mindnightrunaway

[mindnightrunaway]

Teenage Dirtbag (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, mentions of blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.

Your rescue just comes with a price.

~

Your arms were crossed tightly over your chest as you walked down the street. It was late, much too late to be walking down the streets of Kildare County by yourself, but it was the only solution you could find to allow yourself to think. You just needed some time to think, that was all, and once that was over, you had every intention of going back to the party.

Most especially before Rafe noticed you were gone.

When you slipped out of the bedroom under the guise of needing to pee, your boyfriend had been snorting yet another line of white powder that was painstakingly familiar to you. You figured you had a decent amount of time before he pulled away from his conversation with Kelce and Topper long enough to take note of your absence. A shudder passed through you, and you swiped your tongue between your lips.

It was the middle of December, and even if you were actually dressed for the weather—which you weren’t—it was still too cold to be out and about like this. Your dress had sleeves, but little good they did you when the fabric stopped above your knees. Your pristine white converse did little to keep you warm too. A biting breeze from the ocean hit your cheek like straight ice, and you swallowed.

You welcomed the feeling.

Anything felt better than this aching and suffocating numbness you’d felt for months, now. The sting on your face was almost comforting in some way because the pain meant that you were alive. Beneath the loud buzz in your ears and the hollow feeling in your chest, you were still alive, and that was so relieving. Too many times you’d almost convinced yourself that you’d died and were living out the rest of your days in hell.

When your face felt even colder all of a sudden, you paused.

You were surprised to feel wetness when you reached up, staring at your fingers with something akin to disbelief. There was really only one reason you cried these days…so why were you crying, now? The ache in your shoulder from the other day had long subsided, so that couldn’t be it. You felt your face pinching a tad, brows furrowing as you just…stared at your fingers.

Only the distraction of headlights could pull your gaze away, and you were thankful that you weren’t in the road. You really didn’t think much at all of the approaching van, hardly sparing it another glance as you continued to walk down the street, telling yourself just five more minutes. Five more minutes, that was all you needed. Just…

Five more minutes.

To yourself.

Without Rafe.

You stopped again because you were once again pulled from your thoughts, but this time it was by the sound of a voice. Brows drawn together, you turned around, noting the familiarity of it. It was only when your eyes landed on familiar blonde hair did you finally give the van a double take, telling yourself that you’d seen it around town here and there.

Sarah’s boyfriend owned it.

“Y/N?” she wondered, both concern and disbelief coloring her tone. “What the hell are you doing out here this late?”

She was standing just by her open door, the van parked in the road, and she was rushing towards you before you could answer.

“It’s like forty something degrees outside,” Sarah breathed, reaching for her jacket.

You noticed that even underneath it, she was dressed more appropriately for the weather than you.

“Where’s Rafe?” she asked, handing you the thick coat, eyes still wide.

“He’s just…up the street,” you gestured. “I just…I just needed a minute.”

Your excuse was lame, and you knew it, and Sarah’s frown only deepened as you put on her coat.

“You just needed a minute at twelve o’clock in the morning? Are you crazy?” she chuckled, but you could tell it was a poor attempt to mask her worry. “Where’s the house? We’ll drive you.”

You wanted to protest, but you figured that Rafe would notice your absence soon—he always did—and you should be trying to get back to the party before he did. You couldn’t deal with his ire any day of the week, but there was something about today that was particularly maddening. If Rafe so much as raised his voice at you, you just knew you’d burst into tears.

“It’s really no big deal. There’s plenty of room in the back…if you don’t mind riding with a handful of Pogues, that is,” she teased, pulling you along.

She knew you didn’t care about that, but she liked to poke fun, anyway. However, her use of the plural had you faltering, and she noticed.

“Oh,” you said, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “Are Kiara and Cleo with you?”

“…and Pope and JJ,” she added, curiously eyeing you, now.

You were sure that your apprehension was all over your face, and you tried to weigh your options. There was no way Sarah was just going to let you walk back by yourself, it would be a losing battle that’d more than likely result in Rafe noticing you were gone by the time you finally got back. On the other hand, though, it would be just your luck to hop in after Rafe already noticed your absence.

Pope and JJ were names you weren’t all that familiar with a year ago, but you definitely were, now.

Even if they were Kooks, Rafe would lose his mind if he knew you were riding around with other guys. The guys in question being two people you regularly heard him complain about would only add fuel to the fire. One of them being JJ—a polite blond who’d smiled at you in The Wreck once—would send Rafe, and your physical wellbeing, spiraling.

The memory of that day had you blinking back tears, and you were somehow grateful when headlights blinded both you and Sarah.

Even if Rafe’s truck didn’t have a distinct sound, those obnoxious headlights were recognizable anywhere. As disappointed as you were that your alone time was officially over, you were relieved that you wouldn’t have to explain yourself to Sarah for the tears that were no doubt about to spill over. You’d seen the slight panic and shock on her face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Those were the words that greeted you as soon as Rafe parked and hopped out of his truck.

“You said you were going to the bathroom and next thing I know, everybody I ask is saying they haven’t seen you for a while. Are you fucking-?”

“Rafe!”

Sarah’s tone was harsh, her tone incredulous, and she looked at her brother like he’d lost his mind. The eldest Cameron only just seemed to notice her presence—and that of the van—and you watched the way he snapped his mouth shut. By now, Sarah’s boyfriend had turned the van off, and you hadn’t noticed the door opening, revealing the rest of her friends inside.

They were anxiously watching the exchange.

“Sarah, it’s fine-.”

“It is not fine,” she argued, looking between you two. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Her gaze was resting on her brother, now as he neared you.

“He’s just worried,” you defended him, attempting to placate her. “He’s right. It was stupid of me to be out here this late at night with no cellphone, no jacket…”

You trailed off with a shrug, leaning in to Rafe as he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer. Sarah’s expression didn’t change, and she fixed Rafe with a hard look to which he didn’t even acknowledge.

“I don’t care. There are nicer ways to get his point across to his own girlfriend,” she harshly whispered to which Rafe merely rolled his eyes.

He said nothing else to her, only choosing to pull you along instead. However, with another glance at you, he paused with a deep frown. You noticed that his gaze was on Sarah’s jacket, and so you were unsurprised when he reached for it. You tried to ignore the feeling of being watched.

“Take this off,” he told you, just loud enough for you to hear.

When you did, he roughly tossed it back at Sarah who struggled to not let it hit her face. He ignored her offended ‘hey!’, reaching for his own jacket instead and putting it on you. When your arms were through it, he pulled you towards his truck. You noticed how quiet he was the whole way, and you eyed him, knowing that a quiet Rafe was never a good thing.

As he helped you into the passenger seat, you could see that Sarah hadn’t moved, watching you two with her arms folded over her chest. By now, her boyfriend—whose name had finally come to you—had joined her, saying something to her that you couldn’t hear. Whatever it was didn’t exactly lighten her mood, and she only shook her head in response.

A somewhat familiar blond had joined both of them, now, saying something and lightly waving his arms about in a way that finally got them to move. John B. helped Sarah back into the van, but even as he made his way to the driver’s side, you noticed the blond still hadn’t gotten back inside. Just then, his blue eyes met yours through the windshield, and you didn’t hold his gaze for long.

Rafe finally joined you, and you lowered your eyes, resting them on your lap instead.

The last time you’d been face to face with JJ, it resulted in the one and only time you ever called the police on Rafe. That day felt like a lifetime ago, and it was something you desperately didn’t want to revisit. Rafe was jealous, always had been, and because that wasn’t changing anytime soon, your only option was to adjust and keep him happy.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” Rafe finally said as he started the vehicle.

Taking a deep breath, you leaned back in the seat.

“I didn’t think I’d be gone that long. I just wanted some air for a bit,” you told him, looking at him, now as he started to drive.

He wouldn’t look at you, and that made your heart sink for so many reasons. One of his hands came up to rest at his lips, and even though his eyes were on the road…it still felt like he was looking dead at you.

“You lied to me,” he said after a while.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you sat up.

“No, I-I didn’t. I did go to the bathroom, but afterwards I just wanted some air. It was so loud, and everyone was smoking, and it was just too many people…”

Your words died in your throat when Rafe raised a hand, and you chewed on the inside of your cheek. When he didn’t say anything else, you settled for looking out the window. Despite being wrapped up in Rafe’s jacket, you still felt a chill go through you, and you rubbed your arms through the fabric. The silence in the truck was so suffocating and tense, and when you glanced at your boyfriend again, his gaze was still fixated on the road.

With anyone else…that would be normal, the right thing to do.

With Rafe—who was known to keep one eye on the road and one eye on you—it meant he didn’t want to look at you. You were internally cursing yourself…because you knew better. Leaving the party without Rafe, no matter the reason, was a bad idea, and you knew that…but you did it anyway. Everything had felt so suffocating, and you weren’t lying to him when you said you just wanted some air.

When you realized that Rafe was going to your house instead of his…

Your stomach flipped.

You looked at him again, this time with tearful eyes, but like before…he wouldn’t look at you. Furiously blinking, you tightened his jacket around you, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. The world outside of the window started to slow as he neared the driveway, and you took a deep breath when he parked on the other side of your father’s car. When he shut the engine off, you both sat there for a few moments, Rafe only moving when you started to reach for him.

Swallowing down anything you wanted to say to make this better, you merely took his outstretched hand when he opened your door. His hold was firm as he walked you to the door, and you felt his heated gaze on you as you reached for your key. There was no doubt that your parents were asleep—the plan was to sleep over at Rafe’s, after all—and you were quick to put in the alarm code before it could wake them up.

When Rafe shut and locked the door, you looked at him.

“Are you staying over?” you quietly asked him, and Rafe didn’t break eye contact as he leaned against the door.

He merely gazed at you for what felt like a long time, slowly crossing his arms over his chest. His dark blond hair curtained along his forehead, and his blue eyes felt so intense in the low lighting. He took his time in dragging his gaze over you from head to toe, one brow raising when his eyes met yours again.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he wondered, tone even and dripping with sarcasm.

Swallowing down a sigh, you put the alarm back on, and it took no time for Rafe to reach for you, his hand resting on the back of your neck as he walked you upstairs. Both of your steps were quiet, neither one of you wanting to wake your parents, but Rafe didn’t want to wake them for a whole other reason.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” he hissed as soon as your bedroom door was shut. “Huh?”

You stumbled when he shoved you away from him, and you fixed him with a look, taking off his jacket.

“I didn’t mean to be gone that long,” you quietly argued, and Rafe scoffed.

“That’s not the point, Y/N. You left the party alone in the middle of the night…no jacket, no phone, and with no one knowing where you went.”

Rafe spat the words at you, making you feel stupid—their intended effect you were sure—and you sat down on the edge of your bed. It was one of the rare moments where Rafe’s ire came from genuine worry…even if it was mixed with just a tad possessiveness. That was why his next words didn’t shock you.

You knew it was coming.

“…and what? Were you just…going to hop in John B.’s van before I got there?”

Rafe’s hands were spread out as he looked at you, waiting for the answer you both knew he wouldn’t like.

“Sarah offered a ride,” you told him.

“Sarah wasn’t alone.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away with a small sigh.

“So, what? You would’ve rather I just walk back to the party in the cold and by myself?”

His arms were folded over his chest as he looked down his nose at you, eyes hard.

“You left the party in that condition, didn’t you? That wasn’t too much of a concern then…”

This argument was going nowhere, and you knew you’d lose, so you simply held your tongue and fixed Rafe with a nod.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

You knew that was what Rafe wanted to hear, anyway—an apology. An apology for daring to go anywhere without him, for almost getting into a car with men who weren’t him, for running the risk of anyone knowing that your relationship with Rafe was less than perfect. When his shoulders sagged at hearing those words, you felt a little relieved.

“That was stupid,” he eventually said, nearing you. “…and I didn’t know where you were or what might have happened to you.”

His hand came up to brush against your cheek, and you reached up, resting your own over his. For just a split second, you saw the fear in his blue gaze, and it never not fascinated you. Rafe could be so horrible to you, sometimes…beyond horrible, but then in the next second, he was that vulnerable kid who just wanted to be chosen—favored. For whatever reason, he sought that in you, and the thought of losing you drove him mad. It always gave you whiplash.

…because you’d lost count of how many times he’d threatened to kill you if you ever left him.

He leaned down to press his lips against yours, and when you kissed him back, he rubbed his hands up and down your arms.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he chuckled, pulling you to your feet and towards your bathroom.

As you turned on the shower, Rafe went to get clothes for the both of you. It only took a few seconds for the water to get hot, and when you pulled your hand from under the spray of water, you were startled by Rafe’s presence just behind you.

When the back of your head hit the wall, the sound of the shower drowned it out, and your eyes were wide as Rafe harshly pressed his fingers into your jaw. There was nothing unreadable about his expression. All of his anger and annoyance was plain as day on his face, blue eyes glinting in a way that was scarily familiar. When you reached up to grab his wrist, he only tightened his grip on your face.

“I would rather see you run down in the street like a dog than riding around with any of those Pogues,” he calmly told you, and you released a shaky breath. “Do you understand?”

He loosened his hold enough just to allow you to nod, and he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly satisfied with what he saw there before letting you go. You stared at his back as he turned around, furiously blinking away any tears that threatened to spill over. The chills that overtook your body were gone just as fast as they came, and you took a deep calming breath. You reached up to touch your jaw as he checked the water for himself, shakily starting to undress as Rafe did the same.

You stared at your window with the soft sound of Rafe’s breathing in your ear. His arm was haphazardly thrown over your waist, tethering you to him even in sleep. When you glanced at your clock, you noted that it was almost five in the morning, meaning you’d been up out of your sleep for almost an hour and a half. Once awake, you hadn’t been able to keep your eyes closed, and so you just laid there deep in thought.

Your jaw still ached a bit from Rafe’s brief but harsh hold, and you reached up to touch it.

Every fiber of your being had screamed at you to just stay at the party, telling yourself it was a recipe for disaster, but you’d gone against your instincts. Gone against what you’d been conditioned to do. Truthfully, the night could have ended so much worse, and you wanted to scream at how lucky you felt that you got off lightly. How lucky you felt that you’d only gotten some harsh words and a tight pinch to the jaw.

How lucky you felt that you wouldn’t have to put on any extra makeup for a week.

You could feel your eyes stinging, something that only happened in those moments where you let your guard down. When Rafe asked you out all those months ago—two years to be exact—you could never have imagined that this was where the two of you would end up. The beginning of your nightmare, your nineteenth birthday, was always on your mind, and you never not blamed yourself.

Rafe hit you…and you stayed.

…and now you were paying for it with your life.

You wiped your face, throat tight as you slowly sat up. Rafe’s arm slipped as you stood, and you looked over your shoulder at him, relieved to see that he was still asleep. You desperately clung to those rare moments of solitude, taking advantage of every second to just gather your thoughts and mentally prepare yourself for another day of lies.

Accepting that you wouldn’t be going back to sleep, you made your way downstairs.

Every time you smiled, you were lying. Every thread of your fingers through Rafe’s was a lie. Anytime your parents praised Rafe and gushed about him, you agreed, and that too was a lie. Rafe hadn’t been a good boyfriend in over a year, and you sometimes found yourself wondering if he ever was. After all, hadn’t it been four months into your relationship when he first started pressuring you for sex? It seemed like such a small thing then, something to overlook, and you wondered if anyone in the world was as desperate for a time machine as much as you.

Recalling what time your father usually got started with his day, you set about putting some coffee on. As much as you wanted to get started on breakfast to distract yourself, you knew how much your mother enjoyed that, and so you decided to leave that for her. Rafe had this strange way of sensing your absence in his sleep, so you weren’t surprised to find him awake when you went back upstairs.

“Morning, baby,” he mumbled, cheek pressed to the pillow and hooded gaze focused on you.

You were gentle in closing the door, not wanting to wake your parents before their normal time…but also because Rafe usually had one thing on his mind when he first woke up.

“Good morning,” you softly replied. “I was just making my father some coffee.”

Rafe’s eyes were on you as you rejoined him, hair going every which way as he shifted to watch you get comfortable under the cover. When you looked at him, he was smiling at you, soft lips turned upwards just a tad in the low lighting as the sun just started to rise. You couldn’t pinpoint the look on his face, and you were just starting to get a little worried when he chuckled.

“Have I told you…how great you’re going to be with our kids some day?”

You let out a light laugh too, looking away and feeling your gut twist a tad.

“You do say it more often than I would like,” you admitted, and Rafe scoffed, leaning in some.

“What? You don’t want to have my babies? A bunch of spoiled brats running around and hanging off of your legs?” he wondered, pulling at the sleeve of your shirt.

You tried not to think about it for too long.

“No, I… I’m just saying we’re twenty,” you emphasized. “Isn’t that something we’re supposed to be thinking about a good six…seven years from now?”

When you looked at Rafe again, his smile had dimmed a bit. It was subtle, but the difference was anything but to you. You knew your boyfriend like the back of your hand, and you swallowed when he propped his head up on his hand. He stared at you for a good amount of time, lightly chewing on his bottom lip.

“Yeah, but…” he held your gaze. “How else can I guarantee you’ll never leave me?”

His tone was light, but there was a hint of something in there that told you he was entirely serious. Even when he suddenly laughed, shaking his head at you and taking your hand, you weren’t fooled. The glint in his blue eyes prevented you from being fooled.

“You know I’m just fucking with you,” he said. “I just like the thought.”

He suddenly exhaled, face falling a bit as he played with your fingers. His smile slowly dropped entirely, eyes dimming just a tad as he rested them on your joined fingers. So much of your time with Rafe was spent watching him, waiting for him to say or do something just so you could gauge how you needed to react. Gauge the choice that would bring the least damage. You watched him swipe his tongue between his lips, brows pulling together just a tad.

“About last night…”

You straightened, pressing your back to your headboard with a shake of your head.

“Don’t worry about it-.”

“No, last night…shouldn’t have happened,” he whispered to you, lightly tapping your hand. “I told both you and my dad that I was going to work on that.”

He did.

He lied.

Or at least…that was how it seemed. It wasn’t like you knew what was going on in Rafe’s head better than him, so for all you knew, Rafe was actually trying. That was the deal, after all. Ward saves Rafe from going to jail and Rafe works on his temper. With that being said though, you hadn’t known how to tell Ward that you didn’t think the problem was Rafe’s temper.

Rafe Cameron was a very calculating individual.

God knows he was a lot of things but dumb simply wasn’t one of them. Rafe was the kind of person who just always seemed to be aware of his actions—too aware. Truth be told, you didn’t even think he had a temper. He just preferred to react to certain things a certain way because every time he hit you…grabbed you…even when he was yelling at you, there was a certain calmness to his visage that clued you in on the truth.

The problem was never that Rafe couldn’t control himself…because he could control himself just fine.

Rafe simply liked scaring you.

“You don’t understand how terrified I was when I couldn’t find you,” he continued, and you nodded.

“It was stupid, I know,” you agreed, briefly looking at your lap.

“Anything could’ve happened to you,” he roughly exhaled, lying flat on his back. “…and then I saw you about to hop into John B.’s van.”

Rafe shook his head in disgust, gaze focused on your ceiling.

“I couldn’t think straight,” he murmured. “All I saw was…red.”

You didn’t know how to respond, mind lingering on what he said last night. Rafe’s thoughts seemed to stray there too, and he suddenly let out a bitter chuckle.

“You don’t know what they’re like…”

That was true.

Your parents had never let you associate with anyone or anything from The Cut, and that had stuck with you even when you became an adult. It wasn’t like you believed the same things Rafe and his friends did, it was purely about being respectful of your parents’ wishes. Besides, you never had any reason or opportunity to mingle with anyone from that side of the island—every party you ever went to was in someone’s fancy house.

…but then Sarah started dating John B. Routledge…and she seemed happy with him…and happy with his friends.

…and so you figured they couldn’t be as bad as Rafe claimed.

