look at your throat first?”

She hesitated for a moment before letting him, it was red and raw as expected.

He continued on with his exam, taking the stethoscope from around his neck he noticed the faint pink scar in the centre of her chest. “Do you know what this is, Lucy?”

She nodded, “a stethoscope,” not quite getting the pronunciation right.

Jake chucked softly at the way she said the word, “that’s right! Do you mind if I take a listen to see how strong your heart is?”

She hesitated a moment before nodding. He checked her too quick beating heart and the way her breathing rattled slightly.

“Looks like you’ve got a case of the flu, Miss Lucy,” he said, speaking to her first before turning her attention to her dad. “Her lungs sound a bit congested but it doesn’t sound like we’ve hit pneumonia yet and there’s no new heart murmurs. We’ll get a couple of viral swabs just in case but I think we’re good to continue with Tylenol, fluids and rest. I can prescribe something to help her feel a little more comfortable and obviously if her fever spikes again or you’re worried you can always bring her back and we’ll take another look.”

“I know I’m probably overreacting but every cough or fever…” he paused, his mind wandering slightly before he continued, “just sends me back to nights in the hospital, alarms beeping, doctors and nurses rushing around and her tiny little body more wires and tubes than baby.”

Jake placed a comforting hand on his elbow, meeting his gaze. “You did the right thing, it’s always best to err on the side of caution especially with her history.”

“Thanks doc.”

“Now, Miss Lucy. As promised,” Jake spoke as he turned around in his chair and unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk pulling out another small box with his stash of stickers. He placed them on the exam table beside her, pulling out the sheets and spreading them out. “I’ve got princesses, special Dr Jake stickers, planes, because I’m a plane guy myself.”

“Can papa have one of mine?” She asked so innocently. Jake nodded as she pointed to the plane stickers, “he needs a plane sticker, because he flies planes!”

“He does, does he?” Jake asked as he glanced at Bradley who was most definitely blushing. “You’re a pilot?”

“I-uh, I’m a naval aviator.”

Jake smiled at that, “that’s pretty cool, you must be proud of your daddy, huh Lucy?” He continued choosing stickers for her and Mr Bear, helping her stick them on her shirt and her bear for her. She stuck the plane sticker to her dad’s shirt, cuddling into his side now the excitement had turned into exhaustion again.

Bradley picked her up easily, holding out his spare hand to shake to doctors before he headed out of the door. “If you need anything, just give us a call and I can see her again. I’d like to see her again in a week's time just to be sure she hasn’t gotten any worse. I’ll get that all sent through for you.”

Jake watched as Bradley held the small girl close to his chest, smoothing back her hair and placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, whispering something he couldn’t quite make out. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was secretly looking forward to running into the pair again the following week. Whoever her mother was, was a very lucky woman to have a man like him in her life.

“Alright, come on sweet girl. Let’s get you your medicine and get you home. I’ll call Auntie Nat and tell her I won’t be coming in today.”

Taglist: @robertsfloyd

[gardening--tools]

Sole Survivor, Jude Wilson

Wasteland Darling. Rhinestone Cowboy. Oklahoma Rose.

[uc1wa]

18+ minors dni

tags: fem reader, kids, penetrative sex, breeding

"she’s really good with kids," roy smiles widely to his best friend, a smile that turns into a smirk when he looks over to the raven haired man. cheeks dusted pink while a stupid, love-struck grin covers his lips.

that is, until it’s not and is quickly wiped off when he feels the gaze on him and a bump to his shoulder. "don’t ya want some of your own?" the red-haired man asks, and jason rolls his eyes. "can’t stand kids, basically have some of my own with all the other shits," jason says annoyedly thinking about his one-too-many siblings that he had grown up raising alongside dick. raising kids as siblings and vigilantes has a tendency to make the average man not want children

but, he can’t help but to feel a pang in his chest when he watches you pick up roy’s baby daughter, lian, from your place in the park a little bit aways from the two men. your arms wrapping around her tiny frame as you hold her close to your chest, pointing to jason and roy while encouraging her to wave at the two men. something of a wave, more of a grabbing fist is executed as she matches the smile that you’re wearing, and jason has never thought about getting you pregnant until this very moment.

like a flick of a switch changes in him. he imagines it’s what animals feel when it's mating season; something primal and deep within him that says he needs to be the reason for a bump on your belly and he needs it to happen immediately.

"c’mon, if you get her pregnant now, lian and yours can grow up together," roy pushes more, waving to his sweet baby while doing so; contrastly speaking to jason about impregnating you like it was as normal as he made it sound. "y’know you want it, big man. plus your babies would be so fuckin’ cute," he fonds, "well, her traits would make your babies cute, i don’t know about yours," roy teases with a laugh, hitting jason’s back.

bidding a farewell to your best friend in law and his daughter, you made your way back into your home with jason following behind, locking the door and making his own way in.

"how many kids do you want?" your boyfriend asks, and it’s hard not to take you by surprise. usually these conversations stemmed from previous important conversations, or something that brought overwhelming intimacy. To say the least, this wasn’t the average conversation that’s spoken as soon as you walk in the door.

this wasn’t the type of conversation to follow spending time with your best friend.

"why’re you asking?" you question, turning on your heel with a pointed look and jason shrugs with a roll of his eyes. his keys rustle against the counter as he walks towards you, his cold hand finding yours and leading you quietly to your bedroom.

“i think you’d look good with my baby,” he says, helping you take your sweater and then shirt underneath off. gently, and without rush, like he has all the time in the world if you’re willing. raising your arms to assist the man with his task at hand, you smile teasingly, “somebody’s got baby fever ‘cause of lian, huh?” and jason scoffs with a small laugh, “something like that. also wanna continue our family if you'd like to help,” he insists with a tease while your hands now find his top, doing the same as he did to you. 

his movements are slow tonight, matching the one of two ways you find him in bed. either fucking or making love, and when the latter occurs, you find yourself relishing in every touch that feels louder than they’ve ever been. touches that are soft but with force to be intentional, kisses that are meaningful, especially the one jason presses with soft lips to the spot right under your belly button. his movements that are languid, slow, and rhythmed with every moan and word that he whispers in your ear, say in your neck after he’s kissed the skin there.

months later when he sees your swollen belly, he feels like he’s won the lottery. he feels like you're a prize he’s won and just needs to show off; realistically, he’s keeping you home as much as possible and going out with you in times of needing outside air. your lower back hurts? he’s watched youtube tutorials on massage techniques that help during pregnancy. you have a strange craving? jason’s running out at midnight to get precisely what you’re crazing. oh, your tits are sore after you’ve finally delivered your baby? there’s nothing to worry about when jason asks a quick, “you want my hands or my mouth?”

[lesbianrobin]

ok so here is my pitch for my dream buddie catalyst:

eddie and maddie are trapped in some sort of likely-fatal time sensitive situation together (drowning related probably because it's Them) (have they overused it yes is it still thematically appropriate YES) where one person could potentially sacrifice themselves for the other to survive. i want eddie and maddie using their combined experience and ingenuity to survive together and discussing who should be prioritized which means they talk about parenthood and how they both feel they've failed their children by "running," how their lives have been so defined by trauma and they don't want to scar their children any further by leaving them again. of course they're doing everything they can to get out together, but as the situation deteriorates throughout the episode(s) (c'mon something like this could be at LEAST a two-parter) they can't help returning periodically to the world's most morbid debate.

i want buck and chim on the outside both going out of their goddamn minds. they know that eddie and maddie are stuck (wherever), know that they're probably alive, but aren't sure in what condition and if they'll stay that way. rescue operations begin as everybody walks on eggshells around buck and tries to comfort chim, who wants absolutely none of it. time is running out.

eddie says that he couldn't possibly let maddie sacrifice herself for him and look buck and chim in the eye afterwards. maddie says that she couldn't do that either. she says that at least jee-yun would still have her father, and eddie says that christopher would still have buck. maddie says that of course none of them would just abandon christopher if something were to happen to him but—

and eddie cuts her off and says it's in my will. if i die, christopher will have buck. buck will have christopher.

they just look at each other for a weighted moment. maddie makes a decision. she says ...i meant it, you know. that i couldn't let you die down here (wherever here is i don't KNOW okay i'm not here to think up convoluted emergencies i'm here for drama) and look my baby brother in the eye knowing that i could have changed it. eddie says i know, okay, but it's different, you're his sister, and maddie says, yeah, but you're his... and she pauses. and eddie says what? best friend? partner? that doesn't—

and maddie says you're his. eddie, you're his.

and eddie... i want to see something slot into place. i want to watch him understand as maddie spills everything she's been suspecting since the day that buck came out to her and maybe since before she and eddie even met. maddie says you know, when i first came to california, you were all he talked about? you're still all he talks about. you and christopher. you're his. i couldn't... eddie, you're out of your mind if you really don't think that losing you would break him just as much as losing me. he would forgive us both, because he's buck, but i couldn't... i'm no saint, eddie, i want to survive. i don't want my daughter to grow up without me. but i can't do that to him. i don't know if he'd survive it. even if he did, the guilt would eat me alive.

meanwhile. buck is barely holding on to his sanity as rescue efforts are underway and time is running out. chimney is keeping it together as best he can but there isn't much that he and buck can do. he can't let himself fall apart because buck is already a stiff breeze away from clawing his own skin off and somebody has to keep their cool. something goes wrong—suddenly, their short amount of time has gotten shorter, and they may only have enough of a window to get one out before it's too late for the other. buck, who has been ranting and arguing and screaming this whole time... is silent. he is silent, and he stares straight ahead at nothing in particular, and we know that no matter which way the scales tip, his soul will be destroyed all the same.

eddie regards maddie for a moment. grief, heartbreak, anger, all flicker over him, but what settles is determination. he says that neither of them are going to leave again. that they'll survive together, or not at all, or leave it to the universe to decide.

of course they make it out. by the skin of their teeth, they make it out, working together, clawing their way back to life and love and possibility. maddie makes it out first, and eddie sees buck as she falls into chim's waiting arms. he watches as buck sees his sister, and reaches out to take her hand with trembling fingers and white knuckles, but there is no relief, no happiness in his red-rimmed eyes. just a deep, unspeakable grief, until his eyes slide past maddie and meet eddie's.

finally: relief. and then he is in buck's arms, a perfect parallel to chim and maddie, and we see eddie's face over buck's shoulder, and we know. he is in love, and buck is in love, and eddie knows, and he sinks into his partner's embrace with joy and acceptance.

after that, who knows? maybe a grand confession. a moment of quiet understanding. a passionate post-rescue kiss. a chaste, tender kiss in some kitchen or other. maybe eddie panics later, or maybe he's found peace for once. maybe buck has realized something and he makes the first move. maybe it happens immediately. maybe it takes a while, takes discussions about how it'll affect work and christopher and whether it's worth risking all that they have for all that they want.

and maybe they'll ask whether it's even a risk at all.

