HERA Icons

Will this girl ever have peace? Not that she is at peace, trapped in captivity and invalid, but it is impressive how things can get worse for her. I don't know if it's Bucky or Brock, but the Captain has to come back in time to cause a bloody tragedy with this guy, don't mess with his doll, the doll that is injured.

Mission Control 18

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You pant as your body shakes uncontrollably. The pain is unbearable. The monster keeps your foot raised as he wraps a new bandage around it. The throbbing eases slightly though the sting remains. Your screams still echo in your skull. You passed out at least once as he cleaned the wound. 

He pins the dressing and lowers your leg tenderly onto the pillow. He stands and pulls the blanket up to your waist. You catch your breath as you wipe the beads of sweat from your forehead. 

The last day has been torture. You don’t know how much more you can handle. He stares down at you with chagrin woven into his expression. He bows his head and turns sharply. You can do nothing but languish as he stomps around. 

He opens the armoire. You shudder. He takes out black boots and a jacket. He closes it without retrieving the shield or his body armour. 

He comes back to the bed and sits to tie his boots. You push yourself up on your elbows. 

“You’re going somewhere?” You ask. 

He glances at you, then the night stand. He leans over and swipes up the pill bottle. He rattles it. 

“You’re getting more?” You guess. 

He frowns then shakes his head. He looks at the label then once more at you. He points to the bruise around his eye. The one he inflicted himself. 

“Pain killers?” You can’t help the eagerness in your voice. He nods. “Oh, but...” you glance around. He extends two fingers and moves them back and forth quickly. You have to guess again, “you’ll be fast?” 

He confirms again with a tilt of his chin. You lower yourself back to the pillow. He focuses on tying the laces, the leather straining as he does, then rises again. 

He pulls on the coat and leaves the room. You listen for the front door but instead, his footfalls approach once more. He brings in a glass of water and bag of trail mix. He puts them beside the bed and steps back. 

“Thank you,” you utter. 

He twists on his heel and marches out. Despite not wanting to grow used to his place, his staunch lack of response is more and more familiar. At least when he is placid, he is manageable. You only worry about that other side of him. The one even he seems afraid of. 

The front door opens and closes. The wintry air flows through and you slip further beneath the blankets. You shift onto your side and settle in. You can’t sleep any more but you find yourself drifting into a state somewhere between waking and not. A sort of trance that has you etching each knot in the wood walls with your eyes, trying to memorise them all, trying to see faces or fantastical scenes in the dark markings. 

The winds bellow without, beating the walls, whistling and wailing. You fold an arm over your head as the constant nose starts to itch in your ears. You turn onto your back and sit up to have some water. The antibiotics make your stomach heavy. You make yourself eat a handful of nuts. 

The edges of the covered windows soften with the rising darkness. You while away the time by counting the stitches in the trim of the patchy quilt. Fatigue slowly creeps into your eyes. 

Your head begins to droop as you lean back against the bed frame. You’re too lazy to slide down, instead slumping uncomfortably. Your mind sinks into itself as the billowy undertone fades. 

Click. The subtle but decisive noise of the front door rouses you. You blink and rub the sleep from your eyes. You look at the bedroom door expectantly, waiting. 

You can hear footsteps but they don’t come to you. What is he doing? You listen as they pace around; through the front room, slow, measured. Something is different about them. 

You sit up as much as you can and stare at the door. You see the shadow before the stranger. You know by the silhouette it isn’t him. Your eyes flick up to meet the dark pair that come to peer into the bedroom. 

The man’s lips slant as he looks you over. He scoffs as he steps into the room. He nonchalantly walks the parameter as you sit in silent horror. You can tell by his demeanour that he isn’t a friend. Yet how did he find this place? How did he get inside? With all those traps, he wouldn’t just stumble upon you. 

His dark hair is pushed back from his face, a shadowy stubble around his jaw, and his shoulders are broad and set straight. His boots scrape the floor as he goes to the corner and looks down at the shelf. He touches one of the pictures and laughs. 

“Hello?” You croak at last, “who are you?” 

The man turns and chuckles again. He crosses his arms and approaches the bed. You don’t know if you should hope he can save you. The void depths of his eyes is terrifying. There’s no light in them. 

“I should ask you the same,” he sneers. “But I can guess what you are.” He teethes his lip and angles his head arrogantly. “So the automaton found himself a pet. How precious.” 

“Please, I’m not—he took me--” 

You choke on your words as he grabs the blankets and rips them off of you. You squeal and instinctively bend your legs. You press your heels into the bed and roar at the agony it lights in your calf. He tosses the blankets away as he gives another sinister laugh. 

“I don’t care about any of that,” he snarls and reaches for your bandages foot. He latches on and you shriek as he drags you down the mattress. “That... thing doesn’t get toys. So, I’ll just have to break you so he can’t play no longer.” 

You cry out and thrash as the man crawls onto the bed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

sorry to be deluli, but right now he wants her to be quiet, but at some point he'll be mesmerized by hearing her talk about the most unusual situations she's ever been through at the mall (after forcing her to speak)

You ever think Captain Hydra is just being a good listener?

Thank God she now has Sarah and Calliope or she would be easily swallowed, even the queen is distilling poison against her. Waiting for Sarah to highlight this jewel for her only son 🤭

upon his grace 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: friday!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You are summoned to the queen’s chambers shortly after your arrival. You come together with the other young ladies from courtyard in the corridor just before a set of painted doors. Within, Queen Margaret keeps court with her ladies, of whom you are to be one of. The thought alone has you devilishly unnerved. 

