#chris evans/oc

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[juiles]

Horror Movie Queen

Requested: yes

Summary: a teen reader whos done a bunch of horror movies is filming a scene where she has to scream, freaks everyone out in the cast. Italics is the filmed scene.

Tags: really just fluff except one mention of torture and hitting

Masterlist here.

Request form here.

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A/N: Its short but its something new. i think im getting back to writing again so thats exciting!!

--------------------------------------------------

Y/n sat staring at the star studded cast in front of her at the reading table. Scarlett Johansson, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Elizabeth Olsen. It was wild all the people she had spent her whole life looking up to, and here she was, about to film a whole Marvel movie with them.

This was new territory for her too. A whole new genre of movie, different from the horror movies she was known for. The rest of the cast didn’t watch her movies so they didn’t know how she worked.

“Y/n? You okay?” Chris Evans asked waving his hand around in front of her face. “You zoned out there.” He added softly to the teen who flushed slightly and nodded looking down at her hands. “Have you done enough reading now? Are you ready to get into costume and makeup?”

Y/n paused for a moment picking at her fingers before she looked up and nodded. “Yeah. Ill go get ready. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” She took a quick glance around at everyone who shot her small nods before she disappeared. When she finally came to set, fully ready for her scene, her manager waved her over.

“Okay… lets get this over with guys.” She said, her manager chuckling at the bored look on the teenagers face that was currently covered in bruises and blood, her clothes hanging off of the girls frail body, a gash across her face where a scar usually sat on her characters face.

She was filming her background scene, how her character, Maddison, got where she was, fighting with the Avengers. The torture and pain the character had gone through obvious with the way she was dressed. “Alright you, are you ready to scream?” Thomas asked the girl with a grimace, knowing what he had to pretend to do to the girl. She nodded and stepped on to the set, a cold damp cell that had red splatter all over one wall, showing what she was supposed to have gone through. Thomas stepped forward, the director getting ready for filming, unknown to the teen, the rest of her cast mates stepped in to the studio, hiding in the shadows.

Scarlett elbowed a nervous looking Lizzie who motioned to the makeup on the girls face, the blonde shook her head slightly motioning to be quiet with a finger to her lips. Evans eyes widened as he studied the gash on the girls face. They all knew it was makeup, but as they had grown protective of the young girl, it scared them all. The all focused in on the girl when the director called action.

--Filming scene--

Maddison, a 13 year old girl who had been kidnapped by Baron Strucker at the age of 5, sat huddled against the bloody wall, her whole body shaking as she slowly lifted her head, a giant gash across her face, towards the man standing in front of her. The man merely raised his hand that held a ragged, rusty dagger and slashed down at the girl, her face getting slashed.

The girl let out a blood curdling scream, a scream so loud it even made Strucker take a step back out of shock. The man then turned on his heel and slammed the cell door closed whispering to the girl. “No one will ever want someone as disgusting as you.”

--Scene over--

The director called cut and y/n stood up and with a lack of emotion on her face and grabbed her water bottle. She had barely gotten a sip of it when she was collided with, a pair of arms wrapping around her, gripping her tightly. The teen squeaked as she tried to move the blonde hair to see the horrified look of all her adult castmates standing around her. She patted the back of what she assumed to be Scarlett with a look of confusion running across her face.

“What was that?” Mark asked as he nervously twisted his hands. “How did you bring that up? That was so real…”

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked as Scarlett finally pulled back. “I’m confused?”

“It was very convincing sounding darling.” The actress said, one hand not leaving the teens arm. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. I’m fine?” She responded. “I did- have you guys never seen any of my movies?”

RDJ looked at the girl sheepishly. “Your movies are intense kid… theyre a little scary for most of us.” The teen barked out a laugh shaking her head.

“My whole career I’ve only done horror movies, that scream just is what it is at this point. Nothing behind it, just 5 years of perfecting it.” She said with a small shrug and a small smirk on her face.

“Jesus kid, you gave us a heart attack as a whole.” Hemsworth chuckled as he ruffled the girls hair making the teen roll her eyes with a small smile as she was called back to the set.

Taglist: @mythixmagic @boredandneedfanfics @natashamaximoff-69 @asiangmrchk13

[caplanbuckybarnes]

One Life to Live (Mafia! Steve Rogers)

Summary: Steve comes home from a bar fight.

WC: 560ish

Warnings: Flangst

A/N: i'm reposting old fics I've been hunting down on tumblr. Sorry for the insurgenace of fics!

Read on Ao3!

--

Steve grimaced as he looked down at his shirt, blood displayed vibrantly on the white material as he casually strolled away from the scene where three dead bodies rested against the barhop.

“Buck?” He asked into the phone as he settled into his Monte Carlo. “Trash needs to be removed from that seedy place on Fifth Avenue, a’ight? Make sure to be discreet.”

“I’ll be right there with Tony, a’ight?” Bucky responded just before the blond man had disconnected the call, throwing his cell phone down on the car seat next to him.

Just as he had driven across the city and parked into his driveway, his cell phone started ringing, filling the silence in the car. He picked the device up and smiled softly as your name displayed brightly on the screen.

“I’m parking now, sweetheart,” he answered as he toed out of the car and walked through the open garage. “I’ll be upstairs in a moment.”

He hung up the phone and grinned softly to himself as he opened the tool shed and walked inside, pulling out a replacement shirt before putting it on and toeing off his shoes and replacing them with black slippers on his feet.

He waltzed through the garage door and walked down the hallway into the kitchen and grabbing a plum from the kitchen island and biting into it. He made his way up the staircase and called out your name.

You responded from the bedroom.

He walked inside the room and felt the tension in his shoulders fade as you were cuddled deep underneath the thick duvet. “I was thinking today,” he announced softly as he walked over to you.

“About what?” you asked, smiling softly as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he sat down and clasped your hands between his.

“How lucky I am that you’re in my life,” he smiled softly and raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I missed you today.”

“Steve,” you sighed, gently taking your hand out of his touch and sitting up in the bed. “I love you.”

“And I’m a lucky man, ain’t I?” He grinned, feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket, knowing it was Bucky informing him that the deed was done and over with.

“Dance with me?” You asked softly. “I feel like I haven’t been in your arms since our wedding night.”

He chuckled. “What brought along that question?”

You shrugged, still supporting a curved lip. “I found another medley that I wanted to dance with you to.”

He rolled his eyes affectionately before tossing the duvet away from your body an pulling you to your feet.

You walked over to the radio where your iPod sat in the cursor. You scrolled through your music until you have come across the song you’d wanted and pressed play, filling the room with a soft piano tune.

“This is-” he blinked, recognizing the song almost immediately.

“Our wedding song,” you nodded, walking straight into his arms. “Do you remember that night?”

He chuckled as he started swaying the both of you on the spot. “Of course I do. I’d be a fool not to remember how elegant my girl looked in her dress.”

“I love you,” you smiled as you nestled your cheek against his shoulder.

“Always and forever, my love.” he mumbled as the two of your dance on the spot.

--

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[stellaltumi]

sorry not interested in a relationship I'm too obsessed with the little guys in my head

[imthebadguyyy]

Iron Hearts

With the same fire and charm that runs in the Stark bloodline, you’ve never been one to fade into the background.

pairing : steve rogers x reader fandom : mcu synopsis : As Tony Stark’s younger sister, you’ve always shared his brilliance and bold personality. Outgoing, witty, and never afraid to speak your mind, you’re just as comfortable stealing the spotlight as your brother is. But when Tony ropes you into joining the Avengers' operations after the Chitauri invasion, the last thing you expect is to clash with Captain America, Steve Rogers—a man so different from the fast-paced world you’re used to. Steve’s stoic, old-fashioned values collide with your free-spirited nature, sparking a connection that’s as electric as it is infuriating. As the Avengers face new threats, you and Steve find yourselves drawn together in unexpected ways, each challenge bringing you closer. The world is always in need of saving—but will the Iron legacy and a shielded heart leave room for something more?

EPISODE 1 : COLLIDE

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The low hum of machinery filled your private lab, a familiar and soothing backdrop to the glow of various monitors and the holographic interface suspended above your desk. You were in your element here—surrounded by sleek gadgets, circuits, and blueprints only you understood. The soft, sterile light of the fluorescent bulbs bathed everything in a cool hue, making the outside world feel distant, almost irrelevant. Your hands moved with practiced precision, making the final tweaks to your latest invention—something sleek, cutting-edge, and powerful. It was not for public eyes, least of all Tony’s. Let him bask in the glory of his Iron Man suits and his public heroism. You preferred working in the shadows, away from the spotlight. After all, the real power came from the things people didn’t see.

Just as you were about to run another test, FRIDAY’s calm, computerized voice broke the silence. “Incoming call—Tony Stark.”

You let out a small, exasperated sigh, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Of course Tony would interrupt now, just when you were getting into the groove. Without breaking your stride, you gestured toward the nearest screen, signaling FRIDAY to patch the call through.

Tony’s face flickered to life on the screen, his usual cocky grin already plastered across his face. He looked annoyingly well-rested for someone who constantly threw himself into world-saving chaos.

“Hey, sis. Got a minute?” His tone was casual, but you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. Tony always had an ulterior motive.

“Not for you,” you shot back, though your lips twitched with a slight smile. You’d perfected the art of giving Tony a hard time over the years. “What do you need, Tony?”

“Can’t a brother call to check on his favorite sibling?” He leaned back in his chair, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning indifference. “We both know I’m your only sibling.”

“Touché,” he admitted, chuckling softly. "But seriously, I need you."

You froze momentarily, your hand hovering over the interface. Tony rarely outright asked for help, and when he did, you knew it was big. Slowly, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest as you gave him your full attention.

“I need my secret weapon,” Tony added, his voice dropping to that tone he used when he really wanted something.

You blinked at him, skeptical. “Secret weapon? Tony, I’m not about to be your backup tech support.”

Tony grinned, undeterred by your resistance. "This isn’t just tech support. It’s big. New team, new mission, bigger stakes. And who better to help me keep this bunch in line than you?"

You hesitated, glancing at the half-finished prototype on your desk. For years, you’d operated under the radar, happy to let Tony soak up the limelight. Being his sister came with a certain level of scrutiny you’d avoided like the plague. You preferred the quiet. The idea of stepping into the Avengers' world—especially now—seemed chaotic at best.

“I’m not suiting up, if that’s what you’re thinking,” you finally said, narrowing your eyes at him. The last thing you needed was to get dragged into one of his world-saving escapades in some shiny new armor.

“Of course not,” Tony grinned, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes that told you he wasn’t ruling anything out entirely. “Just come to the Tower, meet the team. If you hate it, you can go back to hiding in your lab and pretending you’re not a genius like me.”

You rolled your eyes, though the thought lingered. A new team? A new mission? Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check it out. If things went south, you could always disappear back into the shadows. But something in Tony’s tone hinted at urgency, something serious brewing on the horizon. He wasn’t just calling for fun. He needed you.

With a resigned sigh, you pushed off from the desk. “Fine. But this better not be some ploy to get me into an Iron suit.”

Tony’s smirk widened. “No promises.”

The call ended with a flicker of the screen, and you were left standing in the soft hum of your lab, the weight of Tony’s request hanging in the air. You glanced at your half-finished prototype one last time before grabbing your jacket, muttering under your breath, “What have I gotten myself into?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Later, at Avengers Tower, you stepped into the grand lobby, the space sprawling before you like something out of a futuristic movie. Towering glass walls reflected the sunlight, creating a dazzling effect that made the entire room shimmer. High-tech displays blinked with data and notifications, while sleek metallic accents added to the modernity. It was a world apart from your cozy lab, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how Tony had truly outdone himself with this place. The grandeur was impressive, but you felt a knot tightening in your stomach, a sense of unease settling in as you stepped further inside.

