Captain Marvel, Dir. Anna Boden, Ryan Fleck // 2019

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ꧏꨮۣ⿻ࣩꦽࣥۜ please, reblog or fav if you save it.

yeah!

english isnt my first language btw so when u read my posts in ur head I want u to mispronounce at least one word in it and add a really heavy accent

How can Peggy be hateable in all universes? Jesus Christ! Steve and her are two idiots, they don't deserve the reader in their lives. ANYWAYS fuck them, let's go to Norway!

Someone New 1

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

Warnings: this fic will include angst, pining, romcom tropes, and some darker elements later in the series. Some triggers may not be specifically tagged. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This fic will contain explicit content. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for years, but you're slapped in the face with reality when he takes things to the next level with his girlfriend.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Thor

Note: please enjoy the first chapter!

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. 💖

“No, no, not the pink, red,” you cup your hand over your ear pod, “exactly what it says on the order sheet.” 

Were anyone to see you, sitting in the dirt, with a brush in hand, all alone, they might think you’re a bit out there. You, talking to the air, dusting off a clump of soil, orchestrating your own voice with the bristles. You dip your head as you focus on what the voice in your ear is saying. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you argue, “I put in the order weeks ago. A red bow. I have the receipt– I mean sure, pink or red doesn’t matter to me but it’s not my birthday.” 

“We’ll see what we can do,” the woman relents. It’s not exactly a triumph but as close to as you can hope. If it’s pink, you’ll just have to take the fall. The damn fondant will be devoured by the night’s end anyhow. 

You hang up with a double tap on the ear pod and your playlist resumes. You go back to trying to uncover the shape caked in layers of muck, turning the brush to chip away the rougher bits with the pointed tip. The work is tedious but it has to be. You can’t risk damaging the relic nestled inside. 

The abrupt chiming of your ringtone once more sounds through the bluetooth earpiece. You huff and hit the pod with the heel of your hand. You greet the call with only your name. 

“Are you still on site?” Your boss, Arturo asks. 

“Yep, still here,” you still your hand and twist your arm, pulling back the end of your glove to see your watch, “just a bit longer. You know I have that thing tonight.” 

“Uh, yes, I recall,” he says dully as you hear paper shuffling, “you got time to chat?” 

“Sure,” you keep the cluster of dirt and the brush in one hand and use your other to push yourself to your feet, “I just gotta catalogue this before I finish the day.” 

“Well, I have good news and bad news,” he begins as you carefully walk between the cordoned off patches. The whole place is a maze of where and where not to step. You go into the tent and put down the half uncovered idol. It’s brittle, made of hide and yew, with a bit of bone. “Lucia is pregnant.” 

“Oh? That’s great,” you furrow your brow, wondering what that has to do with you. 

“Means she can’t travel for a while. She’s adverse to long term commitments at the moment so…” 

“So…” you trail off as you label the mound of dirt and make notes for the next day. 

“So, you want her assignment?” 

“Which one?” You peel off your gloves and shake off the excess filth. 

“Norway. It can be a bit dingy but the landscape is nice.” 

“Norway? For how long?” You close up the ledger and tuck it away on the shelf. You pass between the tables of artifacts as you pull out your phone. 

“Could be a while but I figured you never get to go very far. You’ve been pent up in-state for so long, you could use the vacation.” 

“Oh? Well, I…” you scroll through your phone and see the notifications. Emails confirming delivery, messages asking if everything is sorted. “I’d have to think about it…” 

It’s evasion more than indecision. You know you don’t want to go. You can’t go. Your whole life is here. You have an apartment and friends and… Steve. Your best friend.  

“Make sure you do think about it. It’s a great opportunity. Especially for a junior anthropologist. Lucia won’t be on leave forever.” 

“I know. I’ll think about it.” 

