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winchesterwild78 · 1 day ago

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Daddy’s Girl pt 1

Master List

Characters: Dean Winchester x Reader (wife), Dean and Reader’s daughter, other characters from Supernatural

Warnings: None yet, just some fluff. Talks of monsters and nightmares

A/N: Another collab story with @cheekygirl2309. This one is about Dean and his wife and how Dean is a total girl dad. The reader and Dean are married and their daughter is 4.

This is a work of fiction and does not follow the Supernatural storyline. I do not own the rights to the characters used.

All work is my own and @cheekygirl2309, don’t take it or use it as your own. Reblogs and likes are appreciated.

Minors DNI 18+

“Delilah Rose, get in here and pick up this mess.” I stood in the Dean cave and saw her dolls all over the floor. My four year old came bounding in and looked up at me with her father’s green eyes and gave me the best puppy dog eyes she could muster. “I see Uncle Sammy is teaching you puppy dog eyes.”

I heard a deep chuckle behind me and felt my husband’s arms wrap around my waist. “Or was it you, Dean Winchester? Teaching our toddler how to get out of trouble?”

He laughed, “Nope, because my little pumpkin pie could never be in trouble.” I rolled my eyes, “Well your little pumpkin pie has been told five times to clean up her mess and she still hasn’t done it.”

Dean spun me around to face him, “We were still playing.” He chuckled and kissed my lips. “Sure you were. Any excuse to keep her out of trouble. You two are insufferable.” “Yeah, but you love us.” I playfully rolled my eyes, “I guess I do. You're lucky you’re cute, Winchester.”

He pulled me close and kissed my lips. Delilah was watching from the floor and giggled. “Daddy, can we play now?” He pulled away and smirked, “Duty calls.”

Dean let go of me and got on the floor with Delilah. I loved watching them together. From the moment he found out I was pregnant he was over the moon. When we found out we were having a girl his whole demeanor shifted.

I thought he was protective of me or Sammy, but nothing prepared me for the level of protection for Delilah. I still remember late night conversations with him about her future.

“She will never hunt and I’m cutting back on it. I refuse to have her grow up the way Sammy and I did. She will learn to protect herself, but I won’t let her live her life in fear. Oh, and no boys until she’s thirty, and they will be put through all the tests; holy water, silver, borax, background checks.”

I just laughed. She wasn’t born yet and he was already so protective of her.

When she was born it was a chilly day in late November. She was born a few days before Thanksgiving and Dean nicknamed her “pumpkin pie” because of it. He even bought her a onesie that had a slice of pumpkin pie on it and it said, “Sweet as (picture of the pie)”.

The nurses took turns holding her. Delilah had everyone, especially Dean wrapped around her finger from the moment she was born.

When we came home from the hospital my recovery was hard. There were some complications with me during birth, so the doctor told us to expect some difficulties after.

The first few nights home I cried every time Delilah cried. Dean was by my side, taking care of her and me. As I healed, Dean insisted on doing the late night feedings and changes. “It will help us bond better. Please, baby let me do this. You can rest.” He kissed my lips and shooed me to bed.

I would sneak out and watch him from the doorway of the nursery. Dean would feed her, change her and sing her to sleep while he rocked her.

I loved watching him with her. Dean Winchester was born to be a father, especially to a little girl.

Now here we were four years later and Delilah, or “pumpkin pie” as Dean called her, was growing into a spunky child.

“Daddy, play dress up with me. Please.” Her big green eyes fluttered and her lip poked out. I chuckled and rolled my eyes. “You two have fun, I’m going to make some lunch for us. Any requests?”

Dean and Delilah looked at each other and then at me with big grins, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup.” “Of course, why did I even ask?” I chuckled as I left the room.

The halls of the bunker filled with laughter coming from Delilah’s room. “Daddy, now I have to paint your nails.” “Pumpkin I don’t want my nails painted. Maybe you can paint mommy’s or Uncle Sammy’s.” “Noooo daddy, I want to paint yours so we can match.”

I laughed because I knew when I saw them he would have painted nails. I poured the soup in bowls and cut their grilled cheeses. Four little triangles with apple slices in the middle of the plate. Just the way they both like it.

“Lunch is ready for you two. Wash up and come on.” I called from the kitchen.

I heard giggles coming down the hallway and a few minutes later Dean and Delilah came into the kitchen. When I turned around I laughed loudly. Dean’s hair was full of bows and barrettes and his nails were painted.

He cut his eyes at me as I stifled the giggle. “Mommy isn’t daddy pretty?” “Yes he is baby girl, you did a great job.” “See daddy, I told you that you were pretty.”

I walked over to Dean and kissed his lips softly, “Daddy is very pretty.” He smirked, “She better be glad she’s cute.” I placed my hands on his chest, “She has you wrapped so tight around her finger she could shave your head and you’d love it.” He smirked because he knew I was right.

Dean Winchester, badass hunter, stopped the apocalypse, got rid of demons, vampires, and God himself, but would crumble and bend to the will of his four year old daughter.

The three of us sat at the table to eat lunch. Dean and Delilah sat across from each other and I sat beside Delilah. I stood up to grab napkins and when I turned around I saw Dean making silly faces and Delilah giggling. She started making them back and he laughed. “Dean Winchester! Teaching her how to make faces like that. You’re going to get her in trouble when she starts school.”

Delilah and Dean both laughed, but I noticed his jaw clench a little when I mentioned school. I knew he wasn’t looking forward to her going to school. He was scared and nervous about her being away from him. He has been by her side since the day she was born, never being apart from her.

After lunch it was time for Delilah to take a nap. Dean cleaned her up and carried her to bed.

“But daddy, I don’t want to take a nap. I want to stay with you and mommy.” “Sweetheart, you need to take a nap. Mommy and daddy will be here when you wake up. Want me to sing to you?”

Delilah climbed in Dean’s lap and nodded. Dean began singing a Metallica song to her, but in a softer tone. I loved hearing him sing songs to her and changing their tune to fit the situation. Before too long she was fast asleep. Soft snores coming from her slightly parted lips.

Dean laid her down, kissed her forehead, and left her room, closing her door slightly. I was in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch when he came back in.

He snaked his arms around my waist and kissed my neck, “She’s fast asleep. Nothing a little Metallica couldn’t fix.” I chuckled. After drying my hands I turned to face him. He pulled me close to him and kissed my lips softly. “Dean, honey, why did you get upset when I mentioned school? You know she has to start school next year.”

Dean let out a deep sigh, “I know. I just don’t like the idea of her being away from us. We both know what’s out there and I have to protect her. That’s my number one job and I refuse to let her down.”

I looked at Dean and smiled, I placed my hands on his chest, “Dean, you will never let that little girl down. You are her world and I know you would literally go to hell for the people you love so I can’t imagine what you would do for her. If you think we can do it, let’s look into homeschooling her. We can tag team it between work.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he smiled, “Really? You would consider that?” I nodded yes, “Dean I would do whatever I could to keep you both safe and happy. If that means we homeschool our little girl, then we homeschool our little girl. Uncle Sammy is smart enough he can help us too. Besides, I don’t want to get a phone call from the school telling me you’re standing outside armed to the teeth on ‘protection duty’.”

Dean laughed, “You really think I’d stand outside the school every day with weapons?” I laughed, “Dean, baby, I don’t think it, I know it.”

We walked into the Dean cave and sat on the couch. Dean grabbed a blanket and draped it over the two of us. He pulled me closer to him and I snuggled to his side.

“It’s been awhile since we’ve just relaxed here. This is nice. Being in your arms, snuggled together, just the two of us.” Dean looked down at me and lifted my chin up and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Yeah, I miss my other girl. It’s been too long since we’ve just relaxed together.” “Yeah, you usually have a tiny human crawling in your lap. I love being in your arms, Dean, and as much as I love you, these bows and barrettes have to go.” I laughed as I started to take his hair down.

He pulled me on his lap and I giggled. I kissed his lips, “You’re an amazing daddy, you know that? Not many men would let their daughter put bows in their hair or paint their nails. We are so lucky to have you.”

I kissed him again. This time his hands pulled me closer and held tightly on my hips. I moaned into his mouth.

I felt him smirk, “What do you say about us taking a nap too?” He winked as he asked me.

“I think we won’t be doing a lot of sleeping, Mr Winchester.” “Is that a no, Mrs Winchester?”

“Oh absolutely not, let’s go.” I stood up and took his hands pulling him off the couch.

We walked into our room and Dean closed the door softly, locking it. I smirked. His lips were on mine again as he pulled me flush to his chest. His hands tangled in my hair, deepening the kiss.

“I’ve missed you, Dean, missed this.” “Me too sweetheart, it’s been too long.”

I smirked, “Dean, it’s only been two days.” He chuckled, “I know, but I miss my wife.” His hand slipped down and under the hem of my shirt. His calloused fingertips brushing my skin lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Dean walked us back to the bed and laid me down. He hovered over me, kissing me from my lips, down my neck and to my collarbone. Pulling a moan from my lips.

Dean pulled his shirt off over his head, and I leaned up letting him take off mine too. As he unhooked my bra I thought I heard something so I froze.

“What is it baby?” “I think I heard Delilah.” We stopped and listened carefully.

Sure enough we heard her whimpers and cries from her room. Dean grabbed his shirt and headed towards her room. I put my clothes back on and followed.

When I got to her door, Dean had her in his arms drying her tears.

“Daddy the monster got me and took me away from you and mommy.” Her green eyes were full of tears that spilled over onto her little pink cheeks.

