WHAT DID I JUST READ? The Bloody Scene Was So Visceral That My Brain Stopped Imagining His Actions Lost

WHAT DID I JUST READ? the bloody scene was so visceral that my brain stopped imagining his actions lost in blood and more blood. But I'm not afraid at all, this man is already called a monster, he has to become a beast to defend his girl! His eagerness to destroy the intruder's body and the fact that the man didn't say a word when he saw him, he already knew he was doomed.

I'm glad our girl fought so hard, went beyond what her body would allow to defend herself. She couldn't let herself be violated again just because someone wanted to hurt her initial abuser. And in the end she stands up to stop the carnage and asks for cleansing? just WHOA.

Love THAT! You are an artist!

Mission Control 19

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

EXTRA WARNING. THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS EXTREME GORE AND VIOLENCE. DO NOT READ IF SENSITIVE TO THESE DESCRIPTIONS.

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 kick with your good foot. The man deflects it easily. He chuckles. It’s like sand, gritty and dry. He hits your other foot so you shriek again and a surge of bile floods your throat. You swallow it back as you continue to thrash.

The man crawls up your body as he wrestles with you. He grabs your wrists as you fight to resist him. He’s much too strong. As you bounce on the stiff mattress, a wash of futility overcomes you. It’s exactly like before, when it was another man on top of you.

He chuckles as he brings your hands together and traps your arms in his grip. With his other hand, he reaches to his belt. He pulls free the snap on a sheath and slides free the long blade. You whine as you open and close your fingers desperately.

“Please, you don’t have to do this. Please. I don’t know him. I’m not... not his. Please, just let me go,” you beg through your teeth.

He’s only amused by your pleas. He twirls the knife in his hand and admires the groove in the silver. His dark eyes flick down to you and he smirks.

“That man doesn’t know what suffering is,” he taunts. “You want to have some real fun...”

He lowers the knife and traces across your collarbone. Your heart pounds and your breath clouds painfully in your chest. He hooks it under the left strap of your night gown and slices through. He does the same on the other side.

He turns the knife the draws a slow line toward your throat. The skin splits around the metal and you cry out. He cackles and flicks it so it digs in a little deep. You kick the bed, huffing and howling with each throb of your injured foot.

Adrenaline floods through you as you tug on your hands and write. This can’t happen. It can’t. You survived this far, you won’t go down without a fight. Even if it is a losing one.

You manage to wrench a hand free. He slips and the knife cuts across your shoulder. You whine but ignore the gash. You twist and bite down on his sleeve. You pinch until you feel the firm muscle of his forearm. Tighter and tighter until you taste iron.

The crack across your cheek has you reeling. You fall back against the bed and throw your hand out. You grab onto the blade of the knife, the metal searing your skin as blood seeps out around it. You squeeze and throw all your body weigh in the opposite direction.

You dislodge the knife from his grip and it hits the bed. You don’t hesitate. You grab it with your other hand and swipe at him. It deflects off his body arm but leaves a tear in his sleeve. You swing again and let out a beastly snarl. You miss and he hits your hand so the blade flies from your grasp.

You don’t care. You hit him. Over and over. Even if it doesn’t hurt. Even if it hurts you more.

“Noooooo!” You shout, “no! Get off!!! Fuck off! Fuck you!!”

You’re like an animal. All pain, all fear dissolves and there’s only one thing left. Survival.

Your vision clears you see his grin. You hate him. You hurl your fist at him but before he can smack it away, he lurches backward. He flies off of you and hits the wall with a startling force.

Another rasping breath blows through the room. Deep pants through nostrils as the soldier stands glaring at the intruder. His fists ball up as he steps closer to the dark-haired man. You dizzily sit up and watch as it all happens at a speed slower than reality.

The other man raises himself on his knees but doesn’t make it further. The soldier, the captain, whoever, whatever he is, grabs him by the scruff and smashes his face into the walk. Bone mulches as the dark-haired man croaks and spits up crimson and ivory.