The guards in their livery greet you with dull eyes. The groom announces your purpose and receives little in return aside from the one soldier’s lazy reach to tap upon the door. He lifts the lever and eases a space between the wood. 

“Your highness, you’ve some ladies requesting an audience,” he drones through. 

There is some movement from within. A lady servant appears in her white cap and beckons you inward. You are further intimidated by the formality of it all. Marcia and Marigold rush ahead to be first and the three earls’ daughters from the White Plans take up their train. You glance over at Calliope and trail after her. 

The doors shut at your back and the lady maid retreats, her soles scuffing amid the murmur around you. You look around the skirts of the other debuts and see women in recline, others perched upon cushions and stools, all at leisure with needle, book, or frame. There is another at the window, sat between two ladies on the bench, the late afternoon breeze stirring the long waves that hang around her face, the rest of her chestnut hair twisted up behind her hood.  

The lady maid stands at the wall in deference, “your highness.” 

The brunette raises her chin and her eyes narrow at the lot of you. You can barely see much past the shoulders of the twins and the other ladies clustered closely in shared apprehension. Still, the twins stand tall and the other ladies hardly seem as wrought as you in the ceremony of it all. 

“The twins of...Mawsley, is it?” The queen declares, “yes, your father proved himself a valuable asset, didn’t he?” 

“Your highness,” the twins recite in unison and bow, “Marcia,” the first introduces herself, “Marigold, the second adds. 

“How keen,” the queen chimes, “you look as the same person. How amusing.” 

“Thank you, your highness,” the sisters chirp. 

“And those gowns, wonderful. I may have to ask after your tailor,” Queen Margaret preens, “and where is the Countess’ daughter? I recall I met you once when you were still a child.” 

Calliope steps dutifully, “my mother sends her regards.” 

“Oh, yes, that poor widow,” the queen bemoans, “she is ever steadfast despite her plight.” She takes pause as you sway to see her, “and the rest of you, forgive me, these last days have been a whirlwind and I’ve heard an endless slew of names one after another. 

“Lady Selene,” the very lady proclaims. 

“Lady Ameri,” she bows in quick succession. 

“Lady Dorida,” the last shows her courtesy in an elegant bend. 

As you come forward, the twins push their arms together as if to block you out with their sleeves. You sidle side to side and sweep around their skirts with an ungraceful stumble, “your highness,” you greet as if you have something stuck in your throat. You swallow before you can muster your own name and title. 

“Woodsdam,” the queen tilts her head and looks from the lady at her left shoulder to the one on her right, “I’ve never heard of it.” 

“Neither have I,” the leftmost agrees. 

“Farmland,” the right says. 

“Yes, your highness, my father is a farmer, but an earl as well,” you supply. 

“Mm,” the queen looks down her nose as her lips thin, “it appears the Woodsdam style is much... defined. I don’t think I’ve seen that style gown since my grandmother was still on earth.” 

You look down at your modest cotton. The square cut of your bodice is much different than the other ladies’ rounded collars. Your mother crafted the dress from pieces and the seams are tidy, yet it does lack a similar flair to the others around the chamber. You raise your eyes and keep your composure as best you can. 

“Many thanks, your highness.” 

The queen scoffs, “quaint, indeed.” She sits straighter though her posture is already unyieldingly staunch, “ladies, please acquaint yourself. And be certain to pay heed to these ladies who know well the ways of court. For all that’s changed in these past years, we will retain as ever our elegance and our etiquette.” 

You peer around, uncertain what comes next. A lady stands and calls to Calliope, “Lady, it is me, Gwendolyn, of the Spades. Near Clovers, you will know it?” 

Calliope accepts the initiation and there is a swift storm of voices swirling around the lot of you. You flutter hopefully that someone might think of Woodsdam or might’ve been to the waterfall near Aquil, not far from your father’s hold. The twins confer still with the queen and her ladies, trilling and giggling, as Serena and Dorida marvel over another ladies’ sewing frame, and Ameri is overly familiar with a lady swollen with child. 

You drift away from the centre of the chamber, trying not to draw unwarranted attention. It would do little for any to note your insignificance. You’ve all to soon faded into obscurity. No one cares for a farmer’s daughter. 

“Eh, do you read?” The question startles you and has you spinning to face its speaker. She looks as she sounds; squawkish. Birdlike. Her blond waves are woven with strands of silver and her hooked nose is not unbecoming. 

“Yes, lady, I do,” you answer, uncertain if she is genuine or she means it as jab. 

“Have you read Corswin? He wrote a fair tale about a shepherdess.” 

“I’ve not heard of him,” you recover your confidence at her interest. It is clear she humours you, that she is speaking to only keep you from floundering. 

“I must lend you a book or two,” she insists, “come sit with me. These old hens grow tiresome.” 

“Many thanks, my lady,” you accept and claim the stool next to her, shifting it closer. 

“Sarah,” she gives her name, “Woodsdam. I’ve never been. I hate the swamps.” 

“Oh,” you nod, “yes, it isn’t very swampy. Only in the rainy seasons but we get the sun.” 

“Mm, still, I’ve been down Ashton and I hated the place. My horses caught some sickness there,” she gripes, “perhaps though, your home is more pleasant. A woman old as me, though, I don’t venture far as it is.” She tuts and taps her oval nails on the book in her lap, “if my son wasn’t so foolish as to take up his sword, I’d still be in my library, hidden away from these chits.” 