Just as you took another step, a voice sliced through the air behind you, cool and assessing. “So you’re the sister Tony doesn’t like to talk about.”

You turned to face him, your heart pounding slightly at the sight of Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his muscular frame radiating authority. His expression was carefully neutral, but there was an edge to it—a mix of skepticism and something akin to wariness. He looked you up and down, his gaze critical, and you could already sense the judgment simmering beneath the surface. He thought you were just another Stark, another piece in Tony’s ego-driven game.

“And you’re the soldier out of time,” you replied, matching his coolness with your own. The words felt sharper than you intended, a defensive instinct kicking in. “Nice to meet you.”

Steve offered a tight nod, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t smile. “Tony’s told me a lot about you.”

“All bad, I hope,” you shot back, a hint of a smirk dancing on your lips. But Steve’s expression remained unyielding, the weight of his gaze unwavering.

“I’m not here to judge,” he stated, but his eyes bore into you, steady and measuring, as if he were trying to peel back layers of your identity with sheer will alone. “Just here to see if you’re serious.”

“Serious?” You scoffed, your heart racing with indignation. “About what?”

“About helping, about doing what’s right. We’ve got enough egos on this team.”

Your smirk faded, replaced by a flash of frustration. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know your brother.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Tony,” you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. The tension between you crackled in the air, palpable and thick. You hated the feeling of being judged before someone even bothered to know you, and clearly, Steve didn’t like the idea of another Stark stepping into the fold.

For a moment, silence engulfed you, and you could almost hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. The intensity of Steve’s gaze felt like a spotlight, and you wondered if he could see through your facade, exposing the vulnerabilities you kept hidden. You could sense his protective instincts flaring, the weight of responsibility resting on his shoulders, and somehow, you felt like an outsider even though you were family.

Just as the tension threatened to spiral further, Tony strolled into the room, an air of nonchalance enveloping him. “Hey, you two! Getting along already?” His grin was impossibly wide, brightening the atmosphere even as it made the air around you feel heavier with unresolved tension.

You shot Tony a glare that could’ve cut through steel. This was not the time for his usual bravado. Steve merely shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching in an attempt to contain a smile. “We’ll see,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still fixed on you, as if he were weighing the likelihood of your success in this new venture. Then, with a final, assessing glance, he turned and walked off, leaving you standing there, frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Great. This is off to a fantastic start,” you muttered under your breath, a mixture of annoyance and apprehension churning inside you. The day had barely begun, and already you could feel the weight of expectation bearing down on you. As the lobby buzzed with the energy of heroes and high-tech innovation, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a tightrope, teetering between proving yourself and succumbing to the shadows that felt all too familiar.

With a deep breath, you steeled yourself, reminding yourself that you were here to help. No matter what Steve Rogers thought, you had your own strengths, your own path to carve in this world. You just had to figure out how to make them see that.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The air in the war room was thick with tension as Tony briefed you on the mission, his voice crisp and urgent. “So here’s the deal: leftover Chitauri tech has been activated by HYDRA operatives in the city. It’s supposed to be a routine clean-up mission, but we know better than to underestimate anything HYDRA gets their hands on.” His brow furrowed, the usual playful glint in his eyes replaced by a seriousness that made your stomach knot.

You listened intently, nodding as he laid out the plan. But as he insisted you tag along—even if just to observe and assess—you felt a mix of excitement and dread. You weren’t officially part of the team, yet here you were, being dragged into the chaos by your brother’s unwavering belief in your abilities.

When you arrived at the scene, the streets were already in chaos. The sounds of sirens blared, drowning out the shouts of frantic civilians being evacuated. Smoke billowed into the air, curling around toppled cars and shattered glass. You felt a chill run down your spine as you surveyed the destruction.

Amid the chaos, Steve barked orders at the rest of the team, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise like a beacon of hope. You hung back, monitoring the situation from a mobile unit that Tony had rigged up for you—a lifeline of information in a storm of uncertainty.

“Stay behind the lines!” Steve called out to you over his shoulder, his tone firm as he and Natasha led the charge into the fray.

You rolled your eyes, a mixture of annoyance and determination bubbling inside you. "I know what I’m doing, Captain," you shot back, trying to sound more confident than you felt. The last thing you wanted was to be coddled like a helpless child.

Just as the fight erupted, the atmosphere shifted. A crackling energy surged through the air, and before you could process the threat, one of the HYDRA operatives unleashed a pulse from the Chitauri device. The wave of electricity shot toward you, a blinding flash of danger that sent adrenaline coursing through your veins.

In that split second, everything shifted. Time seemed to slow as you braced for impact, your instincts screaming at you to move, to do something—anything. But before you could react, Steve surged forward like a force of nature. He slammed his shield into the ground with a resounding thud, creating a barrier that absorbed the surge of energy before it could reach you.

You stumbled back, wide-eyed, the reality of what had just happened crashing over you like a tidal wave. Steve turned to you, his expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “I said stay behind,” he said, his voice clipped, but there was a hint of protectiveness that made your heart race.

“I had it under control,” you snapped back, though deep down, you knew that wasn’t entirely true. You felt a surge of embarrassment rising within you, the remnants of the adrenaline making you defensive.

Steve didn’t argue further, but his gaze lingered on you, his eyes searching yours as if he were trying to gauge the depths of your resolve. The moment stretched out, thick with unspoken tension, and you could sense a silent acknowledgment between you—this was new territory for both of you, a fragile thread connecting your destinies.

But as quickly as it had come, the moment shattered. With a final look that communicated both concern and determination, Steve charged back into the fray, his shield raised high as he fought against the chaos. You stood there, heart racing, grappling with a whirlwind of emotions—frustration, admiration, and a flicker of fear for what lay ahead.

With a deep breath, you refocused on the task at hand. You weren’t going to let this moment define you. You had to prove to yourself, and to Steve, that you belonged here—among heroes and legends. The fight was just beginning, and you were ready to carve your place in it.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission concluded in a flurry of activity and relief, but the tension between you and Steve lingered in the air like an unresolved chord. Back at the Tower, you settled in front of the computer, the glow of the screen casting an almost ethereal light across your face as you replayed footage of the battle. Each frame brought back the chaos—the electricity crackling, the screams of civilians, and Steve’s shield slamming into the ground just in time to save you. The rush of adrenaline from earlier mixed with a more unsettling feeling as you examined the moment you almost lost everything.

As you scrolled through the footage, you felt a presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Steve; the weight of his gaze felt palpable, a steady warmth that contrasted sharply with the intensity of the battle you had just fought. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his silhouette framed by the soft light of the hallway, watching you with a quiet intensity.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere, cutting through the silence that surrounded you.

Surprised, you glanced up at him, momentarily meeting his gaze. “Thanks,” you replied, your voice a mix of pride and humility.

“But next time,” he continued, the firmness returning to his tone, “don’t make me have to save you.”

A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips, a spark of your trademark confidence flaring up in response. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t,” you shot back, your tone light, though beneath it was a current of seriousness.

Steve didn’t respond immediately, his expression shifting as he studied you. In his blue eyes, you caught a flicker of something deeper—perhaps a grudging respect, maybe even a hint of admiration. It made your heart flutter unexpectedly, a rush of warmth that was both thrilling and confusing. The Captain of America saw you, and for a moment, the weight of expectations from being Tony Stark's sister lifted, replaced by a connection that felt genuine.

He nodded once, a subtle acknowledgment of the moment shared between you, before turning to leave. As he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another fleeting exchange. You were carving out your own space in this team, proving that you were more than just Tony’s sister—you were a force to be reckoned with in your own right.

Left alone in the dim light of the lab, you turned back to the screen, but your thoughts were no longer on the footage. Instead, your mind lingered on Steve’s quiet strength, his unwavering resolve. You were beginning to understand that there was more to him than just the Captain—the man behind the shield had his own battles, his own vulnerabilities.

And you felt an undeniable pull towards him, a sense of camaraderie that was slowly transforming into something deeper. The mission had ended, but the journey was just beginning, and you were more determined than ever to prove yourself—not just to Steve, but to the entire team.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The mission had been a success, but the moment Steve saw you—Tony’s sister—standing there, he felt the weight of responsibility tugging at his heart. He knew you had potential; he’d seen you handle yourself with surprising skill, but he wasn’t prepared for how much the little spark in your eyes got under his skin.

Leaning against the doorway, he watched you replay the footage of the battle. You were focused, your brow furrowed in concentration, and it captivated him. You radiated a unique blend of confidence and determination, much like your brother, yet with a warmth that was distinctly your own.

When he finally spoke, telling you that you handled yourself well out there, he truly meant it. But as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt a mix of admiration and wariness wash over him. You were Tony’s sister—his little sister. He recalled the stories Tony had told him about your childhood, the sibling rivalry, and how fiercely protective Tony had always been of you. That instinct felt like a wall between them, even as he felt drawn to you.

“Don’t make me have to save you,” he warned, hoping to impress upon you the importance of caution. He had seen too many people underestimate their enemies, and he didn’t want you to be another victim of that recklessness.

Your response—light and teasing—pulled a small smile from him, but it was quickly overshadowed by concern. “Don’t worry, Captain. I won’t.” It was infuriating how effortlessly you seemed to deflect his concern. You had a spark that reminded him of Tony, but there was something more disarming about you. Something that made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

He nodded, more to himself than to you, before he turned to leave. He didn’t want to admit how much your presence affected him, how he found you attractive in a way that made him question everything he knew about focusing on the mission. But he also understood that getting involved with Tony’s sister could complicate things—complicate his already tangled life.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As the days turned into weeks, you became a more permanent fixture in the Tower, and Steve couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly you blended into their chaotic team dynamic. Watching you interact with the others was eye-opening. You had Tony’s quick wit, but there was a warmth in your approach that brought out the best in everyone.

He remembered a moment during a team meeting when Clint made a joke at your expense. Without missing a beat, you shot back, “If you’re going to insult me, at least make it clever.” The room erupted in laughter, and Steve found himself chuckling along, secretly impressed by your tenacity.

But the more time he spent with you, the more he struggled with his feelings. You were intelligent, fiercely capable, and incredibly brave—qualities he admired. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt the ghost of Tony’s protective nature hovering over them. He could practically hear Tony warning him to keep his distance, reminding him that you were off-limits. It was a mental tug-of-war, and every glance between them only heightened his awareness of how close they were getting.

One evening, you both worked late in the lab. He caught you watching him as he threw punches at a training dummy, a curious smile dancing on your lips. It was a moment of connection, but it also made his heart race in a way that both thrilled and terrified him. He knew you were trouble, yet there was something about you that drew him in, like a moth to a flame.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : so this is new series im experimenting with!! not proofread. any comments tips suggestions you have would be highly appreciated. happy reading!!

TAGS

all writing - @roslastyles420 @hopefulinlove@bluesongbird-blog

marvel -

to be added to the taglist send me an ask or a dm specifying which fandom 🩷

[saber-monet]

[eccentricallygothic]

The Interrogation

Pairing: Captain America!Steve Rogers | Villain!Reader.

Description: Steve had finally caught you, and he knew just how to make you talk.

Warning(s): Dark undertones because it's me, interrogation through fucking, unprotected p-in-v intercourse, slapping, spanking, pinching, biting, exhibitionism, cock riding, dacryphilia, overstimulation and mentioned orgasm denial, hair pulling, degradation. Minors do not interact.

Type: Request (anon), here. 

Note: Villains in general are my jam so I loved this. Sorry this is so late. Hope you like it still <3

.

Half a choked gasp fluttered past your lips as the remaining half was eaten by the sob you let out right after, droplets of the tears that stained your stinging cheeks spraying out from the vibration of the sound waves escaping your mouth.