The captain drags him by his neck as he searches the room. He finds the knife on the floor and throws the man onto his back. He plants his foot on his chest and looks at the blade. He turns his head to glance at you. His eyes are dilated and dull.

He drops his chin to consider the man on the floor. He slips his foot off of him and falls to his knees. He straddles the man, knees on his arms to keep him from resisting, and he traces along the man’s hairline. The man roars and gnashes his teeth.

The soldier continues the path around the man’s face until he’s sliced around cheekbone, jaw, and temples. He stabs the knife into the floor so it stands on its own. He runs his fingertips along the blood incision and you watch in horror as he peels the skin away from the bone. As he skins him with his hands alone, you cover your mouth and wretch. You can’t look away.

You see every nasty detail. When the man has no face, his eyes are plucked out next with thumbs, crushed in fists, thrown down like gobs of chewed gum. Blood pours into his hair and down his neck. His breath is sickly and wet.

Then the soldier strips him of his clothing. He shreds it with the knife but he destroys the man’s body with his hands. He breaks every finger, bending them back until they meet his hand. He twists his joints around until the crack and snap, he buries his nails into the skin until he can wrap his grip around his ribs and tear them out.

The man’s blood stains the soldier. You see it slicken his black clothing, shining, stinking as the body of the intruder gurgles on the floor. The soldier doesn’t stop. Not even when he’s dead.

You sit and watch him splitting sinew from bone, his eyes narrowed, almost hypnotised by the undoing of his enemy. You can’t take anymore. The smell of it, the sound, you can even taste it.

You slide to the edge of the bed and stand. You whimper at the horrible pulsing in your foot. You hobble across the floor as the soldier is distracted in his work. You steel yourself and touch his shoulder. He winces as you lean on him but he doesn’t stop.

His hands are red but with his blood as much as the man he murdered. He has cuts on his knuckles, a splintered bone juts out by his thumb. He doesn’t feel any of it.

“You’re hurt,” you point and gulp back a wave of nausea. “Please, stop.” You bring your hand up to his chin and he finally stills. He lets you turn his head and he looks up at you. “If you don’t clean that, it will get worse.”

He raises his hands and examines them. You tormented shoulder throbs and your foot radiates with heat. You gently touch his thick fingers.

“Safe,” you say to him. “Like you said.”

He stares at your hold on him then softly moves his hands to take yours instead. He stands as his pupils shrink. His eyes wander to your shoulder and the blood dripping down your chest.

“We both need to clean up,” you look down. “Don’t we?”

Tags

steve rogers review dark steve rogers Captain Hydra

Mission Control 13

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

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 stand shivering in a towel. The door is open to the damp chill, a grey sky peeking in. He appears again, marching through with a worn canvas knapsack. He drops it on the rug and goes back to shut the door. You hear the gears whirring as it locks on its own.

He’s all in black again. At least his clothes are clean. The turtleneck has a hole in the elbow and the cargo pants are missing a flap along one pocket, but they don’t smell like iron and mud. His blond hair is still sleek with moisture and droops down his forehead.

You wrap your arms around yourself and watch him. He lifts the bag over the couch and drops it on the cushions. He points and looks at you. You nod and go where he wants.

You tuck in the top of the towel. You pull back the zipper. A bundle of clothing pushes the bag wide as it bulges through. You pull out a plaid flannel shirt. It’s thick. You peek up at him and hold it up. He jams his finger towards you.

“These are for me?” You ask. He lowers his arms and tilts his head. “Thank you.” You look down and lay out the flannel on the next cushion.

You pull out two pairs of rolled jeans, some tee shirts, and a pullover sweater. Each piece is plain and practical. None of it matches. You won’t complain. Only the last piece is less than utilitarian.

You drag out the dress and it flows free. The yellow is speckled with green vines and white flowers. You grimace as you note the red splotch on the bodice and the way the trim on the neckline is separated along one side.

He grunts. You wince and look him in the eye. You blink nervously and turn the dress around for him to see. He frowns and snatches it from you. He touches the bloody stain and exhales deeply. He balls it up. He stares at you again.