[vivwritesfics]

landoscar taking ur virginity….

Haha more smut blurb requests pls

Kinda a university au

Warnings: smut, virginity taking, threesome, hand and blow job

"I mean, we kissed a little but it didn't go much further," Y/N confessed as she, Lando and Oscar shared a sofa. She took a sip of her beer as Lando laughed down at her.

"I thought for sure you'd lose it after last weekend," he said, his free hand playing with hers.

Last weekend the three of them had been at the club with their group. Y/N had been dancing with a guy, kissing as they swayed in the corner, but it didn't go much further than that. He'd walked her to her door but Y/N hadn't invited him in.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I just didn't like him that much. And I didn't want to lose my virginity to someone random."

"Who, then?" Lando asked. "Because, surely you get to a point..." he trailed off as he gestured to her.

Y/N sucked in a breath. "I guess, somebody I know. Somebody I'm comfortable with. A good friend or maybe something more."

Someone like us, Oscar thought as he drank his beer.

Someone exactly like them would have been perfect for Y/N. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it before, late at night when she needed some company, but all she had was her fingers. Lando and Oscar would have been the perfect candidate, if only Y/N could pluck up the courage to ask them.

But she didn't have to. "I think we could do something about that," said Lando as he put his Corona bottle down onto the coffee table in front of them. "Only if you're okay with that," he said, his eyes moving between Y/N and Oscar.

Y/N was quick to agree. She placed her beer down beside Lando's and let him pull her into his lap. For a moment they stared at each other, one waiting for the other to move. "Get over here, Oscar," Lando said as he leaned in.

Their kiss was slow and gentle as Oscar scooted across the couch towards them. When Y/N pulled away from Lando she immediately moved onto the Australian, placing his hand against his chest as she kissed him.

Landos hands were on her hips, keeping her firmly in place as she kissed Oscar. She pushed things further with him, her teeth nipping at his lips. Lando grew beneath her, his clothed cock pressing against his sweatpants.

"Lan," she moaned, throwing her head back.

He moved his hands from her hips, bringing her back towards him. Lando began an assault on her neck, licking and sucking dark marks into her skin.

She moaned against him as she ground her hips against him, his already stiff cock growing harder.

But Oscar was just sitting there, twiddling his thumbs. Well, not literally, of course, but he was sat there rock hard and getting no attention.

"Baby," Lando whispered as he looked over at his friend.

Y/N got the hint. She stood from Lando's lap and took a hold of Oscars hand, pulling him up from the couch. She led him through the house, up towards Lando's bedroom. Lando would be up shortly, she thought as she sat Oscar down.

"Are you okay with this?" She whispered as she got down onto her knees.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Oscar nodded his head. "Oh god yes," he said as Y/N unzipped his shorts.

"Just a warning," She began as she freed him from the confines of his shorts, "I've never done this before." Actually, she'd never so much as seen a cock before. This was her first.

Sucking in a breath, Y/N wrapped her fingers around his shaft. She moved slowly, staring up into his eyes as she worked.

Suddenly the bedroom door flew open and Y/N jumped away from Oscar. She stared as Lando shut the door behind him and leaned against him. "Don't let me stop you," he said and watched as Y/N made her way back to Oscar.

Oscar, who was being very quiet. Oscar, who was usually the more dominant between him and Lando. But now he wasn't. He was letting her make all of the moves, too scared of pushing her too soon during her first time.

Again she wrapped her fingers around his cock, but Lando let out a sigh. "You've got to do a bit more than that, Y/N," he said and strode over.

Lando guided her. He placed his hand on the back of her head as he guided her towards Oscars cock. Oscar shuddered as he leaned back of the bed, giving total control over to Lando.

Lando controlled everything. From the pace to how deep she was going. He pushed her until she gagged, and was very quick to pull her back up, give her some air. "You're doing so good, baby," he said as she began again, moving on her own this time.

Oscar bucked his hips up, making Y/N gagged. So, Lando placed his hands on Lando's hips, holding him down as Y/N brought him to completion.

"I-im so close," he stuttered and Lando pulled Y/N away from him. He wrapped her fingers around Landos cock and moved her hand up and down, jacking him to competition.

When Oscar was finished, he just laid there. He couldn't moved for a few seconds taking a moment to regain his strength. By the time he sat up, a fully clothed Lando was already working on getting Y/N undressed.

"What do you think, Osc? She wet enough?" Asked Lando as Oscar sat up. He pulled Y/N, her body on full display, towards him.

Reaching out his hand, Oscar ran his fingers through her slit, collecting her wetness. "Think so," he said and placed his fingers between his lips.

Lando laid her down onto the bed. He left Oscar to feel her, touch her body in a way it had never been touched before, while he got undressed.

"Are you ready for this?" He asked as he climbed on top of her, pulling her parted legs towards him.

Y/N nodded her head.

"Words, baby," said Lando as Oscar passed him a condom.

"Y-yes, Lando. I'm ready."

She watched as he rolled the condom over his cock and lined himself up. She hand one hand stretched out, holding onto Oscar, as Lando pushed in.

It hurt, but only slightly. Y/N let out a mew as Lando kept pushing, bottoming out inside of her.

She'd used toys before, but Y/N had never felt this full. "Are you ready?" Lando asked one last time.

Y/N nodded her head and, this time, Lando accepted it. He began moving, thrusting his hips slowly at first as he allowed Y/N to get used to it. It was music to his ears as Y/N let out a series of moans, throwing her head back.

Lando was moaning, too. Beside them, Oscar leaned forward, capturing Y/N in a kiss as Lando thrust into her, rocking her body.

Soon he was snapping his hips against hers, sweaty forehead pressed against her shoulder. Y/N moaned and writhed on the bed as Lando moved, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. "Oh holy shit," she cried, her eyes shut as she moved her head from side to side. "I'm..."

Y/N let go. She allowed herself to be pushed over the edge as Lando kept thrusting into her. Her nails dug into his back as his thrust became sloppy, letting her ride out her high. Lando was close, too. So fucking close.

Lando moaned, stilling against her. His breath came out as pants as she pulled out of her and rolled off the full condom.

"Wow," Y/N gasped through her deep breaths. "So that's sex."

"And now my favourite part," said Oscar. He walked out of the room, heading towards the bathroom.

Lando laid himself down beside Y/N as Oscar ran a bath. "How did you find that?" He asked somewhat timidly.

Lando had only ever taken one virginity before, and he himself was a virgin. This was all new territory for him. It wasn't that he hadn't had good feedback in the past, but this was Y/N. It was her first time and she was special to him.

"Amazing," Y/N whispered as she rolled towards Lando, pressing herself against his sweaty chest. She let out a yawn, shutting her eyes for only a moment.

But she didn't get long to rest. The next thing Y/N knew she was being carried to the bathroom, held in the arms of Oscar Piastri. "Next time, I get you, right?" Asked Oscar as he put her down into the nice and warm water.

Y/N nodded her head as Oscar began running the loofah over his skin. "Because this is definitely happing again."

[komelliko]

scaramouche x f!reader

a/n: getting this out of my drafts... iirc this was inspired by another scara fic i read months ago but i forgot what lolol nsfw! cunnilungus, fingering, bickering, light exhibitionism

--- You grit your teeth. "Can you ask least close the door? Someone's gonna hear us at this rate."

Scara's lips move away from your clit with a wet pop, and he immediately scoffs.

"Stop being a baby. Who gives a shit if people hear us?" His nails dig into your thighs, spreading them further apart. He laughs, adding "Worst case scenario, someone gets jealous of you."

You frown, a fist balling up his hair as his tongue darts in to lick another stripe over your cunt. Another whine fights it way up your throat, and the only way you can keep yourself from letting it through is to squeeze your thighs around Scaramouche's head. He pushes back, thankful that you can't see how wide of a grin he has on his face.

"Come on~" Scara coos. "If you want me to stop, I will. I won't keep going if you aren't enjoying yourself."

The two of you are mutually aware that he is, in fact, lying. You buck your hips into his face, but keep silent.

Scaramouche lets out another laugh once you start whining again. "You're so pathetic that it's hilarious. I bet I could get you to cum for me right now without even trying too hard."

"In your dreams!"

You feel a pair of Scara's deft fingers shove their way into your cunt, and your taunt is immediately undermined by an involuntary moan. Your mind grows too hazy to notice it, but Scaramouche is so intent on proving you wrong that he shuts up entirely, instead circling his tongue over your clit with a calculated intensity. As your legs start to shake and give way, he keeps you propped up against the wall with his other hand, then his shoulders.

Stupid slut, he scoffs to himself in his own head. Though, it isn't as if tonguefucking a girl out in the open would be as fun if she wasn't a spitfire like you. Someone who could just roll over and take it would be a bore, he reasons, whereas forcing an orgasm out of you would actually feel like an accomplishment—Taming the shrew, as it were. "Fucking slow down! I told you, someone's going to hear us!" Scaramouche frowns, but doesn't respond. They fucking better, he muses. Not like any of those worthless shitheads are getting laid this well. If somebody started palming themselves to the sound of him fucking you with his fingers, he'd think nothing of it. Typical behavior of those types and all, pathetic virgins who'd never even touched the elbow of the opposite sex, much less gotten this far. "Ghk-" You almost aspirate on your own spit from holding back another cry. "When I squirt down your fucking throat I hope you choke on it." "Go on, then," he taunts. "Do your worst." It would be a lie to say you aren't trying to break his nose when you start thrusting at him, his tongue now back inside your cunt as he holds you up against the wall with both hands. Still, even as you ride out your orgasm, he unfortunately escapes unharmed. "Told you I wouldn't have to try too hard," Scaramouche grins, licking his lips. "I'd say I pity you... but I really don't."

[theemporium]

🧸 lando with his daughters first heartbreak? 💞

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“She’s been in her room all day.”

Lando frowned, his elbows leaning against the kitchen counter as he watched you make your way around the room. “All day?”

“She came in after school and just ran upstairs,” you nodded as you let out a long sigh. “She wouldn’t even say anything in the car. Just dead silent.”

His frown deepened. “Do you think something happened at school?”

“Probably,” you guessed before you turned to your husband, a sheepish smile on your face. “Can you please try talking to her?” 