“All they do is go around fucking up their own lives…and then turning around and blaming us because they refuse to…I don’t know, get their shit together,” Rafe sneered, sitting up. “They’re a bunch of low-lives, and if I actually gave a crap about Sarah and what she does, she wouldn’t be anywhere near any of them either.”

You watched Rafe pull on one of his many shirts he kept in your room, one hand running through his hair.

“So, I promise I’m not being my usual asshole self when I say,” he paused, looking at you. “You really would be better off dead than hanging around any of them.”

You pressed your lips together, nodding when Rafe told you he was going to grab something to drink. When he asked you if you wanted anything, you simply shook your head, turning to gaze out the window the second he was gone.

Rafe’s hand was tight on yours as he walked you down the beach, keeping you as close as humanly possible.

You knew parties were held on the beach all the time, especially the annual big bonfire, but you just never had it in you to go. However, when Rafe mentioned he’d be meeting Topper and Kelce there later, you didn’t quite know what came over you to ask about tagging along.

It had thrown Rafe.

“Baby…that’s not really your thing,” he’d lightly laughed, resting his hands on your arms.

You’d thought about it, humming.

“Mm, no, but… It’s your thing, and I’ve never been, and it’s not like I’d ever go by myself, so why not go with you?”

You’d given him a pleading smile, something you’d learned to perfect with Rafe if you wanted any sliver of happiness in this relationship. It had taken him much too long to consider, finally relenting and going to his dresser to find you something to wear. As he’d helped you get dressed, he made his concerns clear.

“You stay with me the whole night, alright…?” he’d said, tying your shoelaces and glancing up at you. “There are a lot of…questionable people at these parties. You’re not just among friends.”

Once you arrived on the scene, it hadn’t taken you long to figure out what Rafe meant.

It wasn’t the kind of party that only consisted of rich kids you went to high school with and who you’d see at the country club. You were sure you’d never been to a party where you didn’t recognize ninety percent of everyone you passed your eyes over. It was one thing to know you were kind of sheltered.

Something else entirely to bear witness to it.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing Y/N along,” Topper greeted, nodding at you.

You only smiled back in response, heart sinking a bit when Kelce barely acknowledged you. You supposed you couldn’t blame him for his behavior. Even if no one knew the extent of Rafe’s wrath when it came to you, everyone still knew how he could get, and you tried not to dwell on the fact that Kelce’s aloofness had little to do with respect and more to do with how he viewed you in relation to Rafe.

You belonged to him.

…and so you couldn’t be treated like your own person.

You remained empty-handed while Topper got drinks for the rest of them, forced to occupy yourself some other way. You opted for drinking it all in, eyes lingering on couples too wrapped up in each other or some girl who wanted to attempt a keg stand. You didn’t feel as suffocated as you normally did at parties, cramped into one building with far too many people and no hint of fresh air. Out here on the beach, it was actually enjoyable.

The ocean breeze wasn’t even as cold as you’d expect, but instead a welcoming contrast to the heat from the fire.

For a moment, you even thought Rafe might bring you along again.

At least…until he showed up.

Your boyfriend had only half turned his body from you for less than a moment when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice.

“I got it right,” he praised himself when you turned to face him, a beer in his hand as he held it out to you. “Can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

For his own sake—and yours—you wanted to pretend that he wasn’t talking to you, but not only had he said your name as clear as day, he was also looking straight at you. That was something you weren’t used to—guys besides your father or Rafe or even his father holding eye contact with you for long. You couldn’t tell if he was brave or stupid. Your heart was in your throat when he stepped closer, and you were quick to shake your head.

“No, thanks,” your answer was hurried, and the blond that you were unfortunately becoming more familiar with only smiled in return.

“Come on,” he chuckled, extending his arm and the drink. “What, is it not fancy enough for you?”

You could tell that he was a little drunk, so maybe that was where his courage came from, but the mischievous grin on his pink lips also told you he knew he was being a little shit, right now. If it wasn’t for the way your stomach violently twisted into knots, you might’ve laughed too as you attempted to turn him down again.

“Hey, you know what, you know what? I’ll take it.”

Your boyfriend’s voice descended over the conversation like a sobering fog, and you tensed, taking a step back until your shoulder was grazing his chest again. You shrank in on yourself, mood declining even further at the prospect of what was to come. The blond before you noticed.

“Thank you, man, I appreciate it,” Rafe’s tone was mocking as he reached past you for the cup.

Your eyes widened a tad when it was pulled out of his reach.

“That’s nice of you to suggest that, Rafe, but I didn’t ask you.”

JJ—the drunk blond who was hellbent on ensuring you never attended another beach party ever again—kept his gaze on Rafe, that taunting smile twitching a bit.

“If you said pretty please, maybe, but you didn’t-.”

“Oh, okay, pretty please,” Rafe evenly repeated like the words were foreign to him. “Pretty please?”

“Yeah, so, Y/N…” JJ’s gaze was on you again, handing you the drink. “You can have it.”

You were in the middle of shaking your head again, opening your mouth to tell him you were fine when Rafe rudely beat you to it, declaring for you that you didn’t want it all the while knocking the drink in the other blonde’s face. Your lips parted when he stumbled back just a little, but you weren’t surprised when he put his hands on Rafe, shoving his chest just as you hurried to step out of the way. Rafe—always itching for a fight—seemed oddly satisfied to have just soaked JJ in beer, chuckling to himself.

“Dirty Pogues,” he laughed with a shake of his head, and you didn’t have time to linger on your disappointment with him before Sarah’s friend was punching him square in the face.

It was like you blinked, and they were fighting, and when you blinked again, John B. and Topper had joined them. Having been on the other side of Rafe’s fist before, you didn’t envy the younger blond when your boyfriend hit him hard enough to have him stumbling back. Even though you had long accepted Rafe’s penchant for violence, it didn’t mean you relished standing around and watching it.

“Rafe!”

It seemed that you were one of the few who actually wanted this fight to stop, so many other people seemingly enjoying this. You weren’t for so many reasons, but most of all because if Rafe walked away from this with a broken nose or black eye, you were getting some of the blame. Your eyes briefly met Sarah’s when she ran over, your gaze pleading.

“John B., chill,” she screamed at her boyfriend, pulling on his shirt. “Guys, guys-!”

Sarah was joined by a familiar face—you were positive it was Kiara—and you watched her help separate John B. and Topper while Pope was trying to get Rafe off of JJ. You thought to yourself that he managed to pull that off much easier than you imagined, but one glance down told you why that was. As Rafe stood, your stomach flipped at the sight before you.

JJ’s eyes were squeezed tight as he held a hand to his face, but that did little to stop the blood from seeping between his fingers. You were no doctor, but if you had to, you’d guess that he had a broken nose. The only reason Rafe was even able to be pulled off of him was solely because your boyfriend was satisfied with the damage he’d done.

Pope was helping him sit up, and despite the blood that dirtied his face, JJ still laughed at something his friend said. In the back of your mind, you could register your name being called, but you were still too focused on trying to make sure Sarah’s friend wasn’t seriously hurt. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, and when he glanced up, already bruising eyes resting on yours, your guilt grew. You were forced to focus on more important matters though when a rough grip seized your wrist.

“Didn’t you hear me calling you?” Rafe hissed, his gaze questioning when you finally looked at him. “We need to go. Kelce called the cops to break up this sad excuse for a party.”

You weren’t given the chance to respond to that, held at his side as Rafe stomped away from the beach and towards his truck. Against your better judgment, you glanced over your shoulder, thankful that Rafe was deep in a conversation with Topper and Kelce. You weren’t surprised to meet an eerily familiar shade of blue as your eyes met his, JJ half distracted by a conversation of his own as Sarah and her friends stood around him.

When he reached up to swipe his thumb along his bottom lip, wiping away blood in the process, he smiled at you, and like before, you couldn’t decide if he was brave…

…or stupid.

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XVII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You stared into the darkness of the basement for what felt like too long.

It was quiet down there, but not the kind of quiet that felt comforting. It was the kind of silence that felt suffocating—taunting. It was so loud in its taunting, snickering at you and your idiocy and naivety. Even as you laid on the floor, feeling like the lowest of jokes, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that brought you here.

Nat was your friend. Or at least, you liked to consider her one, and even faced with the threat of the worst punishment Steve could muster, you just couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything differently. You couldn’t imagine yourself waking Peter up that night and telling him you saw the redhead escaping, effectively alerting the other husbands to her presence, leading to her subsequent capture. It just wasn’t in you, and clearly none of these men—not even Peter—knew you at all if they thought it was.

The first time you tried to move, you couldn’t, and for a brief moment, you thought that Steve had injured you in his delight to toss you down the stairs like a sack of flour instead of a person. However, you quickly came to realize that wasn’t the case. You could move your fingers and toes fine, even twitch your leg, but you just couldn’t find the strength to move. You felt beyond defeated, and when you blinked, you weren’t shocked to feel a sting behind your eyes.

There was the most awful aching feeling in your chest, both heavy and hollow even though you didn’t know how that was possible. You wanted to cry and scream, but you also never wanted to utter another word ever again. You wanted to let out everything you felt since the moment you came here, but in the same breath, you desperately wanted to feel numb. If you didn’t feel a thing, then you couldn’t get hurt, and you hurt so much, right now.

Peter killed Michelle.

He didn’t help kill her, but he did kill her, and in the grand scheme of things, maybe that shouldn’t make a difference. After all, you’d still been under the impression that he did nothing while his brothers did. You’d still been under the belief that he allowed it to happen at best and helped it happen and cover it up at worst. So, why did Peter pulling the trigger make all the difference in the world to you?

Was it because you thought you were falling in love with him?

That thought had you squeezing your eyes shut, so tight that it hurt, and it was hard to hold back your sob. Your nails scraped against the hard floor as you shook, struggling to breathe as your stomach turned. Once you started it was so hard to stop, and it wasn’t long before the sound of your choked cries were filling the basement. It was a thought you’d considered before, but that was when he wasn’t a murderer.

That was when he hadn’t murdered your best friend.

How could you possibly rationalize it now? Deep down, you knew that this wasn’t your fault. Deep down you knew that there were names and studies dedicated to people in your position and the psychology behind it, but that didn’t make you feel any better. Peter had murdered your friend in cold blood…

…and you thought you loved him.

The thought made you want to be sick, and with horror, you could actually feel your stomach turning. You hurried to sit up, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as you struggled to keep it down. The bathroom only some feet away was locked—wouldn’t be unlocked until someone came down to open it and let you in—and you didn’t think you could handle sitting in a room with your vomit just stewing in the corner.

Struggling to get to your feet, you pressed your other hand to your stomach, trying to settle it. Keeping your mouth closed, you breathed through your nose, lashes fluttering, and after some time, you slowly stumbled towards where you knew the bed to be. You didn’t care about turning on the light, finding no need, and when you sat down, your head drooped in defeat.

There was really no telling how long they’d keep you in here until they figured out what to do with you, and while you knew that Peter would try his damndest to get them to go easy on you, you also knew that they wouldn’t consider a word that left his mouth. You—and also Peter by extension—had proven Steve and the others right, and you found it unlikely they’d ever listen to another suggestion from Peter about you ever again. Or at the very least, not for a long time.

Besides, Peter wasn’t the aggrieved party.

Bucky was, and such a thought made you shudder. You’d done well to avoid attracting Bucky’s ire even though he reminded you of Steve in some ways. Although, unlike Steve, Bucky didn’t seem the type to look for any and every excuse to punish you as he’d prefer in a contrast to Peter’s methods. Bucky seemed—if nothing else—fair to you, and that’s what scared you the most.

Bucky now felt wronged by you.

So, there was really no telling what was in store for you.

You recalled the way he’d reached for you, desperately trying to get past Peter in his efforts to get his hands on you. You didn’t want to imagine what he would’ve done had he succeeded, and you swallowed as your mind went rampant with the possibilities. Your hand came up to graze the tear in your sleeve, wincing at the slight sting you felt when your finger came in contact with the skin. Some part of you knew that had Bucky succeeded, he just might have killed you in his rage, and where you once would’ve welcomed such a thought…

It only made your heart ache, now.

You didn’t want to die, and when you thought about why, your stomach only twisted into knots once again. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you keeled over, throat tight as you tried to swallow down another sob. Your chest hurt so much, feeling like someone had an iron grip on your heart and was just squeezing and twisting it to their content. When you gasped, a cry escaped with it, and the only other time you could recall feeling like this was the day you realized your friends were dead and you were all alone.

You cried until your throat felt raw, and you didn’t fight your body as it started to collapse to the floor, sliding off of the bed in a heap. Covering your face with your hands, your lightly dragged your nails down your skin, frame shaking as you rocked back and forth. Your stomach wouldn’t stop hurting, and you couldn’t stop shaking. In fear or anger or despair—you didn’t know.

You did know that this was all Peter’s fault. He was the one who decided he had to have you, as if you were some thing to be acquired instead of a human being with a life and feelings and autonomy. If it weren’t for him, your friends would still be alive, and you wouldn’t even be here. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be feeling ripped apart by how you felt about the man who kidnapped and raped you. All of this was Peter’s fault…and even still…more than anything…

All you wanted was for him to hold you.

It was hard to say how long you stayed in the basement. The darkness and silence was endless, and it felt like months, but in reality, it was probably mere days. You did know that it was long enough for your stomach to ache from more than just fear and for your nightgown to stink from more than just sweat. You didn’t think you were capable of feeling embarrassed about that anymore. After all, Peter never made you feel like it was something to be embarrassed about, but that was before you heard the sound of the locks on the basement door.

Despite your shame, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

Until the light from the top of the stairs outlined a familiar silhouette.

You merely stared at him as he stood on the first step, yours on him and his eyes on you. You couldn’t hear any noise coming from the main part of the house, and you said nothing when he closed the door behind him. Peter wasn’t good. You knew that since the beginning when he told you that everything he did was so that he could have you, making it all okay. Peter had never been good.

So, why did looking at him now hurt so much more than it ever had?

As soon as Peter was close enough, the first thing he did was take your face into his hands. You couldn’t really feel them, realizing that you got your wish to feel numb, and that just made your chest ache more. Just days ago you were desperate to feel the comfort of Peter’s touch, and now you couldn’t feel it, at all.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured, face a mere inch away from yours.

When you didn’t say anything back, you noticed the way his face fell, lips pressed together as he eyed you. His gaze lingered on yours for the longest, thumbs just grazing your skin, and you watched the way his tongue darted out to swipe between his lips.

“We need to get you cleaned up.”

His words had you blinking, and it was only then did you notice the fresh dress resting on the crook of his arm. You didn’t ask him what day it was because it didn’t matter. You only knew what would be happening today, and it’s why the dress on Peter’s arm was so pretty. It was why you’d been locked in the basement for days. It was why Peter looked at you the way he did as he helped you stand.

“I’m so sorry,” were the words he murmured into your hair as soon as he leaned you against him.

What was he apologizing for exactly? For killing Michelle or lying to you about it? For taking you and ruining your life in the first place? Or for failing to protect you from the wrath of the other husbands? Maybe he was apologizing for what was to come, and that made you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he brought your head to rest in the crook of his neck.

You didn’t respond—didn’t know how to—only allowing him to guide you into the bathroom after unlocking it. You couldn’t really say how you got naked, only feeling as if you blinked before finding yourself sitting in a tub of hot water with Peter raining water down over your head. He was talking to you, saying something that went in one ear and out of the other. All you could focus on was that dress on the toilet, wondering what they planned to make you do while wearing it.

When you felt the weight of Peter’s gaze, it was only then did you take note of the silence. You didn’t know if he’d asked you a question or if he simply opted to stare at you, but when his hand came up to graze the side of your face, you assumed it was the latter. Perusing you, you watched as his gaze became distracted by the shallow scrape on your arm from Bucky’s nails, and when Peter’s jaw tightened, you knew that he realized where it came from too.

“Peter,” you softly forced out, throat tight.

He gave you his undivided attention, and you licked your lips.

“What are they going to do to me?”

Your question came out almost inaudible, just barely above a whisper as you found yourself almost too afraid to ask—too fearful to want to know. When Peter’s face fell some, your own frown deepened, and when he sighed, your heart sank.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” he slowly told you, and you could see that he was telling the truth.

You knew that Peter would have no say in this, you’d known that, but faced with the knowledge that was completely in the dark only served to make your stomach twist more. Only this time, you weren’t able to stop it, and it was Peter who kept you from falling as you hurried to get out of the tub. You only just made it to the toilet in time, and with nothing in your stomach to throw up, all you expelled was bile.

One of Peter’s hands were on your waist, the other soothingly rubbing your back as you vomited again. With every heave of your stomach, you shook more and more, and when you were done, you could only stare at the wall behind the toilet.

“You’re sick,” he said, tone strained with worry.

You shook your head.

“No, I’m just… I’m scared,” you honestly told him, lifting your gaze to meet his. “…and heartbroken.”

Peter sadly tilted his head, and your lips quivered.

“Why did you lie to me?” you breathed. “Why did you…? Why did you minimize your part in it?”

You continued before Peter could lie some more.

“Why did you hold me and comfort me and tell me you weren’t as bad as them when you’re much worse?”

“I’m not,” he argued, grabbing your shoulder.

“…but you are,” you said with a frown. “At least with Steve and Tony and Bucky I know who they are. I fear them because they’ve shown me why I should.”

Peter pulled you closer, resting your head on his chest as he rocked you.

“You made me love you.”

The words came out small and choked, your face crumbling as Peter stilled, and you’d stupidly thought you had no more tears left. Your body proved you wrong, frame shaking as your chest tightened, a cry escaping you in the otherwise quiet bathroom. Peter didn’t respond right away, just holding you as you cried.

“I’m still the same person I was before you found out,” he whispered, rocking you. “…the same person you begged to run away with.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he confessed. “…but it’s why I can hold you every night for as long as I want.”

He leaned down to gently kiss your forehead, and your vacant and tearful gaze was on the bathtub, now.

“You don’t have to agree with it, even I don’t agree with it, but it had to be done if I wanted you all to myself.”

You knew that justified it all in Peter’s mind, and the part of your brain that was conditioned to normalize your new reality wanted to pull him closer, but the part that desperately missed your friends and family and old life only wanted to be sick.

When Peter rinsed you off and dried you, his fingers grazed your skin as he helped you get dressed. Soothing words left his lips that didn’t really mean much because how could he calm you against something that was unknown to him too? He didn’t even know what he was comforting you from. Once dressed, he stood before you, looking you over with his fingers grazing over yours.

When your eyes met his, his gaze softened, and you didn’t stop him when he leaned in to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. Like every touch and kiss of his, now, you didn’t really feel it, and when Peter pulled away, you felt that the numbness that consumed you reflected in your own gaze. He heaved a sigh, fingering the ring on your finger.

“I still love you,” he assured you, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “That’ll never change…and even… Even when I have to do whatever it is I have to do today, I’ll be doing it with love.”

Those words didn’t exactly comfort you, and your eyes briefly closed when he walked you out of the bathroom. The stairs were hard to take, courtesy of your lack of food and what little sleep you’d managed to get. You shook beside Peter, and you knew that it was from more than just not eating. In fact, you were sure you were going to throw up again.

The house was unusually quiet—as well as empty—and that did nothing to alleviate your uneasiness. Peter’s hold on your hand was gentle, and as much you loved to hate him in this moment, you appreciated that he walked outside with you instead of walking you outside like a prisoner. You were surprised by how early it was in the day, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rising sun. Days in the darkness had them hurting from the harsh natural light.

Just as you got used to it, a familiar and intimidating voice spoke.

“Leave her right there.”

Only, it wasn’t the voice you were used to being on the receiving end of. Your eyes met familiar blue ones as Peter was forced to step away from you, Bucky’s gaze very much transparent as he looked at you. His anger and disgust were palpable, and you found that you couldn’t hold his gaze.

That was a mistake.

“You will look at me,” he sneered, hurrying over to you and harshly gripping your chin.