“Please!” Your back arched and a vein in your thighs twitched, causing the limb to start jittering as your knees pushed deeper into the chair your impaler was relaxing against while you cried and mutilated your dignity in front of all the main S.H.I.E.L.D staff that were cloaked behind the two-way mirror of the interrogation room. “Oh!” Your hair whipped a near revolution around your lolling head when your defiler's rough fingers cracked against your soft and wet cheek once more. 

Your pussy was so stretched. Oh… The consciousness of how Steve Roger's cock had your intimates spread so wide around his hot, leaking and stone hard cock made you feel uneasy when you imagined the state of your entrance. Despite how the contact of his palm felt against your face, the manner in which he so humiliatingly deprived you of such a basic bodily function as breathing, the infuriating condensation with which he pinched and fondled your exposed chest and the sheer degradation in the way he did all this in front of his people for no good reason than making you rat, you only clenched harder and slapped your ass against his muscular thighs faster. Your tears flowed at the same rate as the speed with which you imparted upon him the information that was so dear to your ambitions. 

The ratting was not the worst part though.

No.

That was the fact that despite your initial attempts to make it look like you were unwilling, that the cruel Captain was forcing his depraved will onto you, that S.H.I.E.L.D was nothing but a bunch of glorified goons, your tears were not of disgust or denial, much to your own surprise. 

Rather, they were ones of pure, bubbling and desperate need; frustration.

For just one more orgasm. Another bittersweet climax to add to the many you had had ever since Steve saw through your design; took matters into his own hands. Yet another chase through the agony of your swollen petals squelching and sucking away at the painfully prominent veins of his dick.

“Say it for me, brat” his smooth deep voice cut through you like needle penetrates cotton. Your loins closed in on themselves. So close. “Tell your Captain the name” with the way his cold blue eyes that drowned in the nimbostratus of his lust watched you, his rough fingers groped your spanked ass and guided your aching hips into yet another oscillation on his cock, your fucked out brain was forced to register his words as the only truth you knew; the only law that existed.

“C- Captain!” The word faintly stung your tongue as the mind unleashes a sensory revolt against one who betrays his conditioning. “C- Cap–!” It was the result of his torturing you before granting you your first orgasm of the session that you had willingly shattered your own dignity and accepted his command as well as title. 

Were you really to blame?

When it hurt this good?

“Say it for me, baby” he nearly whispered the pet name as he sat up straighter and pressed his nose to yours to steal a rough kiss which your hair hid from everyone else, one of his manly hands abandoning their station on your hip to trail up the side of your body to find a grip between the strands of your hair and against your scalp. You cried harder as your head collapsed against his. The readjustment of his body had pushed him balls deep inside you. “Say it for your Captain and he will give you what you need most” and that was all you needed to hear before you gave out the name of the brains of your operation. 

Steve didn't have to. He really didn't. It was the disdainful curl of Fury's lip that proved it. But the Captain finally brought his muscular thighs into motion and rocked his hips to abuse your sensitive spot with his tip so to make you cry, his fingers pulled your head back and out of his way so he could latch his hot lips onto that one spot that he had discovered right under your ear, his other hand now departed from your hips because his own had taken over, and his thumb glided over your cunt in a way that made your melted brain spin. Your myopic vision gyrated and an animalistic cry rose up from your aching epiglottis. It was barely audible but full of the hot air that your tense lungs had been compressing. 

Your weak body nearly keeled over and hit the ground from the orgasm that quaked through your muscles and organs. You shivered and shuddered, your arched form hanging from his cock that his strong legs bounced you on furiously. It was all so much. Too much. You had reached a point where the sharp and barbaric bite of his teeth on your erect nipples was barely noticeable to you because of how fugue you had become on his cock.

Your brain shut down. Whatever happened next was nothing but blurry glimpses of fleeting moments that raced by you. Every second felt like an eternity and the pulling of your limbs and the unbearable echoing of voices inside your head made you wince. You grunted and whined when your sex disconnected from the base of your impaler's cock with a pop loud enough that even you registered it.

You felt your body being dragged. The cells. You didn't have to see it to know it. They were the only fate of your like in this organization. You took a mindless glance behind you and a number of thoughts wormed their way into your disintegrated consciousness.

Did the Captain stare at every offender's dragging away with that primal hunger in his cold blue eyes? Was it routine for his own personal team to deprive a prisoner of their clothes without providing them with a uniform in their stead? Were all your fellow inmates suspended to the ceiling with their hands handcuffed to the chain hanging from it? Was solitary confinement necessary for all new convicts?

Or was it a special courtesy bestowed solely upon you by the Captain and his team? 

Something told you that you would find out.

And very soon.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Under the Stars (Steve Rogers)

Summary: You and Steve spend time together star gazing.

WC: 590ish

Warnings: Fluff

Read on Ao3!

--

The quiet hum of the city settled around you as you found yourself sitting on the rooftop of the Avengers Tower. The night sky was a deep velvet, dotted with stars that twinkled like diamonds. You leaned back on your hands, soaking in the cool breeze and the soft sounds of the city below. It was peaceful up here, away from the chaos of the world.

Steve Rogers joined you a moment later, the familiar sound of his boots softly hitting the rooftop breaking the tranquillity. He settled beside you, his presence warm and comforting. You glanced at him, the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting gentle shadows on his jawline.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he took in the view.

“Absolutely,” you replied, your heart fluttering as he turned to face you. “But I think the stars are even brighter up here.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that charming way that always made your heart skip. “You’re not just saying that because I’m here, are you?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No. It’s just… it feels special. Like the universe is reminding us of all the good things.”

His expression softened as he looked at you. “You know, I used to think I understood what it meant to be a hero, and Captain America. But being with you has shown me that there’s so much more to it.”

You turned to him fully, curiosity sparking in your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he began, pausing to gather his thoughts, “being a hero isn’t just about fighting battles and crimes. It’s about the people you fight for. And you… you make everything worth it, you always have.”

Your breath caught in your throat as the weight of his words settled between you. You felt your cheeks flush, and you looked away, tracing patterns in the concrete with your eyes.

“Steve, I—”

Before you could finish, he gently turned your face back to him, his blue eyes searching yours. “I hope the heavens know how much I adore you,” he said softly, sincerity flooding his voice. 'I hope they know I would do anything in my power to show you how deeply I care about you."

Your heart raced at his confession. You could see the truth in his eyes; in that moment, the world around you faded away. All that existed was the two of you, suspended in time under the vast expanse of the universe.

“I adore you too,” you whispered, barely able to contain the swell of emotion rising within you.

A grin spread across his face, transforming his features with a boyish charm. He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle touch sent shivers down your spine, and you leaned into his hand instinctively.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he asked, nodding towards the sky.

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. “What should I wish for?”

“Maybe for more nights like this,” he suggested, his voice low and intimate.

You took a deep breath, letting the moment wash over you. “I think I’ll wish for you,” you said, your heart laid bare. “Always.”

With that, Steve leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. The connection felt electric, and the air between you crackled with unspoken promises.

“Always,” he echoed, and at that moment, under the watchful gaze of the stars, you both knew that this was just the beginning.

[allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover]

Dating Sam Wilson Headcanons

Sam is perfection. He's the perfect boyfriend anyone could ever ask for.

He's kind, he's brave, he's absolutely in love with you, he knows how to take care of you.

People underestimate him. It's obvious, since he hangs out with super soldiers like Steve and Bucky, but you're very happy for Sam, your boyfriend. You love Sam for what he is, you appreciate his abilities honestly, and give him credit where it's due.

Sam pretends to be happy and confident all the time, but you can see beneath his charming exterior.

He has insecurities, has low confidence, and a lot of self-doubt. He's an Avenger, and a lot of things come with that. You always try to reassure him that what he's doing is enough, and that he's more than enough, sometimes it convinces him, sometimes it doesn't.

His love language is acts of service. He's the kind of person who'd do anything to reduce your work, and try his best to keep you stress-free and happy.

Sam likes to talk to you. He's always trying to make you laugh, and he bear it when you, the love of his life, is sad. He'll do anything to make you happy.

You have your highs and lows, and each time, he's there to support you.

Sam's great at giving a pep talk, since he was like a counselor to war veterans. But for you, he adds personal touch, and gives you real, useful advices instead of painting pictures in thin air.

You two watch a lot of movies together, and Sam spends a large time explaining to you how unrealistic the action scenes are. You bite your tongue every time and try not to remind him of the fact that he's an Avenger, and fights like that too.

People try to tell you that you can do better than Sam, or in exact words, 'why Sam Wilson? why didn't you go for Captain America or his hot friend?'. You get tired of telling people that it's Sam you love, and you don't have eyes for anyone else.

Sometimes, when Sam hears this, he gets upset. A part of him believes that you deserve far more than what he has to offer, but you dismiss his doubts by saying that it's him you love and him you want.

Your boyfriend is a hero not only for millions, but also for you. But his hero is you, his beloved partner.

Masterlist

[coquitokisses]

Trusting Again | Bucky Barnes - Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!oc

Summary: Catalina starts having some newfound feelings towards a certain super soldier and Bucky finally finds that person who brings him peace. Both of them learning to leave their pasts behind, learning to trust again..

Warnings/Tags: 18+, strong language, sexual scenes, topics about mental and/or psychological health and PTSD.

A/N: Each chapter, depending on its content, will have their own warnings

introduction (a brief summary and some clarifications)

playlist • moodboards • files

prologue (must read first!)

chapter 001 • chapter 002 • chapter 003 • chapter 004 • chapter 005 • chapter 006 • chapter 007 • chapter 008 • chapter 009 • chapter 010 • chapter 011 • chapter 012 • chapter 013 • chapter 014 • chapter 015 •

main masterlist

[antlerqueer]

Scott Pilgrim vs. the World (2010).

@lgbtqcreators bingo - tropes (had to only pick a few bc WHEW this movie)

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 26

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

September 13th, 2022

“Alright, cut! That was a good one so that’s a wrap for today.” 

Hearing those words was like music to Chris’ ears. He’d been on set since before the sun had risen in the sweltering Atlanta heat and he was ready to call it a day. Chris only stayed to chat with his co-stars for a moment before walking off the set, ready for a shower and quiet evening at his rental with Dodger, but he would soon find out he was in for anything but. 

Chris had made some headway through his plans when he stepped out of his set trailer, his costume long gone and instead dressed in loose shorts and a tee-shirt. He called goodbyes to everyone as he headed to the parking lot, figuring Josh and Dodger had already gone home, but soon he was stopped in his tracks. 

“Chris! Hey, hold on,” he heard Josh call, turning to find his long-time friend – and assistant – jogging over to him with Dodger by his side. 

Chris paused, letting Josh catch up to him. He could see the rest of the cast slowly making their way off set, either to the wardrobe trailer or to their own trailers, and the line of cars waiting to take them all home. “I thought you already left for the day?” He asked Josh, surprised to see him, but with a small grin as he reached down and greeted the excited, and tired, dog. 

“No, I took Dodger on a longer walk but your phone has been blowing up. Jamie keeps trying to call you and asked me to have you call him back as soon as you can,” his friend explained quickly with a serious tone.

Chris pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, unsure why Jamie, of all people, was trying to reach out to him right now. He’d kept in loose contact with Mark and Jamie since Nat moved, occasionally texting them but mainly just keeping up with them through social media and Nat. “Jamie? I wonder what that’s about?” He asked, knowing this was out of the blue. 

“I don’t know but here’s your phone,” Josh told him, handing the phone over. “Let me know later if anything is up.” 

“I will, thanks Josh,” he said with a tight grin, pocketing the 

Chris could feel the anxiety building in him as he took Dodger’s leash from Josh, thanking him again before going to the car service that the production provided and climbing into the back with Dodger sitting down on the bench seat right next to him. He clicked on Jamie’s number, returning his call as his leg bounced with anxiousness as the phone kept ringing and ringing until it went to voicemail. 