Lando opened his mouth.

“Yes, I’m her mother but she adores you,” you interrupted before he had a chance, knowing exactly what he was going to say. “She’s been a daddy’s girl since day one.”

He puffed his chest out. “She’s my princess.”

“Go check on your princess then,” you said as you nodded towards the stairs. “And I’ll deal with the gremlins.”

Lando smiled cheekily. “Hey now, my boys aren’t gremlins.”

“They are, they take after you,” you retorted with a wink before you turned back to the dinner you were preparing for the family.

But you weren’t wrong. Since the day Evangeline Norris was born, she had her father wrapped around her finger. And just in the same way, she looked at her father like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky just for. 

She was your oldest child, the first one to have Lando Norris sobbing in the delivery room when they put his daughter in his arms and welcomed him to fatherhood. And for reasons unbeknownst to you, Lando and Eva got on like a house on fire. From day one, they had been practically attached to the hip and had a bond that nobody could ever compare to, not even yourself. 

So to come home and hear his little princess came home upset, Lando was more than concerned. He was holding himself back from spiralling, from burning down the world to know who made his baby girl upset. 

Knock! Knock!

“Go away!”

Knock! Knock!

“I don’t want dinner! Leave me alone!”

Knock! Knock!

“Mum, I said—”

“Eva, honey, open up.”

There was a pause before a timid voice whispered, “daddy?” 

“Yeah, I’m here, honey.”

It took less than ten seconds before the door to the bedroom swung open. Lando felt like somebody had caved his chest in when he caught sight of his daughter’s face, her eyes glossy and her cheeks tear-stricken. She had been sobbing. His little girl had been crying and now, she looked so lost and confused and upset and he just wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go. 

“Oh, Eva-Bunny,” he murmured before he wrapped his arms around his daughter and pulled her into his chest. It didn’t take long for her to break down into tears again. He guided her back into the room, closing the door behind them. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, his hands stroking up and down her back. “Speak to me, honey.” 

“It’s embarrassing,” she grumbled into his chest. 

“Nothing is embarrassing to me,” Lando replied, pressing another lingering kiss on the crown of her head. “Tell me.”

There was a brief pause before she muttered, “Jack broke up with me.” 

Now, Lando knew Jack. He was a good kid, but nothing special in his eyes. However, he knew his daughter was lovestruck the second she saw him. Eva had been over the moon to tell you and Lando about Jack, about the date he asked her out on, about all the kind things he said. Lando hadn’t liked it one bit but you always smacked his arm and told him it was bound to happen with Eva growing up. 

But now holding his crying daughter in his arms because Jack upset her? Lando was ready to throw his scrawny sixteen year old ass to the wolves.

“Then he’s an idiot,” Lando stated bluntly because it was a fact. Nobody would ever be good enough for his Eva, especially not someone like Jack. 

“It’s my fault,” she continued to cry into her father’s chest. “He wanted someone better like Stacy—”

“Nuh uh,” Lando quickly cut his daughter off as he pulled back, taking her face in his hands so she could look him in the eyes as he spoke. “Don’t do that. Don’t say stuff like that when it’s not true.”

Eva sniffled. “But it is.” 

“It is not,” Lando stated simply as his thumbs slowly brushed away any stray tears. “Eva, honey, you’re one of the most amazing girls in this world. It’s Jacob’s loss.”

“Jack,” she corrected with a small smile before she shook her head. “And you have to say that. You’re my dad.”

“Exactly. I’m your dad, not a liar,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Honey, I know it hurts. It’s your first love, it will always hurt. But you deserve so much better than him and you’ll find it. You know how I know that?”

Eve looked doubtful. “How?”

“Because I’m you dad and I know everything,” he replied, grinning a little wider when he heard his daughter giggle. “But also because I know there’s someone out there who is gonna see just how amazing you are, see the perfect girl that I see. And he would never break your heart like Jamie.”

“Jack,” Eva corrected again with a snort before she tightened her arms around his waist. “Thank you.”

“Plus, what did you expect from a J name?” Lando scoffed as he held her close to his chest, one hand protectively placed on the back of his head. “Scum of the Earth.”

Eva giggled again. “Is that because Mum’s ex before you had a J name?”

“Maybe,” Lando replied indifferently. “Don’t tell your mother I swore in front of you, but he was a dick. He was your mother’s Jack. You’re gonna find your forever boy, it’s what my princess deserves.”

“I love you, Dad,” Eva murmured softly.

“I love you too, Eva-Bunny,” Lando whispered back.

.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Epilogue: It’s Not Over ‘Til You’re Underground]

A/N: We've finally reached the end of the Oregon Trail, besties!!! Enjoy this one last treat to celebrate the conclusion of Martyrs 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Both the series title and epilogue title are lyrics from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Word count: 4.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Autumn is the harvest, ripping up roots, preparing for the starving time of winter, and so you step through the threshold of your new life as the world is ending again.

“I knew the chances,” Sophie says when you tell her what happened; but she can’t look at you, because of course she wishes it was Rio who made it to Odessa instead, and you don’t blame her. She breaks down and leaves the house, and you sit there—silent, sorry, self-loathing—for a long time with Rio’s weeping parents and Aegon’s arm draped across the back of your chair. But then Sophie comes back inside, and through tears she says it’s nice to meet you in person at last, and then she asks if you’d like to hold Rio’s son.

Here it is commonplace to see M16s and AR-15s, marijuana growing in gardens, a myriad of flags flying from homes—Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024, American flags, rainbow flags, porcupines of the Libertarian Party—and order is maintained by an elected council of longtime Odessa residents. For anyone to be allowed into the community, somebody already here must take responsibility for them, and so the seven of you—eight, counting Ice—spend the first few months sleeping on Rio’s parents’ living room floor and eating meals out of their cellar, enough self-stable food to last for years. You join the construction crew and help build houses, Cregan cuts down trees and fishes and hunts, Helaena shows Aegon how to garden and Sophie teaches Luke to bake bread. There are no doctors here, but there are several unlicensed midwives and a veterinarian named Ian Whitted. Rhaena studies under him—attending every appointment and taking copious notes in the spider notebook Helaena gifts her, sharing what she learned from Aemond—and before long her sutures are quicker and cleaner than Ian’s. Daeron, considered too young and inexperienced for the most dangerous work, is posted with his compound bow inside the village to serve as a guard. He resents this until he realizes there are far more women to flirt with here than out in the forest where wolves and bears prowl and the dead rove with incurable hunger.

You work from dawn to sunset; you work so you have no time to think. The baby doesn’t feel real, and neither does Aemond being gone, and the future is so unimaginable you’d rather not try to imagine it at all. Because you’re a good shot, they want you for patrols and raids of nearby towns to search for supplies, and you take every shift you’re offered until Rhaena says you have to stop. She tells you that each time you leave, Aegon watches the door until you walk through it again, that it’s not good for him, that it’s not good for you either. She says you can’t keep running from what’s happened.

“I’m not trying to run away,” you tell her where she’s cornered you by one of the wells, lilac twilight sky and glimmers of stars, hoots of owls and children laughing as they roast marshmallows over crackling fires. “I’m trying to find my way through.”

“Fine,” Rhaena replies firmly, no room for argument. “But you’re going to do that in here where it’s safe.”

The new houses have wooden walls and kitchen fireplaces made of stones, beds with feather mattresses, plots for gardens and pens for ducks, chickens, pigs, sheep, goats, turkeys, cattle. Helaena and Cregan move into one cabin, Rhaena and Luke share another, and you have the last to yourself, the first time you’ve ever lived alone. Aegon and Daeron float around between the houses, more often than not ending up in yours as the sun is dipping below the tree line into the west, Daeron carving wooden cutlery with a hunting knife, Aegon cuddling with Ice on the deerskin rug, luring you into disastrous baking attempts and games of Uno and telling stories about Washington D.C., Djibouti, Key West, Corpus Christi, Chinhae, Diego Garcia, Saratoga Springs before the dead began to walk.

Thanksgiving dinner is at Rio’s parents’ house, Sophie’s baby sound asleep in his blue sling, candles flickering and Ice lying beneath the table to gulp down scraps that fall to the floor: roasted turkey, hazelnut stuffing, buttered carrots, mashed potatoes, pickled beets, salad with homemade ranch dressing, pumpkin pie for dessert.

“God, I miss chilidogs,” Aegon mutters beside you, and you laugh—a real laugh, loud and helpless, a lightness flooding into your arteries and the marrow of your bones—for the first time since Aemond died.

“You have to try this,” Sophie says, pouring you a small glass of moonshine distilled with apples and cherries and cinnamon. Everybody else has already had a taste except Aegon. He doesn’t drink anymore, doesn’t smoke the weed people grow here, only keeps a few tobacco plants in your garden to enjoy on rare occasions.

“I can’t,” you tell Sophie, staring at the amber-colored moonshine. You are over three months along and will be showing soon. It materializes all at once, shifts from a hazy apparition to something in full focus: next Thanksgiving you will have a fatherless infant of your own.

Sophie is puzzled. The glass of moonshine waits untouched on the table. “Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” you say.

Aegon chokes on his pumpkin pie. “You’re what?!”

And everyone except Helaena drops their forks and leaps up to engulf you: How long have you known? How far along are you? Why didn’t you tell us? How can we help?

You stop lifting heavy things and stay off of ladders. Helaena brings you kale and mushrooms, Sophie knits you baby clothes, Rio’s mom makes you candles infused with essential oils, lavender, chamomile, ginger, and you lie and say they make a difference. Aegon helps you build a crib; you don’t need his help, but still, he insists. Smiling to himself, he etches two words into the headboard: Mini Chips. Wheat is planted in the fields to the north of the village. Scrap metal is scavenged for the blacksmiths to melt down to make nails and bullets. You learn to sweeten desserts with honey instead of sugar and to hold your hand flat when you feed the baby goats so they won’t nibble your fingers. You wait for winter to thaw and summer to come back around again.

It is what people would call a bad birth: hemorrhaging and lots of stitches, Rhaena squinting in the glow of the flashlights trying to piece you back together, rain outside and no lidocaine. You can’t stop crying. You feel like you’re going to die, and you’re shaking too badly to hold your own child, and you want Aemond. He would know what to do, he would know how to make the world go quiet. And the truth that he will never meet his daughter hits you over and over again like cold lethal waves, like bullets that pierce the heart.