Behind him, you could see Peter take a step forward only to be stopped by Sam. Bucky’s fingers were painfully pressing into your skin, and as difficult as you found it, you held the brunette’s gaze. It was in that moment that you realized why the house had seemed so quiet on your way out. You noted that the only person missing was Jane, and you guessed with her pregnancy and a need for someone to watch Margaret and Sharon’s children, they decided to kill two birds with one stone.

They clearly didn’t want to stress her, and that only made you more fearful of what was in store for you.

“We’re not stupid, you know,” Bucky said to you, and you swallowed. “We expect the odd escape attempt here and there.”

You weren’t used to being on the receiving end of Bucky’s venomous gaze, blue eyes icy.

“We look forward to it even,” he confessed. “None of you will ever succeed, so it helps you realize that, and you get it out of your systems.”

You blinked back tears, and Bucky took note of them, lip curling over his teeth.

“In fact…we had been anticipating yours from the moment we let you out of that basement, but I guess you really were too docile to fight back properly,” he continued, voice growing bitter. “Too docile even to tell one of us when our wife was trying to escape.”

When you blinked again, a tear finally escaped, and you didn’t know if you were supposed to respond. Evidently you were.

“What?” Bucky wondered, roughly letting your chin go. “Nothing to say for yourself?”

Your chest heaved with a deep breath, and you started to glance around.

“No, don’t look at them. Look at me,” Bucky ordered. “After all, it was my wife who anything could’ve happened to.”

When your gaze met his again, more tears spilled over, and you sniffed.

“I’m sorry-.”

“We expect you to fight back…try and make a run for it… What we don’t expect is more loyalty to a traitorous wife than the men of the house,” he interrupted you, spitting the words out and making you flinch. “…because anything could come of that. You could kill one of us.”

“I… I’m sorry,” you said again, knowing it wouldn’t change anything but also knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

Bucky stared at you for a long time—too long—just looking down his nose at you as if he could barely stand to look at you. You were all too aware of the eyes on you, all too aware of the example being made out of you. You were in the dark about what was going to happen, now, and it made you want to be sick. However, of all the things you expected…

You didn’t expect Bucky to quickly grab your arm, twisting it—and you with his other arm—before violently shoving you to the ground. It happened so fast that when you finally cried out in pain, clutching your wrist, you were already looking up at him from the grass. He wasn’t looking at you though, hands behind his back as he stepped away from you.

“There are two outcomes for you today,” he started, making his way towards Peter who looked like he was moments away from committing murder—again. “Personally, I’m partial to either outcome…”

When you started to push yourself to your feet, the dark-haired man heard it, pausing to look at you with a wag of his finger.

“No, no. You don’t get up yet…”

Heart sinking, you sat back down, clutching your arm to you as you looked between him and Peter.

“The first,” he dragged out, resting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “We finally get to see what Peter has in him…”

You froze, skin growing cold and heart dropping to your gut.

“…see if he has what it takes to make you…” Bucky turned his gaze to you, eyes glinting wickedly “…beg him to stop.”

You couldn’t stop more tears from spilling over, the realization of what this day could possibly bring crashing down on you like a wave. When you glanced over, your eyes met a familiar green pair, and Nat’s disgust and regret was plain as day on her face. She looked at you like she wanted to take your place in a heartbeat, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

You couldn’t hold in your sob, pressing your hand to your mouth.

“You can’t cry, now,” Bucky’s voice reached you as he neared you. “We haven’t even started yet.”

He forced you to your feet, and his hands were the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

When you first got here, Peter promised that that would never be you. He told you that he would never, but considering the circumstances of your offense, that choice was no longer up to him. You couldn’t stop sobbing, choking noises climbing out of your throat as Bucky continued.

“The other option is two months in the basement.”

When your eyes met Bucky’s again, there was a gleam in his eye and a curve to his lips that told you it wouldn’t be so easy as choosing which you’d prefer. You didn’t even want to say that the choice would be easy if given one because while your worst fear was recreating what Margaret had to go through during your first days here…you also knew that two months down in that darkness would break you beyond belief.

Two months down there, and you were sure you wouldn’t even be yourself when you emerged.

“It all depends on who gets to you first,” Bucky softly said, making you frown at him.

When he stepped away, you swayed on your feet, but his hand met your arm again when he turned you towards the small pond, free arm gesturing towards the dense trees behind it.

“Those legs that are near and dear to Peter’s heart are going to take you as far as you can go…”

His whispered words made you frown.

“Now, don’t think that you’re getting away…” he looked at you and you slowly looked at him. “…because you’re not. Someone will catch you, it’s only a matter of who, and that determines if this pretty little dress is coming off or not.”

His reminder of one of the possibilities made you lightheaded, and you pressed your hand to your chest when he walked away.

“If Peter catches you, then Peter will do what he has been instructed to do…”

The man in question spoke up, quietly pleading with Bucky, but the older man ignored him.

“…and I was going to participate in this little game,” Bucky said, jaw ticking as he looked at you. “…but you deserve to be terrified after what you did.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking away tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“So…” he backed up, a small smile on his pink lips. “If Steve catches you…”

You couldn’t stop your knees from buckling, world spinning as you caught yourself on your hands and knees. Your skin pricked, and you felt almost on the verge of a heart attack.

“He gets to put you in the basement…” a pause. “Again.”

The sounds of the world were going in and out, and once again, you felt like you were going to throw up. Both options were the last thing you ever wanted, and once you ran into those trees, you didn’t know what would relieve you less—the sight of Peter or the sight of Steve. It was sick, really, because obviously you would rather be caught by Peter, but not if it meant…that.

…and if Steve caught you, you just knew it wasn’t going to be that simple

“Whenever you’re ready.”

Bucky’s words were mocking, filled with a mixture of disdain and satisfaction, and as you looked up at him, you didn’t know who you hated more—him or Steve. The blond in question was someone you had avoided looking at since you stepped outside, bitter to see the sick satisfaction that no doubt covered his features at your humiliation.

Your comeuppance.

Pushing yourself to your feet was a struggle, and you didn’t look at Peter, too afraid to realize that he might be who you wanted to catch you, after all, even if it did mean public humiliation beyond comprehension. You felt beyond alone as you walked down the small decline, the dewy grass so nice against the soles of your feet despite the circumstances.

It was only when you got to the tree line, staring inside, did it hit you.

You were going to be hunted and chased down like some animal, and depending on who caught you first, that was what your punishment would be. Both options were enough to make your stomach flip, and for the life of you, you just couldn’t decide which was better. With a panicked sob, you forced your feet to move.

Every tree looked just like the other to you, and there was nothing in these woods to signal some kind of progress as you ran. It was crazy to think that there had once been days when you dreamed about being in these woods, closer to freedom and away from the craziness you’d been forced into. Now, however, you were in said trees and all you could think about was who would get to you first.

Bucky’s words echoed in your mind.

It wasn’t a matter of whether either of them would catch you. Both of you knew that you weren’t getting away from here, let alone from Peter or Steve in these woods. One of them was going to find you first, and even as you brushed past harmful branches and stumbling vines, you still didn’t know which choice presented to you was better. More than anything, you wanted it to be Peter to find you, but could you be okay with being raped for the whole household to see? This wasn’t like that day with Margaret…

Both Steve and Bucky wanted to make the biggest example out of you, and so the entire household would be there to witness your humiliation. However…it was one day. One hour even at the most of Peter doing what he normally did whenever you were alone…just in front of everyone else. If Steve caught you on the other hand…

Two months in the basement was a thought that actually made your knees shake, causing you to stumble against a tree. You knew—you knew—that you couldn’t handle that, and you knew that Peter knew it too. One option was just one bad day, that was all, but the other option would turn you into even more of a mess than you already were. You’d spent less than a week down there at the most, and both times were hell for you.

The second more so than the worst, and you didn’t want to unpack why that was.

When you heard a tree branch snap, you felt yourself freezing. The tree you were next to was larger, much larger than you, and you remained perfectly still as your hand rested against it. You had only stopped for a few moments, and the whole time you’d been lost in your thoughts, you hadn’t even heard any footsteps. In fact, something in you told you that you were supposed to hear the snap of that branch.

When you dared to peek around the trunk, all of your breath left you.

The sight of Steve’s blond hair and back was a stomach turning one, and just as quietly as you peeked around, you hid yourself behind the tree once more. With one movement, you could end this torture and not have to be fucked for the whole household to see, but no matter how much you didn’t want that…you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

…because you didn’t want the alternative either.

Steve terrified you beyond belief—something Bucky had acknowledged—and something in you just knew that he wasn’t going to find you and take you back to the house as easy as that. Outside of raping Margaret, you had never heard of Steve doling out any kind of physical abuse, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Steve would strike you square across the face if he could get away with it.

Peeking around the tree again, you watched him walk away, scanning the area before him for any sign of you. Your nails pressed into the trunk, and with a sinking heart, you both accepted and hoped that Peter would find you, making peace with what that meant for you. With Steve completely out of your sight, you didn’t know which way to go, and so you went forward, adjacent to the direction Steve went.

You felt like you were getting so turned around the further you walked, and you wondered what would happen if you just decided to go back to the house. You wondered how the punishment would be decided then—provided you actually made it back without being caught. The thought of being caught by Steve prevented you from remaining calm and thinking clearly.

Or maybe it was everything else that did that.

You could feel a familiar burn behind your eyes, and you struggled to swallow, throat feeling incredibly tight. You’d thought that you cried enough in the basement, but that kept proving to be untrue. A few tears skipped down your face before many more followed behind, and you took in a shaky breath.

How was it that you hated Peter so so much for what he did…while also wanting nothing more than to just return to your bedroom with him when this was over? You didn’t want to go back down there, alone and bathed in darkness. You wanted to sleep in your bed with Peter and you wanted him to hold you while you cried about the very thing he’d done that caused the tears.

You hated him, but you wanted to be near him.

You didn’t want to hate him from afar. You wanted to hate him while staring at his face every night and listening to the sound of his breathing and feeling his hands on your shoulder as he sat behind you in the bathtub. You hated Peter so much for what he did—and lying about it—but it just wasn’t the kind of hate where you couldn’t stand the sight of him, and you hated him all the more for that.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of footsteps, and considering you’d gone in the opposite direction of Steve, you were prepared to meet your fate when your gaze would meet that of a familiar brown one. Only, the eyes that met yours weren’t brown…they were blue…and you felt your lips part.

You didn’t hesitate to run the other way, a scream climbing out of your throat when you were tackled to the ground. Steve’s hand was pressed to the back of your head as he slammed your face against the leaves and sticks, making you gasp, and when his arm snaked around your neck, a choked sound left you.

You weren’t surprised when he threw you to the dirt again.

“I knew…” he started, slowly following you as you attempted to crawl away. “From the moment Peter gave us that crock of shit about a gentler method, I fucking knew.”

You clawed at the dirt when Steve reached down to pull on one of your legs.

“I knew then that he was being too soft with you,” he spat, flipping you over. “I knew that it would come back to bite us.”

Steve squatted over you, one hand tightly curling around your throat, and you struggled to breathe as he slowly forced you to your feet. Your scraped at his hand, gaze tearful and pleading as Steve stared you down, nostrils flaring. His blond hair was a mess, an unusual sight for you, but those blue eyes were as cold as ever.

Steve really hated you.

“Bucky is better than me,” Steve hissed at you. “…because if Margaret had gotten as far as Nat did because of you, I wouldn’t make Peter stop until you were begging for him to put you out of your misery.”

You pushed at his hands, panicked, and he only shook you in response.

“You think he’s your best fucking friend,” Steve breathed through clenched teeth, sizing you up. “Instead of the man who owns you.”

When he threw you down, your head spun, and you struggled to right your vision. You pressed your hands to your temples as you cried, fighting the urge to curl in on yourself.

“That ends today…”

Steve’s words were spoken with finality, and you didn’t quite understand the meaning of them as you heard approaching footsteps. You heard Steve exhale, and when you dared to look up, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of Peter.

“Peter,” he acknowledged. “Love that timing of yours.”

Peter didn’t hesitate to hurry towards you, placing a hand on your head as you sobbed. As you’d suspected, you knew it wasn’t going to be that simple if Steve caught you instead, and you realized just how complicated it was going to be at the sound of his next words.

“We need to make sure nothing like this happens again, Peter,” Steve told him, and they shared a look, something unspoken between them that had Peter’s jaw clenching.

“So, is that why you forgot who she belongs to? Is that why you treated her like you used to treat Peggy on her really bad days? She’s already terrified of you. What more do you want?” he sneered at him, briefly looking at you and brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“I need her to be terrified of you,” Steve answered, hands on his hips. “I told you from the beginning that you were too soft with her. I told you what needed to be done for her to get it.”

“Yeah, Steve, alright, I get it-!”

“…but you don’t,” Steve yelled at Peter, staring at the younger man just like a brother would. “You don’t get it because if you did, this would’ve never happened.”

Steve gestured around, cutting you a scathing look that made you wither.

“She would’ve never felt more loyal to Nat than the men who run this household. She would’ve understood that she exists to serve you and the house as a whole by extension.”

You hated the way Peter’s hands slowed on your face, and when you looked at his own face, he looked to be deep in thought.

“Not just the wives and whatever they think is best, but what’s best for the family,” Steve paced. “You are going to make her understand that she’s not your friend and certainly not your fucking equal.”

You watched Peter defeatedly exhale, eyes falling closed.

“You are going to make her understand that, right now,” Steve snarled.

“Steve…”

Peter’s tone was pleading, and that was when you finally sat up, looking between them with a racing heart. You scooted back, but Peter’s hand on your arm prevented you from going far. When your gaze met his, his eyes had softened, something in them pleading with you.

“I will make you, Peter.”

Steve’s tone was scarily calm, and you glanced at him, lips shaking at the malice in his eyes.

“Do you understand me? I will not rest until I catch her slipping up again, and depending on my mood that day, I just might make you fuck her right there in the garden for all to see,” he quietly told him. “So, it’s either now or it’s later…but it is happening. You decide.”

In truth, you didn’t know why you were crying. You had already accepted that you’d rather get the bad thing over with than drag it out for two months. However, that was the thing, wasn’t it? Steve was going to make Peter do this and still turn around and throw you right down in that basement. Even though there was less humiliation involved, it still seemed unfair.

“Do this and…maybe I can convince Bucky to only leave her down there for a month,” Steve proposed, and by the tone of his voice, he knew that he’d won.

You barely had time send Steve a scathing look of your own before your back roughly met the ground.

Peter’s mannerisms were rough, and while you knew it was because Steve wanted them to be, it didn’t mean you had to like it. You didn’t think Peter had ever been rough with you, and you cried out at the harsh pull on your hair, his other hand painfully digging into your waist.

“See, you need to understand, sweetheart,” Steve’s voice reached your ears as he circled you. “That you belong to Peter. You exist as an extension of him, now. You exist to exalt him, and the only way that you will get it in your head that you’re his property…”

Peter had flipped you onto your stomach, now.

“Is if he treats you like it.”

You yelped when your chest was forced to the ground, Peter manhandling you in the way he knew Steve wanted.

“…and what better way to do that than to show you that he can and will take you wherever and whenever regardless of who is around to see it,” he slowly said, making sure he was heard loud and clear.

The humiliation of feeling Peter push his cock into you before Steve’s very eyes had you squeezing yours shut, a harsh sob escaping as Peter’s skin slapped against yours. His hand was on your throat, and you clawed at it, gasping when his teeth pressed into your shoulder.

“You don’t have autonomy over your body anymore. You don’t exist independently of Peter, and that extends to this family…”

Peter’s harsh thrusts made your toes curl, and what was once a rough entry had become much smoother. With no warning and feeling wholly unprepared for this turn of events, tears escaped your eyes, and your fingers dug into the grass and dirt. The feel of Peter’s cock pushing into your walls was a familiar one you’d grown to love, but the sound of Steve’s pacing steps and voice made you want to crawl in a hole.

You felt torn apart.

“Had you previously understood that, all of this could’ve been prevented.”

Steve sounded pleased with himself—and Peter—and the thought made you sick. When Peter pulled your head back, you winced, and you started to move away from him, wanting this earlier and regretting it now—especially since you were going back into the basement anyway.

When Peter’s lips grazed your ear, you shuddered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you, hand painfully pulling at your hair, making you cry out again.

You recalled Peter’s words from earlier, and you knew why this was happening. You understood the hierarchy in the household, understood that what Steve said went, and you knew without a shadow of a doubt that Steve would’ve absolutely made this happen for the whole house to say. You understood that this was the better alternative, but that understanding is what made you cry more.

This wasn’t something to be understood. The man thrusting into you had killed your friends and kidnapped you, and the man before you had helped. Peter wasn’t your husband or your lover but instead your captor and rapist. Nothing about any of this was right, and in this moment, you shouldn’t be rationalizing or understanding anything.

…but you did.

You understood why Peter grabbed you with no hesitation and proceeded to fuck you under Steve’s watchful eye. You understood why being raped for all to see had briefly been the better choice to you than being sent back into the basement. You understood why Peter was murmuring sweet nothings and apologies into your ear as he roughly held you down and plunged his cock into you.

You understood it all, and you hated it.

You didn’t want to simultaneously hold Peter closer and push him away as he roughly fucked you against the grass, face to face with you, now. You didn’t want him to obey when Steve told him to fuck you harder. You didn’t want to understand that Peter didn’t actually want this because if that were true he simply wouldn’t do it, right? You didn’t want to accept that this house didn’t follow the rules of the outside world and that so long as you were here—and you would be here forever—neither would you.

“Are you sorry, now?” Steve wondered, somehow able to hear his voice over the sound of your cries. “Hmm?”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer, but you knew you gave him that anyway the moment you started crying. When Peter’s eyes met yours, he shushed you, a poor attempt to make this better somehow, and his next words made you blink.

“Do you see how much worse I could be?” he whispered, too low for Steve to hear. “How much worse they want me to be?”

You stared at him, nails digging into the skin of his arm, and with another harsh sob, you nodded.

“Do you understand what I’ve been trying to protect you from?”

Again, you nodded.

Peter’s nose grazed your own.

“Do you get it now?” he sadly asked you.

When you nodded again, unable to find your voice between cries, Peter shushed you. His fingers pressed into your skin, and his hips painfully came down against yours. When his lips pressed against yours, they swallowed the noises that escaped your throat.

“I never wanted this for you.”

…and you knew Peter was telling the truth.

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XVI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You knelt beside Peter with your hands in your lap, staring down at them as the conversation flowed around you. While you’d never had much to contribute to the conversation before, you still felt awful about being purposely excluded. Even more so because your humiliation was on full display for the whole house to see.

“It’s disappointing to see another empty chair at the table.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t very loud amongst the other low conversations, but it carried, nonetheless. You didn’t need to look up to know that his gaze was on you. You could feel it. It was then that you felt a gentle touch on the top of your head, fingers trailing down to rest just under your chin.

“Yeah,” you heard Peter sigh. “…but she knows what she’s being punished for.”

You did.

The night you told Peter that Nat had mentioned a pregnancy scare, he hadn’t said much to you for the rest of the evening. You could count the number of times Peter had been really mad with you, and his visible anger hadn’t done much for your sleep. You hadn’t been able to deny the pang in your chest when he laid down for bed without sparing you a glance.

You had almost wished you could take it back.

…but if it would prevent Nat from being on the end of whatever punishment Bucky saw fit for her, then you would accept however Peter retaliated. You weren’t being tied to some tree nor walking around with some collar on your neck, but it was no less embarrassing to sit at Peter’s feet on your knees while the rest of the household ate dinner.

Occasionally, Peter’s hand would come down to give you something to eat, and with starving as the only other option, you had no choice but to open your mouth and accept.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” he’d said just hours earlier, gazing at you with a small shake of his head. “…and to think this is something you knew before she even left. What if she was pregnant and has lost the baby? Do you have any idea what that will do to Bucky?”