You clasp your hands together and smile. She’s amicable and you wouldn’t want to bother too much. She flutters the pages of her book and huffs. You look around, sensing some intrigue from the other ladies though they do their best not to let their flitting eyes be caught. 

“All these birds know how to do is cloister themselves up like nuns,” she bemoans, “I’d as soon be out in the sunlight. If I were home, I’d be in my courtyard with a better book than this,” she wags the volume in agitation, “and you, lady? What is it you do on the farmstead? Chase hens?” 

“We have geese,” you say, “though they aren’t truly kept. They sort’ve linger around. And some cattle.” 

“It does sound rather bucolic, this must be all so drab to you, castle walls and dusty tapestries.” 

“Oh, it’s all so wonderful,” you expound. 

“It is?” She drawls tritely, “aren’t these ladies of ours so polite? The way they whisper about our hems and our titles. Don’t let yourself be fooled, though I suppose that should be as good a warning against myself. Ladies of the court are like crows; the like shiny things and the hold grudges, and sometimes, they needn’t even a reason to peck your eyes out.” 

You close your lips and swallow. Her tidings only underline the unwelcome forged in the queen’s introduction. All you might forgive is at least she seems genuine in her girding. You look down at your skirts and run your fingers down a crease. 

“The dress is not so hideous,” she assures gently, “some of the ladies do forget we did just fight a war. There are those without silks and without food in their bellies. They should weigh their fortune that they are still alive and well.” 

Your eyes meet and she looks a little less stony. She turns her head to the window and her gaze drifts into the distance. You follow them with a sense of solemnity. Again, you snare a few glances from the others. Many men died, women and children too. It wouldn’t do to care so much for what people think of your wardrobe. 

👑

Your first day at the castle ends in a fine supper of freshly baked bread, beef with gravy, and seasoned scallions, onions, and sweet herbs. It is not so hearty as your mother’s stew which you share as often with the servants nor so delicious. It’s a different sort of taste but not unpleasant. 

You retire at the queen’s behest. She declares she must see to her husband and several of the other ladies claim the same of their own. You rise and wait courteously to tail after other ladies, not wanting to get underfoot as you so often did on the farm. As you stand aside, Lady Sarah swats you with her book. 

Skirts swish against the rows of chairs and benches that line the long table. The dining chamber is set with the portrait of peregrine and similarly hawkish depictions woven into tapestry and tablecloth alike. Despite the uniform decor, the furniture is mismatched and the hews of wood and metal alternate with each piece. 

“Don’t fear the stampede, little calf, run with it,” she chides, “ah, I’ve decades upon these sows and they plod like heifers.” 

He uncouth words draw your surprise. She laughs at the look you send her and waves you off with the hardcover. She shoulders past you without pause. 

“One day you will see, it is better to speak the truth than let it shred up your soul,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Ah, naivete, how entertaining you are.” 

Her voice carries and you notice how the other women shy away from her. There’s a glint of deference to the tilt in their chins as they part for her like a like drawn in the sand with a stick. You wonder how she can be so bold and why the other might tolerate it. As Queen Margaret girded, you are to maintain propriety. Sarah seems to carry the same manners as any farmhand you’d known. 

You hurry to meet Calliope near the door as she departs. She seems the tamest of the lot thus far. Sharp-witted but not needlessly cruel. She turns her head slightly in acknowledgement of your presence. 

“There you are,” she mutters. 

“Did you enjoy the afternoon?” You ask brightly. 

“Enjoy? I tempered it,” she retorts, “I’ve the measure of most ladies.” 

“The measure? They were all quite friendly.” 

“You are too friendly,” she admonishes, “this is court, you cannot be so simple. Each lady is attached to a lord, thus they work upon his purposes. Her ears are always listening, eyes always seeing.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You represent your father and though mine may be in the ground, I carry his mantle all the same. We are our houses, not ourselves here,” she keeps her voice low and slows markedly to keep away from the others, “you should count yourself fortunate for my wise counsel, lady, for no other would give it.” 

You chew on her words, tasting their bitterness, “so why do you, Lady Calliope?” 

“For I despise those twins and I know they aren’t so keen on you,” she sighs, “and I saw you as any other did with the dowager.” 

“The dowager?” You echo. 

“The king’s mother, Lady Sarah,” she sends you a sharp look, “don’t tell me you didn’t realise?” 

“Oh? No? She spoke of books and her gardens, she didn’t mention...” you peter off and snap your mouth shut. But she had, she did say her son ran off to war. “Oh!” 

“Oh! Indeed,” Calliope mocks and shakes her head. “Look, I’ve not the patience for these women, but you’re not so bad. You don’t speak without meaning. Shall we be companions?” 

“Pardon?” You let your surprise bleed through. 

“I need at least one person I might stomach, how about you? I don’t think the others are so eager to be friends. Marcia did say how you look like a peasant.” 

“She did?” You frown. 

“Hm, you need me,” she insists, “you can’t let yourself be so whimsical. Never mind what they say or think. What do they care so much for anyhow? They are a duke’s daughters, they will do well enough.” 

You carry on next to her. You feel as if you’re being pulled in all different directions though all tell you just the same. Be wary 

I don’t have love here

i don't think i've ever hated a dark character as much as i hate lloyd and nick, i really get sick of his hallucination that he really loves her, at least besides being disgraced lloyd is sincere. wanted her to tell him about the videos, dumping the shit on him again. afraid they won't get her back, but I know that ari could never be without her again after getting her.