You pick up a tee shirt and give it a sniff. It’s a bit dingy. You can manage.

“Maybe I’ll do some laundry? You can show me where?” You suggest.

His eyes narrow.

“I’ll do yours too. I don’t mind. I’d like to have something to do,” you offer. You’re trying to fill the silence as much as you’re begging to distract yourself from the dread. “If that’s okay with you.”

His eyes drift. He puts his chin down and examines the dress again. He rents it in two and stomps away.

You pull the tee shirt on over the towel then slip into the jeans. You loose the towel and button up the flannel. It’s better.

The door clatters open again. You go to hang the wet towel from the bar in the bathroom and as you return, he carries in a pile of white birch logs. He kicks the door shut and takes them to the fireplace. He lets them roll over the floor. He grabs one and splits it in half with his fingers. You gape.

“Can I help?” You stay a few feet back as you watch his shoulders. “Are you hungry?”

He clacks several pieces onto the embers and stokes the fire until it roars. He stacks the rest before he gets up. He faces you and stalks over. You shuffle back frightfully. He points to your stomach then makes a fist.

“Not all of it makes me sick. I was asking you though.”

His brows furrow and he snarls. He shakes his head. He’s frustrated but you don’t know why.

You warily move back to the couch and fold up the leftover clothing. He strides into the kitchen as you place the knapsack and clothes aside. He comes back in with a large metal bucket with handles on the wide brim and a scrubbing board. You only ever saw those in museums. He drops it and it clanges as the board bounces to the other side.

“Thank you,” you say to conceal your fear. You feel his temper mounting. You want to keep him calm as long as you can. “Will you sit down?” You ask gently. “I wish I could make you some tea. It’s the perfect weather for it.”

He inclines his head and watches you. His cheek ticks and his eyes flick up as if trying to remember something. He moves towards you and you lurch but don’t back away. He brings his hands to the sides of your face. His thumbs stroke your cheeks and he holds you for just a second before he releases you.

He brushes close and moves to the couch. He sits with a groan. He doesn’t show the pain but you saw the splotched bruises and the slice along his knee.

“I’m going to boil some water,” you explain. “Is there a drying rack for me to hang the clothes?”

He sniffs and stands.

“You can point and I’ll find it,” you say. “I saw a closet near the kitchen?”

He blinks and flicks his finger in that direction as he sits back down. You turn and flit towards the door you were too afraid to open. You look inside at the broom; that would have been useful before.

You drag out a rusting folding rack and bring it to the front room. You put it in front of the fireplace.

“Is that okay?” You turn to him.

He waves his hand indifferently.

You nod and go back to your task. It’s not as terrifying when you have little steps to follow. You find a pot in the cupboard and fill it with water. You put it on to boil then retreat into the bathroom. You gather up his clothes and add them to the heap of the others.

You take the bar of laundry soap from the bottom of the tub and set it aside. As you wait for the water to boil, you find a cloth and wet it. You wipe the front of his body arm. Black and red mingle on the linen.

You glance over at him. His eyes are closed. The fire crackles and its glow flickers over him. You put your head down and continue your work. There’s an eeriness to the sudden peace of the cabin. You only then notice how the storm has quieted too.

Tags

steve rogers review dark steve rogers Captain Hydra

188 notes View Post

kellhems

3 years ago

The girl has more children with him than years together. I cannot understand the pain of living for so many years with your jailer having to give you children as gifts. Steve is disgusting, old-fashioned, rotten inside and it's absurd to think he actually thinks he's doing the right thing.

In addition, the story is so good and engaging, it leaves a feeling of wanting more. wonderful writing

High Value Hero 8: The Chalet/END

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY

Summary: America’s golden boy, Steve Rogers, doesn’t have the most modern view of women behind closed doors. And the podcasts his buddy Sam has introduced him to don’t help the situation. Unfortunately for you, you catch his eye when you become his next door neighbor.

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

Relationship: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: No beta reader. This gets…pretty fucking dark, so read the warnings.