You hadn’t had the heart nor courage to tell Peter that you didn’t care about Bucky. You didn’t care about him, at all. Your priority had been Nat and keeping quiet on something she herself hadn’t even known what to do with. That was then though, and while your first priority was still Nat, now you only wanted her out of harm’s way in whatever way you could achieve that. Even if it meant disappointing Peter and making Bucky aware of her possible delicate condition.

You knew that with Steve over his shoulder, Bucky was liable to do unspeakable harm to Nat. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up with her and therefore shared a deeper history than any other couple in the house. In fact, you’d wager that those circumstances only made him angrier, made him feel more betrayed. You didn’t count on Bucky being fair, on the punishment fitting the crime. The dark-haired man was angry and hurt—something you’d never understand—and he seemed the type to take it out on her.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sight of a fork in front of your face, and lock clockwork, you leaned in to eat what Peter offered. Your embarrassment lessened as you thought of the humiliating things the other wives probably had to go through. One incident stood out amongst the rest, and as you glanced up, your eyes met a familiar brown pair. She threw you a brief sympathetic look, something in her eyes telling you that it was okay, and you looked back down.

You tried to remind yourself that if your husband had been literally anyone else, you’d be dealing with far worse. Even Thor—who seemed a gentle giant most times—had forced Jane to hang the clothes to dry while completely naked once. At least, that was what Jane had said, and despite how long ago it was, you’d been able to see that she was still hurt about it. You wondered if that contributed to how “well behaved” she was for the blond. You wondered if she just didn’t want to experience that hurt again, and that was something you could understand.

When dinner was over, instead of following behind the rest of the men, Peter remained seated. You could feel his gaze on you, and you kept your own on your lap as you heard him stand. He stood there for what felt like a long time while the other women cleared the table. When the both of you were alone again, he quietly told you to stand and follow him.

Peter hadn’t said all that much to you since that day, and you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You kept your gaze on the back of his head while you followed him, tracing the brown strands with your eyes. There was a part of you that could acknowledge Peter’s disappointment, even understand the twisted logic in some sick way, but another part of you didn’t feel bad, at all. Whether or not Nat was pregnant was not something Peter needed to know. It simply wasn’t for him to know. It hadn’t even been for you to know until Nat decided it so, and it equally hadn’t been for you to tell.

…and you weren’t…until Steve and Bucky were itching to hurt her in ways she just didn’t deserve.

Even now, you wondered if you did the right thing. Only time would really tell, but you felt so…helpless. That night, you’d felt helpless, but it was a different kind of helpless. It was a helplessness that came about of your own accord. You could have very well told Peter you saw her. You could have even ran downstairs yourself to go after her, but you hadn’t. You’d remained quiet, and the opportunity to do anything to help or hinder the situation had passed you by.

You had left the fate of everyone in the house—including you—in her hands. Your future had depended on whether or not Nat was caught or not, both yours and Peters. You felt like something of a coward to leave that in Nat’s hands. Although, you guessed that your decision had been made when you simply…let her go.

You were frowning when Peter spoke to you again.

“You do understand why you’re being punished…don’t you…?”

You licked your lips, starting to nod before thinking better of it, remembering that Peter preferred you use your voice.

“Yes,” you told him.

“Tell me,” Peter urged, sitting down on the bed.

Your eyes met his, and like they had been for days, they gleamed with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“It’s important that Bucky knows everything pertaining to Nat’s health…and I helped her hide that from him.”

You repeated the words he’d said to you even though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

Peter reached for you with a small sigh, and you slowly reached for his hand in return, moving closer. When his fingers threaded with yours, he pulled you to stand in between his knees, taking your other hand too. He looked at you with a look you couldn’t name, pink lips pressed together as he studied your face.

“If you were pregnant…surely you’d understand why I’d need to know that,” he continued before you could say anything. “Even if you just thought you were pregnant…that’s important, Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Now…now I have to find a way to bring this up to him. I did make a promise, after all,” he said to you, reminding you of your plea not to tell Bucky you told him.

Peter pulled on your hands, forcing you to sit in his lap. One of his hands came to rest on your waist, and you held his gaze as he kneaded his hand into your side.

“…and you wouldn’t want me to break my promise…would you?”

Peter tilted his head at that, and you shakily shook your head.

If Bucky knew you knew…you shuddered to think of what would happen. Peter reached up to cup your face, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It disgusted you to think that not even thirty minutes ago, he had you kneeling at his side and eating whatever he fed you like a dog…and now… Now, you were sitting in his lap, reaching up to cover his own hand as it rested on your face.

Was this how any of the others felt?

Did Margaret feel that conflicted mix of anger and sadness and admiration whenever she gazed at Steve? Did she remember the ways in which he’d humiliate her as he kissed her? Did Pepper think of Tony leading her around the house like a pet when he smiled at her? You wondered what Laura thought about when Clint hugged her and if it was that time she was forced to keep him warm in her mouth at the dinner table?

“I was very proud of you tonight,” Peter eventually told you. “You were so well behaved and did exactly as I told you.”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering there.

“Only four more days to go.”

You were outside in the garden when you first saw it.

Laura and Jane were planting some garlic with you when you saw Steve and Bucky talking and walking around the house. They were coming from the front yard, presumably from work seeing as they were still in their uniforms, and Steve had it in his hand. A whip­—long and braided and dark brown. By the looks of it, you could tell it was real leather, and even in Steve’s grasp, it looked big…and torturous.

The sight of it made your stomach turn, and you had the brief thought that you were going to be sick…until you actually were sick.

“Oh my God!”

Both Laura and Jane’s voices caught their attention, and the poor garlic bulbs you’d had every intention of planting were suddenly covered in what you ate that morning. Your legs were unsteady as both women hurried to pull you to your feet. Both men were nearing you, something crossing their faces that looked oddly like concern.

It was strange.

You’d seen something like that on Bucky’s face before, notably that night when you ran into him outside the basement door. There was a hurt and crestfallen look there that told you as mad as he was at Nat, something in him hated the idea of punishing her more. Steve, however… You had never seen anything remotely resembling unease before, and it was then that you were reminded of something Peter had said to you once.

“You’re family, Y/N,” Peter had whispered one night. “Steve may be hard on you, and it may seem like he’s out to get you, but he just wants you to fall in line and be part of the family.”

Laura was wiping your mouth with a napkin she kept in her apron.

“Are you alright? Did you eat something bad?”

No.

You didn’t know how to tell her that the sight of that whip in Steve’s hand—the whip that was still in Steve’s hand—had disturbed you so badly you couldn’t even keep your food down. You could feel pressure behind your eyes, a burning sensation, and you wanted to scream. On top of throwing up on yourself like some child, you were now on the verge of crying too.

“Y/N…”

You weren’t on the verge of anything. You were crying…and badly too. You couldn’t stop shaking, covering your face with your hands as you fought to keep standing. Laura’s hands were on you as she guided you into the house, and your knees buckled. You would have collapsed if it weren’t for familiar arms catching you, and you clung to him instantly.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” he softly urged, one hand on your head and the other on the small of your back. “What happened?”

He was addressing someone else, now, and you didn’t hear what they told him. You only shook your head, unable to get the words out. You wanted to be sick again, and you pressed a hand to your mouth. Peter took that as a sign, hurrying to get you up the stairs.

He softly called your name again as soon as you made it into the room, and you finally did collapse.

“Is that what he’s going to do to her?” you asked him, tearfully looking up at Peter as he looked down at you in confusion. “Whip her?”

Realization bled into Peter’s eyes, and you watched his shoulders fall.

“Like…like some animal that needs to be broken into submission? …and for what? Because she ran?”

You swallowed down something else that threatened to come up, and Peter knelt down with you. You were fighting to keep it together, but your chest felt so tight, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The mere thought of Nat being on the other end of that almost made you sick again, and the room spun just a bit.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Peter cooed, wrapping his arms around you and leaning you back into him.

You descended into another fit of sobs, turning your face into Peter’s shoulder, and he rocked you. You reached up to grip the arm around your chest, holding onto him. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but what else could you possibly say that would stop this?

“Did you talk to Bucky…?” you finally choked out.

You both felt and heard Peter sigh.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Look…Y/N…”

Peter paused, rubbing your arm and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know you want to protect Nat…want to stop this from happening to her, but she did a bad thing.”

You started to shake your head, but Peter continued.

“She has to be punished, made an example of. Hell…we still need to figure out how she escaped.”

Those words gave you pause, and you swallowed.

“She won’t say a thing about how she got out of the house with any of us none the wiser. How she snuck past all of us, Bucky especially,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “She could do it again. Any of you could try to imitate her…and we can’t have that.”

Peter pulled away a bit, looking at you as you looked at him.

“I would lose my mind if you escaped,” he told you. “…and I mean that.”

He took your face into his hands.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me…all I’ve done to keep you by my side,” he gently said. “All I would do to have you again if you ever did what she did.”

You believed him.

You didn’t doubt him for a moment, and that in itself didn’t scare you. It was the fact that you didn’t see yourself ever doing what Nat did, never even trying, and that thought was equally imprisoning as it was freeing.

You stared into the darkness with your arms wrapped around your knees. The stair beneath your bottom didn’t even feel that hard to you anymore, long growing numb to the feel. It was so hard to sleep lately, so tonight you’d just given up. Even with Peter at your side, you hadn’t been able to find lethargic bliss, too plagued with thoughts of Nat.

The memory of that whip in Steve’s hand made you grow so cold, like something was being sucked out of you. You had imagined the worst for her, but actually seeing it was another thing entirely. As much as Bucky scared you, you couldn’t really picture him doing that to her. Even for him, it seemed wrong, but then again, it was hard to tell what Bucky was actually feeling and what he wanted.

He kidnapped the girl he grew up with and he was the one to feel betrayed when she ran.

You wondered if a day would come where you’d sleep soundly again. Maybe when you knew for sure that Nat was going to be okay? You wondered if you’d even fret this much if you hadn’t seen her that night. You liked to think that you would, but you couldn’t deny that your guilt and fear over the whole situation played a huge part.

Rubbing your forehead, you pushed yourself to your feet.

When you turned around, the imposing figure at the top of the stairs almost made you fall back. You let out a gasp, taking a stumbling step back and almost falling in the process. The sound of your heartbeat was loud in your ear, and even before he turned the light on, you knew who it was.

Steve was as scary as he always was, but even more so now with the memory of him holding the whip that was most likely intended for Nat. It was crazy to think that even in the middle of the night, a time of day that should be for the most relaxed version of oneself, he still looked like a strict leader just itching to hand out a punishment.

“You should be in bed.”

You swallowed as he looked down his nose at you, lips trembling.

“I…I couldn’t sleep. I have trouble sleeping, sometimes,” you forced out, truthful.

The blond didn’t reply right away at that, simply raising an eyebrow at you as he studied you.

“Is that so…”

It came out more like a statement than a question, and you frowned.

“Since when?” he wondered, and you realized this was probably the longest you’d ever talked to Steve and definitely one on one.

“Since…since I got here, I guess,” you whispered with a frown.

He sniffed, looking past you for a few moments before meeting your eyes again. They narrowed at you, and for the life of you, you couldn’t place the look in them.

“You spend most of your nights awake? Sitting on the stairs? Hmm?”

“No,” you hurried to say. “No, this is a first. I guess I didn’t want to wake up Peter.”

There was a brief pause, and the silence was so loud.

“Is that okay…?”

You tried to keep your voice even, but you supposed you couldn’t cover the mocking tone well. It was hard to keep up with what was allowed with Steve, and it wasn’t like the other night when you were trying to bring Nat some food. You’d just been sitting on the stairs. What rule was there against that?

Steve stared at you for what felt like a long time before suddenly throwing you a tense smile. It looked fake, plastic even.

“Of course,” he almost sang as if it were obvious. “You’re family, now, and this is your house too.”

His tone, like yours had been, sounded almost mocking, and you didn’t like it. Unable to continue engaging in conversation with the blond without wanting to hurl, you moved to make your way back to your room. Steve’s gaze remained on you the entire time, and it was only when you were past him did he speak again.

“I never realized what a night owl you were…”

You slowed to a pause, looking over your shoulder at him, but his back was still to you as he stared ahead.

“You probably see all sorts of things from your perch.”

Your chest grew tight at that, and you stumbled back to your room without another response.

Peter seemed to reach for you on autopilot, pulling you into his arms and holding you close even in his sleep. You held onto him too, tears kissing your eyes as you forced your heart to stop racing. You pressed your face into his chest, thoughts going a mile a minute.

You hadn’t liked Steve’s words nor his tone, and you wondered…

Did he know? He couldn’t know, but his dubious tone and hidden meanings in his words couldn’t mean anything else. Unless he only suspected, and even then, that did little to reassure you. You weren’t good with lies, poker faces. As it were, it was taking everything in you to keep lying to Peter, and the way you felt about Peter was nothing at all how you felt about Steve.

It was taking all you had to lie to the man whose face you looked forward to seeing every day. You couldn’t even pretend to imagine you’d be good at lying to Steve. The thought made you sit up some, gazing at Peter’s face as he slept. You thought about your conversation earlier and what he’d done for you, the feeling in your chest when he told you he’d talked to Bucky.

“I just mentioned to him he might want to have Bruce come and look over her first before…”

He had trailed off after answering you when you asked him what he told him, quieting at the look on your face at the reminder of what was in store for her.

“They’ve been trying, you know, and I just reminded Bucky that he’d never forgive himself if he did anything that could take away something he didn’t even know he had.”

Your worry hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had definitely lessened, causing you to hug Peter. He had hugged you back, but you’d been more concerned with pressing kisses to his face. Even if Nat turned out to not be pregnant, it would put off her punishment for a bit at the least.

Sometimes you wondered why Peter did anything for you. You supposed it was equally for his benefit, to make you more susceptible to him, and you couldn’t deny that there was merit to it. Did it really matter the reasons behind anything he did to make you happy? As long as it made you happy, right…?

You leaned over, pressing your lips to his cheek, silently thanking him. You grazed your fingers over his own, listening to the sound of his breathing, and you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of bed. You moved to stand at the window, feeling very reminiscent of that night as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You knew that you needed to get up early, and that you’d probably regret having such a late night in the morning, but you saw no value in trying to force something that would not come. Like the night Nat ran, you stared out of the window, looking over the yard...

…and just like that night, movement caught your eye.

The figure was unmistakable, his hands on his hips as he stood in the backyard, gazing around. You didn’t know why he was out there, especially at this time of night, and you frowned as you watched him. The sight of Steve would always serve to do the opposite of calming you down, so you were just about to turn away when he suddenly turned instead. Steve’s eyes met yours from so far below, and you could tell by the look on his face that he could see you.

You could also tell by the look on his face…that this did not surprise him.

His expression was even as he stared up at you, and you blinked, a slow frown forming between your brows. You didn’t understand why he was out there nor why he was preoccupied with looking up at your window, but the longer he stared, the more he seemed to find whatever he was looking for, frowning at you before you made the choice to turn away completely.

The next morning was as normal as any other.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected that. It had taken you forever to fall asleep, doubly so when coupled with the memory of Steve staring you down both on the stairs and through the window. You helped Margaret make Egg’s Benedict before getting started on a key lime pie she wanted to have ready by dinnertime. She brought little Sarah around for a bit, something you were grateful for.

“I know what they think,” she whispered as you shook the girl’s hand playfully. “What they say…”

You glanced up at her at that, and she sent you a sad smile.

“You would never hurt any of them,” she assured you. “You just need more time to adjust, that’s all.”

Knowing that Margaret trusted you around her child despite what Steve thought made your chest feel warm, and you thanked her. You often wondered about your own future child, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t worry for them. After all, if Steve and the others were worried about you around the other children, what could you possibly expect with your own?

You helped Christine in the garden, feeling much better than the other day. You felt that had more to do with the lack of a whip in your line of sight than anything. Peter was gone most of the day, at work, and when he finally returned home, it was almost time for dinner.

“What were you two planting? You smell wonderful,” Peter mused, watching you as you helped him undress.

“Sweet Pea,” you replied, unhooking his belt. “Pepper wanted some on the side of the house.”

You felt Peter press his face to your hair, deeply inhaling with a hum that fell over you like a warm blanket. When Peter kissed you, you were unsurprised when it didn’t remain just that, allowing him to pull you into the bathtub with him. Much wasn’t said between you, more preoccupied with the feel of his lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

It was a wonder neither of you were late to the dinner table.

Despite your interactions with Steve the previous night, dinner remained unproblematic. In fact, the blond was much more concerned with his wife whose forehead he kept touching. Truthfully, you didn’t quite know what you’d expected. Perhaps your disastrous birthday was still fresh in your mind, no stranger to Steve’s lack of reluctance to cause a scene.

You left dinner without a care, and you managed to go to bed without a care.

It was late in the night, however, when the horror you expected finally arrived.

It was the sound of yelling that disturbed you, the height of sound something you’d only heard the morning Nat went missing. You remained in bed in confusion—and slight annoyance—as you blearily stared at the ceiling. Sleep was still just within reach, and despite the disturbance, you were determined to find it once again.

That wasn’t possible though.

“Let me talk to her!”

It was Peter’s voice, the sound of it making your eyes fly open. You slowly sat up, never knowing Peter for one to raise his voice under any circumstances. There were a lot of voices mingling together from below, and they all quickly drowned his out. You slowly blinked as you stared at the door…

…and an uneasy feeling started to stir deep in your gut.

It only just occurred to you that if he was downstairs, then he wasn’t asleep next to you. You reached over and slid your hand along his side of the bed. It was cool to the touch, telling you he’d been gone for quite some time, and your frown deepened. What was going on?

Just as you thought that, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and you stared at the door in dread. They were nearing your room, the sound of them echoing in the hallway, and for some reason, you expected Steve’s imposing frame to be on the other side of the door. It wasn’t, but you still felt no relief at the familiar sight of Peter.

You rubbed your eye as your gaze met his, the dark-haired man standing in the doorway.

“Peter…”

It was hard to pinpoint the look on his face, only that it was strained and pinched. You watched the way his jaw ticked, chest heaving slightly, and when your gaze lowered, it landed on his tightening grip on the doorknob. You said his name again, growing even more nervous the longer he didn’t speak.

“Peter.”

That wasn’t your voice.

Your lips parted at the sound of Steve’s stern voice coming from over Peter’s shoulder, and you guessed that he was somewhere in between the door and the stairs, somewhere in the hallway where you couldn’t see him. At the sound of the other man’s voice, Peter seemed to visibly tense. He stood there for a few more seconds before finally stepping into the room.

“Peter, what…?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered to you although you felt like it was absolutely not okay. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He took your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I just…I need you to come downstairs.”

His voice was so low, and despite the confusion you felt as you gazed into his eyes, you allowed him to lead you out of bed. You surmised that Steve went back downstairs because he was nowhere to be found when you followed Peter into the hallway.

Every step of yours felt heavy, and you didn’t miss the tight hold Peter had on your hand as he gently pulled you downstairs. You had no inkling of where you were even going, but you were shocked to realize that he was leading you towards the den. However, the biggest shock of all was the sight that met you.

You faltered as your eyes roamed over every single one of the husbands.

“Peter…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you by the feel of his hand gently squeezing yours.

You didn’t understand what was going on, and as you looked around, you almost wished you hadn’t. None of them looked happy, and while that in itself wasn’t alarming, it was the degree of unhappiness that unsettled you. Your gaze briefly met Bucky’s, and you suspected that if looks could kill, your throat would have slit on sight.

You took a step behind Peter.

“I always knew that your methods would backfire one day, Peter.”

Your eyes landed on Steve as he said this, and you watched the blond pour himself a drink. Thor was sitting in the seat closest to him, and you felt grateful for that because you were sure that the sight of an angry and imposing Thor towering over you would have made you faint.

You glanced at Peter, face almost hurting now from how much you were frowning.

“Peter, what’s going on?” you whispered.

“Yeah, Peter,” Steve mockingly agreed. “What’s going on?”

You looked between them, that feeling a full-fledged impairment, now as you almost felt like you couldn’t move.

“Ask her, Peter.”