Dean held her to his chest and rubbed her back, “Shhh, baby. I promise you nothing will ever hurt you or take you away from Mommy and me. I will always keep you safe. Mommy and Uncle Sammy will always keep you safe too. Remember Uncle Cas and Uncle Jack are always watching over you. They have since before you were born.”

I smiled thinking about the day Cas and Jack came to visit us and told me I was pregnant.

*Flashback*

“Dean, I’m not feeling well. I think you and Sammy should go without me this time. You said it yourself, it’s a simple salt and burn.” Dean stepped closer to me and kissed my lips, “If you’re sure. I’ll be back before you know it.” I nodded.

“Dean, Y/N. How are you?” We both jumped, “Jesus Cas. You scared the heck out of me.” Dean laughed, “Yeah Cas, what if we were having sex?” I playfully slapped his arm, “Dean!”

Cas looked at Dean and then at me, “I knew you weren't. I always listen in before we come in.” I looked at Dean and he looked at me, “That’s kind of creepy, Cas.” He shrugged. Jack appeared next, “Hello.” He smiled.

“Hey Jack, how are you?” “I am well, Y/N. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay. Just feeling a little sick. Probably caught a little cold.”

Jack stepped closer to me, “No, you have a baby in your stomach.” My eyes went wide and I looked at Dean. Dean’s jaw hit the floor. “Wait, what?”

Jack stepped even closer, “Yes, a baby. It’s going to be a girl. She’s going to look like Y/N, but have Dean’s green eyes.”

I gasped and touched my belly. Cas looked at Dean and I. Dean looked over at Cas, “Is he telling the truth? Is Y/N pregnant?” Cas shook his head yes.

Dean pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips, “We’re having a baby?” Tears filled our eyes and I nodded, “I guess so.” He kissed me again, “I love you so much, Y/N.” “I love you too, Dean.”

*End of Flashback*

Dean held Delilah in his arms until she fell back to sleep. Her tiny hands gripped his shirt and wouldn’t let go. I smiled as he laid her down and he laid beside her.

I walked over and kissed him and then her. “I told you, best daddy ever.” He smiled, “I try.” He grabbed my hand as I started to leave the room. I turned and looked at him, “What’s wrong Dean?”

“Nothing, I just want you to know I fully intend on finishing what I started.” I bent down, kissed his lips and said, “I’m counting on it.”

He chuckled softly, “Good.” I turned on my heels and walked out the door.

I busied myself with cleaning, organizing and reading while Dean and Delilah took a nap.

I had walked to her door a few times to check on them and the last time I saw Dean laying on his back, one arm under his head and the other holding Delilah close to him. She was laying in his arms with her arm and a leg flung over him. Both of their mouths were slightly parted and soft snores filled the room. Delilah was definitely a carbon copy of Dean, and I loved every second of it.

About an hour later I was sitting in the library reading when I heard Dean and Delilah talking. Dean walked out of her room covered in sweat. It puzzled me because it wasn’t that hot in her room.

“Dean, is everything okay?” He nodded and went into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but I had a gut feeling something was wrong.

I got up and walked in the kitchen. I saw Dean standing at the sink, his back to me, and his t-shirt was soaked.

I walked over to him and touched his arm and he jumped. “Whoa, I’m sorry. It’s just me. Dean, are you sure you’re okay? You’re soaked and jumpy.”

He moved slightly away from me. My brows furrowed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Guess I got hot in pumpkin’s room.”

I wasn’t convinced. Dean grabbed his water and left the room, heading towards our bedroom.

I hesitated, not sure if I should follow him or not. I ultimately decided to follow him. I’ve known him for years and I know he keeps things to himself. It’s really one of the only things we argue about.

I walked into our bedroom and found him sitting at the desk, writing. Standing at the door I watched him for a few minutes. Dean was focused on writing and I noticed he had tears falling down his face. A few falling and landing on the paper.

I gasped softly and walked over to him putting my arms around his neck. “Dean, baby. Please talk to me. You can’t keep whatever this is inside. I’m your wife, your partner. The one person you’re supposed to share your burdens, your fears, your love with. Please let me help you. Please.” Tears filled my eyes as I pleaded with him. I hated seeing him like this.

All those years of being mom and dad to Sam, being so brave and stoic for his father taught him how to push his emotions down and not show his vulnerable side. Since we got married and even more so after Delilah was born, Dean is learning how to embrace and show his emotions.

He sometimes needs to be reminded that I’m there to help him.

I felt his hands on my arms and his body shaking as he cried. One hand slipping down and picking up the picture he took of Delilah and I at the park.

My heart was breaking as his whole body shook. “Dean, honey, please talk to me. Whatever it is we will figure it out. I promise.”

Dean sat the picture down and stood up. He turned and faced me and pulled me in his arms.

“I just don’t want to lose you or Delilah. I couldn’t survive that. You two are my world and I can’t lose you too.” I placed my hands on his chest, “Hey, look at me. You’re not going to lose either of us. You’re stuck with us Dean. Forever. Remember what we said when we got married? It’s you and me until the last star falls. I meant it, Dean. Now where is this coming from?”

He took in a deep shaky breath and let it out, “Just a bad dream. You and pumpkin were gone and I couldn’t find you or get to you. The two of you just vanished.”

I wrapped my arms around him tightly, “Well I’m right here, and she’s in there playing. We aren’t going anywhere. Remember what you told her, we’ve got Cas and Jack looking out for us. Not to mention a dad who would go to hell and back for us. We are two very lucky girls.”

He nodded, kissed my lips and let out a little bit more of the breath he was holding.

“You’re right, baby. I’m sorry.” “Hey, no. Don’t be sorry. You’re entitled to your feelings and fears. That’s what makes you human. I love you, Dean.” “I love you too, Y/N.”

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@deans-baby-momma @deansimpalababy

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#hes gorgeous #so damn sexy #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester x plus size!reader

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lifenconcepts · 2 days ago

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I absolutely agree with that and am SO happy to find someone similar to me!! I’ve never been one to hate on the shit another finds good but the popularised versions of identities being this half which is just sunshine and rainbows always feels a little unjustified for how much those same people which say ‘embrace the weird! Be yourself! Love others!!’ and say they support those which unapologetically go against what social norm has been formed, suddenly go from all kind to ‘yuck! How can you say that? That doesn’t seem right.. you’re not one of us!’ the very moment you mention you support real fur instead of faux, that hunting and genuinely mauling your food with your hands is okay, feel angry when another animal marks your home or vehicle, or any other variation of not being the ‘aesthetic therian’ others so believe is the ‘only’ way of being alterhuman.

The exact definition that’s been burned into our brains like a branding has gotten boring! There’s no right way to be yourself, because you’re the only one who knows what you actually look like! And no matter how much I see ‘alterhumanity is different for everyone’ I still tend to think that not all really get that into their brains. They take in the words but not the MEANING behind them. I want others to just blatantly face the facts that some find it nice, prefered in fact, to just want to be able to think and act like an animal. None of that explanation of why and how. (I love to find meaning behind everything but that’s simply because my soul craves knowledge) I too sometimes believe it to be great for the simplicity of a creature’s mind. You can enjoy harming another life without some twisted sense of pleasure (although that’s also fine. Huntings dogs were bred to hunt. Ofcourse they will be happy to hunt), to go where you walk simply because it’s what feels right (why must you understand the journey or destination in mind when birds migrate simply by how it feels and where is better? They don’t think ‘oh gee! It’s the 8th of September! I must get going to Portugal otherwise I may not survive the cold!’ Their minds subconsciously gather the temperature change and just vaguely understand they need to fucking go some place warm), and it feels irritating to fight for this in a community that claims to support and understand eachother alot- BUT ANIMALS DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN THEMSELVES! They don’t! They don’t decide to just casually start feeling some way and try change to be that, no! They feel a way, and so they are that. And that may change, it may be wrong, but who cares!? Emotion is emotion and sensation is sensation. Whatever feeling comes along then it’s that feeling which is invoked. This makes more sense with examples but I just had to get it off my chest.

You won’t find a flying squirrel explaining to another ‘look, I just don’t feel enough like a rodent enough because I’ve seen the air like the birds and bugs, perhaps I’m not made for this body because I love the air as must as the trees. Is it so wrong?’ No. It’s just living as it fucking needs to, eats shits walks and floats, and will die when it needs to. Our human minds allow for a lot more to do and various things to come of it, but they also are just so much of a plague of questions that assault simple activities. Ah- I could go on for hours, but everyone needs to know that an alterhuman will be alterhuman even if they don’t explain themselves. Maybe someone misunderstood themselves but to what extent does it even matter? Maybe it’s chosen maybe it’s involuntary but why are you policing another? Is life showing any sign of rules? Sure, patterns exist, and there may be exceptions for moral wrong doing, but in the end it’s always up to subjective perception to decide what is right for you. We already have human-made rules, it’s called the law. Don’t kill or abuse others, don’t steal and destroy another’s property, and the rest is up to your grubby little hands to decide (some laws are idiotic I will admit). And I needed to get this out for a long time but damn it- ALLOW others to exist without a label! Allow yourself to go unlabelled! It’s a common practice but it’s not as neccesary! Do you know how much agony you’ll be spared if you stop going ‘well how much of a Therian am I? What counts as Otherkin? Have I experienced any symptoms of So-and-so in the past month?’ And rather spot what makes you feel better in your body, what brings happiness, and what you do often. The cause ain’t even all that neccesary to understand unless you want to. Just focus on what you feel like and what you want to see in yourself and then you can go all ‘let’s find a word for this’. Honestly. The English language has already so many words, and that’s not even taking into account those which grown lost with time. You really think newly-made terms don’t hold as much value? Or that a single word must explain your own mind and body? Your soul is boundless, but able to be gazed upon at times. So why limit yourself to fit into a new box just to claim you ‘escaped the system!!’ as you once more alter yourself and grow bound to mere words and a fear for others judging you.