You hang up and pluck the earbud out. Ugh, you’re covered in dirt and dust. You don’t have time to go home and shower. You knew you wouldn’t. You have to be at the venue before everyone else. You can change there and try to wash up in the sink. Whatever, no one’s going to be looking at you anyway. It’s Peggy’s night. Yay. 

You lock the fence and tug one last time to make sure it’s secure. You drag your boots across the thinning grass to your car parked on a stretch of gravel. You drop inside and hit start. You connect to the bluetooth and get some tunes going. You buckle your seat belt as you check the mirrors. You’re probably going to have to speed there. 

You back out as the music blares from the speakers. It’s not loud enough to drown out your thoughts. Why did you agree to this? Peggy doesn’t even like you. Oh, but she likes Steve. She is his girlfriend and you are only his best friend. You’re supportive. You keep your mouth shut and smile. 

Ugh. You squeeze the wheel until your knuckles hurt. You know why you offered to help plan the surprise. You’re pathetic but you’re not delusional. It meant you got more time with him. There hasn’t been much of that since Peggy came along, not just the two of you. 

Classic, isn’t it? In love with your best friend. Friends since college. Friends forever, you vowed naively, thinking that forever would never come. Nothing lasts that long, you can only hope to outlast Peggy. 

And if you don’t, maybe this crush will finally run its course. 

💟

Red and white streamers decorate a long table set with trays. There’s a banner over it that reads ‘Happy Birthday, Peggy’, and a stack of gifts already forming in the corner. Guests drift in with anticipation as you hurry around to check off all the items on your list. 

You fix a small vase of flowers, trying to hide the droopy one in the back, and tug a wrinkle out of a tablecloth. You smile and wave at those who are early as you weave between them. You pull out your phone and lean it on the clipboard angle in the crook of your elbow. They’re on their way, okay. Keep it cool. 

As you come to the kitchen door, you nearly collide with someone else. Sam touches your arm gently as he keeps you from tripping backward. You gasp and hug the clipboard with a wobbly grin. 

“Hey,” you greet breathily, “you’re here.” 

You look down at the guest list and check him off. 

“Ah, figured I’d make an appearance,” he kids, “Rogers would take it pretty rough if his best pal wasn’t here.” 

“Please, don’t start that with Bucky again,” you warn as you point the pen in his direction, “the two of you, in fact, are seated separately.” 

“No fun!” He whines dramatically. 

You scrunch your lips at him and peer around. Yes, none of this has been fun. Caterers, servers, tables, space, food! Yes, you were going to check on the cake. Your sole squeaks as you twist sharply and go to slam your hand into the door. 

“Hey,” Sam blocks your way with his arm, “before you disappear, you’re still wearing your boots.” He points to your feet, “in case you’re wondering about the snail trail.” 

He sweeps his finger up in a gesture alluding to your previous path. You glance over at the dirt littered in your stead then down at your dusty boots. You sigh and hang your head back. 

“Fuck!” You snarl. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll find a broom,” he assures you, “while you take a breath. You need it.” 

“I can’t, Sam, they’re already on their way. I still have to get everyone in their place and… quiet,” you scowl, “ugh, this is gonna be so bad. I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“So… why’d you do it?” He asks as he drags his hand away from the doorframe. You look at him and blink slowly. You shrug. 

“I’m a good friend,” you insist. 

He gives a skeptical hum and nods, “sure are,” he grumbles, “too good, if you ask me.” 

You throw up your hand before turning into the kitchen. You don’t have time to worry about him. Is he jealous that you’re helping Steve so much? Or does he know something else? You don’t let the seed sprout as you nearly cry out at the sight of the cake. 

A pink bow. Jeez. Of course. You check the cake off your list, nearly tearing through the paper. It’s better than nothing, even if Peggy never settles for less than the best. 

There’s no time to complain or send it back. Your phone vibrates again. Five minutes. Your heart is racing. Why? This isn’t even your party. You just want it to be perfect for Steve. You hate to disappoint him. Ever. 

You really shouldn’t care that much but you do. Like so many other things in your life. 