Steve’s voice had lowered, his tone cold when his blue gaze finally met yours.

“Ask her, right now.”

You wanted to run for some reason, get far away from here…but you couldn’t. Peter seemed to be hesitating about whatever he was supposed to be asking you, and Bucky beat him to it.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

The question shocked you both for how unexpected it was and also because it wasn’t true. You felt your lips part as you looked at Bucky, withering under his venomous stare.

“What?” you gasped. “N-No!”

You looked around, a painful feeling washing over you as you realized what all of this was about.

“No, I-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you hadn’t even been able to get the words out, interrupted by Bucky who charged towards you. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

You stumbled back per courtesy of Peter who forced you back with a hand on your waist. Your hand gripped his arm in fear as you looked around him, watching with wide eyes as he faced Bucky. The other man looked at you like he could kill you without thinking twice about it, and you supposed that he could. He’d done it to Wanda, after all.

You hadn’t realized that you’d started crying, your cheeks cold all of a sudden.

“Bucky.”

“She helped her, Peter. I know she did!” Bucky spat, pointing at you as you shook your head.

“No! I didn’t-! Peter,” you pleaded, looking at him, now. “I didn’t!”

Your voice was cracking, and you hoped they didn’t take that for an admission of guilt or something. You hadn’t helped Nat escape, but you knew that to them, the truth might as well be the same, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“Remind us again, Peter… Repeat to us the events of that night for you,” Steve finally spoke up again, his voice eerily calm as he looked at you both.

His words had you blinking, and you looked to Peter in confusion. He looked conflicted, almost miserable, in fact, and you watched him pull his lip between his teeth.

“What was it you said? You woke up…?”

You looked at Steve, hating him and his mocking tone. You hated the way he talked like he already knew the answers he was looking for, like he was the smartest person in the room.

“…because Y/N wasn’t beside me,” he finally answered.

Steve nodded, slowly and with a hum.

“…and why not? Where was she?”

Your heart dropped to the very bottom of your stomach, and the room swayed for half a second as you tightened your hand on Peter’s arm. You didn’t stare at any of them, your eyes falling to the floor as you fought to keep your food down. You felt numb and heavy all at once, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely wanted to die.

“Where was she, Peter?” Steve asked again, not so nice this time.

Peter didn’t respond right away, and you wrapped your arm around him, forehead falling to his frame as you held in a sob.

“She was by the window,” he finally breathed, sounding defeated. “Looking out of it.”

You heard Clint mumble something, and although you couldn’t make it out, you knew it wasn’t nice.

Only another moment passed before Peter was harshly pushing you back, but it wasn’t fast enough. Bucky’s hand had gripped the sleeve of your nightgown, both ripping the fabric and scratching your skin in the process. You screamed in both shock and pain, hurrying back until you met the wall, clutching your arm as Peter harshly shoved the older man away.

“She didn’t do it!”

“Move, Peter,” Bucky hissed. “Anyone with half a brain can see that she helped her! She-.”

Bucky cut himself off, and when you looked around Peter, the other man’s chest was heaving as he stared you down.

“Anything could’ve happened to Nat,” he forced out. “Anything, and she-!”

“I didn’t help her!”

“Shut up,” he snarled at you, so harsh and violent that more tears fell.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying and failing to hold your sobs in.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of her mouth unless it’s the truth,” he bit out.

“Do not talk to her like that,” Peter told him, taking a step towards him. “Do you hear me?”

He continued before Bucky could say anything else.

“You’re angry, I get it, but if you think I’m going to stand here and let you talk to her like that, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Peter sneered.

They stared at one another for what felt like too long, just staring each other down, and you felt yourself sliding to the floor. The room was blurry from your tears, and it felt so hard to breathe. You brought your knees up to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell.

“Let me talk to her,” you heard Peter whisper, the same thing you’d heard him yell earlier.

You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried, and you let your head fall into your hands. The room was quiet save from the sound of you, and it wasn’t long before you felt Peter’s hands reach for your own.

“Peter,” you sobbed.

“Look at me. Hey…look at me,” he softly said. “Please…”

You reluctantly peeled your eyes open, and you glanced up when Peter gripped your chin.

“Don’t look at them,” he told you, voice gentle. “Look right at me.”

His voice was soothing, and you reached up to grip his wrist as you met his dark gaze. His eyes were soft, but there was something swirling there that made you nervous. An underlying skepticism lie there, and you pressed your lips together.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he quietly praised, sadly smiling at you.

He wiped your face, tongue darting between his lips. He stared at you, running his eyes over your face, and drinking you in for a moment.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

“No,” you answered without hesitation. “I didn’t. I… I could never.”

…and it was true.

You weren’t like Nat. You were weak, passive at best, and you could never have the courage to actively help anyone in this house escape. At least, you didn’t think so. The best anyone would get out of you was…well…simply looking the other way, and that was why as Peter took a deep breath, hinting that he was not done, you feared what would come out of his mouth. You dreaded his next words…

…and Peter looked like he dreaded them too.

He looked like he dreaded them more than the question that had just left his lips, and maybe it was because he knew the truth in this moment.

“…but you saw her leave.”

He held your gaze, and you held his. You didn’t move…didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to. Your silence was confirmation enough, and you flinched when you heard Bucky break something. It sounded like a glass.

“Peter…”

“You saw her leave…and you didn’t say anything,” he sounded heartbroken, and you soon realized why. “You lied to me.”

Your head lowered, and you wiped your face, but more tears just replaced those. You reached for him, gripping his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Peter… Peter, I’m sorry,” you choked out, trying to pull him closer.

“That’s why…” he trailed off, sighing to himself as his eyes fell closed.

He chuckled to himself, but it lacked humor.

“That’s why,” he said to himself, his own head lowering so that his forehead touched yours.

You felt him wipe your face, a shaky sigh leaving him.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he murmured. “…but I’m not who you should be apologizing to.”

You looked at him with wide eyes when he pulled away, and you released another sob. Just the thought of what was waiting for you had you breathing short, and you pressed your hand to your chest. Peter still had one of your hands, and you could feel his chin on top of your head.

“Anything could have happened to her,” he told you. “Nat could’ve been seriously hurt…she could’ve died.”

“We told you,” you heard Bucky harshly tell him. “We told you you were being too soft on her.”

“Bucky…”

Peter’s voice reeked of exasperation as he held you to him, letting you cry into his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding so much from your tears. What would happen to you now? Would you be going down into the basement? For how long? Or…

Or was Steve going to make Peter tie you to a tree?

“What? You’re going to look at us and tell us we’re wrong, now? Nat escaped!”

You flinched as Bucky raised his voice, sounding much closer, too close.

“…and she just let it happen,” he snarled. “If she wasn’t yours…if she was just some random woman on the street, I’d wring her neck.”

That was enough to have Peter pulling away from you, presumably confronting Bucky, but you couldn’t even care, couldn’t even focus on that. You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried. Every time you did, you almost choked, and between that and trying to suck in air…

“…and why would I be like you…? Or Steve? You don’t think you broke her enough when you killed her friends? What did you expect, for her to behave rationally all this time?”

You heard Bucky chuckle, and for some reason, you hated the sound of it. It was cold, nasty, and it sounded like something that preceded trouble.

“Get off your high horse, Peter,” Bucky threw at him. “You’ve done just as much damage to her as we have…”

Bucky’s next words made your breath stop entirely.

“…it wasn’t us who killed…what was her name? Was it Michelle? Was that the one you shot?”

You felt…paralyzed, and the distinct lack of sobs filling the room was evident. Your hands had been on your forehead, and you could only stare at the floor as you felt like nothing was below your feet, falling without an end in sight. A sharp pain in your head forced you to squeeze your eyes shut, and you shook your head.

No.

No…no…

That wasn’t right.

It couldn’t be.

Sam…Sam killed her. Hadn’t he?

Your chest was hurting so bad that you actually clutched it, gasping for breath, and your other hand reached for the wall, trying and failing to steady yourself. You felt like you were in pain, and when you tried to stand up, you only fell back down. You felt familiar hands on your arms, and when you looked up, you flinched.

Peter frowned.

“Y/N…”

“What…?” you breathed.

That couldn’t be true…and yet…you couldn’t recall actually seeing Sam shoot Michelle. You…you had just assumed… But Peter was the first one to get to you that day, but he’d also spoke as if it was Sam…but Peter… As you looked into his brown eyes, the brown eyes that you had grown to look forward to looking into, you realized that Peter was a liar…and a murderer.

…and you wanted to be sick.

His hands were on your face, and you tried to bat them away.

“No, no, no,” you repeatedly mumbled, shaking your head. “No!”

You shoved at him, but Peter wouldn’t budge, determined to get you to calm down. Too preoccupied with wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you were none the wiser to Steve’s approach.

“It’s a good thing you brought Nat back up to prepare for Bruce’s visit,” the blond said, shoving past Peter and roughly grabbing you. “…because now she’ll have the whole basement to herself.”

The scream that you let out hurt your throat, and despite your anger and disgust with him, you still reached for Peter as Steve dragged you away. Your hand just barely grazed his as your feet lifted from the ground, and you reached out, trying to grab onto anything you could. You could hear Peter following behind Steve, begging and pleading with him on your behalf.

You could hear something occasionally being knocked over by you, the sound of breaking glass reaching your ears here and there. When Steve finally did reach the basement door, you pressed your feet to it, trying in vain to prevent this from happening. You hadn’t been in the basement since your first few days here, and it was not somewhere you wanted to be again. Not now…not after…

However, enthusiastic to see you suffer for letting his wife get away, Bucky unlocked and opened the door for Steve, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole. When Steve’s arm pressed into the cut Bucky had made on your arm, you winced.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time…”

…and with those last words, Steve tossed you inside. Your hands slid over the steps as you fell, feet tangling together, and you reached out to grab the rail, but it only slowed your descent. It did nothing to stop it, landing at the bottom of the stairs in a heap just as the door was slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness, but it was the least of your worries, a choked wail escaping you at the thought of Peter.

You pressed your face into the floor as you cried, lacking the strength and will to move.

[mindnightrunaway]

SERIES MASTERLIST

previous chapter

jackharlow just added to their story!

URBANWYATT

liked by summerwalker, champagnepapi, thegirljt, chloebailey, saweetie, 1dessdior and 789,346 others

urbanwyatt: you know what it is. for the rest of our lives. Happy birthday @yourinsta

view all 6,789 comments

user: besties forever

user: happy birthday to her but why does she never have on clothes

user: oh that’s not…

user: smoke coming out Jack and Stacey ears rn

user: nothing makes me happier than the two of them being friends again

yourinsta: I love you best friend 🤞

user: can you tell Jack to leave her alone

user: why did Jack call her his future wife

CHAMPAGNEPAPI

liked by urbanwyatt, NickiMinaj, cardib, andrealewis,taylorrocks,stormreid,SZA,summerwalker and 1,567,345 others

champagnepapi: More Life to the most genuine soul I know. I ain’t shit without you. You and our babygirl is the only people I’ll share this month with 🦉

view all 567 comments

celeb: family full of OVO babies

celeb: HBD PRETTY :*

celeb: Libra bae

celeb: baddest BM in the game

celeb: you need to wife her asap

THESHADEROOM

liked by 756,036 users

theshaderoom: Looks like we finally have some insight on Drake and Y/N Y/L breakup! For All The Dogs dropped this morning and on the opening track Virginia Beach which fans assumed would be a track dissing towards Pusha T, Drake actually raps about the ups and downs about his relationship with the rapper/model.

At the beginning of the song, Drake claims that Y/N asked him if he could’ve treated her better, he says no, that he thought he did an alright job!

Roomies, have you listened to the song? What’s your thoughts?

view all 12, 678 comments

user: “you put some pain in me” our girl heart our boy bad!!

user: I definitely think Y/N felt smothered by him

user: best song on the album

user: he was plotting on putting a baby in her

user: loved that he mentioned it’s on sight for Jack whenever 🤣

user: we have to get them back together omg

user: on repeat 🔂

user: lowkey feel like she was talking to drake while with Jack the second time

BALLERALERT

liked 456,096 others

balleralert: Is wedding bells in order for Drake & Y/N!

At the last tour stop on Its All A Blur tour in his hometown of Toronto, Drake makes a speech reflecting on tour life and family. He ends the speech shouting out the mother of his daughter and “his wifey” Y/N Y/L who was in attendance as you can see from above, going on to say that he “couldn’t do this life shit” without her.

No one knows for sure if the two are actually married but Drake has been very vocal about not wanting to get married. Sources claim that Drake was simply just trolling Y/N ex Jack Harlow who called Y/N his future wife during his birthday post.

view all 3,567 comments

user: oh shit

user: if he actually wifed her he’s the greatest of all time

user: definitely trolling Jack & Stacey

user: he better not marry that slut

user: hope someone is keeping an eye on Jack Harlow

user: I’m going to crash the wedding

user: marrying someone who might still be in love with their ex is a choice

user: he’s probably joking

jackharlow just added to their story!

***

AN: smh Jack what happened to having shame

Y/n and drake 😳

Tag List:

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@heavyhitterheaux @hoodharlow @neon-lights-and-glitter @babiefries @bout-mine @mace23477 @jackmans-poison @dstark-0706 @harlowsbby @itsyagirljaz @leftapricotprofessorlover @comehomeimissyou @minkookie95 @harlowcomehome @jackharloww @jaydaaasworld @xxkoolkatxx @khiyah @kkrenae @hufflewhore128@w1ldthoughts @jackiehollanderr @judebellinghamswife @katiaw2

[mindnightrunaway]

TEXTING YOUR BOYFRIEND, JACK HARLOW.

a/n: i do these when i’m bored… also i love pedro pascal lmaoo

blue — YOU

grey — JACK

[mindnightrunaway]

Smells Like Teen Spirit (Rafe Cameron x Reader)

Warnings: NON/DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, attempted murder + suicide, mentions of blood, loss of virginity, underage drinking, jealousy, kook!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: Being one half of the royal couple of Figure 8 isn't what it's cracked up to be.

~

The first time Rafe hit you, it was on your birthday.

Like every year, your parents threw you a big party that hosted no less than a hundred people. A good number of those people were friends from school and familiar faces you’d grown up with. The other bunch were family friends that had more in common with your parents than you. You took their pretty cards filled with money and thanked them with a smile, relieved when they scampered off to congregate with the other forty somethings.

It was the same party every year. Half the people of Figure 8 in attendance, an abundance of gifts you could barely keep up with, and a light scold or two from your mother to smile and greet the next person who came in. Your hair was flawless and your dress was the perfect length.

The only difference this year was the presence of a boyfriend at your side.

“Rafe, if my dad sees us, I will never hear the end of it.”

Your tone was light and teasing, and you said it with a smile, but there was a hint of seriousness there. It really didn’t matter how older you grew to be, you were sure you’d always be your daddy’s little girl. The older man already hadn’t been the most excited when you told him you were dating Rafe Cameron, Ward Cameron’s son, and you were positive that the Cameron family’s reputation was Rafe’s only saving grace.

You’d just turned eighteen then after all and was already flaunting your new adult status.

The blue-eyed boy in front of you merely chuckled, tightening his arms around your waist and leaning in to kiss you again. The house and the yard were filled with almost too many people, so you hadn’t hesitated when Rafe discreetly guided you upstairs.

“He’s too busy talking about his new boat, isn’t he?” he wondered. “He’ll talk all night if they let him.”

You lightly tapped his chest, but you didn’t voice any disagreement.

Your back was leaning against your bedroom door, the muffled sounds of some classical music reaching your ears through the wall. Rafe’s hands were tight on your waist, and you both felt and heard him chuckle again, his lips still pressed against yours. Only this time, he kept laughing—softly and to himself—and you gave him a slight frown when he pulled away.

“I was just thinking…” Rafe pulled you close again. “How hilarious it would be if he was going on and on about that damn boat…none the wiser to his daughter getting fucked on her birthday right upstairs.”

This time you hit him a little harder, and Rafe only laughed again.

“You’re not funny,” you scolded, deflating a little as you pulled away from him. “Way to ruin the mood.”

You said it quietly as you sat down on the edge of your bed, but Rafe heard it clearly, and when you looked up at him, you recognized the look on his face instantly.

“Funny,” he started, shoving his hands into his pockets and leaning against the door. “Mentioning sex usually has the opposite effect on most people.”

You rolled your eyes with a turn of your head, looking towards your window. The atmosphere was different, now, and you didn’t know if it was your fault or Rafe’s. He joked like that sometimes, and you knew it, so you could recognize that maybe you were being too sensitive.

The topic at hand, however, was a sensitive one for you.

“I really don’t want to have this fight, right now,” you mumbled.

You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t return it, determined to just stare down at the people in your yard. The air was thick, the tension even thicker, and you reached up to rub your arms, trying to rid them of the goosebumps that had appeared. Rafe hated being ignored, and you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to continue the conversation because you knew what was brewing.

Rafe was the perfect boyfriend. He was pretty—the kind of pretty that even some girls would be jealous of. He came from the kind of family that taught him about manners and respect. He never hesitated to do what he could to make your life easier despite growing up wanting for nothing. You didn’t think it was possible for an already spoiled girl to be spoiled some more until you started dating Rafe and he proved you wrong. He treated you like a princess, so yes. Rafe was the perfect boyfriend.

Mostly.

“I’ve been really understanding, you know…”

Rafe’s voice was low, and your gaze dropped to your lap.

“…but we’ve been dating for what? Eight months?”

You swallowed, eyes burning.

“Do you know how hard Topper and Kelce would laugh at me if they knew my girlfriend of almost a year refuses to have sex with me?”

You scoffed, finally looking at him, brows pulled together.

“You make it sound like I’m punishing you,” you breathed. “Rafe, this has nothing to do with you, I… I’m just not ready.”

“…and still no ETA on when you will be, huh?”

You blinked at him, lips parting at his callous tone and words. You looked away, blinking back tears because you would hate it if you cried on your birthday of all days.

“You’re being an asshole.”

You whispered it, and you heard Rafe huff.

“I’m not trying to be,” he told you, and you heard him move closer. “…but come on. I get it…”

The bed dipped as he sat down next to you, and you felt his hand on your face, fingers grazing your cheek.

“You’re nervous, and it seems scary, but you’re treating me like I’m some stranger on the street, and not…your boyfriend. You know I’ll take care of you. I always take care of you, and that’s why I don’t understand it,” he bit out. “I treat you like gold, and here I am, eight months in and wondering if you even feel the same way.”

You whipped your head around to stare at him in disbelief, looking between his eyes. You didn’t know how he could be serious, but as you gazed at him, you realized that Rafe was very serious. You took a moment to scoot away from him just a tad.

“I show you everyday how much you mean to me, Rafe…but because I won’t have sex with you that means I don’t love you? So just forget all the other stuff, I guess,” you sneered.

Rafe reached for you when you started to turn away, shaking your head and lightly pushing at his hands. Today was your birthday, and you were fighting with your boyfriend…because sex was something you just weren’t ready for. You snatched your arm out of his hold, standing on unsteady legs.

“When you first brought this up, I told you then that I wasn’t ready, and you made it clear you were okay with waiting. Was that a lie?” you asked him, meeting his gaze.

Rafe ran his hand down his face, huffing to himself.

“No, but I just didn’t think I’d still be waiting almost half a year later.”

He was standing, now too.

“So, why are you? No one’s forcing you to stay here, Rafe,” you sadly told him with a shrug. “You don’t have to be with me if sex is that damn important to you. There are plenty of other girls out there who will happily give you what I don’t want to.”

You crossed your arms over your chest.

“…and I know because I see the looks they give you…and the looks they give me.”

You were used to envy. You’d been on the receiving end of it all your life. Growing up on this side of the island guaranteed that from birth, but you also knew it was because your standing was only rivaled by Sarah Cameron. If Rafe’s sister were anyone else, you might have found yourself involved in some one-sided rivalry, but Sarah was a lot like you.

Just a girl born into fortunate circumstances.