Warnings: non-con, smut, misogyny, somnophilia, drugging, stalking, breeding kink, gaslighting, toxic relationships, manipulation, obsessive behavior, kidnapping, size kink if you squint, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, murder, voyeurism, and a whole host of others that will be added as we go on.

This is a dark fic - so read the damn warnings. YOU are responsible for your own media consumption.

The rest of the holiday was much calmer after Taylor had left. Her fight with Steve left you somewhat shaken. You’d never seen her this unhinged before and to make matters worse she kept calling and texting you. You ignored her for the time being, still upset that she’d caused such a shameful display and attacked Steve.

You tried to push your memories of the fight out of your mind as Steve drove up the winding road to Tony’s ski chalet. The resort was four hours from the nearest city and the house was about three miles from the resort itself. You had gotten lucky that a large snowstorm had dumped a few feet of snow the day before you arrived. The forest surrounding the house was like a winter wonderland and moonlight reflected brightly off of the white snow.

“We’re here!” Steve announced and looked at you.

“I thought you said it was a small chalet.” You gawked at the massive house as you got out of the car.

“Small by Tony’s standards.” He shrugged, “I just texted you the code to the door. How about you head in while I get the bags. It’s freezing out here and I don’t want you catching a cold.”

“You won’t argue with that.” You agreed, shutting the car door and quickly heading inside.

You rubbed your hands together when you entered the house and were relieved to find the heat already on. You looked around the large open floor plan and somehow the chalet seemed even larger on the inside. Despite its somewhat modern style, it still felt cozy on account of its large fireplaces and the warm toned wood. You wandered around, finding your way to the kitchen area and opened the double fridge. It was already stocked with food for your stay and there was more than enough wine for the time you’d be there.

You took off your coat and scarf then grabbed a bottle of red wine. You poured glasses for you and Steve.

“Steve, come here!” You called to him cheerily when you heard him come through the door and wipe his feet on the mat, “We can deal with the bags later.”

“Let me just take them up - “ Steve stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you standing with a glass of wine in the kitchen. He walked up to you and quickly snatched it away.

“Hey! What the hell?” You exclaimed as you reached for it, “Steve, stop playing around!”

“I’m not playing, Y/N.” He snapped at you and looked at you sternly, “You shouldn’t be drinking when you’re – when you’re sick.”

“I’ve just been a little nauseated lately. That’s all, but I feel fine today.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself, “You still puked yesterday, Y/N.” He responded with concern, “It’s at least two hours to the nearest real hospital. You’d have to get medevacked. I just don’t want to take any chances. That’s all.”

You huffed but Steve was right, god forbid you irritated your stomach even further and made yourself sicker. You pouted as you put the bottle away and poured the glasses of wine down the sink. Steve looked through the shelves and found chocolate bars to make hot cocoa. He also pulled some whipped cream out of the fridge.

“How about I make us a fire and you whip up some of this instead?” He counter offered gently with a soft smile as he rubbed his knuckles up and down your arm, “It’s a bit more fitting for the weather too.”