Okay that’s a bit off topic now, thanks for the opportunity to ramble, but yeah. Let animals be animals. And animals don’t need to explain themselves, they can blatantly do whatever feels good or right at the moment without it having define their entire existence or life. Animals can be dirty, mean, confusing, nasty, dangerous, scary, but still have nice qualities. And even if not, it is not their fault.

Never ever mistake me. I am not just in favor of the uwu romantic version Being An Animal. It's not all moodboards and waxing poetic about tails/wings/etc and running in the forest wild and free. All of that stuff is GOOD and FINE and a nice outlet for all flavors of nonhumans, please do not stop engaging with that sort of thing. I'm talking about me also wanting to embrace the gross and so-called ugly and less fortunate aspects of animality. like when you're wrestling a large prey animals into submission so you can eat that day but it fuckin Gets You with a claw/antler/horn/hoof/beak/etc and suddenly you're hurt real bad. Lost an eye, a toe, half your tail. Got a permanent limp from being stomped so hard that will make hunting difficult so you may not live your full natural lifespan. dying of severe cold or heat and then your body decomposing slowly, being food for other things. scent marking with piss, shit, musk. being young and inexperienced so you go without food for days cuz you can't hunt for shit.

there is no part of animality that is something I don't desire. I want it all, because all of me is animal. does it suck to downgrade from human sized complex brain to smaller wolverine brain? No not really! I am not mourning the loss of things I never asked for in the first place. sure I could say that woo, less complex brain means less capacity for things to go wrong, but that is a very human lens to look through. does a wolverine know it's "lucky" that it cannot have certain human mental illnesses because its brain may not be that complex? no, and that's why I'm not worried. I could turn into one fully physically overnight and then die stupidly 2 years later and that would still be ideal. sure I also may romanticize some things in ways that are not really Natural for my species, like how I think places that feel like Home just seem so beautiful to me, but no damn animal is perfect. I am allowed a couple flaws. several, in fact, lmao.

I Crave It All

#Therian #Therianthropy #Therianthrope #Nonhuman #Otherkin #Alterhuman #divine Illumination #my eepy ramblings

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cha-melodius · 1 day ago

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12 for henry & oscar for the hug prompts

(I love that you sent a Henry & Oscar prompt, and this one was so good for them. Perhaps unsurprisingly, this one is post-canon. read all the hug ficlets)

12: The “you know I’ve always got your back” hug.

One of Henry’s favourite outcomes of stepping down from his royal position was that he had more time to devote to the network of shelters that he’s been building with Pez. He loves planning the spaces, and visiting them, and meeting with the staff to figure out better ways to serve the community. Even the fundraising galas are less tedious when he can freely tell people to sod off with the ‘His Royal Highness’ nonsense and call him Henry.

These kinds of meetings he could certainly do without. Unfortunately, winning local city governments over so they’ll approve the necessary re-zoning and building permits is a vitally important part of the process, and so Henry is steeling himself for what is likely to be an unpleasant hour of his life. Usually, Pez would be here too—Pez is aces, as he puts it, with charming people, and all Henry has to do is sit there and chip in with a few key points when Pez prompts him. But Pez is travelling for some other business meeting, and Alex is stuck at home because of an important case, so Henry was resigned to facing this one alone.

That, as it turns out, isn’t quite the case.

“Cheryl Robinson will be your biggest opponent,” Oscar is telling him. “She represents—how should I put it—some of the less progressive interests in the city, and she’s unfortunately got a lot of sway. She loves dogs, though, so if you tell a cute story about David, you’ll soften her up.”

When Henry had made plans to stay with his father-in-law for this trip, he hadn’t really expected all of this, which, in retrospect, was probably silly of him. Oscar always seemed to delight in the opportunity to help them out, and unlike Alex, Henry has no hang-ups about accepting it. He’d insisted on driving Henry to his meeting and has been giving him a run-down on every city official that will be there, including every bit of inside information he has. Henry’s so grateful for the support he could cry.

He doesn’t, though. He sits in the passenger seat and takes notes—Foster, bad toupee, mention construction budget and local contracts—as they slowly make their way through LA traffic.

“Sure you don’t want me to come in?” Oscar asks when they finally arrive. He’s not wearing business-meeting clothes, but Henry thinks he probably doesn’t care.

“I think it’s probably best I don’t surprise them with a senator they’re not expecting,” Henry replies.

“Ah, you’re probably right,” Oscar says with a grin.

Henry smooths a hand over the folio containing his notes. “Thank you for all of this, though. It’s been immensely helpful.”

“Any time.”

To Henry’s surprise, Oscar follows him out of the car and stands next to him while Henry collects his briefcase from the back. When Henry turns toward him, he reaches up to straighten Henry’s tie and brush imaginary lint off the shoulder of his jacket. Henry’s used to such fussing over his appearance, though not from Oscar, and he’s certainly not used to it being the prelude to being tugged into a hug.

“They give you any trouble, you call me, ok?” Oscar says as he holds Henry tightly. “You got this, mijo.”

Right, Henry might actually cry now, which would definitely be counterproductive. He doesn’t currently trust himself to speak, so he just nods as he straightens up again, collects himself, and heads into the meeting a lot more confident than he’d been this morning.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #henry & oscar #oscar diaz #my fic #hug ficlets #i have so many feelings about oscar-henry dad moments

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zeroseuniverse · 2 days ago

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Leave The Door Open

Word Count: 1.0K Summary: She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “You don’t have to do all this. I mean, I’m just doing what anyone would.” Jake leaned closer, his tone soft but firm. “Not everyone does what you do. You’re special. And we’re glad you’re here.” Pairing: Jake X Fem Reader X Jungwon

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The storm raged like the city’s chaos made manifest—relentless winds howling through the desolate streets, rain hammering against abandoned buildings. She tightened her grip on the limp, bloodied dog cradled in her arms, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she ran. The dog’s labored breathing was a grim metronome in the night.

The clinic came into view like a beacon, its dimly lit sign flickering against the backdrop of darkness. She stumbled up the steps, hammering on the door with desperate fists.

“Please!” she shouted, rain streaming down her face. “Someone, anyone—help!”

The door creaked open, and the vet appeared, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. He didn’t waste time on questions, stepping aside to let her in. “Lay him on the table,” he instructed, already pulling on gloves.

She followed, her heart hammering. The sterile smell of the clinic was a stark contrast to the storm outside.

Jake appeared moments later, disheveled but alert, a blanket draped over his arm. His gaze softened when he saw her shivering. “You’re soaked,” he said gently, draping the blanket around her shoulders. “Here, sit down. Let us handle this.”

“I can’t just sit,”She protested, but Jake’s warm smile and firm hands guided her to a chair.

“Trust us,” he said. “Jungwon’s got this.”

Jungwon didn’t look up, his hands moving with practiced precision. “He’s stable for now,” he said after a tense silence, glancing briefly at her. “But it’s going to be a long night.”

By morning, the dog was resting comfortably in one of the clinic’s recovery kennels. Now dry and slightly less frazzled, she stood beside Jake as he filled a bowl with water.

“You’ve got a good heart,” Jake said, his tone light but sincere. “Not everyone would’ve gone through that storm for a stray.”

She shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Someone has to care.”

From across the room, Jungwon spoke without looking up from his clipboard. “Caring is good. But you might want to think about taking better care of yourself, too.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying thank you?”

A faint smirk tugged at Jungwon’s lips. “It’s my way of saying don’t make this a habit unless you want to work here.”

Jake chuckled. “He means he’s impressed, in his own... Jungwon way.”

She glanced between them, her initial tension melting into a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She returned to the clinic a few days later, a stray tabby kitten bundled in her jacket. This time, when she approached the door, it was already slightly ajar, as if someone had been expecting her..

Inside, Jake greeted her with his usual warm smile. “Another rescue? You’re making this a habit.”

“Guilty,” she said, cradling the tiny kitten in her hands. “This one was trapped under some rubble. I couldn’t leave it there.”

Jungwon appeared from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel. “You should’ve called ahead,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “We’d have been ready.”

Jake nudged Jungwon playfully. “Don’t mind him. He’s secretly happy to see you.”

Jungwon rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he gestured to the exam table. “Let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

As she set the kitten down, she noticed a familiar sight on the counter: a small thermos of tea and a neatly wrapped package of cookies. Her favorite cookies.

She glanced at Jake, who was adjusting the lamp over the table. “Is this... for me?”

Jake didn’t look up, but his smile widened. “You’ve been running around the city saving animals. Figured you could use a snack.”

Her heart warmed at the gesture. “Thanks,” she said softly, taking the thermos in hand.

“Don’t thank him too much,” Jungwon said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward. “I’m the one who reminded him which snacks you liked.”

Jake laughed, throwing Jungwon a mock glare. “Sure, take all the credit.”

She chuckled, sipping the tea. “I’ll thank you both, then. This is... really thoughtful.”

Over the next few weeks, she found herself spending more and more time at the clinic. What had started as a place to bring rescues quickly became a second home.