Aegon is here instead, and you want to cling to him but you can’t; if all the others could die, so can he. But even when you look away from him to stare at the wall he stays, his hand clutching yours and never complaining even when you squeeze it hard enough to leave bruises that paint him maroon and indigo, tilting glasses filled with fresh pomegranate juice against your lips, asking Rhaena and Ian what you will need from him as you recover. Slowly the house empties and everyone goes home, but Aegon stays through the night and never leaves again.

Harmony cries a lot, as if she already knows she’s lost someone. She has trouble nursing and only sleeps for a few hours at a time. People are always coming in and out of the house: Sophie with handknit clothes and blankets for the baby, Helaena with flowers and fruit and vegetables, Rhaena with loaves of Luke’s fresh-baked bread, Cregan with firewood. At first Aegon is better with Harmony than you are. You love her, of course, and you mourn for the life you cannot give her; but you can’t shake the feeling that someone left her on your doorstep, this fragile bewildering creature you are so unequipped to soothe. Yet Aegon picks her up and she stops crying. He carries her around the house and murmurs nonsense—rules of golf, sailing knots—and she gazes up at him mesmerized; and in the peace that grows from him like weeds, wild and inevitable, you can heal.

Aegon helps you walk for the first week after the birth. He brings you meals, overflowing plates you can never finish. He respectfully averts his eyes when you nurse the baby and when he passes the bedroom as you’re changing clothes, slowly and inelegantly, every muscle feeling shredded. He falls exhausted into bed beside you with his arms crossed over his chest so he won’t reach for you in his sleep. You keep waiting for him to start craving marijuana and moonshine, to meet someone who makes him wayward again while you are left here alone, morose and unglamorous and bleeding. You care about Aegon—entirely, violently—but you are convinced you’ll never love a man again. Perhaps love is something that is always doomed to be broken, ruinous, poisoned.

When Harmony is about four months old, you begin to see Aegon differently. You can’t stop staring at the way his hair shags over his eyes when he’s bent low in the garden, you hide behind walls and listen each time you catch him singing to himself, you feel a dark desperate sense of loss when other women flirt with him, though Aegon is never more than polite in return. You find excuses to touch him, and he always acquiesces: Let me bandage the cuts on your hands, let me dab honey on your sunburn.

One night you wake to find Aegon with Harmony in the kitchen, humming and rocking her in his arms as he paces back and forth across the wood floor in his bare feet, the full moon radiant through the window, the fireplace crackling. He glances over when he notices you standing in the doorway and says: “I think this is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah, Chips.”

“I’m in love with you.”

At first he is startled, and then he smiles in the firelight, a slow mischievous curve of the lips that puts stars in his eyes and shows his teeth. “Took you long enough.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Nearly ten years ago, you were learning how to be a builder at Class A Technical School in Gulfport, Mississippi, salt and sun and sweet tea and humidity that lies heavy like a second skin you can’t shed. Today you are hammering nails into boards that will be a wall of the new meeting house, twice the square footage of the old one. The community here keeps growing.

“Watch out for your fingers, Zack Attack.”

 Zack looks over at you. He’s a kid, nineteen, and he’s only been here a week. He left Beaumont, Texas with a group of thirty people, one of them the cousin of a council member here. Twelve were left when they arrived. “Huh?”

“You’re holding the nail too close to the bottom,” you say. “If you swing the hammer and miss—and you will miss, everyone does sometimes, even me—you’ll crush your fingers against the wood. But if you hold the nail up near the top, the hammer will kind of knock them out of the way as it comes down, and you won’t have to worry about Rhaena or Ian popping your bones back into place.”

“Oh, cool! Thanks!” Zack readjusts his hands. “Where’d you learn to do all this?”

“The Navy.”

“Right. That makes sense.” He gives you a crooked, conspiratorial grin. “I heard you’re a good shot.”

“I am, I guess.” You don’t do patrols anymore, but you’re on the list of people to call when there’s a security breach, and you go because you have to. If Odessa is ever overrun, that will be the end of the life you’ve made here. The last scare was two months ago, a hoard that wandered up from the south, probably out of Klamath Falls. Someone knocked and you answered, leaving Aegon standing in the doorway with troubled eyes, Noah in his arms asking: Where Mama go? And Aegon had told him She’ll be back soon, buddy, but of course no one had known if that was true.

Now Zack says admiringly: “A real killer.”

You smile and give him a slap on the shoulder as you start climbing down the ladder. “I’d rather be a builder.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, my kids probably miss me.”

“See ya tomorrow. Bring more of Aegon’s raspberry crumb muffins.”

You laugh. “If there are any left.”

Down on the ground, bumblebees orbit tufts of wildflowers and cats prowl for mice. Sitting cross-legged on the grass are kids rubbing nails against bars of goat milk soap; it makes them go into the wood easier. They play the same way you did as a child: in the dirt, in the wild, tracking animals and building dams in the creek. They wave as you pass by. Everyone knows each other here. Everyone knows what you can do with the Beretta M9 in your holster.

Beside one of the wells, Daeron is helping a flock of tittering, blushing women pull up their buckets and plucking stray blades of grass and pine needles out of their hair. He is easily the most eligible bachelor in Odessa, and in no hurry to take himself off the market. By the schoolhouse, two teenagers are petting Ice as they listen to Aegon’s pink Sony Walkman and rap along to Gold Digger: “You will see him on tv, any given Sunday, win the Super Bowl and drive off in a Hyundai…”

But at Sophie’s house, the song you hear is Darius Rucker’s Wagon Wheel, drifting from a battery-powered boombox containing one of Rio’s dad’s cassette tapes. Aegon is already here and dusted with earth, your children clamoring around his legs as he chats with Sophie at the edge of the garden: zucchini, snap peas, tomatoes, strawberries, spinach, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, kale. When Aegon sees you, he lights up and says to the kids: “Look! Look who’s here!” And you crouch down and open your arms so you can catch all three of them as they barrel into you on small, wobbly legs.

The second birth was much easier, the third only lasted an afternoon. Opal, three years old, is named after a gemstone that Sophie told you symbolizes hope and clarity; Noah, two and with unruly blonde hair like Aegon’s, shares a name with the man who started over when the world flooded and all the generations before were lost. You pick him up before he can trip over his own feet.

“Mama, come see!” Harmony shouts, grabbing your free hand and dragging you to a hutch full of fluffy, multicolored rabbits. Aegon is walking over to join you, his hands in his pockets and a soft smile on his lips, long blonde hair and stubbled cheeks.

“Are these the new meat rabbits?” you say without thinking, and Aegon widens his eyes at you.

Harmony peers up with a worried frown. She’s getting too smart to be shielded from such harsh realities. “Why did you call them meat rabbits?”

Aegon swoops Harmony off the ground to distract her. “Because they’re so excited to meet you!” he says as she giggles and kicks through open air.

“What are their names?” you ask to change the subject.

“Arrax,” Opal says in her toddler lisp, pointing to a grey one. And then, indicating a rabbit with long, reddish-tan fur: “Morning.”

“Those are such nice names!” you gush, a bit perplexed. Children have a certain mystery to them, one foot still in the Great Beyond, wherever souls wait to be born and reunited.

“And this one is Sunfyre,” Harmony announces proudly, reaching through the wire to scratch its straw-colored coat.

“Sunfyre?!” Aegon says. “Well now you’re just making shit up.” A pause. “Stuff. You’re making stuff up.”

“And Sunfyre is married to Dreamfyre.”

“Cute,” Aegon says. “Incestuous, but cute.”

“The post-apocalypse dating pool is limited,” you remind him.

“Have you met the Texas people yet?” Sophie asks you as she wanders over to the hutch in a handknit yellow dress, wearing elephant earrings that Rio once mailed home to her from Djibouti.

“Yeah, some of them are working on the meeting house. They seem really nice. And apparently they know how to barbeque, so that’s exciting. New recipes!”

Sophie smirks. “When they dropped by to introduce themselves, I had to have the whole conversation again.”

“Well…you did name your kid Otter.”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sophie says, chuckling, showing her palms. “I did not name him Otter.”

“You named him Bryan Otter Osorio. And you call him Otter.”

“Because he’s a little kid and it’s a perfectly fine nickname for now! And then when he’s older…you know…he can decide who he wants to be.”

You smile. “Sure.”

“I think it’s great, personally,” Aegon says. “I’m hoping I’ll get to name my next one Softshell Turtle.”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan. “And what if it’s a girl?”

“Softshell Turtle is obviously unisex.”

Sophie is laughing and shaking her head. “I hate you guys.”

Helaena and Cregan arrive to pick up their children, two sets of twins, all named after species of butterflies: Skipper, Adonis, Tiger, Sara. Rio’s parents bring them outside to the garden to be collected. They and Sophie like to keep the house full of children, especially now that Otter is getting older. And when they need meat or firewood or their roof patched, they know who to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” Sophie tells Helaena and Cregan as they wrangle their brood. “I’m mortified. Adonis ate Harmony’s oatmeal raisin cookie and made her cry, so Otter smacked him in the head with his golf club.” Aegon has carved miniature, lightweight clubs out of pine wood for each of the children; they zip around putting acorns and walnuts. “Adonis was freaked out but I think he’s fine now. I couldn’t find a bruise or anything. Again, I’m so, so, so sorry.”

“You okay, buckaroo?” Cregan asks, and his oldest son—brunette man bun, already pestering his dad to take him hunting—nods adamantly.

“Duh. It didn’t even hurt.”

Cregan guffaws and turns back to Sophie. “See? No harm done.”

Otter trots out of the house, rubbing his eyes like he just woke up from a nap. Harmony immediately runs over to hug him. He’s already six inches taller than her and is always giving her gifts that end up on the fireplace mantle at your house: flecks of quartz, pinecones, bracelets woven from buttercups.

Sophie asks Otter: “Did you think about what you did earlier?”

“Yeah,” he replies cavalierly.

“Would you do it again?”

“Probably.”

“Oh dear,” Sophie exhales, exasperated.

You beam down at Otter. “He’s exactly like Rio.”

“Yeah,” Sophie says wistfully, combing her fingers through his dark curly hair. “He really is.”

Rhaena and Luke happen to be strolling by and stop to say hello. Luke teaches English classes at the schoolhouse, founded the Cultural Preservation Committee, and writes and directs a new play each month. When he is in the lull between original ideas, he draws from pre-zombie pop culture. The June production is Free Britney.

“Hi!” Rhaena says, waving. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?” All the adults offer greetings and confirm they’ll swing by her and Luke’s cabin in a few hours. Then Rhaena shields her eyes from the sun as she sighs incredulously. “Do you realize there are ten women due in the next two weeks? I spend all day rushing around because they’re panicking about Braxton Hicks contractions. If I get one full night’s sleep between now and mid-July, it’ll be a miracle. Am I the only human alive who knows how to use the rhythm method? I explain it! I give lessons!”