“I suppose it is more fitting.” You scrunch your nose, hating to admit that he was right.

~~~

Steve put on some of his favorite music from the ‘40s and tended to the fire with the blowpoke to make sure it was just right. When he was finished he settled onto the couch next to you under the blanket. You watched the flames whip around the fireplace and enjoyed the scent of the burning logs. The crackling noises only added to the cozy atmosphere.

You eventually started to yawn as sleep crept over you. Steve rubbed your shoulder and then gave you a peck on the top of your head.

“Time for bed, doll.” He announced with a yawn, as he slowly got up.

You let out a whimper, “I’m too tired to make it upstairs.” You whined and collapsed onto the couch where he had been sitting.

Steve chuckled at you softly and then suddenly picked you up bridal style. You yelped at his sudden movement and he swiftly walked across the room and up the stairs. You wrapped your arm around his neck as your body jostled with each step. Steve nudged the door to your room open with his foot and then playfully dropped you on your bed.

“There, now all you have to do is pass out.” He teased you, “All the hard work’s done.”

He started for the door but then you called him back, “You can sleep in here tonight, if you want.” You offered coyly.

Steve looked at you surprised, “Are you sure? I don’t want to - “

“Come here.” You beckoned him with your hand out.

Steve approached you slowly and grabbed it. You pulled him towards you and into a kiss. It was gentle at first and his soft lips felt amazing. His large hands caressed your face as he deepened the kiss. You whimpered into his mouth and Steve pushed you backwards onto the bed. You scooted towards the pillows and then sat up to quickly undress yourself as Steve did the same.

You could feel the tension coming off of him as he gazed at your naked form. Your eyes traveled down the vee that led from his lower abs to his large and girthy cock. You knew he was big, but not that big. He was intimidatingly large. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips in anticipation and he chuckled at your reaction as he languidly stroked his cock.

Steve kneeled on the bed and then crawled up your body. He hovered over you and spread your legs with his thighs. You whined as he began to kiss down your neck and shoulders. The warmth of his body and his touch felt so familiar to you. You could feel yourself become instantly wet and your pussy quiver with anticipation.

He moved his hand between your legs and gently ran two of his fingers between your dripping folds.

“You're already so wet for me, doll.” He purred seductively in your ear.

You felt an aching need within you to be filled and grabbed his hand by the wrist.

“Please just fuck me, Steve.” You nearly begged him, “I need to feel you.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” He huskily rasped into your ear as he lined himself up with your slit and then slowly pushed into your heat.

“Fuck!” You gasped as you felt yourself stretch around him, “Oh my god!”

The stretch didn’t burn nearly as much as you had expected. There was just an instantly gratifying fullness. Steve began to move and you bit your lip while you wrapped your thighs around him tighter, savoring the feeling of the smooth skin of his hard cock massaging your inner walls.

Steve moved expertly within you, as if he knew your body like the back of his hand. Your pussy clenched around him as he instantly hit all of the right spots within you. You closed your eyes as they rolled and gave into the growing pleasure.

“So fucking perfect for me.” He moaned as thrust into you faster, “You like this big dick don’t you, baby.”

You mewled as you felt the coil in your belly begin to tighten and your legs start to shake. Your nails dug into his back and you felt his hot breath against your neck.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He growled with sharp thrusts that made you yelp as the sharply hit against your cervix.

“Fuck, yes.” You moaned breathily, ‘Yes, I love it.”

He reached his hand underneath you to grab your ass and pull you closer to hit at a deeper angle, “What do you love? Hm?”

Your breathing became labored as your legs tensed, “Your big dick. It feels so fucking good.”

Steve snarled as he snapped his hips into you roughly. You felt your back arch off the bed and squeeze down around him so hard you felt like you were going to break him. The coil snapped and Steve groaned as your body thrashed underneath his.

“Steve! Steve!” You chanted as bliss washed over your body and you saw stars.

Steve pounded into you as he rode you through your high and chased his at the same time.

“Not gonna last any longer, doll.” He panted as his hips snapped harshly, “Pussy’s too fucking good.”

“Fuck, I wanna put another one in you,” He groaned as his cock twitched and began to pulse as he painted your inner walls. Steve moaned as he gave you a few more sloppy thrusts and then collapsed on top of you.

You gently ran your fingers across his back and up and down his neck while you caught your breath. Then you remembered what he said, “I wanna put another one in you,” then started giggling.

“What are you giggling about?” He murmured between bites on your shoulder.

“I wanna put another one in you?” You snorted, “Like what? You wish you had another dick, Steve? Because this one is more than enough.”

He paused for a moment and then laughed lightly, “I dunno what I meant.” He lied, “My brain doesn’t exactly work properly during sex. Especially not with you.” He rolled off of you and pulled you into his chest.

You snuggled against him as he ran his hands gently up and down your back. He let out a satisfied hum before kissing you on the forehead.

“Come on, let’s take a nap, doll.” He said mischievously, “You need to rest up because I’m not done with you yet.”