Although Chris’ brain loved to torture him with all the what if’s, he thought that this maybe was a good sign. If there truly was something urgent or earth shattering that he was so desperate to get a hold of Chris, he would have kept his phone on him and answered his call. Chris almost wanted to laugh to himself now as he relaxed in his seat on the drive back to his rental, thinking about the quirky best friends of Nat, knowing that he probably would be getting a call about something ridiculous that would make him erupt in laughter, but also remembered just how long it had been since he’d gotten those funny calls from Nat or either of her best friends, knowing that things had changed since she moved. 

He tried not to worry about it as he got to his rental and climbed in the shower, happy relax after the long day, but he had just climbed out and changed into his sweatpants and a comfy tee-shirt when his phone ran from where it sat on the bed next to his sweet pooch who was curled up. Chris grabbed the phone and put it on speaker, greeting his friend with, “Hey man, how are you? It’s been a while.” 

“It has been, but um, Chris are you on set?” Jamie asked, his voice muffled as he moved around on the other end of the call.

Chris’ brows furrowed and his hand froze on Dodger’s side, noting the urgency in Jamie’s voice. “No, I’m done for the day. I just got back to my rental… why?” He asked, his shoulder tense with anxiety as Jamie hesitated. 

The other man let out a shuddering sigh before he confessed, “I need to talk to you.” 

Chris shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t sound good,” he murmured. 

“It’s not,” Jamie agreed, his voice turning sad and sympathetic. Jamie took a deep breath before he explained, “I was in San Francisco today and Chris… Nat is not doing well.” 

If Chris had been nervous before, it was nothing compared to the fear that flooded his body at that simple explanation. He wanted to not believe it, wanted to call Jamie a liar, that this wasn’t his Nat they were talking about. “What? What do you mean?” He finally asked, his voice unsteady and fearful. 

Jamie’s voice was low, sad, and defeated when he told him, “She’s not okay, Chris.” 

“Jamie, I need you to tell me what’s going on. I don’t understand,” Chris all but demanded him, unable to stop his brain from spiraling. Nat was…. Nat. Resilient, flexible, and strong, with a stubborn streak that rivaled his own. It was his last concern that she was ever going to be anything but okay. She’d rolled with every last one of his wild ideas, schedules, and asks of her for the last year, and he couldn’t see where anything changed to push Jamie to make this call. 

“She’s incredibly depressed, Chris. She’s super skinny, she doesn’t eat much and I found out that basically none of the office there in San Francisco hardly even know her. They said she just comes in and works all day in her office and goes to meetings and doesn’t say much and then goes home,” Jamie explained, listing off every reason that caused Chris’ heart to practically shatter. He couldn’t believe everything he’d missed, everything she’d been hiding from not only him, but her family and friends as well. His heart began to race anxiously as Jamie continued, “Yesterday night I stayed with her and by the time we went out to dinner and got back to her apartment she was practically falling asleep. She has no energy and looks like she’s going to burst into tears at any moment.” 

Chris’ mind raced as he still tried to pinpoint exactly where and when everything went south for her, knowing that he hadn’t seen all of that when he visited in early July. Sure, she’d been overworking herself, but that was a losing battle Chris had been trying to fight with her for almost a year now. All he knew was Nat being a near workaholic, and he figured with the move, she had been throwing herself into the only thing she was familiar with up there. “What’s going on? Is it something with her job? Or did something happen? She hasn’t said a word to me,” he finally answered, clearing the lump in his throat away. 

“I don’t know. I tried to talk to her and she wouldn’t say anything… you know how stubborn Nat can be,” Jamie explained with a sigh, sounding just as frustrated and concerned as Chris felt. 

Chris’ mind was still moving faster than he could catch up with, and he frustratedly admitted to the other man, “I just can’t believe she hasn’t said a word of this.” 

“I don’t know why she hasn’t but Chris, but I’m really worried about her. Things are not good and I don’t think anybody knows,” Jamie explained, sighing as he paused. “Everyone came in early this morning for a meeting so I’m going to send them all home early so maybe call her in a little while? My flight for LA is in a couple hours so she’ll be alone.” 

Chris nodded, taking note of the time on the alarm clock next to him. “I will,” he promised, knowing Jamie knew that already. 

“Chris... She’s not herself. She needs help so don’t take no for an answer, okay?” Jamie gently suggested, with more muffled sounds filtering through the call from the office in California. Chris listened intently, but his attention was split as Dodger whined nervously, looking up at his owner anxiously.  

Chris smiled sadly to himself, reaching his hand down to pet Dodger reassuringly. “I won’t. Thanks for telling me, Jamie,” he thanked the man, not knowing what he would’ve done had he not known the truth. 

As they hung up the call, Chris tried to pass the time between then and when he could call Nat in any way – turning on CNN, only to not pay attention to it. Texting Eric, asking if Nat had said if anything was wrong, only to hear “She hasn’t said anything to me, everything’s sounded okay.” That only made Chris more worried, knowing how close Nat was to Eric. She was so close to him, in a way that made Chris only hope to one day have that relationship with a child of his own. 

But it seemed like they were all in the dark, and once forty-five minutes had passed, Chris raced to open his texts with Nat. There still had been nothing since early that morning, when she liked his text about when he’d be on set that day. But he pushed down the hurt at that and instead hit the FaceTime button and called her, wanting to see her for this. 

He was thankful when Nat answered, but instead of being greeted with her face, he could only  see a ceiling. “Nattie, are you at home?” He asked, getting to the point almost immediately. He couldn’t beat around the bush with this, not when he felt like he was about to break down at any minute as he pictured everything Jamie had told him. 

Nat’s brows were furrowed when she adjusted the camera so he could see her, and he let out a sigh as he finally looked at her. He’d seen her in fleeting calls and random pictures over the last few months, but he’d never been able to see the change in her until today. The weight loss, evident in her face, the light, nearly all gone from her eyes, the way her once-fitted shirt now hung off of her shoulders, and the bags under her eyes… the ones he knew weren’t there the last time he saw her. It all hurt, scared, and alarmed him, but most of all, he felt frustrated with himself that he was too stupid to see past all reassurances to notice all these things months ago. “Yeah, why?” She brushed him off, a single brow raising. 

“What’s going on Nat?” He asked her point blank, eyes moving over hers as he stared at his phone. He could even see the way her hair was thrown up, messily, with strands falling out of her bun, slicked back against her scalp in a way that told him she hadn’t been taking care of herself there either. And he knew it wasn’t by choice. She was exhausted, something she had told him repeatedly in the previous months. He’d always brushed her off, feeling it was just her not handling the move great. But now he saw the truth, he saw it in every shift of her eyes, the slimness of her wrist as she tucked her hair behind her ear, how heavy the undereye bags were…. He hated himself most of all for missing this, letting it get to this point. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Jamie called me and told me that you’re not doing well. He said you’re depressed and that he’s really worried about you,” he explained, his voice almost clinical to disguise the sheer panic he was feeling at everything. 

Nat waved her hand, her voice small as she told him, “That’s just Jamie. You know he’s the dad of the group and he’s just worried because it’s been a couple months since I’ve seen him.” 

“Nat, if you’re struggling, you can talk to me,” Chris tried to reason with her, feeling more anxious with every dismissive comment she made. Dodger shifted against his leg, rolling onto his back as he drifted to sleep, and Chris watched Nat carefully, hoping her walls would finally go down. 

“I’m fine, it’s just different settling in here is all,” she whispered, shrugging as she glanced away from the camera. 

“It’s been almost five months though,” Chris pointed out as he arched an eyebrow. “Did it take you that long to settle in when you moved to LA?” 

She huffed out a breath, stubbornly telling him, “That was different because I met Jamie and Mark right away. You said it yourself that I just need to give it time.” 

“Is it this job? Is that what this is or is it something else? Do you miss LA?” He questioned, practically grappling at straws here. He didn’t want to push her too far, but he had to get to the bottom of this now. Nothing good would come from throwing his hands up and walking away, not when she was hurting as much as Jamie suggested. This had to get out of her system now, for both of their sakes. 

“No, I want to be here. This is the dream job. This is what I worked toward so I’m going to do it,” she explained, but he didn’t believe her. He didn’t believe her back in April, and he would never hold that over her head, but he’d lost her somewhere between then and now. Everyone had, it seemed, but the only thing he was sure about now was that Nat was convincing herself everything would get better as she clung to her work like a lifeboat. “I’m the one who wanted this promotion. It’s not that. I’m fine, Chris.” 

“Nattie, you’re lying to me. I know you’re lying,” he clarified, his voice firm as he ignored her attempts to interrupt. He looked at her dead-on, eyebrows raised as he firmly stated, “You’re lying to Jamie. You’re lying to Eric. You’re lying to me and I think you’re lying to yourself.” 

He just sat there staring at the screen as he watched panic settle on Nat’s face. Chris wasn’t even aware just how true those words were. Nat had been lying to herself for so long, ignoring everything other than putting her nose to the grindstone and ignoring her emotions. He watched as tears glossed over her eyes but he wanted to push her a little more, he wanted to get her to fully open up and he gently went on, “We’re just all worried about you. I love you Nattie and I want you to tell me the truth.” 

Chris saw her face on the screen seemingly frozen for a moment before he watched her last defenses crumble and the tears start flowing down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped and a hand went up to rest on her face as her body shook with her sobs. He hated to see her this way, but wanted her to be open and honest, even if his heart had to break as he watched her fall to pieces. 

“I don’t even know how. I don’t know what to do,” she admitted through gasping breaths, her chest shuddering as the emotions finally came to the surface. The tears poured out of her eyes furiously, and Chris finally – and sadly – saw Nat for the first time in what felt like months. Her guard, walls, and defenses were all down, and she was finally ready to be honest with someone. 

“Just talk to me, baby,” he pleaded, desperation replacing the fear and anxiety from earlier. His heart was shattered as he watched her fall apart, wanting nothing more to pull her into his arms and tell her they’d get her through this. But he couldn’t. She was alone, truly alone, in San Francisco while he was stuck in Atlanta, with a busy schedule for the rest of the week. 

“I hate it here, Chris. I hate it so much. I hate this job and I don’t feel like anyone likes me and I have no friends and I don’t know how to do half of what I’m doing and so then I have to go home and work even more just to get caught up and I miss you so much and feel like I’m never going to see you again,” she spoke, her voice moving so quickly that she occasionally stumbled over her words. 

He watched with a frown, feeling helpless as he asked, “Nattie, why didn’t you talk to me? Why didn’t you tell me this was going on?” 

“...I tried… but you’ve been so busy,” she whispered, a hand moving to wipe her face. “And I just didn’t know how.” 

“Nat, this is just a job. If you hate it, that’s okay,” he told her, a frown on his lips. He knew it wouldn’t happen overnight or in an instant, but he was trying to get her to take this role off a pedestal and put it back on the ground. At the end of the day, it was a job, just like the film role he had right now. Was it a great opportunity for anyone to get offered it? Of course. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to change her mind, to realize it wasn’t right for her, or to walk away from it. But she needed to get there herself first. 

“You don’t understand, Chris,” she began, shaking her head as she took a shuddering breath. He couldn’t have prepared himself for what was coming when she added, “This was my dream job. This has always been the sign that I'd made it. That everything my dad worked for truly paid off. That I wasn’t the screw up little sister… that I wasn’t just a joke. And now I have it, and I hate it and I can’t seem to make it work. I failed at my dream.” 

His eyes shut and his heart was done for it as she shared that insecurity, and he whispered, “Oh Nattie.” 