Guns, Lies & Fairy Tales X

Relationship: Lloyd Hansen x Reader x Nick Fowler; Ari Levinson x Reader

Summary: Your world is ripped apart when a stranger with a vendetta finds you and your children.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Words: 3.6k

Series Warnings: Non-con, dub-con, kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, childbirth, lactation kink, physical, emotional, and psychological abuse, isolation, violence, torture, murder, smut, allusion to forced pregnancy, angst, trauma, and other warnings to be added.

This is a DARK fic and you are responsible for your own media consumption.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY, NSFW

Ari paced the room angrily with his hands on his hips, still in disbelief over your decision to turn yourself over to Nick and Lloyd. 

“You don’t need to do this!” He pleaded with you from across the room, “Y/N, please! I can’t fucking lose you again.”

“It’s the only way and you know it.” You tried to reason with him, “If I don’t go then I’ll have to wait for Gustafsson and her agents to track Nick and Lloyd down. And clearly they aren’t worth shit when it comes to that.”

You looked at him as his eyes pleaded with you and you walked over to the other side of the room to pull him into a hug. He grabbed onto you tightly and pressed his cheek against the top of your head. You felt his tears as they began to drip onto your hair.  

“I am scared, Ari.” You admitted softly and pulled away. You held him gently by his face as you gazed into his teary eyes, “I’m scared to go back to those monsters and have my children around them again. But I’ll be less afraid knowing you’re here making sure we get back safe.”

You put your forehead against his, “It’s going to be okay.”

You weren’t sure who you were trying to convince more. You were more than just afraid, you were terrified of facing Lloyd and Nick again and of what they would do to you before you were extracted. 

~~~

“We have a big day tomorrow, Bug.” You smiled at her as you tucked her into her crib, “We’re going to see daddies and Nikki.”

She perked up and beamed at you excitedly, “Daddies and Nikki?!”

Your stomach churned as you put on a happy face for her, “Mhm, so you need to be a good girl and go to sleep, okay? You don’t wanna be tired when you see them right?”

She pouted and let out a dramatic sigh, “Okay, mommy. I go to sleep then.”

You gave her a kiss on the forehead and then re-tucked her in. You checked on LJ before turning off the lights and leaving. Your heart was heavy as you walked to your bedroom where Ari was waiting for you. He was fiddling with his computer in bed while you went to brush your teeth. 

You climbed into bed with him when you were done and noticed that he had a video pulled up.There was a slight panic, thinking it could be another one of those awful videos he forced you to watch earlier.

He pulled you in closer, “This is our wedding video.” He clicked play and turned to you, “I wanted to watch it with you before you left tomorrow.”

You curled against him and smiled as you watched the two of you standing across from each other during the ceremony. You both looked so happy and you remembered your face hurting from how much you were grinning. You remembered that you had to wipe Ari’s tears away after he’d finally seen you in your dress. You remembered the joy you felt when you finally kissed at the end of the ceremony. 

You felt tears sting your eyes as you watched the speeches at the reception and your first dance with him. You knew that you would be taken by Lloyd and Nick shortly after what had been the happiest moments of your life. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that you were reliving these moments right before you’d be in their clutches again. You had faith that Ari and the team would get to you in time, but there was still a seed of doubt. 

“I love you.” You said softly as you looked up at him, “I want you to know that. Just in case -”

“We will bring you back.” He cut you off before you could even say the words, “I love you more than anything in this world.”

He put the laptop away and turned off the bedside lamp before laying down and holding you tightly against him. Ari wrapped his arm and leg around you as if he were afraid you would be taken from him in the night. You felt safe with him and managed to fall asleep quickly despite having been on edge about tomorrow. 

~~~

Your alarm went off early in the morning and it was time for you to get ready. You pried yourself from Ari’s tight grasp as you got out of bed. You had the agents bring you a spring dress in Lloyd’s favorite color - red - so that you could hopefully appease him when he saw you. You were most afraid of him because of how cruel he had already been to you compared to Nick. 

Ari woke up when you were almost finished and grabbed you to kiss you, “Dropping you and the kids off today is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

You paused and took a deep breath before responding. You knew what you were about to say would upset him, “You’re not going. We’re saying our goodbyes before I leave.”

He pulled away and looked at you in disbelief, “Y/N - No, I can’t -”

“Yes, Ari. You can. It’ll be too hard for the both of us if you go.”

“Baby, listen -”

“No.” You shook your head and it took everything in you to hold it together, “There’s no way you’re going to be able to leave me there and drive away, is there?”

Ari clenched his fists at his side and just stared at you until he looked down away from you. You were right, he couldn’t. 

He walked over and grabbed your hands to kiss them. You tucked his long hair behind his ears before giving him a passionate goodbye kiss. 

“I need to get the kids ready and then prep with the agents. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Maya was already awake and practically trying to escape from her crib when you got to their room. She was bouncing up and down excited. 

“See daddies today!” She squealed and giggled, “And Nikki!”

“That’s right. Bug!” You picked her up and hugged her, “Let’s get you and LJ ready.”

The children needed to be perfect. Your ‘husbands’ would expect it, especially Lloyd, and you were already in enough trouble as it is. The last thing you wanted to do was pile onto the reasons they already had to punish you. 

Once the kids were fed and ready it was time to be prepped again on the plan. A tracking device was to be hidden inside of the kids’ diaper bag so that they would be able to know where Nick and Lloyd were hiding. Once that was established they would surveil the location to know the security situation and then make a plan on how to move in. The plan was to extract you and the kids, along with capturing Nick and Lloyd. 

“We’ll try to get you out as quickly as we can.” Gustafsson tried to assure, “Are you sure you want to do this? You're putting yourself in a lot of danger.”