Each time she arrived, something small but thoughtful awaited her. A clean pair of gloves set aside for her by Jungwon. A pillow and blanket tucked into the corner for those late nights by Jake. Once, Jake even brought a small space heater to keep the exam room warm when she mentioned being cold.

“You two spoil me,” she teased one evening, watching as Jake carefully stitched up an injured bird’s wing.

Jake grinned, his dimples flashing. “You deserve it. You do so much for these animals—it’s the least we can do.”

Jungwon chimed in, his voice steady as he wrapped a bandage around a dog’s paw. “And you’ve been a big help around here. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

She felt a flush rise to her cheeks. “You don’t have to do all this. I mean, I’m just doing what anyone would.”

Jake leaned closer, his tone soft but firm. “Not everyone does what you do. You’re special. And we’re glad you’re here.”

Jungwon nodded in agreement, though he kept his eyes on his work. “We are.”

One evening, after a particularly exhausting rescue, she arrived at the clinic to find the lights dimmed and soft music playing. Jake appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with a bowl of steaming soup.

“Long day?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

“You have no idea,” shecadmitted, sinking into a chair.

Jake set the tray down in front of them, his eyes warm. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

As she picked up the spoon, Jungwon entered, carrying a stack of freshly folded towels. He paused when he saw her.

“You actually sat down for once,” he said, his tone teasing. “Must’ve been a really long day.”

She smirked. “What can I say? You guys are rubbing off on me.”

Jake laughed, sitting beside her. “Good. You need to take care of yourself too, you know.”

She looked between them, her chest tightening with a warmth she hadn’t felt in years. “You two really make it hard not to feel at home here.”

“That’s the idea,” Jungwon said, his lips quirking into a rare smile.

Jake reached over, placing a gentle hand on hers. “You are home. As long as you want to be.”

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corvuskidd · 8 hours ago

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me: noooo! i will always side with the good guys! i wanna daydream about being besties w the autobots and hanging out at the base :)

that evil worm infecting my brain: but like… imagine being the cons’ favorite little pet around the nemesis…. like you always have to be on someone’s shoulder keeping them company bc the cons don’t care to watch where they step

or helping knockout fit in better by giving his vehicle mode a “driver” so he can race more often, or even just having to third wheel with kobd like yes pls

or secretly having wavewave wrapped around your finger bc they’re both big scary mechs who don’t care much for emotions but come on… you’re just so little and eager to help… it’s so charming…

starscream and megatron acting like they could care less about you and just using you to get back at the other somehow, but like… cmon they love having you around, you’re loyal as a dog to them, it fuels their egos a little too much LMAO

yeah the brainrot’s hitting a little too hard rn

#idk if it’s the appeal of winning over the affection of someone that is supposed to hate you??#that’s probably something for therapy-#or maybe it’s the whole villain appeal of ‘they’d burn the world for you’ idk #yeah i wanna be shared by wavewave let me be their lil shoulder cat while they work pls #tfp #transformers x reader #transformers prime #maccadam #transformers #tfp soundwave #tfp shockwave #tfp knockout #knockout tfp #kobd #tfp breakdown #tfp megatron #tfp starscream #i hope someone gets what i’m going for or this will be cringe probably

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emmlef · 3 days ago

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Headcanons about Yelena and fashion!

Ohio-

She loved to play dress up. She used to wear Melina’s high heel (the only pair she own) and try to put on make up. It was a disaster but she loved it.

She owned a princess dress, plastic glittery rings, and fairy tail wings. And she loved to create weird clothes for her Barbies.

One time Natasha allowed her to give her a “make over” and yelena used permanent marker. Needless to say, Natasha didn’t say yes the next time Yelena asked.

I love to imagine little yelena loving fashion but also loving nature and playing outside, like wearing her princess dress and rolling in the dirt.

After the red room-

She knows nothing about herself anymore (subjugated from 13 to like 27 that’s crazy). Thrifting is a way to try a bunch of different style. She find herself like a kid again, trying on a bunch of colourful stuff, putting on all the accessories, wearing all the clashing patterns.

It’s a way to distance herself from the red room, she can be visible now, she can be loud and playful.

All the items in her wardrobe are items that make her smile. A very kitsch wool sweater with dogs on it, pink heart shaped glasses, a very warm fur coat (thrifted obv she doesn’t want to harm animals), vintage male suits that make her look really professional, silk pjs for maximum comfort, pirate pants that are really great for movements and for looking like a pirate, a bunch of crazy looking jewelry (her favorite is the dog broach that her sister bought her).

Every occasion call for a new outfit. Going to Greece to save a widow ? Need a new sun hat. Going to kill one of the red room associates ? Need new make up for a good last impression.

She is the self-titled widow fashion designer. After they wake up, and if they want to, she help them shop and find their style.

If they are not working, or at the club or museum, Yelena and Sonya are often shopping.

During Hawkeye-

She is a bit in her villain era (we don’t blame her), so now she steal too.

She steal from high fashion shop and from the rich people house because fuck them.

Her apparence is one of the only thing she control anymore so she like to dress according to who she wants to be perceived.

A really cool badass aloof assassin for her first dinner with Kate, she wear her pirate coat and big boots that make her taller. A clueless tourist, her big fur coat and an iconic ilny shirt. And to avenge her sister ? She does her make up like she is going to her funeral, one last good impression.

She is cheeky and like to play with people and their perception of her. She leaves clues on herself like wearing urss flag socks or gun earrings.

Thunderbolt-

I think after Hawkeye, when the grief really hit, she loses a lot of her joy for the craft. She is depressed so nothing really bring her happiness anymore. In the thunderbolt movie, I imagine she doesn’t care anymore and just get the job done. She put on the first hoodie she see that doesn’t smell to bad and go kill some (hopefully) bad people.

She will wear make up when she has to play a persona like when she has a meeting with Valentina. And it makes her sad because she want to enjoy it so bad again but she just doesn’t.

She want to enjoy it, like she used to when she shared her Pinterest board of make up inspiration to Natasha, or when Sonya painted her face with most random palette they could find (“it smells like chocolat yelena!”) or when she was 5 and wearing her daddy’s tie to school. But now she is alone and sad and it all seems stupid but she still does it hopping to feel something.

Bishova-

Maybe she learns to have fun with fashion again once she get in touch with Kate again.

She see her purple wardrobe and is like “that is not a style kate bishop, not a style” and Kate is like “well you only wear black and dark green you are one to talk” and yelena is like “that’s not true!” but it’s true.

So she buy (or steal) clothes for Kate, stupid clothes that make her laugh like ugly itchy grandma sweaters or a funny scarf that looks like a caterpillar, and clothes that she think Kate will genuinely like, fitted black slack pants, arrow earrings, great warm socks.

Kate wears everything even the silly things, she loves it. And yelena is having fun playing dress up with her.

Little by little she feels more confident in her life again and she perfect her edgy, grunge style. She donate most of her colourful before blip wardrobe, and buys more combat boots and get more piercings.

Thinking about it, it’s almost like she went from being a child in an adult body to being an emo teen in an adult body.

Her favorites are an oversized vintage leather jacket, a pair of dark jeans that she cut holes in, a ring that has a tiny blade in it (really cool), and a designer sweater that looks like it’s falling appart.

Maybe she learn to sew even more and create cool shirt by Frankensteining multiple garments together ?

And instead of leaving hints that she is a spy widow in her outfit, she leaves hints about Kate. Or maybe it’s not intentional but it just happens. Arrows earring, purple socks, purple nails, purple mascara, KB ring that she stole from Kate and Kate still hasn’t realized.

Random-

Her widows friends also influence her style. They do girls night where they paint each other nails, style their hairs, choose outfits for one another. That’s really cute and it always feels a bit like healing for yelena.

That’s all for me, thank you for coming to my Ted talk I hope it made sense!

A fic that talks about Yelena’s sense of style and that I love :

#yelena belova #bishova #black widow

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mischievouslittlecreature · 23 hours ago

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Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: The aftermath.

Word Count: 5,342

Warnings: Angst, past suicide attempt, and sexual content.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 17: Hold Me 'Til it Stops Hurting

“Is she alive?”

Lizzie waited with baited breath for Charlie’s reply from the other end of the phone line. The receiver felt slippery in her hand from sweat. She could hear blood rushing in her ears. A chill had settled in her bones. It wouldn’t leave.

“I don’t know,” Charlie said, and she raised a hand to her mouth. Tears welled of their own accord at the corners of her eyes. “She was when they took her in the ambulance, I think.”

“Tommy went with her?”

“Yeah. No way they were separating them. He nearly ripped off the arm of the first paramedic that tried to touch her.”

Yes, that sounded like something Tommy would do. He had probably panicked when they tried to take her away from him.

“I’ll never get the way that he screamed when he found her out of my head, Lizzie.” Charlie’s voice was grave, lowered an octave with worry and sorrow. Lizzie squeezed her eyes shut against the vivid imagining her brain immediately conjured up. An anguished howl, reverberating in her skull, that seemed to go on and on forever. Like someone had reached right into Tommy’s chest and ripped out his heart.

Like the world was ending.

She had been worried since seeing Lucy at the ballet. How dead her eyes had become. She had seemed smaller, somehow. And all that bright warmth that she had so often exuded was entirely absent. Not to mention the way that she’d walked right on passed them when Tommy had saved a seat for her next to them. That had shocked Lizzie to her core. No matter how mad Lucy would sometimes get at either of them in the past, she’d never done something like that before.