Chris wanted to reassure her, wanted to remind her that this was just a job. That this didn’t prove anything and sometimes losing a dream makes room for something new but he knew that none of that would help in this moment. Right now all he could see was the love of his life on the other end of this call completely heartbroken and crying her eyes out and he felt that there was nothing he could do about it. 

“I just can’t do this anymore, Chris. I can’t hardly get out of bed in the morning anymore,” her voice crackled as she dissolved into tears once more. He felt as if his heart was being squeezed when he watched her crumble on the other side of the screen and all he wanted to do was to be able to just take this all away. 

“Nattie, baby I want you to listen to me,” his own voice was laced with emotion but he tried to speak with assurance as he told her, “I have a couple more days on set before I have the weekend off but then I’m going to come out, okay? Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call your dad and see if he could fly down there tomorrow and be with you until I get there.” 

“He can’t, he has to work more because a bunch of people quit,” Nat muttered before seeming to slip back into her indifference that came with her depression and just shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll be okay.” 

Chris just shook his head, knowing that he wasn’t going to let her keep going this way and stated, “No, this is what got us into this position in the first place. I can’t sleep knowing you’re like this, baby. I’m going to figure something out.” 

“I don’t want you to have to do that just because I’m a mess. I just need to suck it up,” she muttered again while looking down at something he couldn’t see. 

“Natalie Marton, there is nothing in this world more precious to me than you. I don’t care if I have to drop out of this film to come be with you, I’ll do it,” he said without a second thought. This was his girl. His Nattie. The person he wanted to be his forever and he’d be damned if he let anything come between them or him being able to help her. “Just stop trying to be so strong for just a minute and let me help you.” 

Chris watched her sit there for a moment, tears still falling out of her eyes before she just nodded before he kept on, “It’s going to be okay, honey. I love you and it’s going to be okay.” 

He watched her weakly nod before he followed his instructions to get in bed and try to relax but he couldn’t do that himself. There was no way he’d be relaxing knowing that Nat was on the other side of the country, completely heartbroken and beat down. He couldn’t sit still after the call ended, and he definitely couldn’t have gone to bed after all that. Not when Nat was sitting alone, miserable, and had finally admitted what she’d been dancing around for months. 

Chris had seen a few texts pop up on his phone during the call from Eric, the messages verging on both worried and concerned, and felt that he at least owed her father some explanation after reaching out earlier. When Eric declined his call, he immediately texted Chris back, explaining that he was working and couldn’t talk but could text. While it was reassuring to Chris that he wasn’t the only one who’d been left in the dark about all of this, he felt bad for them when Eric said he couldn’t even go down to visit and help Nat out with everything this week due to a ferry driver shortage in Washington. There was no one to cover his hours and no way this emergency request off would be granted, and Chris’ brain began thinking through everything. 

Emily would understand. He’d known her and John for years, and was friends with them both. She’d been an amazing costar so far, and he’d hate walking away…. But this was for Nat. He didn’t have any immediate obligations with Netflix beyond this film, and even if he burned this bridge, it was one bridge. 

But the more he thought about it, the more he considered the strain he’d put not only his friends on the production under, but the hundreds of staff and crew on the film…. He just wasn’t sure. As he did in every situation he faced like this, he dialed his Ma’s number, hoping she’d be able to guide him in the right direction, or tell him he was being stupid and of course he should call his agent to tell him he had to leave. 

After he caught Lisa up to speed on everything, almost too fast for how chaotic the last few hours had felt, he sighed. “I’m just so fucking worried, Ma,” he told her, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve never seen her like this and when I talked to her it just… it sounded bad.” 

“My poor Nattie,” Lisa sympathized with the woman that she’d come to love so dearly over the course of her dating Chris. 

“I was going to fly out there Saturday morning once I’m done filming but I don’t know…” Chris truly couldn’t figure out the answer to all of this, knowing that either decision he made would hurt someone. But with Eric unable to go, Nat’s sisters having their own children and obligations, Mark and Jamie both working, and Nat having missed out on having a mom, he just didn’t see any other solution for how to help her get through this. He reached out to rub a hand across Dodger’s soft fur, needing that bit of comfort himself before telling his mother, “I’m thinking about dropping out of Pain Hustlers so I can just go out there now.” 

“Is it that bad, Chris?” 

“It’s pretty bad,” he honestly told her. Just thinking about what Nat looked like on that screen, every bit of joy and happiness that made Nat, Nat was completely gone. She was broken and Chris wanted to be there to help put her back together. “Ma, it just fuckin’ broke my heart to see her like that. And Eric can’t go because he’s working doubles because they’re already down people.” 

Without hesitation, Lisa presented her own solution, “Chris, let me go out there. I could fly out early in the morning,” 

“I wasn’t asking you to do that,” he wanted to clarify, not wanting her to feel obligated to fix all of this. 

“I know you weren’t, but I want to. I love Nattie and I’m worried about her too and I hate knowing that she’s out there all alone and dealing with all of this by herself,” she seemed to put his own feelings into words. 

A long sigh poured out of him as he ran a hand through his hair anxiously, “That’s why I’m thinking it might be better if I just drop out of this film because even when I fly out on Saturday, I’ll have to come back Tuesday morning.” He knew that he could help for the weekend, but didn’t see how this could be solved in just a few days. There was nothing more important to him than Nat and her well-being and didn’t want anything to stand in the way of him being there for her since he had missed out on doing that the past few months. 

“Honey, we both know what a big hit that will be if you drop out,” Lisa tried to bring in the reality of his obligations back up before reminding him, “I know you’re worried about Nat, but it’s going to be okay. Let’s just take this one step at a time. I’ll go out there tomorrow and then you can come on Saturday and we’ll figure all of this out, okay?” 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Ma.”  

And those words were even more true than he realized over the coming days. Knowing that Nat was being taken care of by his mother was the only way that he was able to stay working in Atlanta and having the realistic updates from Lisa allowed him to have the full picture of what really was going on. It brought him so much comfort knowing that Lisa was taking her to work, bringing her lunch and was with her in the lonely evenings but it still wasn’t the same as him being there himself. 

He wanted to be able to look in her eyes and hold her to know that she really was there and assure her that it would be okay, even though he didn’t feel it himself. Chris wanted to be with her so much that it hurt and the second that he was done on set that Friday night, he couldn’t wait until the following morning to fly to her and chartered a flight to take him to San Francisco then. 

Chris had texted his mom to tell her that he was coming but found out that even then, Nat had already gone to bed. He knew firsthand how much anxiety and depression could exhaust your body and he was glad she was getting rest. When finally he landed in San Francisco, he got a car to take him to the small apartment where he stepped inside and shared a long hug with his mother. There was so much to talk about between the two of them but in this moment, all that mattered was his Nattie. He needed to have his own eyes on her and quietly let go of his mother to walk down the tiny hallway and open the door to her room. 

There she was, fast asleep underneath a pile of blankets but even underneath the bulky fabric, she still looked so tiny. His heart just hurt seeing her this way but there also was a piece of him that felt more at peace than he had this entire week, knowing that he was finally able to be with her. He quietly took off his shoes and jacket, leaving them on a chair before gently climbing into bed next to her and resting a hand on her back. 

Even in the dim light, he could see her puffy eyes flutter open and without a word, they filled with tears as her arms latched around his neck like a vice. He held her tightly, breathing in her scent as his own tears started falling down his cheeks as they clung to one another in a way they never had before. Chris knew that there still was so much ahead of them, so much to be sorted out and fixed, so much fear and uncertainty, but none of that seemed to matter in this moment because he was here with her and that’s all he wanted. 

A/N: This was the final completed chapter we had from last year. While we have a halfish chapter written, we probably will not have the time to actually finish it. Let us know what you guys would prefer - a half chapter and brief synopsis of the end, a summary only (no chapter), or something else.

[talkswithdesi]

I know a Michael B Jordan, Chris Evans, Lewis Hamilton, Aaron Pierre, and Henry Cavill fan fic hate to see me coming!

[ellethespaceunicorn]

I'm so glad to find a black woman writing for Lloyd 😭thank you for your service ma'am!!

How would you think Lloyd would react to his lady matching his outfits? Like, maybe he doesn't know she's matching until they see each other later in the day, but when he does, he's all....ohh yeeeah

Once again, thank you for your work and your brain! 💕💜🌟

I am so glad to be able to get out these little stories and headcanons (and trust me, I love making headcanons, so send me prompts pls)

~thank you for the ask nonnie!!! headcanon under the cut~

warnings: daddy kink, domestic!lloyd sorta, a mini dive into lloyd's closet, written with black curvy woman in mind

there are many words you can use to describe lloyd hansen

sociopathic

methodical

drop-dead gorgeous

but of all the things you enjoy about your man, your favorite has to be his wardrobe

i mean, the man has enough outfits to open a boutique

and his closet is color coordinated, of course

and you have to give it to him, he can dress well, perfectly polished and everything fits him like a glove

that tight little ass of his is always on display in those tight pastel or khaki pants he wears

the first time you decide to wear something to match him is when he puts on that yellow, grey, and white striped polo that you hated on the hanger but that looks so good on him that you wanted to sink to your knees and greyish tan straight-leg chinos

and he looked so fucking good when he left the house this morning and you were salivating like the thirsty hussy you are

you get dressed in a yellow ribbed cotton button-down spaghetti strap dress and it fits over your curves like a second skin

you go about your business of running errands and by the time you come home, lloyd is on the couch again enjoying a lowball of D'USSÉ XO with his feet up on the table in those god awful mocassins that you wish he would get rid of for a sexier shoe but whatever

you drop your new bags of clothing and come over to straddle Daddy's lap, adjusting your dress so that the opening of buttons is right at your apex

he lets his hands roam over you until they settle at your hips

"don't you look pretty today, sunshine...love this color against your skin"

"thank you daddy"

the second time you are matching him gets his attention

he is wearing this slutty little mock turtleneck and some beige slacks and he looks delectable, the top is so tight across his pecs that you wanna put your face in between his tits and

he calls and wants you to meet him for lunch and you have the perfect outfit to match him

a black bodycon dress with an opening in the back that is only held together with a flimsy little string with a small string of pearls around your neck

walking up to the restaurant after being helped out of the car by your driver, you see daddy looking over the menu with his brows furrowed, searching for what he craves until his head pops up at the sound of your heels clacking

"hey daddy, how was work?" you say, kissing his lips before taking a seat across from him

"work was murder, as always, sunshine. but enough about work, look at you! lookin' good enough to eat, pretty girl"

"thank you daddy"

while you look over the menu, you can see lloyd in your peripheral vision looking past his menu at your relaxed posture

"they don't have what i want on the menu"

"what did you want daddy?" you close your menu, expecting him to suggest a different restaurant

"you"

the look in his eyes has you shook, hungry eyes with pupils blown stare back at you

i guess he likes the dress

the third time you dress like him, he gets the hint

especially when it is a little obvious when you watch him do his morning routine

showering, shaving, moisturizing, hair...and that his routine

he chooses a patterned navy and white polo and dark blue pants and you pull out a shiny blue dress that is about knee-length with frilly accents and off-the-shoulder sleeves

you dress while he does and he watches you with amusement as he puts on his watch

his eyes are on you while his hands are in his pockets, you are pulling on your heels and looking up at him

"what?"

"so how long have you been matching everything i wear, sunshine"

you just smile and finish up the buckle on your shoe

"i have no idea what you're talking about, daddy"

he just chuckles and kisses your neck and exits the bedroom

you follow him out and put your hand in his

he pulls your joined hands to his lips and lays a kiss on your ring finger where a large diamond sits sparkling in the light of the sun through the windows

you beam with pride, knowing you made the big mean scary lloyd hansen into a somewhat domestic daddy...