You looked back at her, knowing she didn’t care about how much danger you were in. You could see the determination and eagerness in her eyes, “Yes. I just want my daughter back.”

She nodded in acknowledgement before turning to the agents, “Alright, let’s go.”

The kids were loaded into the car as you and Ari embraced each other one last time. You put your hands on his face and kissed him softly. Your foreheads touched as you stood there together for what felt like an eternity. 

You squeezed his hand as you pulled away, “I’ll be okay.”

You left him there as you walked to the car and didn’t look back. You would have broken down and you needed to be strong right now. Strong for yourself, your kids, and to not look weak in front of Gustafsson. You held your head high as you walked to face your fate. 

~~~

“The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round. The wheels on the bus go round..”

Maya listened to her tablet and LJ wiggled in his seat to the song as you stared out of the window. Mark and Mateo drove you to the drop off point and humored the children to keep them occupied. The only thing you could think about were the memories of your life with Nick and Lloyd…

…You screamed and strained as you tried to push at the midwife's instructions. You had been in labor for hours at the house, Nick and Lloyd refusing to take you to the hospital to avoid being caught. All of your prenatal care was done in your home. 

“PUSH!”

Nick sat behind you and you leaned against his chest as he held your hand, “You can do it, Princess. You’re almost done, baby.”

You were exhausted both mentally and physically, almost ready to give up, “I’m tired.” You whimpered back at him. 

“Just one more, Y/N.” The midwife called up to you, “One big push.”

Lloyd gripped your other hand tightly, almost enough to break it, “Push.”

It wasn’t encouragement like Nick. It was an order and you followed it. You bared down and pushed as hard as you could with a loud yell until you were finally done and collapsed against Nick. You panted as you tried to catch your breath while the midwife cut the umbilical cord and passed you Nikki. 

“Hi, baby.” You greeted her with a tear filled smile as you held her. 

 “She’s perfect, just like you, Y/N.” Nick stroked her little head and kissed you on the cheek, “Thank you.”

“Good girl.” Lloyd praised you as he stroked your hair, “You did so well today. I’m proud of you.”

You remembered how much his praise made your heart swell even more and bile rose in your throat. How happy you were to appease your abusers somehow made you disgusted with yourself.

…Nikki squealed as she opened up her presents under the giant Christmas tree. Nick and Lloyd had spared no expense for her and Maya. 

“Mommy! Look! This is exactly the one I wanted.” She beamed as she held up her toy, “Thank you, daddies!” 

“Anything for you, Pumpkin.” Lloyd smiled at her, “Come on, now open up the big one.”

You helped Maya open up her presents since she was still too young to do it on her own. 

Her eyes went wide at every gift. You giggled as you watched how excited she was. 

Nick approached and sat down next to you, “I can help her, Princess, while you unwrap yours.”

You smiled back at him excitedly and chirped, “Okay! It looks like I have a lot this year.” 

You opened them up eagerly despite knowing what was going to be inside. It was the same every year for your birthday and Christmas. Boxes upon boxes of expensive jewelry, perfumes, designer clothing, lingerie, and shoes. Lloyd walked over with a velvet box and a smirk. 

Your face lit up when you saw the brand new leather collar in your favorite color. “Sunshine” was engraved on the gold metal tag. Your previous one was basic black and Lloyd told you that you would get a new one once you had earned it. You’d wear it when you spent your nights with him and remove it in the morning. Nick hated it and Lloyd agreed to keep it behind closed doors to avoid pissing him off. 

He bent down and whispered in your ear, “You’re gonna wear that when you thank me for your gifts tonight, sweetheart.”

The car came to a stop and your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were finally going to face your abusers again after months of freedom. Your hands shook as you undid your seatbelt and helped the children out of their carseats. Mateo and Mark took out the stroller and helped put the kids in it while you steadied your nerves. 

You gave Mateo a long hug, “Thank you for everything.”

“You make it sound like we’re not going to see each other again, Y/N. We will.” He told you before he leaned down to say goodbye to Maya. 

“Bye-bye, Mateo!” 

“You’re brave and tough, Y/N. Just like I remember.” Mark put his hands on your shoulders, “You can handle this. I know you can.”

He gave you a warm hug before pulling out your wedding rings from his pocket, “I know you don’t want to wear these again, but you need to.”

You closed your eyes and let out a deep sigh before you took them and put them on. They felt like heavy shackles, but you knew things would go better for you if you did wear them. Mark gave you another hug before heading back to the car. The men drove off and you were left on the side of the road with your children. 

Maya looked around curiously and then up at you, “Where’s daddies?”

“They’re coming soon, Bug.”

After what seemed like ten minutes you saw two large black SUVs approach. They stopped in front of you and the kids. Lloyd and Frances, the old nanny, stepped out of the car. Lloyd had a shit eating grin the moment he saw you and the kids. You tried to keep your body from shaking as he approached. The kids however squealed and held their arms out when he saw him. 

He bent down and picked up Maya from the stroller first, “Hi Bug! How’s my big girl?”

“I missed you, daddy!!!” 

“I know, Maya.” He cooed, “Don’t worry. Daddy will never be away from you this long again.”

“Promise?”

Lloyd glared at you as he held her, “I promise, Bug. Never again.”

Frances approached to take her from Lloyd, “Let’s go to the car so you can see your other daddy and Nikki.”

“Okay, Frances!”

“And how’s my handsome boy, huh?” Lloyd smiled as he picked up LJ next, “Look at you! You got so big while you were away. You’re almost one now.”

LJ looked up at him with a drool filled smile and babbled. Lloyd hugged him and kissed his forehead before giving him to Frances after she had gotten Maya settled in the car. She walked away leaving you and Lloyd alone then shortly after the car with the children pulled away. 