💟

The crowd can't keep quiet. There's a low buzz that ripples through the guests. A wave of anticipation that's spread like a deadly virus. 

You feel a nudge in your side and peek over as Bucky sends Sam a sneer and wriggles in place. Those two never let up. You hiss at them to quit and they look as guilty as a pair of unruly children. 

"He keeps tickling me," Bucky whispers. 

"No, I'm tryna fix his hair, look at this mess," Sam flicks a strand away from Bucky's cheek, "this is a nice event, Buck, not your living room." 

"Both of you," you warn.  

"You're bitching at me when Indiana Jones here brought the dig with her," Bucky mutters. 

You look down. Dammit. You still didn't change out of your boots. You roll your eyes. It's not about you. It's Steve's night. Er, Peggy's.  

You shake out your nerves and shake your head, "you two," you step behind Bucky and insert yourself between the men, "behave." 

"Yes, mom," Sam snickers as Bucky groans and tries to smooth the few shanks that have slipped free of his low ponytail. 

You exhale and give an exasperated look to the door. You really can't handle them on top of everything else. You just want this night to end already. All your hard work and you won't even get to enjoy any of it. 

"Everybody," Natasha hisses as she runs away from the doorway, "they're coming." 

The group quiets, as much as they can, a collective bated breath as you wait and listen. The lull is unbearable as the heat of the bodies around you pricks sweat down your neck and across your scalp. The door begins to open, almost as if in slow motion, and as the guest of honour is revealed, you cry out. 

"SURPRISE!" The eruption of the chorus has your head spinning as Peggy gives a melodramatic swoon, grabbing at Steve's arm as she leans on him heavily. 

She parts only to fan her eyes and squeal. "Oh my god, you guys!"  

She teeters on her heels as people holler happy birthday and her group of girlfriends flutter over to wrap her up in a cacophony of giggles and preening. You smile, a bittersweet twitch in your cheek as you watch her spin back to Steve and pull him into a kiss.  

You're happy for them really, proud to see all your effort come to fruition, but you just feel so hollow. For an instant, you think it should be you right there, gushing in glee over the celebration of another year, with Steve beside you.  

You gulp down the jealousy and wiggle your nose to ward away the tears. That's a stupid thought. If it hasn't happened in more than a decade, it's not going to happen now. 

💟

As the guests disperse into their own conversations, you finally manage to wade through to the happy couple. You approach with a small wave at Steve. He doesn't see you, he's watching Peggy as she chats with Natasha. 

"Hi," you call above the din, "so, you like it?" 

Steve turns to you, confusion stitching his forehead before he registers your questions. He nods and gives a smile, "it's amazing, you did so good!" 

The sparkle in his eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the way he's looking at you, it makes your heart rend. You tilt your head and dig your toe into the floor bashfully, "thanks. I'm so happy to see it come together." 

"Um, the cake," he brings his index finger up, "I was hoping to bring it out soon." 

"Er, yeah, it's back in the kitchen. About that–" 

"Great," he claps your shoulder and brushes by you, "just gonna put the finishing touches on it." 

"Hm, what do you–" 

He's gone before you can finish your question. You deflate just a little, setting your feet flat as you sway aimlessly. The motion hooks Peggy's attention. You give a sheepish smile as you wring your hands. 

"Oh, uh, just came over to wish you a happy birthday," you chirp, "are you enjoying it?" 

"Ah, I didn't see you here, I thought maybe you were busy…" she gives a pointed look to your boots, "working." 

"Um, yeah, no," you fidget, "always happy to come support you two." 

"Where is Steve?" She gazes past you, shouldering by dismissively, "he was just…." 

Right. You nod and flit away in embarrassment. You can't say you ever got along with Peggy. Where you're accommodating, she's a bit too demanding. Different people, but you don't dislike her. You just don't mesh. Or perhaps it's just that you don't get what Steve sees in her. Especially when you're right there. 