~~~

The next few days were utter bliss and you couldn’t have planned for a more perfect getaway. You’d have mind blowing sex with Steve throughout the night, then get up to make breakfast, before you hit the slopes and hung out at the resort until it was time for you to come back and make dinner.

Sex with Steve was something that you’d never experienced with a new partner before. It was like you’d been lovers for a while and he’d taken the time to know exactly what got you off. His appetite was insatiable and he fucked you in every postion imaginable on almost every surface of the chalet.

Your time on slopes wasn’t as adrenaline inducing as you hoped it was because Steve had never skied before. So instead you helped instruct him on the bunny slopes while giggling at the super soldier losing his footing and falling down. Thankfully no one was able to recognize him because of how covered up he was.

One day you finally wanted to branch out on your own and hit up one of the more advanced slopes while he got lunch.

“Hey,” You said as you grabbed his arm to help him up off the ground after he had fallen again, “How about you grab something to eat while I go on one of the harder slopes? I can meet you back at the house.”

You couldn’t see Steve’s eyes through his ski goggles, only the distorted reflection of your face. But you could see how his hands gripped his poles and small ticks in his jaw. You’d learned to read his body language over the past few days and knew he wasn’t happy with the idea.

You let out a deep exhale and grabbed his arm gently to try and placate him, “Look, I know we were supposed to spend most of this trip together, but I haven’t been up here in a really long time. It’ll only be an hour or two.”

“When was the last time you’ve been up here? Or Skiing at all for that matter?” He challenged you and you could hear the irritation in his voice, “Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to just go off and do something more dangerous when maybe you don’t have your bearings?”

You were taken aback at how quickly his demeanor changed, “Yes, it’s been a while, but I’ve been doing this since I was a kid –”

“No, it’s out of the question, Y/N.” He stated forcefully, “Like I said earlier, it’s two hours to the nearest actual hospital and I also promised your dad I wouldn’t let you get hurt.”

“Out of the question?!” You sassed him back in disbelief, “Who the hell do you think - “

Steve dropped his ski poles and grabbed you tightly by the arm, “I’m saying no for your own good. Now come on before you start drawing attention.”

You stared at him for a while not knowing what to make of the interaction. Steve had never been like this with you before. You preferred to talk about it in private and so you complied and went back to the house.

You angrily huffed as you removed your gear and stomped over to the kitchen to get some water. You practically slammed the glass down before you started to make your way towards the stairs. Steve intercepted you and tried to pull you in for a hug but you pushed him away.

“Stop it!” You seethed at him, “I just want to go upstairs and be alone right now.”

You saw a darkness flicker across his face but then it softened and he reached out for you again.

“Hey, doll, don’t be like that.” He cooed as he fought you and pulled you into a smothering embrace, “I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

You tried to pull away but he was too strong, “You sound more like you’re trying to control me, Steve and you're not my goddamn father.”

He let go of you just enough for you to pull away slightly before one of his hands grabbed you by the back of the neck with just enough pressure to keep you in place and the other gently caressed your face.

“I would lose my shit, Y/N, if I let you get hurt.” He told you calmly with a bit of harshness in his voice, “I’d fucking burn the world down if something happened to the two of you.”

“What?” You looked at him confused, “The two of us?”

You felt a sinking feeling in your gut as Steve began to stroke your face gently and then kissed you softly on the forehead. His silence made your blood run cold.

“Do you really think you’ve had a stomach bug for this long, sweetheart?” He asked you almost condescendingly with his head cocked to the side, “Or that what? Your hormones were just out of whack because of all the stress. How long has it been since you’ve had your period? Because I fucking know.” Steve lightly taunted as he squeezed one of your tender breasts.

You winced in pain and tried to push him away from you. Your heart began to pound in your chest as his words registered, but you couldn’t believe what he was saying. It wasn’t possible. He let you go and you stumbled backwards away from him.

“I know what you’re thinking right now, doll.” He told you calmly as he gazed at you with a small smirk, “How would that even be possible. Hm?” Steve took slow deliberate and menacing strides towards you as you continued to move away from him as terror rose within your body.