She understood that Lucy was probably depressed over the whole thing. But, Christ, she never would have thought that she would try to…

She jammed her eyes shut.

“Do you know which hospital they took her to?”

Charlie gave her the address.

“Right.”

“You’re thinking of heading over there?”

“I need to know if she’s alright.”

“Right, just be careful. He might be…”

Out of his mind with grief.

“I know. I will.”

She heard a sharp, high whining sound from Charlie’s end of the phone and frowned. “What was that?”

Charlie sighed, and she could hear the crinkle of the phone shifting when he adjusted it against his ear. “That was the dog. Poor boy keeps crying.”

“When I’m at the hospital, I’ll talk to Tommy about maybe bringing him home. So he’s at least with the other animals. We all miss him here.”

“Probably would be a good idea.”

“And I’ll pick up Lucy’s things from the yard to take back to Arrow House.” Enough of this ridiculousness, she decided. Lucy needed to be home. Where they could all watch over her and take care of her. Not that she didn’t think Charlie and Curly would do their best, but they already had Barney to worry about, not to mention all their other duties at the yard.

Besides, there was no way in hell Tommy would be letting Lucy out of his sight.

Assuming she’s still alive, of course. She shuddered, pushing that thought to the back of her mind. If Lucy were dead, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

“Yes, I think that would be what’s best.”

“Right. Call me if you get any more news, please?”

“I will.”

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

“Take care, Lizzie.”

She set the phone back into its cradle, hands raising to her face. Her fingers swiped at under her eyes, smearing her makeup and rubbing salty tears across her skin.

A rising feeling of horror towards herself was building in the back of her throat.

My fault. It’s all my fault.

Was this the type of person that she’d allowed herself to become? So jealous and bitter that she’d ripped apart two people she claimed to care about. Had she really so lost control of her resentment over the situation that she’d bullied Lucy into…into this?

Even if Lucy lived, Tommy would never forgive her. Hell, she didn’t think that she would ever be able to forgive herself.

It hadn’t been worth it. Not in the end. That was why she’d bent on the rules regarding Lucy. There was a time when she’d been content to blame all her unhappiness on Lucy. To think that if she just wasn’t here…

It had been the easier thing to do, to blame her. Because then she didn’t have to stare the far more painful reality in the face: Tommy wasn’t in love with her. And he never would be.

But even then, she had probably known deep down that it was all a lie. Lucy or no Lucy, Tommy didn’t love her. The redhead’s presence in their lives wasn’t the problem. It never had been.

And yet, she’d gone and kicked out someone who could have potentially been her greatest ally in dealing with Tommy. The second mother to her children. A woman who had just wanted to be her friend.

God, she could not even imagine the amount of pain that Tommy was in right now…

“Mum?”

She stared at the sound of Charlie’s voice from the end of the hall, quickly angling her back towards him and wiping at her eyes. Trying to hide the evidence of her tears. “Charlie, hey.” Oh, God. How much did he hear?

“Who was on the other line?”

“Just your Uncle Charlie, sweetheart.” She moved to usher him back towards the bedrooms. “C’mon, back to bed.”

But he looked up at her knowingly. “You’re crying. Has something happened?”

Lizzie hesitated. She couldn’t lie to him. But she also could not quite bring herself to tell him the truth yet. “Nothing that you need to worry yourself about right now, honey. C’mon.”

He didn’t look wholly convinced, but he let her shepherd him back into bed and tuck him in.

“Mrs. Shelby?” Frances was waiting out in the hall when she came out of Charlie’s room.

“Frances, will you come with me for a moment?”

The housekeeper looked puzzled, but nodded. Lizzie led the way down the hall, her eyes taking stock of the various doors that they passed. When they came to one near the end of the hall, she stopped, glancing back to her and the children's rooms. Yes. This would do. It was close enough, but there was still ample space between them that they’d have their privacy.

And she and the kids wouldn’t be at risk of hearing them in the middle of the night if they got a little loud.

She was trying to be better, but she wasn’t going to push her jealousy if she could help it.

Opening the door, she indicated for Frances to follow her inside. The bedroom was fully furnished, like all rooms in the house. Spacious. It wouldn’t be nearly as cramped. She went to the windows, checking for any drafts. There should be plenty of sunlight during the day.

When she poked her head into the ensuite bathroom, her eyes landed on the bathtub in the middle of the room, a shiver going down her spine at the memory of Charlie’s description of how Tommy had found Lucy.

But this bathroom was big. And it had a shower. In case they decided to get rid of the tub altogether.

“Mrs. Shelby, may I ask what we are doing?” Frances was standing in the middle of the room, puzzled.

“In the morning, I want you to have some of the staff move Lucy’s things from her room into here.”

Frances’s eyes went wide, and she could see an ember of hope starting to burn in her face. “Are you sure, ma’am?”

Lizzie looked around the room. “Yes. She should be closer to her family.”

Frances nodded. “Does this mean that Miss. Winters will be coming home?”

“I hope so.” Turning, she went to face the window again. It was still dark outside. But dawn would soon be upon them. Behind her, she heard Frances shuffle towards the door, then pause.

“I just want to say, this is a very kind thing you’re doing, Mrs. Shelby. For both of them.”

Lizzie looked over shoulder at her. “I should have done it a long time ago.”

“Well. Better late than never.”

Lizzie gave her a sad smile, nodding that she could be dismissed before returning her gaze to the outside, hoping that Frances was right.

∗ ∗ ∗

Lizzie took a deep breath, hand hovering at the door leading into the hospital room. She had a bag clutched in one hand, filled with clean clothes, toothbrushes, and an extra pack of cigarettes. She had no idea what she was about to walk into. She expected Tommy to be an absolute mess, but what type of mess he would be, she was entirely unsure.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was brightly lit, the curtains open and allowing sunlight to stream in. The layout of it reminded her of the hospital room Michael had stayed in after he was shot by the Changrettas. With a bed in the corner, table in the middle, and a private washroom.

Tommy was seated in a chair by the bed, hunched over in a way that was guaranteed to make his back ache by mid-afternoon if he wasn’t careful. His coat and suit jacket were off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, hands clasped firmly with one of Lucy’s on the bed, forehead bowed to touch against their interlaced hands.

Lizzie eyed the bandage wrapped around his left arm. From where they’d taken his blood, the nurses had told her. Because Lucy had lost so much that they had to give her a blood transfusion, but apparently whoever was supposed to restock the ambulance that came to get her had fucked up, and there were no blood bags on board. Tommy and Lucy’s blood types matched–how they knew that, she had no idea–and so he’d volunteered himself.

It was probably the only reason she was still alive. If they hadn’t done the transfusion enroute, she likely would have died from blood loss on the way to the hospital.

Taking a cautious step forward, Lizzie’s eyes fixed on Lucy where she was laid out on her back on the bed. Her red hair was fanned out across the white pillow, her skin a frightening paper-white, the dense freckles on her face standing out even more distinctly than usual. Her normally bright red lips were pale pink, and dark, sunken-in circles surrounded her eyes. There were several tubes connected to her arms, and thick white bandages were wrapped tight around each wrist.

If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest, Lizzie would have worried that she was dead.

Another bout of guilt washed over her at the sight, almost choking with it.

Worrying at her lower lip, she eyed Tommy warily. He’d made no indication of hearing her come in, despite her heels clicking against the floor.

She approached them cautiously, keeping an eye on Tommy the entire time until she was at the foot of the bed.

Oh, dear one…she reached out to touch Lucy’s ankle delicately over the blankets pulled halfway up her chest, and Tommy suddenly sprang into movement.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” he snarled, shoving her hand away, half curling over Lucy’s body protectively.

Lizzie stared at him in shock. He looked half feral, lips pulled back from his teeth and expression contorted with a growl. But what struck her the most was the complete and total devastation emblazoned across his face.

His eyes were red, swollen and puffy. Cheeks tear-stained. He’d been crying. Hard, from the looks of it. But the worst was the look in his eyes. She’d seen Tommy sad before, but the heartbreak in those two blue orbs was unlike anything she had ever seen. He looked completely and utterly distraught, broken beyond repair.

When he caught her staring at him, he quickly looked away, wiping at his face with his shirt sleeve and returning his full attention back to Lucy. Lizzie shifted awkwardly, wanting to reach out to him. To both of them. But if she did that, she would probably risk getting her hand torn off.

She couldn’t even really blame him. Not with the way she’d been behaving for the past few years.

“I brought you both some clean clothes,” she said finally softly, setting the bag down onto the floor by the foot of the bed. “Do you know when she’ll be released?”

No response. His eyes were open, but they were fixed intently upon Lucy, as if he were afraid if he looked away from her for one second, she’d disappear. Lizzie was not surprised at the silence.

“When she is, bring her home, Tommy. To Arrow House. She should be home. With her family. And maybe…” she hesitated, knowing that once she opened this particular door, there may be no closing it. But one look back at Lucy, and her resolve strengthened.

I’m tired of being the jealous, bitter wife.

She could be the bigger person. Like Lucy had tried to be all this time. Let go of the resentment and envy. Who knows? She might finally gain the friend and ally Lucy had always wanted to be towards her. Assuming of course that the other woman still had any interest in associating with her at all.