Enough. This isn't about you or your stupid dumb heart. Just smile and go with it. 

The kitchen door swings open, a noise barely discernible above the hue, and the rattling wheels of a cart underline the steady drone. A lull washes over the crowd as they part. You move with the tide and face the sudden divide. 

A hush falls over the room as Steve pushes the cake across the floor. He stops before Peggy as she faces him, another feigned pout of surprise. He grins proudly at her as you stare curiously at the top of the cake. 

"Oh, pink?" She comments on the fondant bow as her eyes flick over to you. She quickly corrects herself an admires the double tiered dessert, "Steve, it's so pretty." 

You know she hates the colour. You recall the one time you wore a pink bow in your hair and she made a similar comment. Cute, she remarked in her roundabout way in her oh so sophisticated accent. 

You manufacture a smile and step closer as Steve beckons to the guest. Tension stills the air, almost paralyzing the crowd. You squint at the heart shaped box perched atop the bow. 

"Is this for me?" Peggy asks if it's not obvious. 

Steve nods, his cheeks tinting pink, as you notice how he wipes his palms on his pants. Peggy delicately takes the box from the pedestal of fondant and your ribs ache from the pounding of your heart. You curl your fingers until your nails dig into your skin as you watch him kneel beside her. 

She doesn't notice as she opens the box on its hinges. Her lips part and she stares at the contents. She looks over at Steve to find him on his knee and she claps her hand over her mouth. Her eyes gleam as she whimpers his name through her fingers. 

The scene hazes behind your tears as you stare wide eyed. Your ears ring as Steve's voice is dulled by your shock. 

"Margaret Elizabeth Carter," Steve's timbre warble just a bit, "will you make me the happiest man on earth?" 

You don't wait for her answer. You already know it. It's the very same you give in every outlandish dream you've ever had of your happy ending. You spin and storm through the crowd, blind with horror and self-pity. 

Surprise! Your whole world is crashing into pieces. 

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 

JAKE GYLLENHAAL as detective Loki in PRISONERS (2013)

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

Ayo Edebiri as Sydney Adamu The Bear (2022-present) costume design by Courtney Wheeler

omg, he's even managing to stress me out! I think the fact that he doesn't speak to her, verbally express how obsessed with her he is, is really creepy. 😵‍💫 But I also believe that when he starts talking and feels "comfortable" with her, knowing that she won't leave, he won't stop anymore. I feel like he sees her as a reward for whatever he does, something that's just his, like a pet. I want to know at what other times he watched her, accompanied her without her knowing

LOOKING FORWARD TO MORE, I'M OBSESSED

Mission Control 6

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 ❤️

As the man comes toward you, you can’t react. He grabs your jacket, splitting the zipper, and rips it down your arms. You whimper as he strips the fabric away and lets it drop. His hand recoils to his belt and he unsheathes a long hunting knife. You take a step back and he catches back of your head and tuts as he closes in once more. 

He fists your hair in his hand and tugs until you tilt your head back. He pokes the tip of the knife against your chin and drags it down your neck. You quiver as his eyes blaze down at you. His pupils dilate as his gaze falls to the blade and turns it in his grip. He hooks the slightly curved point under your shirt and rents through your shirt. 

He slices so easily through the fabric that it leaves you breathless. You don’t move, terrified of being gashed. He cuts up your bra in quick succession, then your jeans, and your panties, leaving you only in your beat-up sneakers and socks. You’d feel ridiculous if you weren’t so scared. 

He stands straight and raises the knife, showing it to you in a silent threat. He twirls it and slides it back into the sheath on his belt. He looks down as you try to cover yourself with your hands. You shift on your feet and slowly bend to untie your shoes. 

He turns away. You peek up as he goes to the wall and pulls a framed painting, opening the hidden compartment behind. He takes the pistol from his belt and puts it away. He unstraps the harness from around his chest and another blade from his leg. He reveals a few more weapons from under his clothing before he shuts the door; gears whirring to lock it in place. 