However, what you weren’t used to was envy because of the man you loved. When it came to your house and your lifestyle and everything else, it never bothered you because no one could take those things from you. Rafe, on the other hand… You knew what he was like and what he was used to. It was why you’d been very honest about your sexual history and lack thereof from almost the beginning. If Rafe was going to leave you for someone else all because you wouldn’t have sex with him, you would have rather he do it early.

Not now…not eight months in because now you loved him, and the thought made you want to cry, and it would take just as many months to get over him.

“If I wanted any of those other spoiled bitches then I wouldn’t be here,” Rafe told you. “Besides, you think I’m just going to walk away with nothing after investing so much time and money and energy into you?”

You reared back at that, eyes widening just a tad, and Rafe seemed to realize how that came out. He sighed, reaching for you just as you stepped away from him. You heard him curse when you left the room, ignoring the sound of him calling your name as you hurried to mix yourself in with all of your guests downstairs.

Rafe talked about you like some business investment he was waiting to get a return on. It hurt, a lot, and while you wanted to believe he hadn’t meant it like that in his head, you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was really how he saw you. Your mother smiled at you when she saw your face, none the wiser to your temporary absence. Your own smile was forced as she introduced you to their new golfing buddies.

You didn’t know when Rafe came back downstairs, only quickly glancing away when your eyes connected with his after some time. If your parents noticed your distance from him, they didn’t comment on it, and after a while, you barely noticed it yourself. You immersed yourself in your friends, halfway listening to boyfriend troubles and semester woes.

This was the only thing you and Rafe ever fought about. Plenty of your friends had boyfriends before who tried to pressure them into doing things they didn’t want to do. You were always the friend to tell them to dump them without hesitation, so why hadn’t you done the same? Was it because Rafe was so perfect in all other aspects of your relationship? The back and forth hadn’t ever been so serious before…not until tonight.

As you sipped on the drink you weren’t supposed to be having, you remembered the hurt you felt when Rafe implied you didn’t love him. What a crazy thing to say. You treated him just as well as he treated you, never mind the fact that you told him every day how much you loved him…but because you wouldn’t fuck him that meant otherwise?

It was enough to make you angry.

“Finally stopped hiding from me…?”

You tensed up for half a second, relaxing with a sigh as you heard him come closer. You were out by the water, now, sitting on the boat dock with one leg swinging. It had been nothing but just you and your thoughts for a good thirty minutes, and you guessed it took that amount of time for Rafe to realize you were no longer in the house.

“I don’t know yet,” you honestly told him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” Rafe quietly said, getting straight to the point.

“…but I don’t know. You don’t even think I love you just because I won’t have sex with you. For all I know, that’s exactly how you see me,” you mumbled.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Says the guy ruining my birthday!”

You were looking up at him, now, tearfully, and you shook your head. Saying it aloud made you realize just how shitty it was, and you sniffed, pulling yourself to your feet.

“Just go home, Rafe…”

He stopped you from walking by him, and you ignored anything he was trying to say. The more he leaned in, that was when you smelled it, and your frown deepened at the stench of alcohol on his breath. You didn’t know why the smell made you so angry. It was a party, after all, but maybe it was the fact that if anyone of the two of you deserved to drown their sorrows in booze, it was you. Not Rafe. Pushing at his chest, you scoffed.

“One argument…and you’re already getting drunk?”

You jerked your face away from his hand, glowering at him.

“Don’t you want to at least wait for Ward to give you the daily disappointment speech?”

The slap wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was hard enough to make your face burn.

You were staring at the water from when your head had whipped to the side, and when a nightly breeze blew by, kissing your skin, only then did the dull burning sensation fade away into a painful one. Your lips were parted in shock, and you were slow to reach up and touch your cheek. The silence was loud, and when you finally looked at Rafe, he looked as shocked as you felt.

All of your breath had left you, and your brain was short-circuiting, desperately trying to reconcile your boyfriend with the same guy who’d just slapped you. It didn’t seem real, and yet the dull pain you felt said otherwise. A few tears escaped against your will, and it was only then did Rafe move. His face fell, but you were already backing away.

“Y/N-.”

“Don’t touch me,” you tearfully spat. “What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t listen, grabbing your arms anyway, and you were still in too much shock to really fight back. Rafe cooed at you, trying to take your face into his hands no matter how much you protested. You wanted him far away from you, and your brain was unsure of how to achieve that, still grappling with the memory of his palm connecting with your cheek.

“Hey, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close. “Baby, stop.”

You shoved at his chest, hitting it, but he wasn’t deterred. He only rested his free hand on the back of your head, holding you against him, and the feel had more tears spilling over. You kept trying to get away, but Rafe refused to let you, repeatedly apologizing and shushing you. You could feel the cool metal of his ring against your scalp, his lips there too as he kept telling you he was sorry.

Your chest was so tight, and it ached just as much as your face. Your mind was still fighting to make sense of what had happened tonight, and despite Rafe’s apologies for his entire behavior, you told yourself that this was the last straw. Rafe had ruined your birthday in more ways than one, and you were done. You had to be.

…because you deserved better.

The first time you had sex with Rafe—with anyone ever—you’d been terrified.

…and drunk.

An entire month after your birthday, and you didn’t know if you were more shocked or angry that you stayed with Rafe. You had been so determined to leave him that night. He had ruined your birthday beyond repair, and you knew that anytime you looked back on the night you turned nineteen, you’d only remember Rafe slapping you on the dock.

…but you’d also remember his profuse apologies, and the tears in his eyes as he begged you to forgive him.

He was drunk. That was what he kept saying, that he was drunk and acted before thinking. It was barely a reason and certainly wasn’t an excuse, so why did you stay? It was stupid to stay…and yet you did. You let Rafe kiss your face and lead you back to the party that had long died and smile in the face of the parents whose daughter he’d just hit.

You’d answered the phone as he called you, taking almost half an hour to just tell you again how sorry he was and how he didn’t know what came over him and how it would never happen again. You’d never known Rafe to be so apologetic in all the time you’d been dating him. It would’ve been sweet if it weren’t for the circumstances, and the whole time, you’d only been able to listen in silence with your fingers grazing your face.

You hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for days, going over it in your head again and again. Torn between listening to your gut and telling yourself that it had just been a one-off thing, a bad drunken night. After all, what you’d said to him hadn’t been the nicest, knowing how he felt in regard to Ward and his relationship with him. It didn’t make it right…but you had provoked Rafe. You’d said it to hurt him…to make him angry… Right?

…but that wasn’t the case a month later.

Things between you and Rafe hadn’t been the same since. He still doted on you, and your parents still adored him, and you were reluctant to admit you still loved him, but you could never get that night out of your mind. You could never forget how swift it had been, how no thought to you had been spared. Rafe had only been focused on retaliating, hurting you, and it was something you often struggled with. You believed it wouldn’t happen again…but what if it did?

Without even realizing it, you became less argumentative with the blond. You gave him less pushback, you smiled more and became more agreeable to his suggestions. You spent more time with him, making him happy. You believed him when he said it wouldn’t happen again, but in the back of your mind, something in you was doing everything you could think of to make sure it didn’t.

…and that was why you still didn’t quite understand how the fight had started.

Something about Topper…or Kelce.

You were so drunk, it was hard to remember.

“I saw you!”

You had blinked at Rafe from your place on the couch, staring up at him in wonder and confusion. Another Friday meant another party, and promising your mother you’d be back by a certain time, you’d allowed Rafe to help you into his truck. Nothing about the night had been out of the ordinary, and it was why you found yourself wracking your brain.

“Rafe, I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you softly told him, trying to understand why he was so mad.

The only son of Ward Cameron knocked the glass of water right out of your hand, and you flinched at the action, blinking at the sight of shattered glass on the floor. You’d gotten it to try and help you sober up before you went home, and you stared at the spilled water with parted lips. You were too drunk to fully grasp the severity of the situation you were now in.

Suddenly Rafe was there, too close, leaning down over you with his hands resting on the back of the couch. You leaned back and away from him, eyes wide as he looked at you like you were something he’d find on the bottom of his shoe. Like he was so disgusted with the sight of you, and again, you wracked your brain to understand what you’d done. To understand how to fix this.

Rafe’s blue gaze had been cold, icy, and you hadn’t missed the tick of his jaw. The alcohol in your system hindered your thinking, and that had seemed to make Rafe angrier, like he was furious you couldn’t put it together. Read his mind. Overwhelmed, you hadn’t been able to stop a few tears of frustration from escaping, and that just seemed to really send him over the edge.

“You were in his lap,” he had bit out, and only then did you finally understand.

Your odd relationship with your boyfriend these days had driven you to drink more than you ever had. You’d been sloppy…clumsy, and Topper was nice enough to help you back to your feet after you’d quite literally fallen right onto his lap. You wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but one look into Rafe’s eyes had you swallowing it down.

He was very serious…and very angry.

You reached for him, but Rafe only slapped your hands away, straightening and looking down his nose at you. It was a look that made you feel so…cold, and with one blink, you remembered that you were alone. Sarah was God knows where, and the remaining Camerons had gone out to eat. The house was usually empty during this time, but it wasn’t this Friday night.

It consisted of you…and your angry boyfriend.

“I should…I should go. Call my mom,” you mumbled, pushing yourself to your feet.

Your attempts to get by Rafe went unsuccessful, and with each block to your path, something deep within your gut just…dropped. Your gaze met a familiar blue one, and nothing about it was warm, welcoming. Rafe seemed to be so mad at you about something so silly, but instead of just talking about it later when you were both much clearer headed…he didn’t want to let you leave.

“Is that what you’re gonna do?” he’d mocked, a mean look on his face. “Call mommy and daddy to come get you?”

Sarah.

You reminded of him of Sarah.

That was what he’d said, what he’d thrown at you. His tense relationship with the other girl was no secret to anyone, least of all you, and you winced at every insult he threw at you. Spoiled brat. Perfect princess. Uptight prude. It shocked you for a lot of reasons, but mostly because Rafe wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t sober, but you’d hardly seen him drink all night and not nearly as much as you, and he was insulting you with confidence, throwing all of these things at you that you never knew he felt.

“I’m just going to go home, okay? You’re being an asshole, and I don’t know why, so I just…”

At some point, your back was grazing the wall, and Rafe was hovering before you, a look in his eye like leaving was the very last thing he wanted you to do. Every move of yours was mirrored, every turn met with one of his own, and for the first time ever…you were afraid of your boyfriend.

When Rafe hit you that night, you hadn’t been scared. Not really. You’d been angry…shocked…disbelieving. Not scared though. You’d just wanted to be away from him, you had even wanted to hit him back, but not once did you remember feeling scared for your life. Not like this night, and you couldn’t keep it together.

“Rafe, please, I just…I just wanna go home,” you choked out, touching your temple. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

You were so confused as to how you got here. The night had taken such an unexpected turn, and more than anything, you wanted to sleep it off and write the whole thing off as a bad dream. You wanted to get some more water and take a shower and skip to the part where you had a pounding headache in the morning. You didn’t understand how a night of partying had turned into an argument with your boyfriend.

Although, you supposed it wasn’t much of an argument. Mostly Rafe yelling at you and you trying to understand why. Rafe was determined to make this into something it wasn’t, and when it became clear that he wasn’t going to let you leave without dead-ing this whole thing, you frowned at him.

“I fell. You know I fell, you know…”

Your words died in the air as Rafe rolled his eyes, and something in you was telling you that Rafe was going to believe what he wanted to believe. He was determined to make something true, and it startled you to realize that you’d lost this argument before it even began. Slipping from in between Rafe and the wall was a mistake.

A mistake that had consequences.

Your purse was halfway across the room before you could even grab it good, Rafe suddenly in your face again. He was yelling about a whole bunch of nothing, and when you turned from him again, Rafe made sure it was the last time, gripping your upper arm so hard that you actually cried out. His other hand followed suit, and he shook you, hard enough to make your head whip back and forth.

The only time he listened to you was when you asked him to let you go.

…and he did just that…shoving you in the process.

The kitchen counter slowed your fall only a bit, but it added to the pain more than anything else. Trying to get up proved fruitless, because Rafe was there, kneeling before you with one hand on the counter. The other was on your face, forcing you to look at him. You were too drunk to make full sense of everything he was saying, to grasp the danger you were in. When you finally did, it was too late.

…because Rafe was already ripping the dress he bought you a week ago.

You thought it was a joke at first—some awful and insensitive scare tactic—until you were reaching up to pull at the hand around your throat. Your other hand slapped at the cabinets below in panic, and with a knee between your legs, it was impossible to close them. You knew that you were alone, but that fact didn’t stop you from crying out.

“You really expect me to just watch you throw yourself at my friends? Huh?”

The kitchen floor was cool against your back.

“…and laugh about it?”

He was fumbling between you both, and the room was spinning too much for you to understand why. You felt nauseous, and Rafe was hurting you, and you were cold. Not to mention that your head had started to hurt, but you also realized that everything was hurting.

“But you won’t even touch me.”

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut…only lower.

The pain of Rafe’s intrusion had you wailing, and the difference in your reactions couldn’t have been starker. It was hard to decipher, but you were sure that Rafe had moaned, a low drawn-out sigh as he sheathed himself inside of you. You could feel Rafe’s chest heaving against yours, could feel his heartbeat, could even hear his shaky breath.

You, on the other hand…

You couldn’t move. You felt frozen, restricted by something unseen, and when you tried to fight against it, you gasped. One shift had you wincing, and tears spilled over almost immediately. Your hands were pressing against his chest, now, desperately trying to push Rafe away, pushing off of you… out of you. It was no good, Rafe in a whole other world you weren’t privy too as he pulled back.

The feel had you wincing again, and you thought…

Well, you thought wrong.

Your relief was short-lived, and Rafe ignored everything you said as he started to thrust inside of you. His hips barely left yours, only enough to create friction, and you pushed your forearm against his neck, fighting to get him to stop. The pain wasn’t something you could wrap your head around, and you didn’t know if you were grateful or not that you were so drunk.

Every snap of Rafe’s hips made you cry harder, harsh sobs escaping and echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. The sound of your bawling was only rivaled by the groans that escaped Rafe, your boyfriend pointedly ignoring your plight. One of his hands pushed against your face, forcing your head to the side…as if he didn’t want to see your face.

See the reality of what he was doing to you.

You thought at some point that the pain would go away, subside, but it felt like it only got worse with each thrust of his cock. Rafe was a man on a mission with only one objective in mind, and you were having the hardest time sorting your thoughts, realizing that in this moment you were a means to an end. An objective to be met through the use of your body.

…but you supposed it was more than just that.

Rafe was always entitled, a trait you found somewhat endearing much like towards an entitled child, but it hadn’t occurred to you that he’d feel entitled to you too. Before the night of your birthday, you knew the one thorn in your relationship, the one thing to actually put a crack in your relationship. Deep down somewhere, you expected Rafe to just leave you. After all, why wouldn’t you?

There was no universe in which you’d ever consider the possibility of the alternative.

The possibility that your boyfriend would just take what he wanted.

It didn’t last long—or maybe that was the alcohol in your system sparing you—but you couldn’t even be relieved. Even after Rafe pulled out, spent and satisfied and out of breath, the pain still remained. He was talking, and you didn’t know if he was talking to himself or you, but you paid it no mind. You could still feel him deep in your gut, and you rolled onto your side, curling into yourself.

You didn’t hear him the first time, but the second time Rafe told you to get up, he was forcing you to your feet. It hurt, and you could barely walk, and your confusion only grew. His hold was tight, and his tone sounded off, and you discovered why when headlights from the yard bled through the windows and into your line of sight.

He was rushing you to get upstairs, but you kept stumbling from both the pain and your blurry vision. Rafe didn’t let you go until you were just inside of his room, and as you collapsed to the floor, you could hear the door opening downstairs. You couldn’t stop crying even if you wanted to, and you hadn’t even realized Rafe had left—to give some half-baked excuse for the broken glass, no doubt—until he returned, suddenly kneeling at your side and begging you to stop crying.

You tried to push him away, but your movements were sluggish, weak, and you weren’t able to hold your own as he pulled you to your feet. Rafe stumbled into the bathroom with you, an arm around you and holding you up as he started the shower. You didn’t want him touching you, but you were physically unable to stop him. Every step hurt and made you stumble, every wave of your arm made you sway, and when the warm water ran over you both, there was nothing you could do as he washed away every remnant of his assault.

You were at Rafe’s side on his birthday, a small smile on your lips as he kept an arm around your waist. Rose thanked you for coming, not that she would expect anything different, and Wheezie asked if you would be staying over. The youngest Cameron had taken a liking to you—all of them did really—and she looked forward to having you around. You wanted to tell her no, but that wasn’t what you said. Instead, you said:

“Its’ Rafe’s birthday. Why wouldn’t I?”

The dark-haired girl beamed, adjusting her glasses, and her satisfaction was contagious. You knew that Rafe’s dynamic with his family was tricky at the best of times, and while you were sure they loved you just fine, something in you also wondered if they liked who Rafe was when he was around you. They were happy to host you for as long as they could.

They had no idea that it was only 24 hours earlier when Rafe tried to kill you.

Trying to leave Rafe resulted in the last thing you ever expected.

That night—and all the other nights that followed—haunted you. When you closed your eyes, you could only see Rafe at his lowest, holding you down and hurting you. You could only feel the pain of him forcing himself inside of you, and the pain that lingered when he was no longer there. The memory of bloody water swirling down the drain was a constant in your mind. As well as the memory of Rafe putting you in his bed, pulling his shirt down to your knees.

You should have left the night of your birthday, you should’ve gotten out then, and none of it would have ever happened, but you told yourself that late was better than never. You told yourself that you learned your lesson and you didn’t have to experience any more hurt to leave. Your eyes were open, and while you didn’t know if you’d ever go against Rafe legally for what he did, you did know that you were leaving him. You had to focus on each step at once. Trying to think so far ahead was enough to scare you.

Right now, you just needed to leave him.

His entire visage had been eerily calm as you broke up with him, voice shaking as you did. Even he hadn’t been able to deny how your relationship had deteriorated, become something unrecognizable and unhealthy. The morning after, you felt like you were existing outside of your body. You could see Rafe leaving apologetic kisses along your face as you stirred, but you couldn’t really feel it. You couldn’t feel his hands either, not until they found a home between your legs, at least.

Your protest was almost immediate, but Rafe had assured you it was fine…and you were scared.

So, you believed him.

Experiencing pain and pleasure at the same time was foreign to you. Rafe’s previous assault was not something to be ignored, but it felt odd to come around him and hiss from the pain of it at the same time. He was gentle, pressing his lips to yours and grazing his fingertips against your skin. His thrusts had been slow and careful, but the damage had been done, and every push of his hips brought out conflicting reactions.

That was how it always went.

Even after the pain and bruises were long gone, you couldn’t stop being afraid of Rafe. After all, he’d made it perfectly clear that he wouldn’t respect any kind of refusal from you. What kind of relationship was that? How could you thrive in that? Rafe may have been your first everything, but you weren’t naïve. He was an abusive asshole…and you were just too scared to do something about it.

Until last night.

You thought it would be easy. You even remembered internally laughing at yourself for how dramatic you’d made it in your mind. You thought… You thought that Rafe would move on, let you go. After all, he’d finally gotten what he wanted, and you had even exhaled when he nodded, a soft ‘okay’ soon to follow.

“Let me drive you home,” he’d said.

“Okay,” you’d replied.

You didn’t know why you thought it would be that easy.

Things with Rafe hadn’t been easy in months, and your attempted breakup was no different.

You realized that when the needle on the speedometer started to rapidly climb, the sound of Rafe’s revving engine loud in the truck. You asked him what was going on, where he was going, even though deep down you knew. You knew Rafe better than anyone probably, so you knew the answers to your questions before you even asked them.

“Rafe, stop,” you’d begged, reaching for his arm, but the blond simply fixed you with a wry smile.

“Why?” he’d wondered with a shrug. “So, you can leave me? Why would I want that?”