“Once you both get back and things have settled, we could discuss restructuring our arrangement. So she’s more included with us and the kids.” She took a step forward. “I told Frances to have her things moved to a room closer to mine and the children’s. And if you think it would be okay I can bring Charlie and Ruby to come visit once she’s awake. I’ll pick up Asher from Charlie’s yard and bring him home. So he’ll be there when you and her get back.” Her gaze moved rapidly between him and Lucy. “This will never happen again, I promise. I’ll keep a hold of myself from now on. I’ll never say a cruel thing to her again. You do whatever you have to do from now on to make sure she’s okay. Just…bring her home.” She drew in a gasping, shaky breath, realizing that she’d been rambling and stopping herself before she said anymore. The rest could be ironed out later. When he was more lucid and Lucy was actually awake. “I’ll leave you alone, now. Just call me later, if you can.”

He still made no indication of even hearing her. But he made no move to stop her this time when she stepped around him and bent to press a light kiss to Lucy’s brow.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and started to head for the door.

“Lizzie.”

She froze that the hoarse rasp of Tommy’s voice, head turning to look back at him. His gaze was still fixed on Lucy, even as he spoke to her.

“Thank you.”

She nodded, and departed from the room.

∗ ∗ ∗

A body cannot live without its heart.

It was a simple rule of biology. A fact of the universe. Indisputable. Certain. Unchallengeable.

Tommy closed his eyes, forehead resting a little heavier against his and Lucy’s joined hands. Her grip was nonexistent and limp in her unconscious state, but that was alright. His grasp on her was tight enough to make up for it.

His heart did not reside inside his chest. No; it was with her. Always.

What other explanation was there, for his inability to live without her?

There had been a moment, in the ambulance right before he offered up his arm for them to draw blood to keep her alive, when he thought that she was gone. It had been the worst moment of his entire fucking life.

Take all of it, if you have to, he had thought as they punctured the skin of his inner arm, blood beginning to draw out into the tube to be transferred to Lucy. I don’t care. So long as it keeps her breathing. I’ll gladly open an entire vein and pour all my life into her if I have to.

He closed his eyes. She had almost died. Been right on the precipice of it. He had felt it.

And she had intended to go willingly.

His fault. All his fault. He’d made her so unhappy that she’d gone and done this to herself. When she left, he hadn’t fought hard enough to keep her by his side. To show her that she was wanted. That he still loved her so much that he would do anything for her. Instead he sat around and did nothing, letting his wife and his family tear and claw and break away little pieces of her, bit by bit, until she didn’t even want to live anymore.

It was no wonder that she thought he didn’t love her.

And now all he could do was sit uselessly at her bedside, holding her hand and swallowing down tears.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, kissing her hand, silently begging her to wake up. To blink those big eyes at him and touch his face, so he could hold her and kiss her and surround her in his comfort and love until she never doubted him again.

How much better she would have been off without him. All he’d even done was weigh her down. She deserved a thousand times better than him. Always had.

“Mr. Shelby?”

He looked up at the sound of one of the nurse’s voices. She was hovering next to him, expression nervous, something clutched in her hands.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but, in light of Miss. Winters’s injuries being…self inflicted, the doctor wanted me to go over options for her future placement with you.”

“Future…placement?” he straightened, trying to hide the way that he cringed at his back popping in several places. He did not let go of Lucy’s hand.

“There are several psychiatric facilities that we recommend. I’ve brought some pamphlets…” She held them out to him. Tommy stared down at them uncomprehendingly.

Away. They wanted him to send his Lucy away. When their separation was what had caused this whole bloody thing in the first place.

“That won’t be necessary.” He turned back to Lucy.

“Mr. Shelby, in cases like these, it really often is best for everyone if the patient is–”

“I am not sending her away to a nuthouse, to be drugged and poked and prodded and treated like a fucking animal!” he shouted, temper snapping, memories of the asylum where they’d visited Barney whirling behind his eyes. He thought of Lucy, locked behind bars and strapped into a white straightjacket, forced to sit alone in the cold and dark, injected with all manner of drugs and other substances to keep her docile, and felt ill.

The nurse opened her mouth to respond at the same moment that the door opened and Ada walked in. Her brows were raised. Probably she’d heard him yelling out in the hall. The nurse looked between them, then leaned over to set the pamphlets down on the bedside table, next to the vase filled with a bouquet of red roses Tommy had bought from the hospital’s gift shop.

“Please just consider the options, Mr. Shelby,” she said softly, before departing.

“What the hell was that about?” Ada asked as soon as the nurse was gone, shrugging out of her coat and hanging it on the back of the chair she pulled up to sit down beside him. Tommy rubbed at his eyes, suddenly deeply exhausted.

“They’re suggesting I have her locked away in a madhouse,” he growled irritably.

“Hm.” Ada leaned over to pick up the pamphlets that the nurse had left, thumbing through them. “How is she?”

“She lost a lot of blood.” He swallowed painfully, thumb stroking along her knuckles. “But she’s stable and they expect she’ll be awake by the end of the day.”

Ada nodded, dropping the pamphlets back onto the table, chewing on her bottom lip. “You know, a lot of these places aren’t as bad as they once were. Some are like…like community homes now. They do activities. Let the inmates walk around outside. You can visit whenever you like.”

He stared at her incredulously. “Are you serious?”

Ada squirmed in her seat. “I’m just saying…what if she needs more looking after than you can provide for her? Clearly things are much worse than we thought for her to go and…” she trailed off, gesturing to Lucy’s bandaged wrists. “If she’s too unwell to take care of herself…”

“Then I’ll take care of her.”

“Tommy, sweetheart, you might not have the time.”

“I will take care of her, Ada,” he repeated, putting strong emphasis on each word, meeting her eyes sternly. She searched his gaze, and he saw understanding enter her face. She nodded.

“Okay.”

Returning his attention back to Lucy, he stroked his thumb across the back of her hand. Her fingers still felt very cold in his. Reaching out, he pulled the blanket a little further up her chest, frowning. He didn’t want her to get chilled.

The hue of her skin was still frighteningly pale, her lips pulled into a downward frown in her sleep. Tommy ached to see her smile again; to observe the way that it bloomed across and transformed her entire face, creating laugh lines around her eyes, stretching her lips, and brightening her features. It used to be so easy for him to make her laugh. She always giggled at even the most terrible of his jokes, eyes sparkling when she looked across the table or room at him mischievously in reaction to whatever cheeky thing just passed his lips.

“It’s my fault, Ada,” he whispered.

“No, Tommy, don’t do that to yourself. Lucy wouldn’t want–”

“I wasn’t there, Ada. She needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been so focused on all this business with Mosley and Michael…I let what was happening between us get pushed aside. I didn’t address it like I should have. I just left her alone.” Yes, part of that had been in reaction to him thinking that was what Lucy wanted him to do, but truth be told, part of why he hadn’t fought her harder on it was because it had been convenient for him to just let things lie. So he could keep his attention on plotting Mosley’s demise and trying to figure out Michael’s plans. “I broke her, Ada.”

“Oh, Tommy…no. No, I don’t think that’s true. I mean, you and her’s recent problems certainly didn’t help things, but Lucy’s never really recovered from what Luca did to her. Maybe this was just a…a delayed reaction to all of that.”

Tommy shook his head furiously. “I didn’t do enough for her. I made her think I didn’t love her anymore. That’s why she–” he couldn’t say the words, throat closing in tight around them. Passing a hand across his eyes, he sucked in desperate breaths, trying to stuff down sobs. “I should have never married Lizzie. Or I should have gotten divorced as soon as it became clear she was never going to fully accept my relationship with Lucy.”

“Are you? Going to divorce her, I mean?”

“I don’t know. Lizzie says that she’ll be on her best behavior from now on. I think she might even mean it, this time. But…” he trailed off, staring into space, suddenly aching for a cigarette.

“...But?” Ada prompted. Tommy roused and shook his head.

“It’s up to Lucy.” Whatever Lucy wanted him to do, he’d do it.

“What if she asks you to leave your wife and marry her instead?”

“Then I’ll get divorce papers drawn up and dig out the ring I’ve got hidden in my sock drawer.”

Ada’s head snapped around to him. “What ring?”

He shifted. Shit. Probably shouldn’t have brought that up.

“Tommy…” Ada said very quietly. He squeezed his eyes shut, dreading the question he already knew was coming. “Why do you have an engagement ring hidden with your socks?”

He sighed, swallowing hard, pulling a cigarette from his case in his pocket and fumbling with it in an attempt to put off answering her. Ada was still staring at him expectantly. He scratched at one eyebrow with the thumb of the hand holding his cigarette, trying not to meet her gaze so she wouldn’t see the ache currently blooming in his chest reflected in his eyes.

She shifted a little closer to him, leaning forward.

“Tommy…how long have you had that ring for?”

He coughed. “Since 1918.”

“1918!?”

He shrugged. Ada softened.

“I thought she said no.”

“She did. Technically. But I promised her that the offer would always be there, if she wanted it.” He looked down, swallowing painfully, refusing to let himself cry. “Yet another fucking promise I made to her that I broke.”

“Tommy, we both know that if she told you she wanted you to marry her, you would divorce Lizzie in a heartbeat and marry her as fast as you could.”

Ada was right, of course. The door was very much open. Through two marriages to two other women and two children, it still always was. So the ring stayed put. For whenever she decided she wanted it.

He could feel Ada staring at him, analyzing his response carefully. He was pretty sure, if he looked over to meet her gaze, he would have seen approval and maybe even a touch of pride in her eyes. Of all his direct family, Ada was perhaps the one who most understood the importance of Lucy to him.

He thought of Lucy’s big, broken, tear filled eyes, staring at him with blatant misery shining in them.

I don’t believe you.

How could he have let that happen? How could he have so spectacularly failed her that she no longer believed that he loved her? What the hell was wrong with him?