🫠🎀🥺

[babyjakes]

ever green, evermore | 4. difficult introductions.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

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summary | loving husbands jake and ari had always believed they were all each other could ever want or need. but one unusual summer, when their world is turned upside-down by an uncanny girl from down the street, they find that having someone to love, nurture, and care for together is the missing piece that finally completes their perfect family and lives.

characters | caretaker!jake jensen, daddy!ari levinson, wrenley beauchamp (original character)

warnings | mentions/depictions of domestic and sexual violence, mental health themes: anxiety/panic disorders, trauma and post-traumatic-stress, eating disorders (restrictive subtype), therapeutic methods and tools: exposure, age regression.

After such a difficult afternoon, Jake was a bit worried Wren might be scared away from visiting again. But luckily, their routine resumed uninterrupted; if anything, it almost seemed to the man as if the entire experience had actually brought him closer to the girl than he was before. It made sense, in a way, as she had shown more vulnerability than ever, and he had managed to maintain her trust through it all. He had done what he had hoped to do: gently encourage her to step outside her comfort zone while still respecting her emotional needs. In the days following, once he knew he and Wren were still on good terms, Jake found himself relieved that he had managed to take a few steps forward with his friend without completely pushing her too far.

For a while after that, the hardest part was simply the little one's apologies. They were plentiful and unyielding; it seemed she just couldn't adequately express her guilt and shame no matter how hard she tried. Jake was more than happy to listen to anything that might be on Wren's mind, and when the 'sorry's just seemed to keep coming and coming, he held no frustration or annoyance with her. He knew it was just her mind convincing her she had to make up for what she had "done." But it broke his heart to see her so anguished, especially when she often ended up in tears through her scrambled words. All he could do was accept her apologies and promise that she was forgiven, or even further, that there was nothing to forgive in the first place— of course no one was mad at her. Of course they understood. It just seemed as though it was going to take a good long while to convince Wren of that.

Weeks went by and Jake figured it would be best to just put off any further attempts at the meeting for the time being, even after the final apology had seemingly been given. He and Ari were in agreement that this would most likely be best, considering how upsetting the entire ordeal had been for the poor girl. But then, out of the blue, Wren surprised them both by asking for another go at it, herself.

It was early one morning as she and Jake tended the garden together, the courage to ask the question seeming to come from nowhere as her little voice piped up amidst the balmy heat of the summer air, "J-Jakey?"

Looking up from the blush-colored peonies before him, the man raised a gentle brow at her as he hummed, "Hmm? What's up, darlin'?"

Wren's hands paused over the greenery, her small fingers fiddling with her clump of weeds as she kept her gaze low. Bottom lip puffing out a bit, she couldn’t seem to make it past that point on her own. Sensing her hesitancy, Jake pulled back from his work, wanting to give her his full attention. "What's on your mind, sweet girl?" It was rare for her to ever speak first, even after all the time they'd spent together. She was just a quiet presence; she rarely initiated any conversation of her own.

"Just w-wanted to ask..." she mumbled, her voice barely loud enough for her friend to hear. Leaning in a bit to listen, Jake nodded encouragingly, though he knew it would probably take more coaxing than that to find out whatever was bothering the sheepish girl.

"Go ahead, sweetie. You know you can ask me anything," he murmured gently, giving her a small, sincere smile.

Managing a cautious gaze in his direction, Wren caught it, mustering up more courage through a few deep breaths. "Just wanted... I was wondering... I-I..." Eyes falling again, she finally let out the words that would come as such a pleasant surprise to Jake, "I-I was hoping maybe... maybe I could try again... m-meeting Mr. Ari, I mean."

The man’s eyes widened a bit at her words. Wren seemed a little unsure of how to handle his surprise, so he was fast to snap out of his shock. "Oh honey, I think he'd love if we could try again," he smiled, his excitement audible in his voice. "You really want to? We just haven't wanted to push, y'know... we know it was so difficult last time," he told her sympathetically. Wren nodded, her cheeks darkening a bit at the reminder. "And that's okay, bub-" he added quickly, "-we know this is all so hard; I'm so proud of you, chicky. C'mere," he breathed, abandoning his spot across the flower boxes to collect her into a warm embrace.

"I-I'd like to try again, please," she spoke softly into his shoulder. "I promise I'll do better, I-I... I won't back out this time." Pulling back slightly to look at her, Jake was a bit concerned by the sense of urgency in her voice; it was almost as if she were afraid she might be denied another chance, which certainly would never be the case.

"Hey cutie, hey..." the kind man cooed, brushing her hair back from her face, "of course you can try again, Wren. And even if you do have to stop, that's okay. You can have as much time as you need, as many tries as you need, okay? We're just so proud of you for trying, sweet thing. You're bein' so brave, so, so brave." Tucking her hair behind her ear, he cupped her cheek, gazing at her softly. "So, what were you thinkin'? We can do this all on your timing, at whatever pace feels best."

"Well..." blinking bashfully, Wren admitted, "I-I was thinkin' about how... you told me, Mr. Ari really loves lemon desserts, 'member?"

"That's right, he does," Jake confirmed with a grin. "Good memory, bubba."

Tapping the toes of her shoes together, the girl continued, "Was thinking... maybe I could make somethin' special for him. And then... y'know..."

"Sure," he nodded understandingly, filling in the rest of the timid thing's words. "Bring 'em on over and we can give this all another go? I think that's a wonderful idea, sweetheart. He's gonna be so excited; I can't wait to tell him." Thinking for a moment, he suggested, "Maybe you could bring them sometime later this week? I know he'll be finishing up a thesis today or tomorrow. That should leave him with plenty of free time to snack with us."

Wren nodded, and though her nervousness was plain as day on her delicate face, Jake was encouraged to see a teeny glimmer of hope shining in the sweet girl's eyes as she stood there before him, her little cheek cradled delicately into his tender hand. "I-I'll make something super yummy, I really hope he'll like it."

"I'm sure he will, chicky,” Jake was able to promise her without a doubt in his mind. “Ari's loved everything you've ever brought us."

As he entered back into the house later that morning, he could hardly wait to tell Ari the news. Almost tripping over himself as he kicked off his work boots, he made his way swiftly to the pair of glass doors at the entrance to the couple's shared office, giving a light knock. His husband could be seen in his usual spot, amidst scattered paperwork and his computer which occupied most of his L-shaped desk. Looking up at the sound of a visitor, the older man gave Jake a smile, motioning for him to enter.

"Hey honey, you two all finished for the day?" Ari mused, hitting save on his document as he pushed back a bit in his chair. Jake found his way to his own seat at his smaller workspace, relaxing back into the faux-leather cushion as he nodded. "Hot out there today, huh?" the doctor noted, "I've been feeling the heat of the sun through the windows. Glad you two weren't at it for too long."

"You'll never guess what she said," Jake smiled, his excitement seeping through his attempts to mask it as his husband returned his grin, happy to see his partner so happy. "I was so surprised, Ari; I could've cried."

"What'd she say, babe?" Ari asked, now intrigued. It was normal for the blonde to report back on his time spent with his friend; many times he had the sweetest stories to tell of little moments they'd shared, but this sort of excitement was something new.

"She asked if she could try meeting you again," Jake beamed, "she brought it up, all on her own. I thought for sure after what happened last time, she'd never want to give it another go. But it seems like she does really want to meet you, even though it's so difficult for her," he told him proudly. "She was so sweet when she asked, Ari. I wish you could've seen her."

"Oh my," Ari's voice swelled, "I certainly wasn't expecting that."

"Tell me about it," Jake sighed, shaking his head. "I'm so proud'a her. She's really come so far, even in just the time I've known her. Hopefully we can keep working towards the two of you finally getting to meet, face to face. She's gonna bring some treats later this week, after you're done with your paper. She wants to make them special, just for you."

"What a sweet girl," Ari hummed fondly, the thought of little Wrenley making him something special, despite all of her fear towards him, just melting his heart. "Well, that'll be all the more reason to keep working at it," he chuckled as he motioned to his mountain of papers, "I wish we could have her sooner."

"I was thinkin' we should approach things a little differently this time," Jake mentioned, mindlessly picking at a few specks of dirt on his pants as he spoke, "everything seemed to fall apart when you came out for those few moments. Maybe it would be best to get her inside first, just let her look around and see that it's safe."

"That might help," Ari agreed, thinking for a moment before adding, "I guess since she's never been in the house, she might not know what to expect. You guys can come in at her pace, get your shoes off and get settled, that sort of thing. Good thinking."

"We'll just take it one step at a time," Jake nodded. "I told her it'll be okay if she has to stop again; I don't want her to feel too much pressure. I know she's so embarrassed about how things went last time."

"Poor girl," Ari frowned, hating the thought of her having to feel such a way about something she couldn't even control to begin with. "One step at a time," he repeated Jake's words, "sounds like a plan to me, bub."

A few days later on Thursday afternoon, Jake finally got to send the anticipated text. 'Hey chicky, Ari finished up his thesis this morning. You free tomorrow?' Tagging the end of his text with a yellow heart, he hit send. A few minutes later, it was confirmed; Wren would bake that evening and make her way over in the morning. Ari and Jake were elated, spending most of the rest of the night trying to tidy up the house. While they certainly knew it might be another difficult day ahead, they couldn't wait to hopefully make more progress with the girl.

Around nine the next morning, Wren texted Jake to let him know she was heading over on her bike. He and Ari decided the older man would stay in the office while the pair of friends took their time in entering the home. "Good luck out there," Ari planted a kiss in Jake's hair before heading to the office to wait things out.

"Love you, big guy," Jake called after him as he took to pulling on his boots, standing in the entryway.

"Love you more, handsome!" Ari sang back before closing the office door behind him, leaving Jake alone for a few moments to collect his thoughts. He had a weird feeling about the day ahead, a good one. He tried to hold onto the fact that the whole thing had been the girl's own idea to begin with; that alone gave him hope that she might be able to make some big strides forward.

Taking his time, he headed out through the front door, deciding to leave it open while closing the glass storm door in its place. He thought maybe being able to see into the house would be comforting for Wren; he wanted to do everything he possibly could, down to the tiniest details, to help his friend feel safe. Walking down the gravel path away from the house, he was warmed gently by the morning sun as it stood beneath a thin veil of clouds in the sky. It wasn't too warm of a day, nice enough to open up the windows, the man thought to himself as he found his way to the front of the garden, stopping to wait as he gazed down the long road towards the hill. He could see a small figure traveling his way in the distance; as the minutes passed, it grew larger and larger, turning into a familiar body perched atop an ivory bike.

When Wren saw Jake waiting for her, she rang her bell in greeting like always, earning a smile from the blonde-haired man as he waved at the approaching girl. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted warmly as she made it to the edge of the drive, parking her bike in its place by the mailbox. "Nice out today, isn't it? Guess the sun's finally letting up a bit; this week sure's been brutal."

Gathering her basket, Wren nodded in agreement at Jake's observation as she made her way over to her friend, mumbling a meek hello. Her posture was already stiff; it wasn't hard for him to notice. When he pulled her in for a hug, he could feel her small frame trembling weakly against him. "Hey sweet girl," he softened his voice, holding her in his embrace for a few moments as he rubbed her back gently. "You're okay, there's no rush. I got you," he hummed, relieved to feel her relaxing a bit at his words.

When they pulled away from each other, Jake offered the girl a smile as he looked her over. "I like your dress, cutie. S'it new?" he tried to loosen her up with some small talk.

Looking down at her checkered beige apron gown, which she wore over a plain white shirt, Wren shook her head. "No, b-but I haven't worn it much this summer." Jake nodded, noticing it looked a bit heavier and warmer than most of her usual sundresses.

"Well it sure is adorable," he complimented. It was almost a bit of a routine they had. The man was always so impressed by her clothes; he commented regularly on whatever the girl happened to be wearing that day. Clearly she was quite the seamstress, certainly the most talented Jake had ever seen.