You laugh and say: “I think people just really want babies, Rhaena.”

“They’re so sweet,” Helaena coos as she snuggles Sara against her chest.

“Gotta repopulate the planet,” Cregan adds.

Rhaena is disturbed. “I don’t feel ready for that.”

“Totally cool,” you assure her. “Helaena and I are keeping the average up.”

That night, logs pop and hiss in the fireplace and wind howls outside through the forest. On the walls are photographs of Aemond and Helaena and Daeron, drawings that the children have scribbled of you and Aegon. Propped in one corner of the living room is Aegon’s acoustic guitar; Harmony’s current favorite song for him to play is Big Girls Don’t Cry, though a slightly censored version of Fergalicious is a close second. Tomorrow is Aegon’s birthday. You have a cake hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets—cinnamon, honey, buttercream frosting—that you baked this morning before leaving for the construction site, along with 35 small homemade candles dyed green with chamomile. Every year he assumes you’ve forgotten, but you never do. You’re so thankful he was born. You are eternally finding new ways to convince him of this.

All five of you cuddle up in the big bed for story time. You begin as you always do, struggling to capture the kids’ attention as they crawl around giggling and rolling on top of each other: “Hey, hey, everyone look at me. You remember what we say.” Harmony knows this part my heart, Opal has the words mostly right, Noah gives it a solid effort as he mauls on a teddy bear Sophie knitted for him. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re doing the right thing.”

“What story should Mama tell tonight, huh?” Aegon asks as you open the book of fairytales borrowed from the makeshift community library, another one of Luke’s projects. “The Little Mermaid, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Beauty and the Beast…oh wait, I think I might be in that one…”

Harmony says to you: “Tell the story about how Aemond saved us from the tower.”

Children understand death here. People get infections, people succumb to cancer or heart attacks or strokes or diabetes, people go out on raids or patrols and never come back, one man contracted rabies from a bat bite and was—at his request—euthanized via gunshot. Harmony is aware she had a father before Aegon, but that he had to go to heaven early, and so Aegon is her father now and loves her completely. She knows Aemond’s face from the photographs Helaena took from the beach house on the Pacific Ocean. She knows the kind of person he was from the stories she’s been told. Harmony envisions a fantastical castle keep instead of a stark metal transmission tower draped in dead wires, and she’s a bit unclear on the chronology of when she entered the picture, but she has heard about the journey to Odessa. Aegon’s map, annotated with glittery green gel pen ink, hangs on the kitchen wall.

You close the book, looking at Harmony: your hair, Aemond’s eyes. “Okay. I can tell that one.”

“Mama…” Her little forehead crinkles, questions she is at last getting old enough to start asking. “Why do some people have to go to heaven before they’re old?”

You hesitate, trying to decide how to explain; and now embers are glowing hot and scarring in your throat. It’s a fire that cools and rekindles but never burns out. Aegon speaks instead. “Because they’re heroes, Mini Chips,” he says gently. “They go to heaven so other people get to stay here longer. Aemond went to heaven so you and your mom could live here in Odessa with me.”

“So Otter’s daddy was a hero too?”

Aegon leans down to kiss the top of her head, his eyes shining. “Yeah. Exactly.”

Not just a hero, you think. A martyr. Someone who dies for a cause.

Harmony is patting your arm with her tiny outstretched hand. “The tower, Mama. Tell us about the tower.”

Now you are there again with Rio: sixty feet off the ground and clinging to metal beams hot enough to put blisters on your palms, cascading June sunlight and wild emerald fields, blood and madness behind you, the mirage of Oregon ahead, believing without reason that someone out there will save you.

And they will; they will.

[goodlucktai]

15. "This is going to hurt, okay?" with leo for your zombie apocalypse au (maybe leo losing his arm??)

dialogue prompts

15. “This is going to hurt, okay?”

x

When the initial outbreak hit New York City like a bomb, Splinter was adamant that they bunker down in the Hidden City until the world was safe again. One almost-apocalypse was enough for him, thank you. This second one could be someone else’s problem.

Frankly, Donatello could see the merit in that. For those initial frightening forty-eight hours he was all but glued to the TV. A handful of staff and one anchor had remained barricaded in the Channel 6 news room, broadcasting what information they could until the station ultimately went dark like all the others. And what they had to share was grim. 

Whistleblowers had been quick to throw CEO Theo Audrey’s pharmaceutical subsidiary under the bus as the catalyst, claiming the corporation was in the business of bioweapons. Whether or not that was true, it gave the world a name for the violently aggressive infected: Auds. 

Raphael argued that they had the ability to help people, which meant they had the responsibility to. He was more careful with the word ‘hero’ than he used to be, careful in general with what he said around impressionable little brothers who wanted to live up to whatever idea he had in his head that they should be. But it was obvious to all of them what he thought was the right thing to do. 

They had all looked at Leo then, their fearless leader. He was still growing into the role, but he had always been the voice of common sense that kept their heads above water.

Leo didn’t say anything right away, his mind racing ahead as he chased the thread of each argument to its end. He could account for inevitabilities and pitfalls and curveballs as easily as if it was all one big game of chess. 

And finally he came to the decision he could live with, and said, “Raph’s right. We have to help who we can. But we’ll be safe, papa.”

That was three months ago. The world is still ending, and no cure is in sight, and Donatello doesn’t want to think about how those without portal magic are surviving when they have no choice but to venture out for food or water or medicine.

Sometimes he thinks Splinter was right. Other times he thinks about all the people who are still alive only because of his brothers’ inherent goodness and he can’t imagine having done anything else. 

Today, the portal that brings the patrol team home is orange, not blue. Donnie’s heart is in his throat even before he processes the screaming. 

“POPS!” Raph’s voice tears through the lair. He hasn’t sounded that frightened since those seconds before the Technodrome exploded in the sky. “Donnie, April—somebody!” 

Donnie bursts out of the tunnel into the terminal that makes up their living room and all the air leaves his lungs at once. 

Raph’s hands are bloody, and Mikey is crying, and Leo is writhing in their big brother’s hold. The once-bright yellow hoodie Mikey had been wearing that morning is stained an ugly rust color and pressed hard against Leo’s right arm.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay, we’re home,” Raph murmurs, none of the panic on his face making it into his trembling voice. “Raph’s gotta show Don. This is gonna hurt, okay?” He peels away the hoodie, fighting Leo’s grip on his own arm to do it. Leo chirps in distress, and it’s horrible, and Raph all but trips over himself to soothe, “I know, baby, hold on. Hold on.” 

He finally reveals a gruesome, gaping tear in the flesh above Leo’s elbow. The edges are shaped like teeth.

“No,” Donnie says. 

“We found a few families trapped in an apartment building. One of them had a little girl and she—” Mikey manages to choke out. “She started crying. It was so loud. The Odds swarmed the level we were on in seconds.”

No, is all he can think. No no no.

What apocalypse? The world is ending right here. The world is in Raph’s arms, bleeding and gasping and dying. 

“Move,” Draxum says, as good as appearing out of thin air. Donnie’s situational awareness is apparently nonexistent right now but he still hears it when Splinter dashes into the room a second later, if only because of the wounded sound his father makes. 

Draxum places his hands on Leo’s wounded arm just above the bite and they begin to glow. Donnie loses the strength in his legs before he completes the last couple steps between himself and his brothers, so he just crawls the rest of the way. He takes his twin’s hand and pretends there is nothing that could force him to ever let go. 

“From what we have seen, the infection turns a new host in a manner of minutes,” Draxum says, expression fierce with focus. “How long did it take you to get him home?”

“Um,” Mikey says, scrambling to grab hold of something other than grief and fear the way he would rifle chaotically through the mess of sticker paper and sketchbooks on his desk for the right color copic or drawing pen. Blinking hard and rubbing away fresh tears on his sleeve, their youngest finds the courage to do anything besides just wail and scream the way they all would like to and says, “It wasn’t right away. My portals aren’t instant like L—like Lee’s are. I have to, um, draw the sigils in my mind the way you taught me.”

“Four minutes,” Raph offers. “And twenty-one seconds,” he adds a beat later. “Raph was counting.”

He leans down and presses his cheek to Leo’s forehead. He isn’t saying goodbye, but he’s holding close just in case. He’s giving Leo something sweet to go out on if he has to go. He’s crying, too, a steady, silent drip.

Splinter strokes Leo’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Donnie isn’t brave enough to look at him. He can’t look at anyone. 

There is no other way for this to end. There isn’t a cure. Any bite or scratch is an instant death sentence. Then Donnie’s twin would become something else, a violent, hungry shell of someone once good and loved, and they would have to deal with that. They would have to see it, the ugly wretchedness of it, and never make peace with it for as long as they lived. 

And yet— 

“He should have turned by now,” April says from just behind Donnie. Her voice is shaking, and she looks like she wants to collapse where she’s standing, but she still manages to claw something shaped like hope out of the worst moment of their lives. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s what I’m saying. This virus is human in nature—mortal. There is a reason the Hidden City is unaffected. Yokai are creatures of magic. In much the same way I could not catch the flu from you, O’Neil, we cannot be infected by Odds. You Hamato call yourselves mutants, but you are yokai. At least in part.”

“And you wouldn’t have thought to mention something like this sooner?” Splinter hisses, something close to hate in his voice. 

“How would you have liked me to test it, Lou?” Draxum bites back. 

“Shut up,” April says. “What does that mean, Barry?”

“It means the virus has been isolated at the site of the infection,” Draxum says. “It will not remain that way for long. It will spread, very slowly, and eventually take him. This pain that he is in will not wane until he is gone. We must act before it is too late.”

Donatello’s mind is as quick as Leonardo’s, even though they are constantly racing down different avenues. He understands what Draxum has not yet said. What exactly he’s proposing. 

They have to remove the site of the infection.

“I can’t do that,” he blurts, too loud.

“Someone must,” Draxum replies, not pulling any punches. “If you want it to be me, then it will be me.”

“What are you talking about?” Mikey says. “Dee?”

Donnie can’t speak. He presses his forehead to the corner of Leo’s that isn’t crammed fitfully against Raph’s shoulder. 

It’s a terrible risk. Amateur amputations are the stuff of nightmares. And it might not even work. There’s no precedent. There’s just a one in a million chance and a family desperate enough to take it.