Sighing, he wiped at his eyes, cringing a little when they came away damp. He felt so tired. And lost. Completely and utterly helpless.

“What do I do, Ada?” He hated how childlike his voice sounded, unable to meet his sister’s eyes.

“I don’t know, Tom. Stay with her. Make sure that she feels loved. That’s the best advice I can give.” Her eyes went to the bouquet of flowers in the vase on the nightstand. “The flowers are a good start.”

He followed her gaze to them. “It doesn’t feel like nearly enough.” He wasn’t sure if he meant the flowers, or all of it. He would never be good enough for Lucy. Not in a million years.

“Stay here with her. Look after her. She’ll need you once she wakes up. I already called the House of Commons and put you down for a brief leave of absence. And the boys and I will take care of everything regarding the…other things. Don’t worry.”

He nodded. Most things for the assassination had already been arranged anyway. All there was left to do was wait for the day of the rally.

“How are they fairing with Barney at the yard?”

“Fine enough. He had an attack this morning, but Jeremiah and Arthur were there to calm him down. They’ve got him doing target practice.”

“Good.” He dreaded asking the next bit, but was unable to stop himself. “What about Michael and Polly?”

Ada hesitated. “No one’s seen or heard anything from Michael or Gina since the family meeting. Polly’s been at home, from what I’ve heard. I haven’t seen her, but I guess Aberama has been over there a lot.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat roughly. “Let me know if any of that changes.”

“I better be getting back. Call me if there’s anything more you need, alright?”

“Mhm.”

She stood and gave him a firm hug. “It’ll be okay.” Her hand rubbed his back warmly before letting him go so she could head to the door.

“Thanks for coming.”

She flashed him a sad smile, slipping out the door, and leaving him alone with Lucy and his tortuous thoughts.

He sat there for he didn’t even know how long, still holding Lucy’s hand, every once in a while pressing light kisses along her knuckles and the bandage covering her wrist, murmuring softly to her.

When her fingers twitched against his, he froze, gaze shooting intently to her face, watching with bated breath while her features pinched. He immediately worried that she might be in pain. The cuts on her wrists had gone deep, and the doctors had to do extensive stitches in order to close them.

“Lucy?” he asked, leaning closer.

She stirred again, head shifting against the pillow, brows twitching in a way that he recognized as her trying to fight back wakefulness in order to gain a few more minutes of sleep. He had seen that expression often enough when he had to rouse her in the morning.

Her eyelids peeled open slowly, squinting against the bright sunlight shining through the windows. He’d paid extra for a room with ample light, and yanked the curtains as wide open as he could get them. Hoping that the sunshine would maybe help raise her spirits. Even if only a little.

Her dark brown irises were glazed over with confusion, processing slowly where she was. He saw things start to fall into place as she took in him seated beside her, the hospital bed she was laying in, and the bandages around her wrists.

Her eyes locked in on his hand still holding hers. Tommy could see it when it all fully clicked into place for her what must have happened after she sliced herself open and lost consciousness in the bathtub.

“Lucy,” he sobbed out, hand moving to cup her cheek to make sure she was real. That she actually was truly back with him.

When she looked at him–really looked into his face, for the first time perhaps since she’d left Arrow House–horror, mortification, and regret passed across her features. Her lips trembled, eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry,” she started to cry in a fragile, broken voice, the sound of it nearly rendering him split in two. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry–” she didn’t seem able to say anything else, crying harder with each repetition of the phrase, chest heaving so violently he was afraid that she might hurt herself.

Scrambling, suddenly completely overtaken by the need to comfort her and be as close as he could physically get to her, he pulled himself up, wrapping his arms around her, in one quick movement sliding into the bed beside her and crushing her to his chest. She latched onto his wrinkled shirt desperately, apologies giving way to nothing but ragged sobs that seemed close to shattering her. Tommy held her tighter, burying his face in her hair, pressing his lips to wherever he could reach on her head, chest shuddering with his breaths. Tears streamed silently down his own cheeks. He was deeply aware that his arms around her may very well be the only things holding her together.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. I’ve got you. Shh…” he murmured into her ear, rocking her slightly in his arms to try to soothe her. She burrowed into him, still crying even as he rubbed her back. “I’ve got you,” he repeated. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Tightening his arms around her, he held her firmly against him, until her sobs finally ceased and she laid quiet and still against him. He petted her hair gently, neither of them saying a word. They did not really need to. Instead he just held her, for hours and hours, in the silence of the hospital room.

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #lily writes #love me where i'm most ruined #peaky blinders oc #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic

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uhhhj13iguess · 19 hours ago

Text

oh my god, you, y-you look stunning

avenger!peter parker x fem!reader

peter 'friendly neighborhood spiderman' parker drooling at the sight of you when picking you up for the stark gala. major pining. actually just exclusively pining

wc: ~0.9k

peter put the finishing touches on his curls, doing his best to follow the instructions tony had given him. he wasn’t used to doing his hair, let aloneused to the rest of his get-up for the evening. peter couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a three-piece suit to something. he had never been to a stark gala before, but he knew it was a bigger deal than anything he could even imagine.

he shot himself one last look in the mirror, running his hands over the custom-tailored jacket tony had gifted him. he’d never admit it, but he understood cashmere now.

he threw his final belongings in his pocket as he did one last sweep of his room and made a hasty exit down the hallway towards your area in the stark compound. he was beyond anxious. every one of his senses was on edge even more than the normal 1000%. he stood in front of your door, hands shaking as he brought his fist to the door to knock gently. he rapped in a succession of five knocks, signaling it was him on the other side.

peter rocked on his heels as he awaited your answer, his impatient mind going a thousand miles an hour.

and suddenly, it was going zero. as soon as peter caught sight of you opening the door, it was the only thing on his mind: past, present, future.

he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your figure, taking in the entirety of the grace and elegance that adorned you. you stood in front of him, a gorgeous red silk dress ornamenting your body in the best way possible. you had your hair down, which he rarely ever saw, and suddenly he had a preferred hairstyle on you. everything about you made his breath catch in his throat, and he felt like he was under a spell.

“… peter?”

“oh my god you, y-you look stunning,” peter responded swiftly in practically a moan, mouth hanging agape like the dog you had turned him into.

your face flushed, a smirk creeping on your lips as you reached over to grab your purse.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, pete.”

you stepped out of your doorway, nearly having to push him backwards to leave your room.

you laughed, “are you ready to head out?”

peter nodded his head eagerly, bowing his arm out for you to link. you did so contently, and the two of you made your way to the elevator, nerves overpowering as you walked with him.

the tension between the two of you was thick, both walking through the compound with aching silence. your heels echoed against the tile as you made your way to the main entrance where happy was waiting with a car. you looked up at peter as you made your way into the lobby, his head turning immediately to look at you as he caught your glance in his peripheral. the moment your eyes locked, every last bit of air was vacuumed from your lungs. you could tell he felt the same way, his adam's apple bobbing as he took a heavy swallow. you gave him a smile, but not an innocent one at that. no, he knew the smile was filled with intention. he only hoped he was right about what said intention was.

happy's loud clap snapped them out of their trance. "okay! you two are not the only ones i have to pick up, so if we could just, pause the weird horny moment and get in the car, that would be awesome."

peter's cheeks flushed immediately, shocked with himself at how easily he was completely and utterly distracted by you. you had him under a spell, he was sure of it, but he couldn't seem to care.

you laughed and apologized to happy, rushing peter towards the limo. he ran ahead of you to grab the door, holding your hand as you lowered yourself into the vehicle. you looked up at your hand in his, the feeling of his skin on yours burning your senses. he looked so good in his suit, so strong and big. you shook yourself free from the trance, scooting further in to allow peter room on the seat.

he slid in after you, shutting the door behind him and never breaking eye contact. he let out a shaky breath and chewed on the inside of his lip, forcing himself to take deep breaths even just looking at you.

he was snapped out, jumping in his seat at the sound of a door slamming, signaling happy in the driver's seat. he looked up to make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and let out a huff of air at seeing the older man wink at him before rolling up the privacy screen.

he stopped it an inch before closing, "sam and bucky will be in that backseat in less than five minutes. behave yourselves."

tempted to part 2 to this with little plot, full smut because needy and pussywhipped peter is just gorgeous

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azulsluver · 2 days ago

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considering the fact the main rule or the only rule when it comes to bullying MC in the twst bully AU is “don’t kill them” I have a feeling that at least one of their limbs has been or is extremely fucked up (like their tendons being ripped or something)

-that one anon that probably has too many questions

Yes, yes, I agree with you anon. Lol, at least make yourself permanent if you’re coming and asking so many questions.

I only got these four in mind atm.

tw/cw: amputation of limbs, pet play fetish.

Jade

Your fingers aren’t safe. I’m sure I mention in one post how Jade loves to experiment on you for the hell of it. Times where he gets carried away, you have cute little stumps on your hands now.

Where did your fingers go? His stomach. And in some jars. If you upset him enough he’ll take your hand as well. Jade actually has a little game where if you fail to entertain him (whatever that means) he’ll take a limb. One at a time, from fingers, toes, foot, then to your arm, aaaall the way until it’s just your torso, shoulders and thighs. He makes it known to you he imagines you flopping around like a fish.

Often times he threatened if he ever go that far with his plan, he’ll push you into moving water to see if you could ever swim.

Jamil

He wants you to depend on him. Used to doing everything to take care of someone, he reminds you plenty of times how much of a burden you are yet caters to your needs to stay healthy in his care.