You panicked and started to make a move towards the car but Lloyd stopped you. His demeanor changed and he glowered at you before ripping the diaper bag away. 

“The kids need -”

“Shut the fuck up.” He sneered at you as he threw the contents onto the ground. He ripped through the lining of the bag until he found the tracking device. He held it up in your face and cocked his head to the side, “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Sunshine?”

He threw it onto the ground and stomped on it with his foot. Your blood ran cold as you watched the only way for Ari and the team to find you be destroyed. Lloyd grabbed you tightly by the chin and looked you in the eyes. 

“Strip.” He ordered as he stared at you coldly, “I want to make sure you aren’t wearing a wire either.”

“Lloyd, I’m not -”

He snapped his finger for you to be quiet, “Right now, you better fucking call me, sir. I know you know better than to talk back to me.”

Your lip trembled and you began to take off your dress. You held it out to him and he dropped it on the ground.

“All of it.”

You turned to see the driver and another man sitting in the car. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you removed your bra, panties, and shoes. Lloyd made a motion for you to turn around. You tried to cover yourself and he whacked your arms away. 

“Lloyd, please.”

“What the fuck did I just tell you?”

You looked down at the ground too ashamed to look up at him, “To call you sir.”

“Good. I hope your dumb little brain can at least remember that.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out your leather collar and whimpered as he roughly put it on you. 

“Now get in the fucking car.” 

You did as you were told and noticed the partition between you and the front seats was up. YOu didn’t know if you should be thankful for the privacy or afraid of it. There was another dress for you draped across the seat. You reached for it and Lloyd slapped your bare thigh. 

“Did I tell you that you could get dressed?”

“No, sir.” You replied meekly, “You didn’t tell me I could get dressed.”

He studied you for a long while before he pounced on you. Lloyd grabbed you by your neck and pinned you to the seat. 

“Ballsy of you to think that you could say that shit about us to the kids and that you’d get away with it.” He sneered mere inches from your face and you grabbed at his wrist as he tightened his grip, “You were kissing Ari in front of them too like some slut. Do you have any idea how confused they’re going to be now?”

“I saw the videos.” You croaked out, “The wedding night.”

Lloyd roughly let you go and you coughed as you tried to catch your breath. 

“None of that matters anymore.” He retorted coldly, “We gave you a good life. You lived in luxury. You have three beautiful children and you wouldn’t if it weren’t for me and Nick.”

You hadn’t even been with him for twenty minutes and he’d already humiliated you. You started to wonder how long you could take being in Lloyd’s clutches again, but you wiped that out of your head. You were doing this to get Nikki back and to finally get rid of Nick and Lloyd.

“Now, when we get back, you’re going to behave. You’re going to be the same dumb little dutiful wife like you were before. You’re going to tell Nick that you were confused because Ari fucked with your head. You are going to tell him that you love him. And you sure as shit aren’t going to mention the videos. Do you understand, Sunshine?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good. It would hurt him to know that wasn’t actually the case. He loves you too much. And you know what? You’re gonna tell me you love me too, because it makes my dick hard when you do.”

“Did you ever love me?” It was a question that plagued you once your memories started coming back and you realized what Nick and Lloyd had done to you.  

“No.” He smirked and he stroked your cheek, “But I care about you in my own way, because you’re mine and I’ll kill anyone who ever tries to take you from me.”

You knew he didn’t love you, but hearing the words out loud still stung. You felt tears begin to pool in your eyes and Lloyd tutted you. 

“Aww, Sunshine, baby.” He cooed as he pressed you back down onto the seat and spread your legs. 

You instinctively tried to close them but he pried them open and shoved his hand between them. Lloyd’s thumb began to rub your bundle of nerves and your breath hitched. He lowered himself on top of you as he continued to work his fingers. 

“Don’t be upset, Sunshine.” He murmured as he kissed the side of your face, “I still missed you.”

Your humiliation grew when you felt the slick begin to run down your thighs. Your body still reacted to him after it had been trained for so many years. You gasped as Lloyd slid two of his fingers inside of you and began to work your spongy spot. You turned your head away from him as tears rolled down your face. 

You felt his mustache against your ear as he nibbled on it, “I still feel good, don’t I? Hm?”

Your hips slowly started to rock as you felt pleasure bloom in your core and begin to flood through the rest of your body. You bit your lip to try and hold in your moans but Lloyd kissed you to open your mouth. 

“I missed you.” He purred when he pulled away, “I missed seeing you underneath me. I missed the way your pussy feels when it grips my cock.” He sped up his fingers to work the spot within you even more. Your legs trembled with each movement. 

“I missed your beautiful face and that stupid fucking laugh of yours.” He groaned as he ground his clothed erection against your thigh, “And I know by the way your pussy sounds right now, you missed me too.”

Your nails dug into his biceps as your eyes rolled and your orgasmm shot through you like lightning. He kept going, working you through it and bringing about another. Your body shivered as you came down from your high and he finally slid his fingers out of you. Lloyd smiled as he licked off your juices and leered at you. 

He moved his hands up your stomach gently and cupped your breasts, “You know what I also missed, sweetheart?”

He squeezed them and licked his lips as your milk dripped down his hands. He bent down and darted his tongue across your nipple and groaned. 

“This is my favorite part about knocking you up.” He murmured before licking a stripe between your breasts. He let out a low growl before he squeezed them again. 

“We have more than an hour until we’re back at the safe house. Lots of time to have some fun, Sunshine.”