The houses and trees were flying past you outside the window, and you never felt more powerless than in the moment you were trapped in Rafe’s truck, unable to do a thing as he raced down the road towards the end he’d already picked out for the both of you. Any attempt to grab the wheel only resulted in Rafe jerking it—jerking the vehicle in the process—and scaring the shit out of you.

Retracting everything you’d said earlier only resulted in a harsh slap to the steering wheel, a dry laugh from Rafe soon to follow.

“You think I believe that load of shit? Huh?”

“Rafe-!”

“You just tried to break up with me not even thirty minutes ago,” he screamed.

He wasn’t wrong, and you still wanted to, but you were more afraid of dying than living a lie. You pleaded with your boyfriend, assuring him that you didn’t mean it. He only laughed again, and you got the feeling that Rafe was genuinely amused by you. By your tears, by your fear, and by your desperation.

Your heart was racing so fast it could be classified as painful. Your hands were sweating and constantly sliding against the door from where you tried to hold on to it. You pulled at his arm when he swerved into the other lane, swerving back just in time to miss an oncoming truck. Your stomach twisted painfully, bile rising in your throat, and at this point you couldn’t even see the road because of your tears.

“Rafe, please, please just talk to me,” you cried.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the wheel, blue eyes focused on the road with not a glance spared towards you, and you pressed your hand to your mouth. You looked out of the window again, unable to make out a thing, and when you reached for Rafe this time, he didn’t slap your hand away. He didn’t protest when you wrapped your arm around his waist, leaning into him and resting your hand against his chest.

You knew that your tears were staining his shirt, and you didn’t know if you stopped fighting as some unconscious tactic or simply because you were accepting what was impossible to escape. Rafe had to have been going a hundred miles an hour, this kind of speed something your brain could barely fathom. It was after some time when you felt his hand on your head and some time after that when you gradually felt the truck slowing.

You were still shaking long after it came to a stop in some wooded area, and the silence in the vehicle was loud. Rafe was just playing with your hair while you trembled against him, and when he stopped, it was only to trail his hand to your neck, gripping the back of it harshly as he forced you to sit up. You knew you looked as distraught as you felt, but Rafe…

Rafe looked calm and in control and nothing less.

His blue eyes ran over your face, drinking in your trembling lips and wet cheeks, lingering on your wide eyes the longest. You felt him rub his thumb along your skin, and when he hummed, it harshly pressed against the side of your neck. Suddenly, the corner of his pink lips curved just the slightest, and nothing about it was soothing.

“I wasn’t serious… You know that, right?”

You didn’t respond because he wasn’t kidding, and you both knew it. Rafe shifted, moving closer, and he brought his other hand up to touch your cheek, wiping your tears away. He studied your eyes, leaning in and grazing your lips.

“It was just…something I didn’t mean. You understand though. Doing things…saying things we don’t mean,” he slowly said to you, swiping his tongue between his lips. “Right…?”

The drop in his voice and the slight raise of his brows had you swallowing, and he was looking at you like he dared you to disagree. Fighting the urge to throw up, and with a shaky nod, you told Rafe what he wanted to hear.

“Right,” you whispered, and he chuckled.

“Alright,” he breathed with a blinding smile, pulling you into his side. “Kelce is throwing together some small thing at his house. I told him we might stop by…”

He trailed off, leaving room for a comment, and you only shrugged.

“That’s fine with me.”

Your voice was barely audible, but Rafe heard you fine, starting the truck and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I knew it would be.”

You’d been quiet the whole night, and you’d been quiet all day, only existing as silent support to Rafe on his birthday. If anyone noticed your reserved demeanor, no one commented on it. No one knew that as you wished Rafe a happy birthday, you were afraid of what could happen if you didn’t smile hard enough. When he kissed you, you could only think of how he’d kissed you after threatening to kill you both. Every time Rafe held your hand, it felt like a chain tethering you to him.

You dreaded the moment the party would thin out and everyone would start trickling from the home in pairs, heading back to the comfort of their own homes until just Rafe and his family remained. Eventually they would call it a night too, and you and Rafe would be alone, and you wouldn’t have a choice but to kiss him back when he eventually kissed you.

…and kiss you he did.

“You almost ruined my birthday, you know,” he mumbled into the kiss, making you pause for half a second.

Your only response was a quiet apology, and Rafe sighed into your mouth.

“That’s okay, baby,” the blond purred. “You know I’ll let you make it up to me.”

You were terrified of your boyfriend, and that was why you let him undress you. You let him wrap his arms around you and hold you close and press kisses to your skin. It was surreal to have sexy with someone you were afraid of, like you were being held hostage in your own body. If Rafe noticed—and you were sure that he did—he didn’t care.

He was content to lay you down and bury his face into the crook of your neck. In fact, you were sure Rafe liked your fear, liked that you were so scared of him. You thought it made it all the more fun for him to push his cock into you and feel you tremble in fear. You just knew there was something in Rafe that took great pleasure in making you momentarily sacrifice your fear of him for ecstasy instead.

He forced your head back, and your chest arched upwards into him. You gasped at the feel of his tongue on your skin, gliding over a hardened bud and tasting you. His hips came down slowly, like he was savoring the feel of you clinging to his cock. He sighed with every thrust, and you were never able to swallow down your own moans once Rafe started stroking that fire building within you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, nipping at your lip as he plunged his cock into you.

One of your legs were thrown over his shoulder, and the stretch burned in a way that wasn’t painful but wasn’t the best either. One of your hands was wrapping around his arm, trying to ground yourself as the other twisted into his sheets. You couldn’t stop gasping, clenching down on him every time Rafe hit that spot in you that made you lose your breath.

When he pushed your leg back more, you yelped in pain, but Rafe only hummed. His thrusts became rougher, and he only hummed again when you hissed. Your hand rested on his chest, pushing against him slightly—a nonverbal communication—but Rafe ignored it.

“Rafe…”

His hips were slapping against yours, and you couldn’t even pretend to enjoy it. Your other hand came up too, and he slapped it away, that same hand wrapped around your throat only moments later. You let out a choked cry, reaching up, but Rafe didn’t stop, continuing to fuck you and choke you.

“Look at me-look at me,” he quietly spat.

Too afraid not to, you did, your distressed gaze meeting his even one in the low lighting. He was so close, nose almost brushing against yours, and he looked between your eyes. His hand tightened around your neck, making your heart skip a beat, and his free hand covered your breast, squeezing it, and your free leg kicked at the sheets.

“I will kill you.”

Your nails pressed into the skin on his arm.

“Do you understand me? You try to leave me again…and I will kill you.”

Your heart was threatening to burst from your chest, and the ceiling behind Rafe’s face was starting to blur. The edges of your vision were growing faint, darkness creeping along the outer rim.

“I will dump your body on the side of the road, and I will get away with it.”

His words and cadence were slow, purposeful, and you knew that Rafe was entirely serious. Tears had long spilled over, and you couldn’t stop crying. Rafe shook you, your neck straining from the action, and the whole time he kept fucking you. His lower movements didn’t stop once, sliding into you over and over and stroking your walls all the while he threatened you.

He roughly let you go, and you coughed, touching your throat and shaking uncontrollably. When Rafe shifted, your leg falling to the bed, you pressed your hands to your face, sobbing into the palms of them. Rafe caged you in, thighs meeting yours with every thrust, and he didn’t seem to care at all at the sight of your distress. In fact, he kissed the back of your hands, humming with every stroke, and you could only think that if you had broken up with him on your birthday then he wouldn’t be threatening your life on his.

Ward Cameron may have felt a lot of things about Rafe, but he wasn’t going to let his only son go to jail.

You should have known that when you called the police, throat tight and phone call tearful as they asked what your emergency was. Telling the woman on the other side of the phone that you were hiding from Rafe Cameron inside of the bathroom wasn’t easy. Telling her that he had a gun was even harder, and something in you wondered if they would’ve been as urgent if they hadn’t heard his booming voice from the other side of the door as he threatened you.

You were sitting on the steps when a familiar car pulled into the driveway behind the cruiser, and you felt your face crumble. There was some relief as the older man went back and forth with Shoupe, but it dwindled the longer it went on. When Ward turned his head towards you, you dropped your gaze, eyes tracing the blood on your foot from where a few shards of glass had nicked it. You didn’t dare look up, not even when you heard his footsteps approaching despite the loud protests from the Sheriff.

When Ward said your name, it was cautious—gentle—and you shook your head.

“No.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue again, and you interrupted whatever he was going to say.

“No, no, no! No,” you cried.

You knew what he was going to say, where this was going, and you refused. You were tired, so tired, and each time you’d tried to do the right thing after your disastrous birthday, you got screwed over. Each time, Rafe was one step ahead or using that charming smile and devious words to convince you it would never happen again. Every slap, every shove, every hand around your throat was proof of all the lies that left his lips.

You were sure that the only truth Rafe had ever told was when he said he’d kill you.

 It was silent between you two for some time, and you heard Ward sigh. You bit your lip, worrying it so much you started to taste blood, and you sniffed, wiping your face as you refused to look at the man. When he took another step towards you, you flinched, and only then did you look up to see the way Ward’s face fell.

You watched him press his lips together, only a thin line, now.

“I want you to tell me what happened.”

You scoffed.

“You know what happened. I’m sure Shoupe told you,” you forced out, and Ward exhaled through his nose.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder, looking at his son in the back of the cop car.

“I want to hear it from you. I want to know how a couple’s quarrel turned into-.”

“A couple’s quarrel?” you repeated in disbelief, tears falling as you exhaled. “He threw a vase at me. He put a gun in my mouth.”

You couldn’t tell how Ward took your words, but he did put his hands on his hips.

“Now, Y/N…you know it’s a crime to lie to the police.”

His response didn’t surprise you, and you nodded, your laugh humorless. Ward knew you were telling the truth, he knew just how unhinged Rafe could be, but he didn’t want him in jail. He couldn’t have the Cameron name tarnished by the arrest of his only son on domestic violence charges. Ward would rather handle this in private, away from prying eyes…and it disgusted you.

“I’m not lying, and you know I’m not lying,” you choked out.

“Why would Rafe do this? Right out of the blue?”

You were on your feet, now, sneering at the other man.

“It’s not out of the blue. Rafe has been treating me like shit for months!”

“…and this is the first we’re hearing of it…?”

The eldest Cameron tilted his head to the side, studying you, and you felt your breath leave you. You watched him touch his chest, gaze soft as he seemed to plead with you.

“Now, I’m not saying that’s not true…but you know that’s what they’re going to ask you. They’re going to ask you why you didn’t tell anyone…and they’re going to note how convenient this all is.”

You knew that, and you looked away, hands falling at your side.

“Rafe says you dropped a vase, and it started an argument.”

“He’s lying-.”

“…and anyone can say you’re the liar.”

You pressed your hands to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell. Even through your lids, you could see the change in colors from the flash of the squad car, and when you opened your eyes again, the procession of red and blue lit the yard.

“That gun is legally his…and no one saw him do what you claim he did.”

“Why are you protecting him?” you loudly wondered, looking at the man in disbelief.

You’d eaten dinner with his family, even watched his daughter some nights, and he’d smiled in your face on numerous occasions, treating you like his own. Now, though…when push came to shove…Ward Cameron was showing you that you were not one of his own. Rafe was his own…and you were now a threat.

He took a step towards you, and you reached out to grip the rail to keep yourself from falling.

“I am just telling you what will happen if you continue with this,” he slowly started, and you crossed your arms over your chest, refusing to look at him. “They will take Rafe away, and I will pay his bail, and he’ll come home with me. There were no witnesses, and everything is pure speculation, a simple case of he said she said.”

You knew that he was right, and you felt yourself start to shake.

“…and in that scenario, I can’t help you.”

You knew what he was saying. You knew that he was talking about protecting you from more than just scrutiny and the law—he was also talking about protecting you from Rafe. Your lips parted, and you shakily exhaled. You felt like you were going to collapse, legs unsteady, and when you looked over…your eyes finally met a familiar blue pair.

You were positive that Rafe hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since they’d put handcuffs on him. If looks could kill, you were sure that you’d be six feet under, and you frantically blinked. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, and your stomach churned at the memory of his hand on the back of your neck. His other held the gun, angrily forcing the weapon into your mouth as he sneered at you.

Something about returning the smile from some pogue at The Wreck—blond and rowdy and kind of familiar.

You recalled that his name was JJ.

The fight had started almost as soon as you got inside, and you shuddered at the flare of pain in your arm, recalling the way Rafe had shoved you into the wall. You’d only slid down just in time to miss the flying vase. Just thinking about it was enough to paralyze you with fear…and then you thought about what would happen should you choose to have a legal battle with Rafe and his family.

…and lose.

You let out a choked sob, looking away, and letting your face fall into your hands. You collapsed back down onto the steps, Ward’s voice reaching you.

“You tell Shoupe this was all one big misunderstanding…and I can do so much more for you. …but I can’t help you if you go through with this.”

You couldn’t stop crying, because you were trapped…and you knew it. Your parents had money too, just as much as the Cameron’s, but that only evened the playing field, it gave you no advantage, and you were back to square one of your word vs Rafe’s. You knew he would be far more forgiving if you just…did what Ward said. You knew that if you went through with this and lost, Rafe would wring your neck.

“I won’t let my son go to jail, Y/N. One way or another…”

You knew he was telling the truth, the conviction in his tone matching the certainty in your chest.

“…but at least this way, I can help you.”

Your knees bounced as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your tearful gaze focused on the perfectly manicured grass. You curled in on yourself, head falling, and your shoulders shook from your sobs.

“He scares me,” you struggled to say, and Ward placated you.

“I know…I know he does, but you have to let me help you.”

You pulled the ends of your sleeves over your hands, wiping your face. The night was still lit up with red and blue, and you closed your eyes, stomach sinking. It took everything in you to give Ward a shaky nod, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Ward waved the other man over.

You felt like you were betraying yourself, arm still aching and throat still raw from all of your screaming. A lot of your trembling was still from what had happened hours ago, and like that day in his truck…and the night of his party…you’d really thought you were going to die. You couldn’t go through that again, but Ward said that he would protect you because you knew Rafe better than anyone, and you knew that if you tried to press charges against Rafe and didn’t succeed…

He would kill you.

“Y/N wants to talk to you.”

You glanced up at the sound of your name, holding Ward’s gaze for a few seconds before finally meeting Shoupe’s.

“I want… I don’t-I don’t wanna press charges.”

Your words tumbled out, and for a moment, you were sure that Shoupe hadn’t heard you properly. You came to realize that he heard you fine, and his confusion wasn’t from a lack of understanding. You watched him rest his hands on his hips, looking between you and Ward.

“Now, Y/N…” he started, seemingly trying to organize his thoughts. “I heard that phone call. I heard what you said and I heard him yelling.”

“It was just a regular argument, Shoupe,” you whispered with a shrug. “It was stupid. A stupid vase…”

“That he threw…”

The pause was heavy, and you glanced away.

“That I dropped.”

You shook your head when he said your name, and you licked your lips, gaze pleading as they met his again.

“Please, just let him go. He didn’t do anything to me. It was a stupid fight that I exaggerated because…I was angry and things got out of hand, and this just went way beyond what I intended, so…”

The other man didn’t look like he believed you, at all, and you watched him glance at Ward—who hadn’t said a thing—before looking back to you. He sighed, fixing you with a look you couldn’t name.

“Are you sure…?”

Your only response was a nod, unsure if you could lie any more without breaking down. With an aggravated sigh—aggravation at you or at Ward, you didn’t know—Shoupe signaled to his deputy to let Rafe go. Ward was pulled to the side as the two men had a hushed and heated conversation, going back and forth, while your gaze rested on Rafe.

You felt like you were doing the worst thing possible as you watched them guide him out of the backseat. He looked far from happy as they uncuffed him, and just like all night, his gaze refused to leave you. The flashing red and blue bathed him, blue eyes glinting almost dangerously, and you pressed your lips together while you watched him rub his now free wrists.

The other men were distracted as Rafe slowly made his way over, and you didn’t dare move. You were too scared to, and as much as you wanted to pull your eyes away, you couldn’t find the strength to. It was just hours ago that you’d stared into that face as he yelled at you for something as harmless as a smile. Only hours ago, he was pushing you around and threatening you.

…and now those same hands were reaching for you and pulling you to your feet.

You cried for so many reasons as Rafe wrapped his arms around you, rocking you from side to side and shushing you in what was meant to be a soothing voice. They were tight, and you cried harder, apologies slipping past your lips before you realized what you were doing. Rafe was always quick to forgive if you were quick to apologize.

“I know,” you heard and felt him murmur into your hair.

“Please, please don’t…”

You both knew what you were begging for, and he gently shushed you.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out again, repeating it as many times as you thought you should, hoping and praying that it was enough. “You have to know that…”

Your words died in the air at the sound of his voice.

“I should be angry with you…but I understand,” he softly told you. “You were scared, and you should’ve been.”

You sniffed, staring at the red and blue grass.

“I went too far, and you were right to be scared.”

Rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your head, lingering there, telling you the words that brought you temporary relief.

“I forgive you.”

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XVI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You knelt beside Peter with your hands in your lap, staring down at them as the conversation flowed around you. While you’d never had much to contribute to the conversation before, you still felt awful about being purposely excluded. Even more so because your humiliation was on full display for the whole house to see.

“It’s disappointing to see another empty chair at the table.”

Steve’s voice wasn’t very loud amongst the other low conversations, but it carried, nonetheless. You didn’t need to look up to know that his gaze was on you. You could feel it. It was then that you felt a gentle touch on the top of your head, fingers trailing down to rest just under your chin.

“Yeah,” you heard Peter sigh. “…but she knows what she’s being punished for.”

You did.

The night you told Peter that Nat had mentioned a pregnancy scare, he hadn’t said much to you for the rest of the evening. You could count the number of times Peter had been really mad with you, and his visible anger hadn’t done much for your sleep. You hadn’t been able to deny the pang in your chest when he laid down for bed without sparing you a glance.

You had almost wished you could take it back.

…but if it would prevent Nat from being on the end of whatever punishment Bucky saw fit for her, then you would accept however Peter retaliated. You weren’t being tied to some tree nor walking around with some collar on your neck, but it was no less embarrassing to sit at Peter’s feet on your knees while the rest of the household ate dinner.

Occasionally, Peter’s hand would come down to give you something to eat, and with starving as the only other option, you had no choice but to open your mouth and accept.

“I’m very disappointed in you,” he’d said just hours earlier, gazing at you with a small shake of his head. “…and to think this is something you knew before she even left. What if she was pregnant and has lost the baby? Do you have any idea what that will do to Bucky?”

You hadn’t had the heart nor courage to tell Peter that you didn’t care about Bucky. You didn’t care about him, at all. Your priority had been Nat and keeping quiet on something she herself hadn’t even known what to do with. That was then though, and while your first priority was still Nat, now you only wanted her out of harm’s way in whatever way you could achieve that. Even if it meant disappointing Peter and making Bucky aware of her possible delicate condition.

You knew that with Steve over his shoulder, Bucky was liable to do unspeakable harm to Nat. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up with her and therefore shared a deeper history than any other couple in the house. In fact, you’d wager that those circumstances only made him angrier, made him feel more betrayed. You didn’t count on Bucky being fair, on the punishment fitting the crime. The dark-haired man was angry and hurt—something you’d never understand—and he seemed the type to take it out on her.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sight of a fork in front of your face, and lock clockwork, you leaned in to eat what Peter offered. Your embarrassment lessened as you thought of the humiliating things the other wives probably had to go through. One incident stood out amongst the rest, and as you glanced up, your eyes met a familiar brown pair. She threw you a brief sympathetic look, something in her eyes telling you that it was okay, and you looked back down.

You tried to remind yourself that if your husband had been literally anyone else, you’d be dealing with far worse. Even Thor—who seemed a gentle giant most times—had forced Jane to hang the clothes to dry while completely naked once. At least, that was what Jane had said, and despite how long ago it was, you’d been able to see that she was still hurt about it. You wondered if that contributed to how “well behaved” she was for the blond. You wondered if she just didn’t want to experience that hurt again, and that was something you could understand.