“Leo,” he whispers. “Hey. Nardo. Please. I can’t just. I need you to—I need you to tell me it’s okay. Lee. I need you to tell me what to do.” 

He feels it almost instantly, the click and connect of a mind meld. Leo’s mind flows into Donnie’s as effortlessly as it has every time they’ve done this before, the mischievous wind of his ninpo breezing through Donnie’s lightning storm like the skies they belong to are one and the same. 

There isn’t a conversation. Leo’s thoughts are muddled, fever-bright and confused, not at all like the shape they take when the wickedly clever slider is feeling like himself. But Donnie hears him anyway. 

He understands just from this instant of togetherness that Leo doesn’t want to leave them. He wants to stay where they are. He would do anything to stay. 

Donnie parts from him with a gasp. His siblings watch him avidly, tears streaming down their faces unchecked. Leo looks tiny in Raph’s arms. There’s already so little of him, and now they are going to whittle him down even more. 

But the helpless screaming fear is no longer the loudest thing in Donnie’s head. It’s drowned out by the deafening rumble of a storm, that faraway sky that flashes with purple lightning and playful gales of blue. Nothing could be louder than the two of them when they have something to prove. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, one hand on his twin’s plastron over the spot where that fearless, unyielding heart beats for them. “Hear me? I’m taking this arm, but I’ll give you back a better one.” 

The air goes out of the room as all of his siblings and his father suck in a breath and hold it. Raph’s grip on Leo tightens, as if he needs just one more second in a world where this doesn’t have to happen, where there’s another way. 

Then he lifts his mismatched eyes and there’s only trust there when he looks at Donnie. Mikey’s hand grips the wrist of the one Donnie has on Leo. April puts her arm around Mikey.

They’re all here. They’re all going to stay right here.  

[luveline]

Omg what about reader talking to Eddie and she just starts crying bc she's just loves him so so much and Eddie is so confused what's happening and for a sec he thinks it's bc the joke he made hurt her feelings and he's just like "baby sorry no I'm sorry ur not too chatty" and like "ur crying bc u love him? Why is that making u cry??"

“And we went back to her place and slept four to a bed. I'm surprised I had it in me, but I guess I was, you know, sixteen.” You stab a particularly nice looking roasted potato with your fork and put it on his plate. “It's kind of crazy. I couldn't do that now, I'm too old. My back would hurt too much. I can only sleep in my bed or your bed.” 

“Mine, please.” 

You laugh and give him another potato off of your plate. He already has potatoes, but this is how you are. You won't accept them back —he's tried to stop you before, with less than optimal results. “Yours for sure. I'm too full to drive.” 

“That's what I like to hear.” He pushes his plate away in case a third potato is on its way, gesturing to your food with his knife. “Is yours warm enough?”

“Sure.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and take the sip of your shared drink with a refreshed smile. “Ah, and that's really cold.” 

“We could still do stuff like that.” 

“Like what?” 

“You know, like you and your friends did. I know we're not sixteen anymore but we can still have fun.” 

“I do have fun.” 

He shrugs and stands, picking up your empty glass to refill for you. “And we'd get to sleep in our own bed at the end,” he says, kissing the side of your head. “We'll go out this weekend and do all that fun stuff. But with fewer felonies.” 

“They weren't felonies,” you say. 

Eddie laughs as he makes his way to the sink. He loves this, having dinner with you, letting you talk his ear off. “You're nonstop tonight, baby, somebody put a quarter in you or what?” 

“Two quarters,” you say. 

He makes a drink. It can't take long. He rinses out the glass, fills it with coke, grabs a handful of ice cubes from the fridge and wipes the counter when he's done. He sits across from you as he had been, waiting to hear more of your story or maybe whatever plans you'd like to make this weekend, but he stops cold, because you're crying in your seat all quiet and secretive, looking down at your lap. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, panic shooting through him, quick and unapologetic, “Hey. Hey, what's wrong? You're crying.” 

He reaches across the table for your hand. “I wasn't trying to be mean,” he says hurriedly. “You're chatty, but you're my chatty– uh, thing, you know? Not that you're a thing. You're not a thing.” Eddie squeezes your hand, swapping panic for a more serious demand. “What's wrong?” 

“Eddie, stop,” you say. 

“You stop. What's wrong, sweetheart? You gotta tell me.” His voice fries with pleading. 

“I just love you.” 

He stares at you. “What?” 

“I love you, Eddie…” You sniff and wipe your cheek. “Sorry, I'm not trying to be a loser,” —you laugh, and his racing heart starts to settle— “just you're the only person I know who'd sit here listening to me babble and figure out what I'm trying to say. I'm so lucky. I love you so much.” 

Eddie feels a heat growing along his waterline. “Well, hey, I love you too. You're the only person I'd wanna sit and listen to. You get that?” 

“I know.” You laugh wetly. “I don't know why it made me cry, I was just thinking, you kissed me and I was thinking hey, he really loves me.” 

“I really do.” 

He gets up out of his seat to hug you. While he holds you, you thankfully ride out the short lived bubble of tears, though you do turn into his chest and splutter another I love you. 

He's shocked that someone would feel that way about him, to love him to tears, especially you. So after he's hugged you close, he peels your face away from his neck to cradle your face, locking your eyes, ensuring that what he's about to say will stick. 

“I love you,” he says, nodding, “but you're not lucky. I like listening to you talk. It's the best.” He wipes your cheeks dry tenderly. “Don't waste your tears on me.” 

“Wasn't trying to.” 

He leans down for a gentle kiss. He knows you weren't upset, but he figures you deserve a soft touch anyhow. A very, very soft touch. 

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Callin’ Somebody Mama

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

The cold Montana wind blew my hair all around except in my face while I rode beside my boyfriend Lee on horseback. Eyeing the herd of cattle running across the field yet I noticed a mama caff slowly walking behind the rest of the group. Tugging the reins of my horse I pointed towards the mama caff knowing something wasn’t right with her. “Lee, do you see that? I think she’s hurt. Let’s go.” Kicking my horse in its side my horse Chloe ran towards the injured cattle where I dismounted my horse a few steps away from the animal.

Lee followed after me, dismounting his horse carrying a rope in his hands just in case the mama cattle decided to run off when we tried to help her. “Looks like a breach. Can we get her up?”

“No. We’ll pull it while she’s down.” I dropped down onto my knees wrapping my arms around the mama’s stomach holding her down onto the ground with all the strength I could so she didn’t kick me or run off.

Lee bent down behind the mama’s back legs looking between them to see the baby trying to get out. “You got her, Y/n?”

“Yeah. You got the legs.” I nodded, feeling the mama beginning to squirm.

Lee grunted pulling the baby calf out by its legs pushing the mama and baby apart for a minute after I had fallen down onto my back to avoid getting kicked by the calf’s mama who had jumped up. “Woo - that could’ve gone a lot worse. Here, are you alright there?”

“Sure. I just decided to take a nap on the ground like this after delivering a calf.” Crossing my arms over the back of my head I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

He extended his hand down to me, pulling me upright to stand with him. “Forget that I asked.” He found a large rock off to the side of the area where we had just delivered the calf as me and Lee took a seat down to rest for a moment.

Lee and I had been together since middle school. He had nervously asked me out to our junior prom. My mother had gotten pregnant with me at the age of 13 so when he asked me out she was slightly worried I’d get pregnant just like she had. Thankfully Lee was raised right and we had taken things simple and slow by just spending time together working his family’s ranch.

I didn’t think I’d like being a rancher growing up. According to Lee you’d never get a day off from the work of raising the food that you would later eat. But somehow I began to fall in love with it and I knew it had to do with how much joy it brought the oldest Dutton son. He puts his heart and soul into this life and the land and that’s beautiful to watch.

Shifting my gaze across the field I ran a hand through my messy braid watching the mama and her baby calf begin walking around together. “Lee, don’t punch me for asking this but what do you see when you look at that calf?”

“I see a life I gotta feed and defend until it grows up and feeds me.”

I pretended to play dumb tilting my head to the side with curiosity. “So that calf is your baby now. Congratulations, you're a mother.”

“Please don’t start calling me mama, Y/n.” He shook his head in embarrassment.

I couldn’t resist and he knew he had just set himself up to be teased. “Mama Lee, it has a nice ring to it.”

“Seriously, don't start telling my siblings to call me that would you.” He begged me, looking in my direction fiddling with the tan cowboy hat sitting on his head.

Scooting over to him I whispered in his ear with a grin on my face. “Mama Lee.”

“Y/n, please stop.”

“Mana Lee, what are you going to name your baby huh?” I questioned him before he sharply turned his head around getting in my face when he blurted out his next response.

“I'd rather be calling you mama then my girlfriend anymore.”

Blinking my eyes a couple of times I became confused at what he had just said to me. “Wha-what. How could I become a mother if I'm not your girlfriend anymore?”

“By becoming my wife and having my children.” Lee responded by getting up from the ground and lowering himself down onto one knee right in front of my eyes. He dug inside his tan jacket pocket taking out a small black box, opening it to reveal a small ring.

Bringing my hands to my mouth I felt tears welling in my eyes at what was happening right before me. “Lee, you can't seriously be -”

“Proposing, oh yeah I am.” He takes one of my hands in his, holding onto the ring with the other. “Y/n, I never knew you'd be the woman that I fell in love with. I always thought we'd just stay friends until our junior prom rolled around and all I could think about was asking you to be my date. Now you're sitting here as my girlfriend and even that doesn't seem to be enough. I want - I want to call you mine forever. I want to call you my wife. I want to have kids with you - honestly there's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with on this ranch. So will you marry me?”

Throwing my arms around his neck I tackled him down onto the ground where he clutched the ring in his hand so he didn’t lose it. “I love you, Lee Dutton.”

“I love you too - but uh - does that mean you're saying yes.” He chuckled sitting upright keeping me sitting in his lap, showing me the ring again.

Giggling in response I held out my left hand letting him slide the ring on my finger. “Yes, yes, yes I'll marry you.” The ring had a simple light blue jewel in the middle of it and was somewhat familiar to me for some reason when I sent my now fiancé a look of curiosity.

“It's my mothers ring. I asked my father if I could pass it down to you. I hope you like it.”

Leaning forward I slowly kissed the oldest Dutton with a grin on my lips. “I love it just as much as I love you.” He smiles, kissing me and I hold back a laugh at the tickling off the beard on his chin.

“What’s that look for, Mrs. Dutton?” Lee asked me pulling away from the gentle kiss, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist holding me close to his chest.

A smirk grew across my face when the words left my mouth. “What do you say to start working on me becoming a mama eh cowboy?”