Jamil has definitely played with the whole dog fetish thing. There’s a chance he was driven to the point of having your femur broken. Either under anesthesia or done by yours truly. If you’re good, he’ll put you on meds so it won’t hurt as much, but he isn’t against having you crawl and wail for it as well. You wont be able to stand. Ever. The purpose is that you should crawl only, drag your knees against the floor and bent in that position forever.

Vil

He’s not against taking care of you. But he makes it known that you’re a chore. Paranoia plays a huge role on his mental health, this varies to him ruining your face for all over jealously of their attention towards you or amputating your legs so you couldn’t escape him.

Vil keeps you locked up in his place, if you’ve read my work for him he’s complex with his feelings that leads to unruly decisions. He keeps you alive, but there are times he wishes to disfigure you out of anger or need. He truly believes you are still beautiful (he’ll never say it out loud) after everything he’s done to make you ugly for society.

Rook

In any way or form, Rook would take you in. There’s a thin line between bully!Rook and slasher!Rook, one wants to kill you and the other is not so sure. Sickly, he is not offended that you were left to pick up the pieces of a life changing incident regarding your limbs, your body was made to function like everyone else but now you’re so different in physical terms.

Rook makes his wants subtle. Beaten into submission or your defiance is strong, his hands would graze your skin to give you a hint. Nails scratch gently across your wrist, pressing a index finger down to feel your pulse, watching you squirm or turn your head the other way. Do you see what he’s implying? He thinks you’d look funny walking with no arms, your legs are very beautiful and he loves to chase. So those will stay.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #bully!au #yandere jamil viper x reader #yandere jamil viper #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere vil schoenheit x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook hunt x reader

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rubywillkins · 2 days ago

Note

dark mocha, shot of expresso, skim milk and almond milk please. Then egg Benedict(could this be present through the whole fic if u don’t mind, otherwise do what makes u comfortable my love) French toast, hotdog and mushroom burger. Beef stroganoff, beef cheese rolling, beef diced potatoes, sirloin steak, pork chops and potato gnocchi. Could I then please have bottled water then mineral water? All with Oscar piastri please❤️❤️❤️

Sure darling ♥️

Oscar piastri|

Beneath the surface

Pairing oscar × female reader

Dark Mocha dating shot of espresso rough sex skim milk dry humping almond milk vaginal sex Egg Benedict age play (sure darling ♥️) french Toast spanking hot dog size kink mushroom burger pain kink Beef stoganoff "you can take it,you have done it before" beef cheese rolling "Enough, please, I can’t take anymore!” beef diced potatoes “Do you need to use your safeword, darling?” sirloin steak “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?” pork chops “So good for me, look at how much you came.” potato gnocchi “Shh, just look at me, baby.” bottled water soaking in bath tub mineral water after care

Oscar’s gaze flickered across the paddock, narrowing slightly as he spotted his girlfriend, Y/N, laughing at something his teammate said. He felt a prickle of unease as his teammate leaned in closer, his expression animated as he spoke. Despite knowing it was probably harmless, a wave of jealousy stirred in Oscar’s chest.

Later that evening, back at their hotel, the tension between them simmered as they unpacked the day.

Oscar slammed the door shut behind him, his jaw tight and his shoulders tense. Y/N flinched slightly at the sudden noise, turning from where she’d been scrolling on her phone. She could see the fire in his eyes, the way his chest rose and fell with barely contained frustration.

“What’s your problem, daddy?” she asked, setting her phone down.

“My problem?” Oscar’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yes, I am,daddy” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms. “You’ve been brooding and stomping around like a storm cloud since we left the paddock. If something’s wrong, just say it!”

He stepped closer, his height and broad frame towering over her, though his frustration was more emotional than physical. “You and my teammate,” he said, his voice low but loaded with intensity. “The way you were with him today. The laughing, the way he was leaning in so close. Do you know how that looked to everyone? Do you know how that felt for me?”

Y/N blinked, taken aback. “Daddy, we were just talking. He was telling me a funny story—about a coffee spill, for God’s sake. It wasn’t anything serious.”

“Then why did it look so damn intimate?” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know how humiliating it is to stand there, watching him act like you’re his, like I’m not even in the picture?”

Her temper flared at his words. “Humiliating? Oscar, he’s your teammate, not some random guy hitting on me. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!”

“Am I?” he challenged, stepping even closer. “Because from where I was standing, it didn’t look like I was the one making you smile like that.” “Do you know what happens when you misbehave?”

“That’s not fair,daddy” she said, her voice shaking slightly now, though with frustration rather than fear. “You know how I feel about you. If you’re so insecure about something so innocent, maybe the problem isn’t him or me—it’s you.”

Oscar’s eyes darkened, her words hitting a nerve. “Don’t,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice dangerously low. “Don’t make this about my insecurities. I know what I saw, and I didn’t like it.”

“Well, maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions and trust me,” she retorted, her own emotions bubbling over.

He stared at her for a moment, his breathing heavy, his fists clenched at his sides. “You drive me crazy,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Good,” she shot back, her chin lifting defiantly. “Maybe now you know how you’re making me feel.”

And then, before either of them could say another word, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her against him. The air between them was charged, their frustration bleeding into something more primal.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive.

“Prove it,” she whispered, her eyes locked with his.

The tension that had built up between them exploded, the anger and jealousy giving way to a passion that neither could deny. The conversation was left behind as they gave in to the pull of their emotions, the room filling with the intensity of their connection.

He hovered over her.. kissing her roughly... Making her moan... perfect chance to slip his tounge in her mouth...

And pressing and rubbing his clothed dick against her hot and sensitive core..

You were so much into him that you didn't even realise when he removed all of his and your clothes.. and suddenly he flips you you now laying on your stomach...

And inserted in you without a warning in doggy style... He didn't even give you enough time to adjust him... So it will be a bit painful... He likes it in that way when he is super jealous....

He was thursting in to you while spanking you...

Your ass was bright red by now... And only god knows how much he loved it...

"Enough,daddy, please, I can’t take anymore!” you said while still moaning... You knew he was angry but his big cock was seriously feeling so big against you...

"Daddy it hurts..."

"you can take it,you have done it before"

He said while flipping you again and now he was pounding in to you again in missionary...

While he was pounding in and out in you... He was kissing and sucking your breasts too...

After a while when he saw that it was way more painful for you than je expected he said...

“Do you need to use your safeword, darling?"

"no daddy... I like it when you make it hurt"

You said while your nails were scratching and Peirceing his back...

After some time you both came together...

“So good for me, look at how much you came.”

He said while teasing you...

The room was quiet now, the only sound the soft rustle of sheets and their steady breathing. Oscar lay on his back, his large frame sprawled out, with Y/N tucked against him. Her head rested on his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. He lazily ran his fingers through her hair, his other hand tracing light patterns along her spine.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur in the dimly lit room.

She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her expression peaceful yet slightly tired. “More than okay,daddy” she whispered with a small smile. “Are you?”

He chuckled, his voice warm and rich. “Better than I’ve felt all day.” But he noticed the way her body sagged slightly against his, her limbs heavy with the pleasant exhaustion of the night.

“Come on,” he said, sitting up and gathering her in his arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The bathroom was already filled with the soft glow of candles from earlier, their lavender scent lingering in the air. Oscar turned on the tap, adjusting the water to just the right temperature, and added a generous splash of soothing bath oil.

He helped Y/N undress, his touch tender and unhurried as he carefully folded her clothes to the side. She shivered slightly, not from the cold, but from the gentle intensity in his gaze.

He stepped into the tub first, his larger frame settling into the warm water, and then held out his hand to guide her in. She sank against him, her back to his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her. The water sloshed gently as they settled, the fragrant warmth soaking away the last traces of tension.

Oscar picked up a soft sponge and dipped it into the water, squeezing it over her shoulders and arms. “Let me take care of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple. He gently ran the sponge down her back, moving in slow, deliberate strokes.

“You don’t have to do all this, daddy” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

“I want to " he replied firmly. “You’ve given me so much tonight. Let me give something back.”

He washed her arms and hands, massaging her palms and fingers as he went. His touch moved to her legs, carefully kneading out any lingering soreness. He poured water over her hair, gently combing through the strands with his fingers before rinsing them thoroughly.

“Relax,” he said as he kissed her damp shoulder. “You’re safe with me Shh, just look at me, baby.”

She closed her eyes, melting into his embrace. The water seemed to cocoon them in a world of their own, and the earlier turmoil felt like a distant memory.

After the water cooled, Oscar lifted her out of the tub, wrapping her in a soft, plush towel. He dried her gently, taking his time as though savoring every moment. Once she was dry, he led her back to the bed, where he had already laid out a fresh pair of clothes for her.

He slipped her into one of his oversized shirts, the fabric swallowing her frame, and pulled the covers up around them. She curled into his side, her head resting against his chest once more.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice heavy with contentment and drowsiness.

“For what?” he asked, his fingers lazily tracing circles on her arm.

“For loving me like this,” she said. “For making me feel safe.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart swelling with affection. “Always, Y/N. Always.”

And as they drifted off to sleep, tangled together in the quiet aftermath of their long night, Oscar felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Whatever challenges tomorrow would bring, he knew they would face them together.

..........................................................................................

Sorry guys for the delay... But I am really sick rn..And I know you guys are waiting for your requests and trust me I would make them as soon as I will be fine ( i have like 20 request pending) Thankyou ♥️

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