Even without a blade, he’s dangerous. You know that much. That he disarmed himself shows that he’s just as aware of the imbalance. You slip free of your shoes and socks and stand, a hand over your pelvis and an arm over your chest. You gulp and search the room helplessly. 

He nears and grabs you by the back of your neck. He marches you across the room and through another door. Within, a bathroom is lit by the flip of a switch. He shoves you towards the tub and reaches to crank on the faucet. The scour of water makes you wince. 

He snaps his finger and points inside. You step over the porcelain wall and he yanks the curtain shut between you. You shiver even as the water steams hotly and pours over you. 

The heat should feel nice but you only shake as it spatters down. You look around. You take the fresh bar of soap and scrub yourself. It smells like rose and vanilla. You set it back in the dish and rinse the lather. 

You glance over. His shadow is gone. You inch towards the curtain and peer around it nervously. He’s not there. 

You retreat and face the showerhead. You turn off the faucet as the water only agitates your skin. You stand shivering, arms crossed, waiting. 

The door clicks open and he stomps back in. He tears back the curtain and shoves a towel against you. You hug it. 

“Thank you,” you look up into his scarred face. “Sir, why...” 

He lifts a single finger and pushes it against your lips. He shakes his head. You close your mouth and unfold the towel. He pulls his hand back as his eyes drift again to your body. You’re self-conscious as you fumble to hide yourself behind the towel. 

He grabs your arm and drags you out of the tub. He takes you out of the bathroom, back into the front room, and through yet another doorway. It’s a bedroom. It’s lit by a ceiling light, dimmed to amber, and a bed stands, draped in grey plaid flannel. 

He points again and let you go. You go to the bed and stop at the foot. It’s then you notice the plain white night gown. You look over your shoulder. He dips his chin down. You turn back and reach for cotton. 

You trade the towel for the nightgown and the door slams. You turn. You’re alone. You sway on your feet and examine the room. The walls are dark wood, rippled with knots and rings. The decor is sparse. The bed, a tall armoire, a shelf in the corner. 

You near the shelf slowly, not sure you’re seeing what’s there. The wall above it is plastered with pictures. Of you. Of your apartment. Of the tea shop. Every aspect of your life documented. Below, the shelf is cluttered with various objects; your possessions. The brush you thought you dropped out of your bag and replaced, several tubes of lip balm but you never finish those, a bracelet you forgot about, and an old journal you thought was still in your closet. 

You back away. This man didn’t just find you, he’s been following you. For a long time. You retreat to the bed and sit on the end. Again, you’re paralysed in futility. 

He returns and you gasp as you look up. He has only a towel at his waist as he barges in. You cower with wide eyes as he walks to the shelf and sets down something in the small glass tray with your bracelet. Your shank of hair. You cover your mouth in horror. 

Is he going to kill you? He’s some deranged murdered and this is his kill room or some weird stuff like that. You stand and clutch the towel. 

“Please just tell me if you’re going to kill me. I’d like to know at least,” you say, quavering. 

His back tenses. Scars crisscross his muscles as they strain beneath the skin. He pushes his head back before he faces you. His expression says nothing. He comes to you, stopping just in front of you. 

He grabs you by the neck and you tense. You try to prepare yourself for death but you won’t ever be ready. Your eyes well up and your heartbeat hammers in your chest. With his other hand, he strips away the towel. You yipe against his firm grip. 

He spreads his hand over the left side of your chest. You can feel your heart more clearly. His palm is hot like fire. You shakily reach to clasp onto his wrist, begging him with your eyes. Not to let you go, but for mercy. Make it quick. 

He squeezes your throat, not enough to block your breath, but enough to make you nervous. He lifts your neck and, without much effort, or care, hurls you back onto the bed. You splay over it as you exclaim and bite your tongue.  

What he intends to do, might be worse than death.