You choked out a sob but he shushed you, “Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you - yet. Nick and I are gonna do that together to welcome you back home.”

Chapter 11/End 

Taglist: @eralen, @rededfoxy, @thanatosfic, @rebekahdawkins, @daniphantom1​ @lostyx​ buckysteveloki-me @devin04 @alexakeyloveloki @littleone2223 @seitmai whatinthestyles @Olliparty @winchestersister55 @lexivass

I don't think he would set such a cruel trap for her, maybe he was afraid that someone would be able to take her away from him. And by God, this reader is living hell on earth, I feel so bad for her. 😭

Mission Control 16

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, blood, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

When the monster emerges again, you refuse to look at him. He leaves without trying to get your attention. Is he off to smear more blood on his hands? Or is he just trying to get away from the violations he’s committed in this place? Can he even fathom the pain he’s caused? 

You stay by the fire for the night. You put a pillow under your head and sleep on the floor. Your angry burns as hot as the flames and the morning greets you in an exhausted haze. 

You busy yourself by cooking. Your human instinct draws you to eat but by the time you have a plate ready, your hunger dissipates. You leave it on the table to rot as you pace around the cabin. 

You look around the front room and it’s worn walls. You examine where his fist snapped the planks then stand in the doorway of the bathroom. The dingy tub drips and the mirror is cracked in the corner. You turn and head into the bedroom. 

You kick the door open and shiver as you peer around. The bed is made tidily. The corners are so tight, like a military barrack. The armoire looms against the wall. You turn away from it and approach the shelf in the corner. You stare at the images of yourself, of your former life, of your family. 

You grab onto it and throw it all to the ground. It takes several tries to tip it but you do. It crashes and breaks the monotony of that prison. You stumble back and shake your head. What is wrong with you? 

You spin and race from the room. The cabin blurs around you and you skid to the front door. You twist the handle and wrench it open. You grit your teeth as you stand in the frame and stare out into the shadows between the trees. Your eyes scan the patchy grass turned grey with the wintry decent. 

Fuck it. You won’t stay. Even if you won’t escape, you won’t stay. 

You hurl yourself forward. You stumble down the stairs and your socks soak with the first step over the frosty ground. Your second step is more confident and the third produces an odd metallic click. Then suddenly a pang rips through your foot and calf. You shriek in agony and horror as you collapse. 

You gnash your teeth together and writhe and whine. You shake in sheer pain and struggle to even get your shoulders off the ground. Your eyes flood and your cheeks stained with tears. You raise your head and look down at your foot. The spike is lodged into your heel and extends up into your leg.  

The sight churns in your stomach and you angle to puke onto the frozen strands of grass. More than the scene of gruesome mutilation, the agony makes you hurl. You can’t bear it. You’ve never felt anything this horrible in your life. 

You know you shouldn’t take it out but you can’t leave it in. The spike might be keeping your foot connected but you’d rather have the whole thing off. You sit up then splay again. You’re dizzy with the effort as your blood slowly seeps out around the base of the spike. 

You push yourself up again and hunch forward with all your weigh. You reach for your leg, bending it as you wretch again. You swallow the bile and touch the metal. A blinding whiteness strikes only to be shrouded in a smothering black void. 

You wake again. Shivering as the winds barrel over your body. You blink up at the clouds as your leg throbs. You look down at the nightmarish wound and drag yourself back towards the step. You notice the hole where the spike erupted up from. A trap. 

Stupid, stupid. 

You manage to get yourself up the steps before you pass out again. You sprawl and rouse with another tide of vomit spilling onto the porch. You heave as you use your uninjured foot to push towards the door. 

You finally get inside. Trembling in pain as much as the frigidity. You need to get the fire going. If you don’t bleed out, you’ll freeze to death. 

You get halfway to the couch before you devolve into another blank valley. You wake again to the wailing winds and the crisp cold. You won’t get that far. 

You grab the edge of the tattered rug and roll it around you. You don’t stop until you hit the couch. You quiver against the hard frame and chatter violently. Another swell of unconsciousness overwhelms you. 

A strike of lightning cuts through you and you wake screaming. A sudden pressure on your heel has you whimpering and begging. Your eyes are awash in agony and your body is pulsing violently. There’s a coil around your ankle and the clunk of metal on wood. 

You blink and find yourself no longer on the hard floor. You lay on the bed. The pain remains but you know the spike is gone. You shiver even as you’re trapped beneath at least a dozen layers of blankets. You can’t move. You won’t even think of it. 

Your head pounds and your body buzzes. How did you get here? There’s no way you got here on your own. 

The answer stalks in. His eyes meet yours and he hesitates before he comes to the bed. The vessel that was once Captain America lowers himself stiffly onto the mattress. His puts his rough palm to your forehead. He makes a guttural noise of disappointment. 

He’s disappointed? It’s his fault this happened. You laugh but the tension it cords in you sends another storm of pain through you.  

You wheeze and whine until you’re too weak to even spasm. You feel the sweat slaking down your body. He pulls down the blanket and you shiver worse than before. 

“I... have a fever,” you say aloud. He tilts his head as if in agreement. You let your head drift to the side and groan, “let me die.” 

He rests his hand on your shoulder and squeezes. He lowers his head and stays like that, as if he’s thinking, preparing for something. He peels the blankets down past your feet. You look down at your bandaged leg. 

He touches your calf daintily. That alone is like a zip of electricity. Your vision speckles and goes black again. Even as your thoughts fizzle to darkness, you still feel the pain. There is nothing else. 