Wren gave a hum of bashful thanks as she crossed a foot nervously behind the other, prompting the boy beside her to take her hand carefully in hopes of comforting her. "How're you feeling, honey?" he asked, his voice low and sensitive as the little one's eyes fell to the gravel beneath her shoes.

Blinking her wide bambi eyes, Wren's voice struggled to come out steadily in her reply. "N-nervous," she admitted, carefully adding, "the cupcakes turned out nicely."

"Cupcakes, huh?" Jake smiled, taking the girl's basket from her to ease her load. He debated pulling her over to the bench, not sure if she wanted some time to get herself ready, or if she needed to just get things over with before her anxiety spiraled out of control.

"Mhm," Wren nodded, "lemon c-cake and... buttercream frosting."

"Those sound delicious, sweetheart," Jake reassured her, giving her hand that he still held a light squeeze. "What do you think, chicky? You ready to head in? Ari's gonna wait for us inside this time," he explained, not wanting anything to come as a surprise. "We can go in just the two of us, get our shoes off, that sort of thing. You can have a look around inside- we tried to tidy the place up as best we could," he chuckled lightly, hoping his carefree demeanor might help ease poor thing's relentless worries.

Wide-eyed gaze traveling up the now familiar path to the house, Wren forced down a swallow, nodding. "S-sure, that's alright," she hummed in feeble agreeance. Trying to take her response as a good sign, Jake smiled hopefully as he began to lead the girl in the right direction.

Their walk across the worn gravel footpath was slow, but at least it was something. Jake could sense the internal battle occurring in his friend's mind as she kept her gaze trapped warily on the front porch as they approached, barely willing to blink as if she expected something might jump out at any moment to ambush her. Holding steadily onto her hand, he murmured all the soft words of encouragement he could think of as they made their way, step by step. "Doin' just fine, honey. There's no rush; take your time..." "You're bein' so brave- I'm so proud of you, cutie..." "Look at that, we're almost to the porch! You're doin' so good, sweet thing. Just a little bit further..."

When the pair finally made it to the door, Jake was surprised a bit when Wrenley paused and looked up at him. Eyes wide with the most darling sense of disbelief, her voice swelled a bit as she cooed, "Look Jakey, m-made it!"

Raising his brow in helpless adoration, the blonde-haired man could feel his heart melting in his chest at the sweet girl's excited words. "That's right sweetie, look at how brave you were," he crooned softly, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "How're you feelin', buggy? Think you're okay to go inside?"

Appearing to muster up her courage with a deep breath in through her nose, Wren nodded. Raising up ever-so-slightly on the balls of her feet, she peered in through the storm door before her, her expression settling a bit as she took in what she could see of the home's interior. From that point, some of the living room was visible beyond the entryway; it all seemed ordinary-looking enough. "Think I-I can do it," she mumbled softly, her voice small yet laced with a bit of hopefulness.

At that point, it was going better than Jake could have hoped for. Grinning at his friend's response, he nodded, encouraging her, "Go ahead and open up the door then, honey." 

The girl’s hand shook as she raised it to take the door’s handle, twisting as gently as she could to release its latch. Her attentive eyes widened slightly as she breathed in the mild air of the home, seeming to find some small sense of comfort in its scent. Jake simply watched as she gazed forward; after a few moments, he realized she might need a bit more encouragement to keep moving. “C’mon sunshine, watch the step up,” he told her gently as he entered first, still guiding her by the hand. 

Wren seemed to be almost on her tiptoes as she followed her friend in, peering around curiously as he closed the door behind both of them. Jake’s heart broke a little in his chest as he watched her careful movements, recognizing her attempts to make as little noise and fuss as possible. She was the same way in the garden; it was particularly noticeable when the two were first getting to know each other. Over time she was able to loosen up somewhat, but that cautious, tentative nature never seemed to leave her entirely. It seemed like she was worried about taking up too much space, too much time, too much of anything. Seeing this pattern of behavior continue, Jake couldn't help but wonder what or who might have made her feel so guilty for simply existing.

Wren’s eyes scanned the home from left to right as they stood there in the entryway. From the hallway’s entrance, to the living room, over to the kitchen, past the office doors, and finally to Jake, she was able to at least conclude that the stranger she was so nervous to meet was nowhere in sight. Once she had had a chance to survey her surroundings, she seemed to relax ever so slightly. Jake smiled gently at her as her gaze came back over to meet his. “See? You’re safe. Nothing scary,” he hummed.

“Nothing scary,” she repeated. “Y-your house is so pretty, Jakey. So warm- and comfy.”

Jake’s face softened at her words. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m so glad you think so. Oh- and look who decided to come say hi,” he cooed as a little black figure appeared in the entryway to the hall, letting out a faint meow at the sight of the new guest. 

Wren’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cat, letting out a small gasp as she greeted him politely, “Oh, h-hello Mr. Socks. It’s very nice to meet you.” 

To the pair’s surprise, at the shy girl’s words, the cat came right up to Wren without a second thought. Rubbing his face gently against her legs, he wove himself around her a few times, a warm pur sounding from his chest as he did so. Jake raised his brow at the cat’s unusual behavior. “Oh my, looks like he found his new best friend. He must really like you, honey. He usually won’t go anywhere near strangers.”

Leaning down a bit, Wren offered the creature her hand. He sniffed it for a few moments before giving a signal of approval by pressing his face right up against her fingertips, earning a soft giggle from the girl. As she gave him a few scratches behind his ears, which he leaned into with great pleasure, Jake only grew more amazed at her ability to win the little animal over with such ease. He wasn’t a very social cat, and never before had he been willing to even come close to an unknown visitor. It almost seemed like he felt just as Jake did about Wren; there was something that drew him to her. 

After familiarizing himself with the friendly girl for another few moments, Socks turned and padded off back into the house, disappearing over into the kitchen. Setting down the wicker basket, Jake finally felt safe to let go of Wren's hand, brushing his hair back from his face as he asked, “Well, what d’you say we get our shoes off and head into the kitchen?” Earning a nod to his suggestion, he bent down, taking to unlacing his boots. Wren followed suit, lowering herself to undo the buckles on her Mary Janes. Slipping them off each foot one by one, she carefully set them next to the small bench against the wall before standing back upright. 

In those few moments, a figure had appeared through the glass of one of the study doors. As it opened with a creak, Jake was caught off guard by a frightened yelp coming from his friend as she jumped back in surprise. “Oh, hey-” but his words came too late. As his husband watched from several feet away with a worried look, Wren stood frozen for only a moment before beginning to crumple down into herself, pressed up against the corner between the wall and the bench beside the door. Before either of the men could do anything to stop it, it seemed the situation was dissolving right before their eyes.

“Oh sweetie- okay,” Jake tried, “okay, it’s alright. Here, let’s-” Stepping towards the girl, his heart ached as she ducked behind him, attempting to hide away from the other man who stood over by the office. Wren reached out with shaking hands, which the blonde quickly took into his own. “Hey sweet girl, you’re okay- oh honey,” he frowned as he watched the poor thing collapsing into a state of pure panic. 

“Oh hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Ari attempted to apologize, only causing the little one to flinch back harder at the sound of his voice. Cheeks flooding with tears, Wren seemed entirely too terrified to form words. All she could do was cower behind Jake and cry. 

The two men were struggling to handle the situation; it seemed it was yet another instance of poor timing on Ari’s part. Smoothing his hair back in worry, Jake did his best to hold onto his friend, trying to think of a way to bring her back down to a manageable state. During his pause of thought, it didn’t take long for Wren to begin scrambling to find an exit. Eyes darting towards the door, she lunged before Jake could say anything, but he was able to catch her as he stood between her and the handle. She collapsed pathetically against him, the two of them sinking down to their knees as she sobbed into his white t-shirt.

“Wren, sweetheart- hey,” Jake hummed, bringing a hand up to smooth over her hair as his other arm held her up against him. “You gotta breathe for me, bubba. Just breathe, you’re okay,” he tried to best to convince her. As hard as it was to hold her there as she struggled against his embrace, he knew it wouldn’t help any to let her run. It broke his heart to see her so distraught, but he still hoped somehow that there might be some room for trust to be built amidst the profound fear. 

“P-please,” she sniffled, “please… n-n-no…” It was the weakest Jake had ever heard her, her broken words barely distinguishable through her sobs. Taking a brief look back over at Ari, Jake tried his best to not appear helpless as he held the poor girl upright. Sympathy and understanding shone across the doctor's face as he watched the pair, his eyes connecting with his husband’s as they shared a glance of mutual pity. As slowly as he could, Ari took a few steps towards the two, wanting to give Wren all the time she needed in the safety of her trusted friend’s arms before approaching and invading their space. 

“You’re okay, honey. I’m here, Jakey’s here with you,” the younger man crooned, rubbing tender circles across the girl’s back as she cried. “You’re safe, darlin’. I got you, just try and breathe for me, chicky. Big breaths, you’re alright.”

Inching up just a few more feet, Ari paused as he reached the step up from the sunken living room’s carpeted floor to the hardwood of the entryway. Glancing over with the gentlest of expressions, he lowered himself to the ground as well, hoping it might help him appear less intimidating. When she peeked around Jake’s larger form, Wren’s sobs only worsened at the sight of the older man now closer than he was before. As she met his gaze for the first time, Ari was somewhat startled to see how deep the fear ran through her darkened eyes. She wore a look of distrust he had never seen on anyone before, not even the most severely traumatized patients he had encountered back during his practicing years, and that set off loud alarms as to what kind of situation he and Jake could really have on their hands. Hoping to help his partner start easing the poor thing back down, the brunette began to murmur softly, “Hey, shhhh…” The girl’s head ducked at the sound of his voice, her little face tucking back into her friend’s shirt as he continued to rub her back soothingly.

“Wrenley… c’mon, sweet thing,” Jake tried gently, pulling back just far enough to search for her avoidant gaze.

Unwilling to look him in the eyes, Wren shrunk even further at the shoulders, appearing as though she was doing her best to simply melt into the floor and disappear completely. “P-please Jakey,” was all she could choke out once more. 

“‘Please’ what, honey? How can I help, sweetheart?” Jake crooned in response.

“P-please…” Her voice trailed off as she seemed to be searching for the right words, acceptable ones as she tugged on the blonde’s hands pleadingly. “S-so scary, please Jakey…”

“Why’s it scary, bubba? Can you help me understand?” he murmured as he brought a hand up to brush back the little one's hair from her face, earning a weak whimper and wince as she trembled beneath his touch. “Wanna help you, darlin’. Wanna make it feel not so scary, can you tell me more? Let me help you, sweet girl. Just wanna help."

Bottom lip wobbling as the man did his best to coax more information out of her, Wren snuck another glance over at Ari before finally bringing her teary gaze up to meet the blonde’s. Jake could hardly handle seeing the distress overflowing from the girl’s baby blues; it took everything in him not to wrap her up safe in his arms and give in to her every broken plea. “S-so scary,” she repeated, earning an understanding nod from Jake as he encouraged her with his eyes to say more, “s-scary… gonna… please, he’s… s’gonna hurt so b-bad, Jakey.”

Both of the men's hearts dropped to the pits of their stomachs at the poor thing's admission of her true fears. With the wind nearly knocked out of him, Jake found himself having to fight off his own tears as his friend's words processed in his mind. Furrowing his brow, he smoothed the girl's hair back once more as he dared to stare her straight in the face. His voice came out weakly, "Wrenley, honey..." It was almost unbearable to look at her, those big, scared eyes filled with such a haunting sense of desperation and need. In that moment, Jake could run from it no further; he had no choice but to accept that someone had hurt his sweet little bird enough to make her this way.

