“Hmm, I think I’d better get you cuffed, gagged and safely stowed away, Robbie - at least until I’ve found out what’s going on around here.” Ramona told the gangster she had captured just a few hours earlier. “Just precautions, ok?”
“Ok, ma’am…” replied Robbie nervously, as the woman handcuffed him behind his back. In truth, Robbie was just as confused as Ramona by the single shot that had rung out, narrowly missing both detective and prisoner on the suddenly deserted street…
Source: Fm handcuffing image available on the internet.
“Just sign here, honey,” said Lucy Loner, private eye, “I promise you, you, this will make our trip to the cops a whole lot easier - for you!” Hughey looked at the auburn-haired detective quizzically and indicated his cuffed wrists. “Here, I’ll help you, sweet cheeks,” said Lucy brusquely, steadying her prisoner’s arm with one hand and thrusting a pen between his fingers with the other. “Now just make your mark. Every word is just as you told me.” Hughey sighed but realised it was too late to change his mind now and reluctantly scrawled his signature on the paper in front of him.
“Well done, honey.” Lucy told the disconsolate looking man as she took the cuffs off. She smiled as for a moment, Hughey looked optimistic. “Sorry, baby, all this means is you have to be cuffed behind your back now. It’s a long ride to the precinct.” The gangster-turned-state bowed his head, a mixture of shame at being captured by a woman and guilt at betraying his buddies. Lucy left the young man to his thoughts and concentrated on securing Hughey’s wrists together behind him. “Ok, let’s go.” she told her captive after he was bound, and the pair shuffled out of the female detective’s office.
The press was flabbergasted as the beautiful female officer paraded the captured male before the cameras, holding him, but seemingly confident he wouldn't try anything to escape.
"Wait," one of the reporters said. "This is the same man who fought off eight male officers?"
"But you arrested him all by yourself?" Another reporter called.
"Yes," she answered. "See, he's very hostile toward men, but he can't bring himself to resist a woman, so it only took one - me - to take him into custody after he fought off all those male officers. He surrendered very meekly to me. He's really a lamb in many ways."
He blushed and dropped his gaze, ashamed he'd surrendered so easily to the woman, but knowing she was right - he was a complete badger to men, but it only took one woman to bring him under control and into her custody.
Steve wakes up after almost 70 years. But what if he was found by the Russians instead and ended up at the mercy of the KGB's infamous assassin, Black Widow.
AU where Natasha has never met Clint. Takes place right at the end of Captain America: The First Avenger
Prologue
The radio goes dead. Sooner than he wanted it, depriving him of his last chance to tell Peggy about his feelings. But maybe it is for the best. He shouldn’t have to burden her with such a heavy confession seconds before the inevitable.
As the plane takes the nosedive, the last thing Steve gets to see is the light blue sky around him. He wants to see, for the remainder of the time he has got left. The pale ice awaiting at the bottom comes closer and closer. Then everything goes dark.
Darkness again, but a different kind. A bright gloom. He can perceive the light under his closed eyelids. He can hear the familiar sound of traffic in the distance, feel the warm sun rays on his skin. He becomes aware of the thick mattress under him.
Another familiar sound. A radio, again. But another voice. Masculine, this time.
“Workman up for the Phillies, now. Holding that big club down at the end. He sets, Chipman pitches.”
Steve opens his eyes to an immaculate white ceiling. He wants to move and to his surprise, he can. No broken bone or injury to be noted. He lifts himself up to sit on the edge of the hospitable bed.
The baseball game commentary is still on.
The door opposite the bed opens and the slender figure of a woman dressed as an SSR agent step into the room. He pauses as he eyes her carefully.
She has the brightest red hair he has ever seen, her waves neatly brushed behind her ear.
She smiles at him warmly. She looks kind but self-assured.
“Good morning,” she says. The texture of her slightly raucous voice is unique. “…or should I say, afternoon.”
“Where am I?”
“In a recovery room in New York City,” she answers with the same reassuring smile. “Can I get you something to eat?”
Steve concentrates on the baseball game again.
“So the Dodgers are ahead eight to five. And Chipman knows one swing of the bat and this fella’s capable of making it a brand new game.”
“Where am I, really?” he asks with growing suspicion.
Neither her smile nor her confidence waver. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“The game. It’s from May 1941. I know because I was there.”
The SSR agent — or whoever she is — does not flinch. She simply looks…disappointed.
“Captain Rogers. Let me bring you something to eat then we can talk.”
The door behind her opens again and two armed men, dressed in a kind of uniform he has never seen before, walk in.
He takes a step back. He looks at the wall and realizes it looks very thin, almost like a cardboard. He dashes towards it and jumps through it. The other side is even more dumbfounding than what he has left behind. A big room, a giant screen —he understands his room was nothing more than a set.
Other armed agents barge in. He escapes, knocking a few out of his way.
All the walls are made of metal. It looks more like high-security prison than a military hospital.
The men running after him are shouting in a language he grew accustomed with during his years at war. They aim their rifles at him but never shoot. He uses it as an advantage and comes to a frontal confrontation. He takes a gun and shoots at the soldiers behind him.
He eventually finds a door open, stairs going up to the rooftop. He can see the sunlight in the door frame, and his freedom along with it. He bursts through the door and halts with heavy breathing.
This is nothing like New York City. Only snow and mountains as far the eye can see.
He is trapped in the middle of nowhere.
The red-haired woman steps onto the rooftop. With unflinching determination, she raises her arm and reveals the gun she was hiding behind her back. She pulls the trigger twice before he even has time to respond. The two bullets infallibly hit the barrel of his firearm which flies out his grip.
“Stand down, Captain.” She warns coldly.
“You can’t keep me here.”
She drops her gun and rips her skirt up. She looks up at him with a slight sneer.
He tries to run away — jump off the rooftop — and she leaps forward. She hangs on to his chest, propels herself around him, and clasps his arms around her thighs.
He feels a quick and subtle bite in his neck. The woman willingly opens her palm to show the syringe she is holding. Sudden weariness takes over him and everything turns dizzy.
He leans forward and she gently hops off him to land noiselessly on her paws. She benevolently holds his arm to slowly help him down.
“I’m sorry, Captain. You really should have taken on my offer to eat.”
Armed agents get to the rooftop. She gives them orders in their language with a flawless accent. They obey her immediately.
So said policewoman Kanlaya Gajachandra as she tied the wrists of the drugs dealer securely behind his back while he sat miserably in the disordered wreck of his own kitchen. “I’ll be back for you later,” Kanlaya continued, “and before you ask, I’m saving my handcuffs for the real bad boys, not sad little wannabes like you!”
“If you hadn’t changed your mind about helping me with my experiment, young Merlin,” Morgan La Fay sighed, “all this unpleasantness wouldn’t be necessary!” The blindfolded Merlin thrashed about in his bonds. “Mmmph, mmmph!” he sounded through his gag desperately. “Hush now, brat!” Morgan snapped irritably. “Now where were we? Man to dog… that’s it! Was it wing of bat or tail of rat? Oh, who cares - let’s throw both in shall we, sweetie?”
Morgan’s brew turned green, then red, bubbling insanely…
My interpretation of the story behind the mythic Witch’s Brew by Tied Up At The Moment, who posted his excellent juxtaposition fm bondage art on Deviant Art. He started posting ff content as JakeMadison222, although that account also no longer now seems to be available.