I just know she will find her hair when he drags her to his place or even find out that he keeps it in his pocket ☠️

Mission Control 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, violence, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Captain Hydra

Summary: a man marches into your life on a mission

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Height?” The officer taps the nib on his notepad. 

“Ugh, tall. Er,” you keep your hand on your head. It still throbs. “Um, six foot something? He had to be bigger.” 

“Right,” he squints. “Blond, blue eyes, and a scar. Dressed in all black...” he reads it over. “And he didn’t say anything?” 

“No, sir, I told you. Did you check with security? There's cameras--” 

“Nothing there. Checked all the footage. Some glitch. Guy’s not sure. Not his problem, I guess. Paid minimum wage to sit in a room,” he scoffs. “We can file the report but we can’t do much else. No footage, no proof--” 

“No proof? Look at my head. He ripped my hair out!” You whine. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen worse. Should count yourself lucky he left you alive,” he says. 

You shake your head and drop your arm, “uh... thanks, I guess.” 

“Look,” he exhales. “I really don’t have much to go on but this guy sniffs around again, call. File another report.” 

“Right,” you agree glumly. “Thank you, officer.” 

He shrugs, “have a good night. You want me to stick around while you lock up.” 

“It’s fine, I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time.” 

You sniff and turn around. You’re not surprised by his indifference or his answers. You have friends who had men pounding on their doors and the same reaction. You saw police arresting drunk girls instead of the guys who cornered them in the bathroom. There isn’t much anyone can do, it seems. Especially not you. 

You go through the closing list. You know it by rote but that night, you’re uncertain. You check the clipboard that hangs behind the counter. You’re fractured. The whole world feels like it’s strewn before you. Nothing fits together. You feel like you’re disconnected from your own body. 

God, your head hurts. 

You stop and open up the front camera on your phone. You look at the bald patch again. Near the back. You can’t really see it head on but it’s there. Or not. He just... did that? He took a part of you. 

You close your phone and put it in your pocket. You pull on your jacket and hike your bag onto your shoulders. As you do, the Pom Pom falls onto the floor. You tossed it on top but didn’t hook it on. You pick it up, quivering. That man... did he find it or take it? 

You squeeze it and grab the keys from the hook. You pull the gate across the store front and lock it. You turn to face the empty mall. 

The idea of going out into the dark and waiting for the bus is the same as scaling a mountain with your bare hands. You make yourself move. The longer you wait, the more likely you’ll miss it.  

Your steps echo around you. You flinch and glance over your shoulders, back and forth, even spinning to make sure you’re alone. 

How are you supposed to do this? After what he did to you. Did he just see you on the bus and decide to mess with you? How did he track you to the store? You had your jacket on, he couldn’t see your name tag or uniform. You didn’t have your badge out. 

You can’t figure any of it out. Would it matter if you could. 

You slow down as you approach the doors. You look out and see the bright signs for the businesses housed in the mall and the other plazas close by, headlights shining along the street. You push through the first door and stand in the vestibule. 

You still have the fluffy pom pom in your hand. You unhook your bag from one shoulder and hook it on. You trade the store keys for your house keys and poke one out between your fingers. You’re on your own. 

You walk out into the night. You don’t stop. You almost jog across the lot out to the bus stop by the road. You duck into the shelter, the lights keeping you safe in their glow. Or so you hope. 

The bus pulls up only a few minutes after. Your relief flows out of your chest as you scan your pass. You find a seat at the back and sit. You want to see everyone else. 

The tires grind the gravel and veer back onto the road. They slow again at the next stop around the corner. You watch the passenger turn and you know him in an instant. He stalks down the center of the bus and climbs the steps up to the back level. He does just as he did that morning. 

He sits beside you. You can’t move or speak. You can’t believe it. 

He must know that no one else cares. He’s counting on it. You’re breathless as you shake, your ribs wracked as adrenaline burns through you. 

“Why?” You quaver weakly. He doesn’t answer. You lean away from him and touch your head, grazing your tender scalp. “Please, why me?”  

Still nothing. 

“Why are you doing this?” You whimper. 

He closes his eyes and lifts his chin. His hand moves from his leg onto yours and he squeezes. You tremble as his fingertips dig into your flesh. 

“Please, stop!” You cry out and slap his hand. 

No reaction. What is wrong with him? You wriggle and look at your other hand; the key poking out from your fist. You bring it down towards his hand but he’s fast. He retracts his touch and the key sinks into your thigh muscle. You screech, and he reaches across to tug the cord. 

“What’s going on back there?” The driver hollers back as he stops. 

The man stands and marches away. He doesn’t answer the driver or look back. He steps off the bus and you watch him through the window. He almost fades into the dark as he delves into the shadows of the buildings.  

“Knock it off,” the driver warns as he puts his foot on the pedal. 

You puff between your teeth and look around at the other passengers; deafened by headphones and ear buds, engrossed in their screens and pages. There’s at least ten other riders yet you’re all alone. 

You look down. You quaking as you let go of the key and it sticks out of your leg. You cringe and grasp it as tight as you can. You hold your breath as you rip it out. Argh.  

That officer was right. You’re lucky he didn’t do worse. 

NATALIE DORMER AS ANNE BOLEYN ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴜᴅᴏʀs (2007–2010) ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ: ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ʜɪʀsᴛ

found out he's a fan of meg thee stallion