“Ohhh…my body is so sore after drinking that tea.” He mocked you, “Well if you say that’s normal, then I guess it is, Steve.”

“No, no, no.” You shook your head in disbelief, “No, you wouldn’t do that, Steve. You wouldn’t do that.” You were shaking now as the realization of what Steve had done hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Do what?” He asked with his lip curled, “Take what’s mine? You belonged to me the moment I saw you in that hallway, Y/N. It just took you this long for you to finally realize it.”

“Taylor was right about you.” You said softly as tears started to stream down your face, “She was right and you made us think - you made us think she was the crazy one! You fucking psycho! You raped me and you -“

“Raped you?” Steve scoffed, “You fucking feminists call everything rape these days, you know that? You can’t rape what belongs to you, doll. What kind of sense does that even make? Use your fucking brain, Y/N.”

Your legs almost gave out when you heard those viscous words fall from Steve’s lips. You tried to muster as much courage as you could as you took in a shaky breath.

“I’m going to leave now. I’m going to leave and I don’t want you to ever come near me again.” You told him as your voice quavered.

Steve snickered in amusement as he watched you trying to hold yourself together and tutted you, “No, sweetheart. You’re not going anywhere with my baby. So sit the fuck down and stop being such a drama queen.”

Your body acted before your mind could and made a run for the door. Steve chuckled darkly as he quickly ran ahead of you and stood in front it, blocking you from escape. You turned around and bolted up the stairs towards one of the guest bedrooms as fast as you could. When you entered the one at the farthest end of the hallway you closed and locked the door behind you.

You looked around the room for anything you could use as a weapon and saw a blowpoke near the fireplace. You grabbed it and then stood behind the door waiting for Steve. You knew it wouldn’t take him down entirely, but maybe it would give you enough time to get a good head start.

“Y/N!” You heard him call out for you as he reached the top of the stairs, “Y/N, sweetheart, you need to calm down. All of this excitement isn’t good for the baby.”

You shook uncontrollably and tried to stifle your sobs. You were scared and also ashamed. How did you let such a monster into your life? How did you not pick up on any signals at all? Was he just that good or were you just that stupid? Taylor tried to warn you and you were too convinced by Steve that he was a good guy you ignored her pleas when she tried to save you.

Steve’s heavy footsteps got closer and closer. You heard them stop at the door of the room next to yours and open it. He walked around for a bit and then left. You knew the room you were in was next and tried to prepare yourself.

“I know you’re in here, baby.” He said before he opened the door.

Steve wailed as you hit his foot with the blowpoke. The curved hook stabbed through his foot and you could see blood stain his thick wool socks. You removed it and then whacked him in the head before sprinting past him as he fell to the ground holding his head.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!!” He bellowed in the distance, “YOU FUCKING DUMB BITCH!”

You quickly threw on your boots and coat and made a run for it through the snow. You knew he would chase you down the main road and you decided to try and chance it by making it through the woods to the resort. You could see the ski lift in the distance and all you needed to do was make it there, but the snow was so much deeper than you anticipated.

You tried to run as fast as you could but instead kept tripping and falling into it. Despite how hard the trek was, you were determined to get away from Steve.

You soon realized that you didn’t hear anyone around you. You didn’t hear another set of footsteps or Steve calling after you. You knew he wasn’t going to let you go, but why was he being so quiet? The silence put you on edge, but you forced yourself to start moving again.

After what seemed like at least twenty minutes you heard a large rock hit a tree next to you. Heavy snow fell from the tall branches and you ran away trying not to get hit with it. You heard Steve laughing darkly behind you.

You turned and couldn’t see him, so you ran to hide and covered your mouth to keep him from seeing your warm breath in the cold air. But it was also to stifle your sobs.

You heard footsteps crunching in the snow and Steve let out an annoyed sigh, “Sweetheart, you’re not getting away from me. Not with that tracker I put in you.”

You gasped against your palm, but it was clearly loud enough to hear with his advanced hearing.