“You’re a clever girl, Mrs. Dutton.” Lee scooped me up into his arms hearing me giggle with such joy, carrying me bridal style over to our horses and we rode back to the Foreman's cabin as fast as we ever had in our lives.

[leezlelatch]

I love your writing and style. It's been a hard week and it's made me happy after discovering it. Just wondering if you, if you had the time, could write a slightly smutty drabble. I love your take on protective doll baby Copia. He's perfect.

With the last few months I'd love to read a ficlette where he discovers the reader almost in tears after being torn down by people, told that she's worthless, and now doubting herself because of the complete lack of self esteem which is even worse after this. Copia goes into DarkCopia mode while loving her like the badass he is. He doesn't like it when people hurt his gal. And he makes sure she knows how much worth he sees in her.

Truly though, even if you don't have time...your stuff has made me happy. <3

Hello, my friend. I'm so sorry this week has been hard. I hope it has improved, and I am so happy that my writing has made a difference! Here is a little something for you from me, and Copia. <3

Copia x Reader - hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, a little smutty, protective Copia, suggestively Dark!Copia.

The old key slipping into the lock rouses you from your light doze, and your eyes feel heavy as you turn over, watching as Copia steps into his quarters, his gaze lowered as he shifts his takeout bag from one hand to the other, depositing the key back into his pocket. He raises his head, and you make eye contact. Two things happen in that moment that makes the hair raise on your arms, and your heart warm with affection at the same time. Copia takes in the sight of you, curled up like a burrito in his blanket, your nose tucked into the fabric, eyes red. He knows it’s because you’re trying to find comfort in his scent. He knows you, in and out. His expression freezes in a ghastly stare, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a deep frown which accentuates the wrinkles around his mouth. His brows are pulled down, and he appears paler than he usually does. In short, he looks ready to hurt someone. 

But then it falls away. Cold fury melting into concern, and he drops his bag at the door, uncaring as the takeout boxes tumble and rest on their sides in his haste to reach you. Gloved hands pull you from the blankets, settling you across his lap, his arms cradling you. His face grows very close to yours, searching your eyes with a certain desperation. Copia is another person when it comes to you. The endearing, funny Papa is gone and replaced by someone who is calculating, smart, one step ahead. The real him. The one he hides, the clergy unaware that the puppet is actually the puppet master. You’re precious to him, and there is nothing this man would not do to keep you happy and safe.

“Baby,” he says very softly, his accent curling around the endearment. “Tell Papa what happened, eh?” His thumb rubs beneath your eye. “What are the tears for?”

“I had a hard day,” you respond, your voice a little hoarse. His brow furrows, and one of his hands slides its way down your body, feeling, prodding gently, as if he were checking for some external injury. “I’m okay, Copia.”

“Okay is not finding il mio amore all wrapped up and crying.” He works at removing a glove, slipping each finger out of the leather. He flexes his hand once it’s removed, and it makes you smile, even if just a little. Copia said to you before that he was used to it, but you know the constricting leather became a little much after a long day. 

“Somebody said something to me today,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it to your face. His fingers cradle your jaw, the warmth of his skin encouraging you to speak. “And I feel like I just…can’t do right. That I’m not right. I can’t even face myself in the mirror because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “I’m afraid to see that they’re right.”

Copia sucks in a shaky breath when you finish, and you can already see his mind working. “My love, I don’t want you going after anyone,” you say, reaching to grasp his chin, squeezing it gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry.”

He stares down at you, and then he nods slowly. Copia shifts back onto the bed so his back is against the wall and he adjusts his hold on you, looking thoughtful as his fingers pick up a soothing rhythm against your cheek. “There are a few things I need to be correcting, amore. And I need you to be good for your Papa, and listen. I will never allow a single soul in this building or elsewhere to hurt you. That goes for all our Siblings, but you are not just a Sibling, sì? You are my amore. Also,” he clicks his tongue. “The peoples are wrong. They will learn that they are wrong. And you, vita mia, also need to be corrected.”

You’re listening intently, your eyes trained on his features, adoring how expressive his features are when he speaks, but his last words make you pause. “I have to be corrected?” That was the last thing you expected to hear. 

“Yes,” Copia says, drawing out the word, his expression set. You’re bewildered when he doesn’t elaborate, letting out a sound of surprise as he firmly guides you up and out of the bed. 

“Copia, no-,” you begin to protest as he approaches the full length mirror near his dresser, your hand tightly wrapped in his grip. Copia pins you with a look that shuts your mouth, and he takes you by the shoulders, setting you directly in the reflection of the mirror. 

“We shall start here,” he says, his fingers tapping beneath your chin. “You will watch, and listen.” Copia circles you like a vulture, his hands clasped behind his back. “When you smile, I want to smile too.” His voice has lowered, tender and affectionate. “I am not so proud of my teeth, but I would smile ear to ear just to match your joy. That is healing for me, amore. You do that.”

Fingers brush your cheek. “You blush at the sight of me. At the sight of me. So beautiful and sweet, and I am sure that I have seen the depths of paradise. And the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, oh…,” he laughs softly to himself, his voice almost a coo. “Do you realize how lucky I am to know your eyes? To watch your brow furrow or rise. To see emotion pass over your face. To read the story of your life through every blemish and line.”

Your breath is stolen from your lungs, and you’re already crying. Copia’s hands shake as they grasp your hips, standing now close behind you, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear. His breath makes you shiver, and you feel his hips shift against your backside. “You’re biased,” you whisper, and he laughs.

“I am very proud of this, amore. It is a gift to be biased,” he murmurs, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. “It is a gift to have you.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, grasping and kneading at soft skin. You make a breathless noise, leaning back against him, and Copia almost purrs. “Hmm, you are liking your Papa’s touches?”

They slip higher, fingers grazing your nipples, and he pauses there. You whimper, caught between your emotions and your arousal, and Copia knows how to play you like the finest instrument. When to touch, and when to pause, letting it all wash over you, giving you the time you need to feel safe in his arms. “Your body,” he says, pressing his hips firmly into the curve of your ass. “Ignites a fire inside of me, you know? I am incomplete when I am not joined with you.” He’s almost growling now, a rough edge to his voice. 

You’re spun around in his arms and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thoroughly plundering your mouth and rendering you incapable of any thought. Copia has a talent at making you forget, and suddenly the cruel words from today have all but vanished from your mind. “I love you,” he hisses, nipping at your bottom lip. His hand grasps your chin, raising your eyes to his, and his tone softens. “I love you.”

He kisses you softly now, his lips curling into a smile. “You are worth everything. You don’t need to look into the mirror, amore, just look into my eyes. I see you. I see the glory in you. And you will always have a home with me. You are safe with me.”

Another tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, and he gasps, arching into your touch.

“Do not think,” he murmurs, his voice a little strained as he pushes you toward the bed. “That this does not mean they will be…removed. Papa protects what is his.”

[fizzigigsimmer]

We joke about Steve's breeding kink, but Steve's ONE dream in this hot mess of a show has become deeply important to me. The menfolk of the world are not okay! 😄 Toxic masculinity has them terrified that someone will guess that their emotional range is deeper than a thimble. That shit has caused more broken homes and world dysfunction than we could ever quantify. Let boys be good husbands and fathers! Normalize boys who answer 'I want to be a dad when I grow up' whether they had a great one, a shit one, or no one!

Normalize Steve who just want babies for all the reasons humans ever want babies! You heard that right, life goal = daddy! He can't wait to get off work and see their kiddos. Normalize Steve who likes being a stay at home dad and doesn't give one flying fuck what you think about it Ted! He said, 'no babe take that promotion. I'll take time off of work so someone can ferry the little sprocket back and forth to the good preschool.' Pay for daycare? Insane! He thinks YOU'RE weird for caring Ted, here's his two week notice by the way.

Normalize Steve who plans family day trips with the same heart as a week long family vacation. Who maybe doesn't have all the therapy words to verbalize it, but still makes it unmistakably clear that family time is his number one priority. Nobody could hold a candle to his partner, and his kids are the best thing since sliced bread. Yes he takes an embarrassing amount of photos of them, and yes his friends have seen his entire camera roll more times than they want to count.

Normalize Steve who gives no fucks about spending his days wiping snotty noses and answering important life questions like 'why do we poop?' and carrying around little nuggets with fluffy hair and puffy cheeks in cutsey little stomach and back carriers. He picked that shit out himself, and you read that shit right, she's 'daddy's little terror' and why yes, that is an ewok onsie. Dustin told him so. What's a star war got to do with it?

Normalize Steve whose capacity for love and gentleness astounds his partner every damn day, because it amplifies the qualities truly responsible for his course correction in season one, in a way that our emotionally tortured toxic cesspool of a society never allowed him to before someone let him love them and gave it back. Normalize a Steve who said fuck the patriarchy bullshit, being somebody's partner makes him so happy they never worry about that man for a second. Steve risking their relationship? HA! That man tears up at old home videos! Shut up. That man is so fulfilled by his family, the neighbors think they're mormans the way the house just keeps growing!

[vivwritesfics]

What Could Have Been

Lando Norris is dead. He isn't human, he doesn't remember being human. Well, he didn't remember, not until he saw her. Until he saw her and her baby bump.

Warnings: Death (not described, person is just dead), pregnancy, birth

Viv's AUgust Event

Lando Norris didn't remember being human. He didn't remember the joys that came with enjoying his favourite foods or the feeling of rain against his skin. He didn't remember what it was to be a human.

That's the way it was for so many demons, and it was a good thing. Those who did remember went crazy. They lost the demon part of themselves, but they certainly weren't human.

Lando didn't care about remembering his humanity. It wouldn't do him any good. He wandered the streets, the streets he didn't care to know from being human. It didn't matter to him, they were just streets.

But then he saw her. Hidden in the shadows, Lando saw saw her.

She was so pretty, that was the first thing he noticed. Even demons could appreciate beauty. But there was more than that. The longer he stared at her, the more memories came back. Fuck, he was remembering being human.

Lando had a whole life with this woman when he was human. They'd met when they were teenagers, had dated later on in life. He had been so in love with her, held her close any chance he got. The day he died, he'd left her behind, left her on her own.

Lando watched from the shadows, as the shadows, as she spoke to a friend. He knew the friend, but she wasn't important.

His girl turned to the left, and Lando saw a rather large baby bump. That baby was his. Well, the man that he used to be. Not his any longer.

She cradled her bump as she said goodbye to the other woman and continued with her shopping.