From his safe several feet back, Ari was just as devastated at the progression of Wren's episode as his husband. Though of course he had the instinctual urge to give the poor girl all the comfort he could fathom, he knew that he needed to wait and let her seek it from where she was already comfortable. It was more than difficult; he was a softhearted, nurturing man in nature. But he knew his premature intervention would likely only make things worse, and so as much as it pained him, he simply rested his weight back as he knelt there, sharing a sorrowful yet confirming glance with Jake when he looked over.

"Sweet girl..." the younger man cooed, his voice low as he tried to find somewhere to begin his reasoning. "What d'you mean, 'hurt?' No one's gonna hurt you, cutie. You're safe- I promise you're safe here, sweetie."

Eyes falling back to the floor, Wren withered as she searched for words to explain herself, seeming wary of both the men's expressions of shock and alarm. "Just..." Wearing a heartbreaking look of something close to shame, she continued, "b-big. Strong, if he... gonna... j-just..."

Feeling guilty as his friend struggled to communicate her worries, Jake nodded gently. He could somewhat understand what she meant; Ari was, after all, about as close to a real-life giant as a man could get. With whatever sort of fight-or-flight she was being thrown into at the mere presence of an unknown person, the same kind of trauma response she had collapsed into when first meeting Jake, it made sense that the older man was presenting a much greater challenge than he had, himself. "I know, honey. I know it's so hard," the blonde murmured, "but I promise you, Ari would never do anything to hurt you. If he tried, I wouldn't let him- but he just wouldn't, chicky. He really, really wouldn't. No one's gonna hurt you here, Wrenley. In this house, with me and Ari, you're safe. You're always gonna be safe, sweetheart." With one of his hands wrapped around her smaller one, he gently linked their pinkies, giving a light squeeze to seal his promise.

Thinking it might be an okay time to try and start providing some reassuring words of his own, Ari nodded sincerely at his husband's words. "Wrenley? Honey, can you listen to me?" he hummed softly, trying not to deflate as the girl's tears once again worsened at his interruption. She tucked herself away into Jake's arms at the stranger's words, prompting the younger man to begin rubbing her back once more as she shook and wept helplessly. "Jake's right, sweetheart. I'm not gonna hurt you; I would never. You're such a special girl- you're Jake's best friend. Did you know that?"

Remaining hidden in the safety of her friend's arms, Wren managed a sniffle, unable to give a response to the man's attempts. Hoping her maintained state might be a better sign than coming undone any further, Ari decided to continue. "You've been such a big help in the garden, and we're always so delighted by the treats you bring us. You're the best baker I've ever met; I'm sure Jake feels the same way."

"Sure do," the blonde added encouragingly as he rocked the small girl in his arms. "Maybe sometime we can have you over to bake; we've got a big kitchen with plenty of space, and Ari got me some new kitchenware for Christmas. You can show us whatever magic it is that makes your goodies so yummy."

"That would be so fun," Ari nodded in agreement, trying to smile through his sadness in hopes of lifting the poor thing's sunken spirits. "You know all those little cards you made? The ones you put on your baggies with the pretty ribbons- the ones that said 'Mr. Ari?'" That seemed to catch Wren's attention as she lifted her head up just the tiniest bit, though she still stayed wrapped up in the safety of Jake's embrace. It was a small, subtle movement, but it was enough; seeing her respond in even just the slightest way to his efforts filled Ari with hopefulness that he might finally be getting somewhere. "I keep them all in a little stack on my desk," the man revealed gently, adding, "Every time I see them, I think about you and how special you are to Jakey, and to me. I could never hurt you, angel. You're too important to us; we care so much about you."

"So much, buggy. Ari's right; you're our special girl," Jake cooed. Praying he wasn't just imagining it, he could almost feel the little one starting to relax the slightest bit in his arms. He hoped more than anything that their soothing words were getting through to her; both of them did.

Softening his expression as much as he could, Ari was similarly picking up on small signs of progress. With faint optimism present in his voice, he asked, "Sweetheart? Do you think you could try and look at me?" It broke his heart to receive a doubtful whimper from the small girl, though he just hummed mildly, "I know, honey. I know it's hard, but you're bein' so brave- you know that? Jakey and I are so proud of you," he commended. "You made it all the way in; I know that must've been so difficult, and now you're stayin' here with us; you're doin' so well, angel. So, so well."

As the doctor crooned his praises, it was visible to both him and his partner that his efforts were slowly but surely working. Now more than anything, Wren was simply slumped against Jake, no longer trying to run. Bringing his hand up to stroke softly over her light golden hair, Jake continued his rocking motions, the feeling of her small body wrapped in his filling his heart with such a sense of pride and love.

"There you go, sweet girl," Ari murmured, the sight before him now seeming a million times more manageable than it was even just a few minutes ago. "You're okay, Wrenley. You're safe, see?" Softening his voice even further, he dared to ask again, "Do you think you could looking over here, honey? You did it before, remember? Just wanna show you nothing bad will happen, darlin'. Wanna show you it's safe, d'you think we could just give it a try?"

Keeping his movements as subtle as he could, Jake shifted their positioning to make it easier for the girl to look over at the man if she chose. There was a period of silent pause, both of them eagerly holding their breath as they waited to see what the little one might do. And to both of their amazement, after gathering up all the courage she could into her tiny trembling frame, Wrenley finally lifted her head up ever so slightly to gaze bashfully over at Ari through a fresh veil of tears.

As her deep blue eyes met his own, the man thought he had never felt so touched by another human being in his life. It wasn't the kind of affection he had for Jake; it was something completely different and new. It was the way a person might look at a newborn fawn when seeing one for the first time. There was such a profound feeling of tenderness, along with a heaviness to the situation that couldn't be ignored. As he knelt there, face-to-face with the girl at last, there was an unmistakable sense that he was cradling her entire fragile world in his hands. Her vulnerability shone through her eyes; she had let him in the door. There was no turning back. And in that moment, all Ari wanted to do was prove to her that he would do just as Jake had done, that he would protect her heart and treat it with the care it deserved.

Relief and compassion washed over his face as he gave her his softest smile, humming, "Hi there, pretty girl. See? Completely safe." Resting his hands on his knees, his heart all but melted as she gave him the teeniest of nods as Jake rubbed her back again proudly, mumbling sweet words of praise in her ear.

Catching notice of the little yellow head poking out of the girl's dress pocket, Ari's smile widened as he asked, "Is that your ducky, sweetheart? Jakey's told me all about him- I've heard he's quite the little gardener, just like you. Does he help you bake, too?" He didn't mind in the slightest if to any outsider it might seem silly; he was more than happy to treat the stuffed animal like a living being if it might help his new friend feel more at ease.

Surprising the couple once more with her bravery, Wren offered a mild nod. "I didn't know he likes to bake," Jake played along, glancing lovingly down at the little figure. "You'll have to come to our baking day, Ducky! It'll be a party in the kitchen!"

"It's very nice to meet you, Ducky," Ari hummed adoringly, giving plushie a gentle wave. In a moment the men both found all too precious, Wren's little fingers came up to find one of the duck's wings, having him give a wave back to the doctor.

Jake finally felt safe enough to relax in his embrace of the girl, turning to shoot Ari a triumphant smile. The older man smiled back softly; there was an incredible sense of calm that washed over the three friends as they sat there in the entryway of the home, seemingly past the worst of the group effort. Resting the side of her little head against Jake's chest, Wren continued to look over at his husband, the storminess in her eyes receding at last.

"You wanna tell Ari what you brought?" the boy asked his friend gently, earning an intrigued look from the brown-haired man as he nodded encouragingly. "She made 'em special, just for you," the blonde gushed as he motioned towards the basket with his head. "She knows you love lemon."

"I do; that's my favorite," Ari murmured with a smile.

Blinking sheepishly, Wren's voice was as soft as ever as she told him, "M-made cupcakes, sir. Lemon cake a-and... and buttercream frosting; it's my Nana's special recipe." Ari hummed approvingly, finding her mildly old-fashioned manners to be rather endearing; she was just too sweet, exactly as Jake had described her.

"That sounds so special, darlin'. We've got plates and drinks in the kitchen- what d'you say we go give them a try? I can't wait to finally give my compliments directly to the baker." After pausing to look up at Jake, who gave her a reassuring nod, Wren nodded at the suggestion. "Perfect. Here, I'll show you the way."

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[eccentricallygothic]

This Moment

What Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers does after he has tamed you (for the time being) and you're no more than his sensitive little baby wife <3 

Continuation of my oneshot, Wrong Turn, because of this ask. 

Warning(s): Post rough fuck, you're knocked out full of cum, all the Wrong Turn warnings apply honestly, fluff. MDNI.

Steve doesn't have to bite back his smile anymore now that he's in the privacy of your chambers with no one to line the horizons of his senses but you and only you. 

The lamps burn dimly, as if aware of the situation, gentle breezes caress your flush, bruised and sticky skin as you sleep with your belly bloated from his cum, your small form curls under your husband's huge one that is draping over yours in how he leans above you with his elbow next to your head to hold himself up, your mouth is parted as you exhaustedly snore and Steve cannot help but snort as he runs the wet rag along the many ‘love marks’ he has given you tonight. 

His usually pushed back and kempt silver-blonde hair is in what he would consider to be a state of disarray though you have suggested him in one of your more… amiable moods to wear his locks like that. It falls over his forehead and above his dark blue eyes, golden whiskers appear to be poking out from behind his ears due to the state of his hair and his toned, beast-like body is nude against yours. 

Steve doesn't care for these things because they're natural and he would be caught dead before he ever let himself be seen like this or admit his capacity for all this to you, but in this quiet moment of his pure masculine triumph and existential bliss where his dear young wife sleeps utterly ravished and brimming full of his children, he will clean the sweat, spit and cum off your skin with a rag and gentle water. 

Of course, being a man who is expected to rule with an iron fist, and as husband to a brat like you, he has to keep things in a balance and not let his irrational urges overpower his better sense, Steve will tell you that it was the attendants who took care of you while you were asleep if you ask. But right now, in here, on this night that is pleasant only because you grace his bed, he will do this for you because he knows that you do not like to roll around in your own filth, as you mumble sometimes and think he doesn't hear. He knows it is difficult for you to sleep with that feeling lingering over you regardless of how exhausted you may be. 

And so he will do this, so when he envelopes you in his arms, you don't toss or turn in discomfort but melt into his embrace in that way he is addicted to. 

You let out a sleepy whimper and mumble gibberish when his fingers graze a particularly sensitive mark on one of your boobs and he cannot help but chuckle, momentarily abandoning the rag there to push your hair away that your mild unrest causes to fall over your face. His dark blue eyes are uncharacteristically bright in the dim lighting as they dance over your form, his hairy cheeks bend and his rosey mouth forms a smile. 

Steve cooes at you like you're no bigger or older than the babies in your belly, his coarse and scarred fingers trace the side of your face as they savour the outlines of the specifics of your features, his usually cold and calm heart leaps up into an unfamiliar flutter and that's it, he cannot bear it anymore. He needs you against him; molded into him. The man does not wait to find out what he will do if he cannot feel your heavy breaths fanning his skin, if he cannot feel your heart thump into his chest and if cannot feel the warmth of your tender skin draping around his hard one. He cannot. It is in these moments with you when all his wisdom and patience wears away and all he can think of, like a boy in his adolescence, is you.

You, you, only you.

So he snakes an arm around your shoulders with a desperate urgency and pulls you into him, gently picking up the rag again as he carefully places you on his chest that is a bed of itself, one hand tenderly caressing your back whilst the other hastes to capture any spots he may have missed. 

Of course, it will not be perfect and he will not be able to get them all simply because those are not things that are in the business of a man like Steve to know. 

But he will have tried. 

And as you softly smile to yourself and nuzzle closer into his beastly chest, you reckon that's all that matters. 

Especially coming from someone like your husband.

In this moment, at least.

MASTERLIST