“I’m not going to come over to that tree and drag you back to the house. Besides, I would never lay a hand on you.” He declared arrogantly, “No, I’m going to give you a choice.”

“A choice?” You thought to yourself. You knew it was just some fucked up game.

“You come back to the house with me and you accept that we’re a family now.” He started to explain to you, “Or, you choose not to. In which case, I will kill every single one of those snot nosed little brats in your class one by one until you come to your senses.”

You choked out a horrified sob. Not your students. You couldn’t believe that he was threatening them. The thought of him harming them made bile rise into your mouth.

“Oh? You don’t think I’ll do it, do you?” Steve continued nonchalantly, “What are their names again, baby? Bella…Jayden…oh that little weirdo Ryan. Maybe I’ll start with Ryan. It’s not like that kid’s going places anyway.”

You leaned against the tree and your body sank until you were sitting on the snow, your knees against your chest as you covered your face and cried. Steve would do it. You knew he would and you couldn’t let that happen. You heard his footsteps as he neared. He stopped in front of you and held out his hand.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s go home.”

~~~

SIX YEARS LATER…

The camera crew did their final checks on the lighting as the stylists flitted around you and your family. You sat next to Steve in a feminine floral dress paired with a gold cross necklace and your hair pinned back with just a few coils framing your face. Steve sat next to you in a button up with rolled up sleeves and dress pants chatting with the interviewer before you were going to start recording.

You shushed your children and told them to quiet down before the cameras were about to start rolling. The oldest was Molly, who was followed by the twins Ronan and Conor. Then there were Christopher, Declan, and Sean. Your youngest Katie, who just started teething, squirmed on your lap as you held her against your growing belly. You were pregnant, again. But Steve had said you were already getting up there for a woman when he met you, and so he couldn’t waste time on you having too many breaks between the children.

“Alright, are we ready to start?” the chipper interviewer asked with a smile.

You knew the drill and you smiled back at her, hoping that it reached your eyes. You had learned your lesson after the first time a tabloid said you looked like you were being held hostage in your engagement photos with Steve. Taylor paid the price for it and after such a traumatizing loss, you fully realized that there was nothing too low or depraved Steve wouldn’t do to get what he wanted from you.

“Rolling.” The cameraman announced.

“So, President-elect Rogers and Mrs. Rogers, thank you so much for inviting us into your home this afternoon, along with your beautiful family.”

“It’s a pleasure having you here.” You smiled back at her, faking as much warmth as possible.

“President-elect- “

“Please, please, just call me Steve.” He interjected, “I really am still just that simple guy from Brooklyn.”

The interviewer chuckled, “Well, and that may be why the voters connected with you so much, Steve. You’re the first American presidential candidate to win 49 states since Ronal Reagan in the 1980s. You’re also the first Republican candidate to - “

You sat there with a Stepford smile plastered across your face as you turned to Steve to look adoringly at him, smile back at the interviewer, shush one of your children playfully and at the same time think about what your life could have been.

What if you hadn’t moved into that apartment building? What if Ethan had helped you move instead of Steve? What if you had listened to Taylor? What if you hadn’t been so blind? What if you hadn’t been so stupid?

“Mrs. Rogers?” The interviewer asked, pulling you from your thoughts, “Why do you think the voters connected so much with your husband?”

You knew this answer despite how much it wanted to make you vomit. You had been coached on it over and over again.

“Well, I think that voters see the sacrifices my husband made when he carried the shield, how he put himself in danger selflessly for others. I think they relate to him from even before the serum when he was a scrappy kid in Brooklyn.”

“Aww..sweetie.” Steve beamed at you as he squeezed your hand.

“But, I also think that when they look at our family, they understand how big his heart truly is.” You continued, “That he has compassion. That he is a true leader, in both his work, the church, the community, and in our home.”

Steve put his arm around your shoulder and gave you a peck on the head.

“To summarize what I think you’re trying to say, honey, I think it’s just that when a lot of voters see me, they see the traditional values they want to get back to.”