Lando followed her around the shop. If anybody got to close to her, they were mysteriously moved out of the way. Nobody was allowed to touch his girl.

He followed her to the cashier, followed her out of the store and followed her back home. The home they shared, he remembered that now. He remembered walking through that door after a long weekend at the track to her jumping into his arms. It didn't matter what time it was, she was always awake, always ready to jump into his arms.

He watched through black eyes as she placed her bags down on the the kitchen floor and stretched her arms up. Nobody was running to help her put the shopping away, and Lando hated it. Somebody should have been helping her. He didn't care who it was; somebody should have been helping.

She stopping putting away the shopping before she had finished and moved her hand over her bump. "I miss your daddy," she mumbled to it. "I miss him so much."

She moved through the apartment and made her way to the bathroom. As she did, Lando saw his opportunity. He put away some of the shopping, made it easier on her. But he didn't put it all away, made it seem like he hadn't done anything at all.

Lando watched over her. Until the day she died, he didn't stop watching over her.

He watched as, in the eighth month of her pregnancy, she was evicted from the apartment they shared. He used his demonic powers to help with the move in whatever way he could, until she was comfortable in her mothers house.

From the shadows he watched the birth of his son. His beautiful baby boy, the baby boy he would never get to hold. He was small and screaming and utterly, utterly, perfect. He looked just like him.

The first time his mother held him, she sobbed, cried out of him. But he couldn't be there, cursed to stay hidden in the shadows.

Watching him grow up was hard. He was so close but so far away. Sometimes he looked at Lando, and Lando thought he could see him. But when he waved, his son had no reaction.

His heart broke, but Lando never stopped watching over him.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Best friend!Coriolanus x Reader, Coriolanus x Best friend!Reader, Academy!Coriolanus x Academy!Reader

You just couldn't believe what happened. Your boyfriend, Livinius Cardew, who was a year older than you, was cheating on you. And you just had to find out by walking in on him and the skank from the University that he was cheating on you with. God, why did you decide to go to Vinny's apartment (that his parents got him whenever he graduated from the academy last year) to surprise him for? Usually you call and see if he's busy or not.

But no…today you decideed to just drop by since you were already in the neighborhood. Well, you were actually in the library working on a project with your best friend, Coriolanus, but decided instead of going home to your Corso apartment you'd go see your boyfriend instead.

Coryo couldn't stand Vinny, but he tolerated Livia Cardew's older brother because he was your boyfriend. The platinum blonde didn't want you ditching him to the curb over some asshole, so he played nice with your boyfriend.

But after tonight, well, he won't be hiding his hatred for the older Cardew sibling anymore.

Of course, after being let inside of Livinius’ apartment by the Avox and finding him in his study getting ridden like a trick pony by some university girl, you ran to the only place you could. Your best friend's penthouse.

You were a wreck, tear stains and mascara rolling down your cheeks, as you frantically knocked on Coriolanus' door. You felt so stupid, felt so heartbroken by being cheated on and just needed your best friend.

Coriolanus had just sat down for a dinner of gloopy mashed potatoes and water cabbage soup with Grandma'am and Tigris whenever a loud frantic knock sounded at the door. Since the Snow family didn't socialize with too many people (due to keeping their status of not having a pot to piss in on the down low) they knew that it could only be one of two people. You or Pluribus Bell, their neighbor.

Standing up, Coriolanus told the women at the table, ‘I'll get it, Grandma'am, Tigris. Just keep eating.”

“Invite whoever it is for dinner. It's not too late for us to include a guest, Coriolanus.” Grandma'am told her grandson before sipping on her watery cabbage broth. Only that old woman would act like they're holding a grand feast instead of eating a bland meal for peasants.

Coryo just nodded and thinly smiled at his Grandma'am, who he felt was growing more delusional by the day. “Of course, Grandma’am.”

“Go on, Coryo, before they break the door down.” Tigris shooed her cousin as the knocks on the door got louder and more frantic.

Honestly, Tigris was getting tired of doing ‘favors’ for the maintenance man in order to borrow tools or electrical tape, etc. She shuddered at the thought of how many ‘favors’ the maintenance man would want to sand out and fix a dented door.

“Y/N, baby, what's wrong? What happened?” Coryo asked as soon as he opened the door and saw you standing in front of him, looking like a heartbroken mess with mascara and tears staining your cheeks. Your eyes, usually so beautiful and bright, were dull and blood shot. And when all Coryo got for an answer was you bursting into years and flinging yourself at him, he knew that somebody hurt you. “Who do I gotta kill?” He seriously asked while wrapping his arms around you; giving you a hug.

A hug that was warm, tight, and protective all wrapped up into one.

“I caught Vinny cheating on me.” You told your best friend as sobs wracked your body.

If Coryo didn't already hate Livinius, well he definitely does now. How could that stupid asshole cheat on you? You're perfect. You're the entire package. Any man would be more than lucky to have you

Then, one thought popped into Coryo's head. The reason why you got cheated on. Coryo and you talked about a lot of stuff, including sex. You knew about how he lost his virginity in some ally behind a club when he was drunk (thanks to a bet by Festus) and he knew that you were on the fence post about going all the way with Livinius. That everytime things should go past foreplay you seemed to get nervous and stop things from going further. So, Coryo figured that Livinius Cardew got tired of blowjobs and handjobs; decided to find some whore to get his dick wet with.

“I hope you broke up with him.” Your best friend told you, because he really didn't want to see you get used and trampled on. Once a cheater always a cheater, or at least that's how the old saying goes.

Nodding against his chest, you sniffled, “Yes, I broke up with him.”

“How about we get you inside and cleaned up in the kitchen; then we'll join Grandma'am and Tigris in the dining room for dinner.” Coriolanus suggested, hoping that eating with him and his family would get your mind off of your recent breakup. Plus his family loves you, they’ll be able to help cheer you up.

Looking up at him through teary eyes, you sadly said, “Okay.”

Coriolanus rubbed your back and assured you, “You're heartbroken now, darling, but it'll mend. It won't hurt forever.” Breaking the hug, because he needed to get you inside of the penthouse, he said, “I'll make sure you forget all about that cheating bastard. We'll hangout, do whatever you want. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, giving your best friend a sad smile.

Wrapping an arm around you, the platinum blonde simply said, “Come on, let's get you cheered up.’, while ushering you into his house.

And cheer you up he did. Coriolanus let you sleep over that night and listened to you vent about Vinny. He sat with you as you cried it out. Then he swore, as your best friend, that he'd never let anyone hurt you ever again.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @twinkletwinklenotastar @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @shellybellysstuff @zombicupcake3

[cozage]

Hello!

Firstly, I love your work ❤️❤️

Secondly, I saw your 2k follower milestone post.

Could you do Trafalgar Law as a girl dad? Like with a black wife (I'm black and I want this man so bad lol)

Maybe with him finding out she's pregnant, then finding out it's a girl. Just how he'd take the news and how he'd treat their daughter.

And, if you have the time, maybe when she's older and wants to date somebody. Idk I feel like he's a protective loving father 🥲🥲

A/N: I could go on and on about Trafalgar Law as a Girl Dad. He was made to have a daughter.  Characters: female reader x Law Cw: some talk about infertility and diseases, little bit of angst. Total word count:770

Girl Dad

Trafalgar Law was not expecting a positive pregnancy test. All signs had pointed he was infertile, a result of Amber Lead Sickness he had as a child. 

Even despite that prognosis and you all being careful, the test in front of him was positive. He was going to be a father. 

A part of him was ecstatic. The two of you had talked about kids before, through adoption or other options. But this child growing inside your womb was his child, made of DNA from him and his favorite person in the whole world. 

He spirals a few times, alone in his office. What if the baby had Amber Lead Poisoning? What is the life expectancy of a child in this generation? What if the child spreads the disease to you and you get sick? Some nights he can’t sleep; he’s just up thinking about What-ifs.

He frets over everything during your pregnancy. If your BPM or heart rate is even slightly elevated, if your bloodwork is just slightly off, he starts to worry. He runs test after test, just to make sure everything is okay

Even things like the way the nursery room is set up stresses him out. If the bed is too big or if the blankets will be a problem, the risk of certain paints or old furniture. This man has studied so many medical diseases that he’s paranoid about anything and everything.

At week twenty he’s running a weekly scan and finds out it’s a girl. He breaks down in tears, thinking of his mother and his sister. He wished they could be here to celebrate with you all. But it’s only the two of you in his little doctor's office. 

He wanted to find a more fun way to tell you the news, but his tears of joy tell you everything you need to know. Of course it’s a girl. You always knew he would make the best father for a little girl. 

When she’s finally brought into the world, Law cannot stop staring at her. She has your skin and his eyes, and you’ve never seen a more beautiful combination for a human being.

Sometimes you’ll wake up in the middle of the night just to find Law holding her while she sleeps, completely transfixed on her. He’s always smiling like an idiot, just watching her sleep.

He is always whispering in her ear, telling her how much he loves her and how special she is. She grows up constantly hearing how much she is loved by everyone on the ship. 

As she gets older, Law has a hard time saying no to her. She wants that cute princess dress? Of course she can have it. You’ve never seen this man bend his will so easily to another human. But he'd give her the moon if she asked.

He will dress up in tiaras and have tea parties. Everyone on the ship will! Sometimes you’ll be walking around and it will be strangely quiet, and you just know you’re little princess has gotten those boys doing her bidding in some way or another. 

He sets up a little desk for her in his office when she turns three, and you are BAFFLED. The man never lets anyone in his office! And now your daughter has a DESK in there, full of crayons and coloring books and journals.

She has a knack for medicine too and loves to make her own “potions” (aka dyed water. Law isn’t THAT crazy) in the lab. He starts teaching her how to use pipettes and measure out liquids. Once she turns 8, he shows her how to run tests and read medical data. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

On the ship, she has full reign. Whatever she wants to do, she’s welcome to do it. Law only ever raises his voice at her when she’s in danger or when he’s scared. 

On island visits, it’s a little bit different. He doesn’t like her to leave his side, even as she creeps into her teenage and young adult years. 

He has a really hard time letting her have her freedom. He knows what kind of people wait around the corner of islands on the Grand Line, eager to get a girl of her stature and her beauty. He’s trained her how to fight, but he’s still desperate to protect her from the world.

It’s hard sometimes, having a husband who loves so deeply and wants to protect so much. You often have to be the mediator, reminding Law to be gentle and reminding your daughter that he just wants to protect her. 

But you’re a family, and you always love each other and forgive each other. It’s not always perfect, but you would never trade it, and neither would Law.