When dinner was over, instead of following behind the rest of the men, Peter remained seated. You could feel his gaze on you, and you kept your own on your lap as you heard him stand. He stood there for what felt like a long time while the other women cleared the table. When the both of you were alone again, he quietly told you to stand and follow him.

Peter hadn’t said all that much to you since that day, and you didn’t know what you were walking into.

You kept your gaze on the back of his head while you followed him, tracing the brown strands with your eyes. There was a part of you that could acknowledge Peter’s disappointment, even understand the twisted logic in some sick way, but another part of you didn’t feel bad, at all. Whether or not Nat was pregnant was not something Peter needed to know. It simply wasn’t for him to know. It hadn’t even been for you to know until Nat decided it so, and it equally hadn’t been for you to tell.

…and you weren’t…until Steve and Bucky were itching to hurt her in ways she just didn’t deserve.

Even now, you wondered if you did the right thing. Only time would really tell, but you felt so…helpless. That night, you’d felt helpless, but it was a different kind of helpless. It was a helplessness that came about of your own accord. You could have very well told Peter you saw her. You could have even ran downstairs yourself to go after her, but you hadn’t. You’d remained quiet, and the opportunity to do anything to help or hinder the situation had passed you by.

You had left the fate of everyone in the house—including you—in her hands. Your future had depended on whether or not Nat was caught or not, both yours and Peters. You felt like something of a coward to leave that in Nat’s hands. Although, you guessed that your decision had been made when you simply…let her go.

You were frowning when Peter spoke to you again.

“You do understand why you’re being punished…don’t you…?”

You licked your lips, starting to nod before thinking better of it, remembering that Peter preferred you use your voice.

“Yes,” you told him.

“Tell me,” Peter urged, sitting down on the bed.

Your eyes met his, and like they had been for days, they gleamed with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“It’s important that Bucky knows everything pertaining to Nat’s health…and I helped her hide that from him.”

You repeated the words he’d said to you even though you didn’t quite believe them yourself.

Peter reached for you with a small sigh, and you slowly reached for his hand in return, moving closer. When his fingers threaded with yours, he pulled you to stand in between his knees, taking your other hand too. He looked at you with a look you couldn’t name, pink lips pressed together as he studied your face.

“If you were pregnant…surely you’d understand why I’d need to know that,” he continued before you could say anything. “Even if you just thought you were pregnant…that’s important, Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“Now…now I have to find a way to bring this up to him. I did make a promise, after all,” he said to you, reminding you of your plea not to tell Bucky you told him.

Peter pulled on your hands, forcing you to sit in his lap. One of his hands came to rest on your waist, and you held his gaze as he kneaded his hand into your side.

“…and you wouldn’t want me to break my promise…would you?”

Peter tilted his head at that, and you shakily shook your head.

If Bucky knew you knew…you shuddered to think of what would happen. Peter reached up to cup your face, gently brushing his thumb over your skin. It disgusted you to think that not even thirty minutes ago, he had you kneeling at his side and eating whatever he fed you like a dog…and now… Now, you were sitting in his lap, reaching up to cover his own hand as it rested on your face.

Was this how any of the others felt?

Did Margaret feel that conflicted mix of anger and sadness and admiration whenever she gazed at Steve? Did she remember the ways in which he’d humiliate her as he kissed her? Did Pepper think of Tony leading her around the house like a pet when he smiled at her? You wondered what Laura thought about when Clint hugged her and if it was that time she was forced to keep him warm in her mouth at the dinner table?

“I was very proud of you tonight,” Peter eventually told you. “You were so well behaved and did exactly as I told you.”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, lingering there.

“Only four more days to go.”

You were outside in the garden when you first saw it.

Laura and Jane were planting some garlic with you when you saw Steve and Bucky talking and walking around the house. They were coming from the front yard, presumably from work seeing as they were still in their uniforms, and Steve had it in his hand. A whip­—long and braided and dark brown. By the looks of it, you could tell it was real leather, and even in Steve’s grasp, it looked big…and torturous.

The sight of it made your stomach turn, and you had the brief thought that you were going to be sick…until you actually were sick.

“Oh my God!”

Both Laura and Jane’s voices caught their attention, and the poor garlic bulbs you’d had every intention of planting were suddenly covered in what you ate that morning. Your legs were unsteady as both women hurried to pull you to your feet. Both men were nearing you, something crossing their faces that looked oddly like concern.

It was strange.

You’d seen something like that on Bucky’s face before, notably that night when you ran into him outside the basement door. There was a hurt and crestfallen look there that told you as mad as he was at Nat, something in him hated the idea of punishing her more. Steve, however… You had never seen anything remotely resembling unease before, and it was then that you were reminded of something Peter had said to you once.

“You’re family, Y/N,” Peter had whispered one night. “Steve may be hard on you, and it may seem like he’s out to get you, but he just wants you to fall in line and be part of the family.”

Laura was wiping your mouth with a napkin she kept in her apron.

“Are you alright? Did you eat something bad?”

No.

You didn’t know how to tell her that the sight of that whip in Steve’s hand—the whip that was still in Steve’s hand—had disturbed you so badly you couldn’t even keep your food down. You could feel pressure behind your eyes, a burning sensation, and you wanted to scream. On top of throwing up on yourself like some child, you were now on the verge of crying too.

“Y/N…”

You weren’t on the verge of anything. You were crying…and badly too. You couldn’t stop shaking, covering your face with your hands as you fought to keep standing. Laura’s hands were on you as she guided you into the house, and your knees buckled. You would have collapsed if it weren’t for familiar arms catching you, and you clung to him instantly.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N,” he softly urged, one hand on your head and the other on the small of your back. “What happened?”

He was addressing someone else, now, and you didn’t hear what they told him. You only shook your head, unable to get the words out. You wanted to be sick again, and you pressed a hand to your mouth. Peter took that as a sign, hurrying to get you up the stairs.

He softly called your name again as soon as you made it into the room, and you finally did collapse.

“Is that what he’s going to do to her?” you asked him, tearfully looking up at Peter as he looked down at you in confusion. “Whip her?”

Realization bled into Peter’s eyes, and you watched his shoulders fall.

“Like…like some animal that needs to be broken into submission? …and for what? Because she ran?”

You swallowed down something else that threatened to come up, and Peter knelt down with you. You were fighting to keep it together, but your chest felt so tight, and your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The mere thought of Nat being on the other end of that almost made you sick again, and the room spun just a bit.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Peter cooed, wrapping his arms around you and leaning you back into him.

You descended into another fit of sobs, turning your face into Peter’s shoulder, and he rocked you. You reached up to grip the arm around your chest, holding onto him. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but what else could you possibly say that would stop this?

“Did you talk to Bucky…?” you finally choked out.

You both felt and heard Peter sigh.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Look…Y/N…”

Peter paused, rubbing your arm and resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know you want to protect Nat…want to stop this from happening to her, but she did a bad thing.”

You started to shake your head, but Peter continued.

“She has to be punished, made an example of. Hell…we still need to figure out how she escaped.”

Those words gave you pause, and you swallowed.

“She won’t say a thing about how she got out of the house with any of us none the wiser. How she snuck past all of us, Bucky especially,” he murmured, more to himself than you. “She could do it again. Any of you could try to imitate her…and we can’t have that.”

Peter pulled away a bit, looking at you as you looked at him.

“I would lose my mind if you escaped,” he told you. “…and I mean that.”

He took your face into his hands.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me…all I’ve done to keep you by my side,” he gently said. “All I would do to have you again if you ever did what she did.”

You believed him.

You didn’t doubt him for a moment, and that in itself didn’t scare you. It was the fact that you didn’t see yourself ever doing what Nat did, never even trying, and that thought was equally imprisoning as it was freeing.

You stared into the darkness with your arms wrapped around your knees. The stair beneath your bottom didn’t even feel that hard to you anymore, long growing numb to the feel. It was so hard to sleep lately, so tonight you’d just given up. Even with Peter at your side, you hadn’t been able to find lethargic bliss, too plagued with thoughts of Nat.

The memory of that whip in Steve’s hand made you grow so cold, like something was being sucked out of you. You had imagined the worst for her, but actually seeing it was another thing entirely. As much as Bucky scared you, you couldn’t really picture him doing that to her. Even for him, it seemed wrong, but then again, it was hard to tell what Bucky was actually feeling and what he wanted.

He kidnapped the girl he grew up with and he was the one to feel betrayed when she ran.

You wondered if a day would come where you’d sleep soundly again. Maybe when you knew for sure that Nat was going to be okay? You wondered if you’d even fret this much if you hadn’t seen her that night. You liked to think that you would, but you couldn’t deny that your guilt and fear over the whole situation played a huge part.

Rubbing your forehead, you pushed yourself to your feet.

When you turned around, the imposing figure at the top of the stairs almost made you fall back. You let out a gasp, taking a stumbling step back and almost falling in the process. The sound of your heartbeat was loud in your ear, and even before he turned the light on, you knew who it was.

Steve was as scary as he always was, but even more so now with the memory of him holding the whip that was most likely intended for Nat. It was crazy to think that even in the middle of the night, a time of day that should be for the most relaxed version of oneself, he still looked like a strict leader just itching to hand out a punishment.

“You should be in bed.”

You swallowed as he looked down his nose at you, lips trembling.

“I…I couldn’t sleep. I have trouble sleeping, sometimes,” you forced out, truthful.

The blond didn’t reply right away at that, simply raising an eyebrow at you as he studied you.

“Is that so…”

It came out more like a statement than a question, and you frowned.

“Since when?” he wondered, and you realized this was probably the longest you’d ever talked to Steve and definitely one on one.

“Since…since I got here, I guess,” you whispered with a frown.

He sniffed, looking past you for a few moments before meeting your eyes again. They narrowed at you, and for the life of you, you couldn’t place the look in them.

“You spend most of your nights awake? Sitting on the stairs? Hmm?”

“No,” you hurried to say. “No, this is a first. I guess I didn’t want to wake up Peter.”

There was a brief pause, and the silence was so loud.

“Is that okay…?”

You tried to keep your voice even, but you supposed you couldn’t cover the mocking tone well. It was hard to keep up with what was allowed with Steve, and it wasn’t like the other night when you were trying to bring Nat some food. You’d just been sitting on the stairs. What rule was there against that?

Steve stared at you for what felt like a long time before suddenly throwing you a tense smile. It looked fake, plastic even.

“Of course,” he almost sang as if it were obvious. “You’re family, now, and this is your house too.”

His tone, like yours had been, sounded almost mocking, and you didn’t like it. Unable to continue engaging in conversation with the blond without wanting to hurl, you moved to make your way back to your room. Steve’s gaze remained on you the entire time, and it was only when you were past him did he speak again.

“I never realized what a night owl you were…”

You slowed to a pause, looking over your shoulder at him, but his back was still to you as he stared ahead.

“You probably see all sorts of things from your perch.”

Your chest grew tight at that, and you stumbled back to your room without another response.

Peter seemed to reach for you on autopilot, pulling you into his arms and holding you close even in his sleep. You held onto him too, tears kissing your eyes as you forced your heart to stop racing. You pressed your face into his chest, thoughts going a mile a minute.

You hadn’t liked Steve’s words nor his tone, and you wondered…

Did he know? He couldn’t know, but his dubious tone and hidden meanings in his words couldn’t mean anything else. Unless he only suspected, and even then, that did little to reassure you. You weren’t good with lies, poker faces. As it were, it was taking everything in you to keep lying to Peter, and the way you felt about Peter was nothing at all how you felt about Steve.

It was taking all you had to lie to the man whose face you looked forward to seeing every day. You couldn’t even pretend to imagine you’d be good at lying to Steve. The thought made you sit up some, gazing at Peter’s face as he slept. You thought about your conversation earlier and what he’d done for you, the feeling in your chest when he told you he’d talked to Bucky.

“I just mentioned to him he might want to have Bruce come and look over her first before…”

He had trailed off after answering you when you asked him what he told him, quieting at the look on your face at the reminder of what was in store for her.

“They’ve been trying, you know, and I just reminded Bucky that he’d never forgive himself if he did anything that could take away something he didn’t even know he had.”

Your worry hadn’t disappeared completely, but it had definitely lessened, causing you to hug Peter. He had hugged you back, but you’d been more concerned with pressing kisses to his face. Even if Nat turned out to not be pregnant, it would put off her punishment for a bit at the least.

Sometimes you wondered why Peter did anything for you. You supposed it was equally for his benefit, to make you more susceptible to him, and you couldn’t deny that there was merit to it. Did it really matter the reasons behind anything he did to make you happy? As long as it made you happy, right…?

You leaned over, pressing your lips to his cheek, silently thanking him. You grazed your fingers over his own, listening to the sound of his breathing, and you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of bed. You moved to stand at the window, feeling very reminiscent of that night as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

You knew that you needed to get up early, and that you’d probably regret having such a late night in the morning, but you saw no value in trying to force something that would not come. Like the night Nat ran, you stared out of the window, looking over the yard...

…and just like that night, movement caught your eye.

The figure was unmistakable, his hands on his hips as he stood in the backyard, gazing around. You didn’t know why he was out there, especially at this time of night, and you frowned as you watched him. The sight of Steve would always serve to do the opposite of calming you down, so you were just about to turn away when he suddenly turned instead. Steve’s eyes met yours from so far below, and you could tell by the look on his face that he could see you.

You could also tell by the look on his face…that this did not surprise him.

His expression was even as he stared up at you, and you blinked, a slow frown forming between your brows. You didn’t understand why he was out there nor why he was preoccupied with looking up at your window, but the longer he stared, the more he seemed to find whatever he was looking for, frowning at you before you made the choice to turn away completely.

The next morning was as normal as any other.

For some reason, you hadn’t expected that. It had taken you forever to fall asleep, doubly so when coupled with the memory of Steve staring you down both on the stairs and through the window. You helped Margaret make Egg’s Benedict before getting started on a key lime pie she wanted to have ready by dinnertime. She brought little Sarah around for a bit, something you were grateful for.

“I know what they think,” she whispered as you shook the girl’s hand playfully. “What they say…”

You glanced up at her at that, and she sent you a sad smile.

“You would never hurt any of them,” she assured you. “You just need more time to adjust, that’s all.”

Knowing that Margaret trusted you around her child despite what Steve thought made your chest feel warm, and you thanked her. You often wondered about your own future child, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t worry for them. After all, if Steve and the others were worried about you around the other children, what could you possibly expect with your own?

You helped Christine in the garden, feeling much better than the other day. You felt that had more to do with the lack of a whip in your line of sight than anything. Peter was gone most of the day, at work, and when he finally returned home, it was almost time for dinner.

“What were you two planting? You smell wonderful,” Peter mused, watching you as you helped him undress.

“Sweet Pea,” you replied, unhooking his belt. “Pepper wanted some on the side of the house.”

You felt Peter press his face to your hair, deeply inhaling with a hum that fell over you like a warm blanket. When Peter kissed you, you were unsurprised when it didn’t remain just that, allowing him to pull you into the bathtub with him. Much wasn’t said between you, more preoccupied with the feel of his lips on yours and his hands on your waist.

It was a wonder neither of you were late to the dinner table.

Despite your interactions with Steve the previous night, dinner remained unproblematic. In fact, the blond was much more concerned with his wife whose forehead he kept touching. Truthfully, you didn’t quite know what you’d expected. Perhaps your disastrous birthday was still fresh in your mind, no stranger to Steve’s lack of reluctance to cause a scene.

You left dinner without a care, and you managed to go to bed without a care.

It was late in the night, however, when the horror you expected finally arrived.

It was the sound of yelling that disturbed you, the height of sound something you’d only heard the morning Nat went missing. You remained in bed in confusion—and slight annoyance—as you blearily stared at the ceiling. Sleep was still just within reach, and despite the disturbance, you were determined to find it once again.

That wasn’t possible though.

“Let me talk to her!”

It was Peter’s voice, the sound of it making your eyes fly open. You slowly sat up, never knowing Peter for one to raise his voice under any circumstances. There were a lot of voices mingling together from below, and they all quickly drowned his out. You slowly blinked as you stared at the door…

…and an uneasy feeling started to stir deep in your gut.

It only just occurred to you that if he was downstairs, then he wasn’t asleep next to you. You reached over and slid your hand along his side of the bed. It was cool to the touch, telling you he’d been gone for quite some time, and your frown deepened. What was going on?

Just as you thought that, you heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and you stared at the door in dread. They were nearing your room, the sound of them echoing in the hallway, and for some reason, you expected Steve’s imposing frame to be on the other side of the door. It wasn’t, but you still felt no relief at the familiar sight of Peter.

You rubbed your eye as your gaze met his, the dark-haired man standing in the doorway.

“Peter…”

It was hard to pinpoint the look on his face, only that it was strained and pinched. You watched the way his jaw ticked, chest heaving slightly, and when your gaze lowered, it landed on his tightening grip on the doorknob. You said his name again, growing even more nervous the longer he didn’t speak.

“Peter.”

That wasn’t your voice.

Your lips parted at the sound of Steve’s stern voice coming from over Peter’s shoulder, and you guessed that he was somewhere in between the door and the stairs, somewhere in the hallway where you couldn’t see him. At the sound of the other man’s voice, Peter seemed to visibly tense. He stood there for a few more seconds before finally stepping into the room.

“Peter, what…?”

“It’s okay,” he whispered to you although you felt like it was absolutely not okay. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He took your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I just…I need you to come downstairs.”

His voice was so low, and despite the confusion you felt as you gazed into his eyes, you allowed him to lead you out of bed. You surmised that Steve went back downstairs because he was nowhere to be found when you followed Peter into the hallway.

Every step of yours felt heavy, and you didn’t miss the tight hold Peter had on your hand as he gently pulled you downstairs. You had no inkling of where you were even going, but you were shocked to realize that he was leading you towards the den. However, the biggest shock of all was the sight that met you.

You faltered as your eyes roamed over every single one of the husbands.

“Peter…”

Your voice was barely a whisper, but you knew he heard you by the feel of his hand gently squeezing yours.

You didn’t understand what was going on, and as you looked around, you almost wished you hadn’t. None of them looked happy, and while that in itself wasn’t alarming, it was the degree of unhappiness that unsettled you. Your gaze briefly met Bucky’s, and you suspected that if looks could kill, your throat would have slit on sight.

You took a step behind Peter.

“I always knew that your methods would backfire one day, Peter.”

Your eyes landed on Steve as he said this, and you watched the blond pour himself a drink. Thor was sitting in the seat closest to him, and you felt grateful for that because you were sure that the sight of an angry and imposing Thor towering over you would have made you faint.

You glanced at Peter, face almost hurting now from how much you were frowning.

“Peter, what’s going on?” you whispered.

“Yeah, Peter,” Steve mockingly agreed. “What’s going on?”

You looked between them, that feeling a full-fledged impairment, now as you almost felt like you couldn’t move.

“Ask her, Peter.”

Steve’s voice had lowered, his tone cold when his blue gaze finally met yours.

“Ask her, right now.”

You wanted to run for some reason, get far away from here…but you couldn’t. Peter seemed to be hesitating about whatever he was supposed to be asking you, and Bucky beat him to it.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

The question shocked you both for how unexpected it was and also because it wasn’t true. You felt your lips part as you looked at Bucky, withering under his venomous stare.

“What?” you gasped. “N-No!”

You looked around, a painful feeling washing over you as you realized what all of this was about.

“No, I-.”

“I don’t believe you,” you hadn’t even been able to get the words out, interrupted by Bucky who charged towards you. “I don’t fucking believe you.”

You stumbled back per courtesy of Peter who forced you back with a hand on your waist. Your hand gripped his arm in fear as you looked around him, watching with wide eyes as he faced Bucky. The other man looked at you like he could kill you without thinking twice about it, and you supposed that he could. He’d done it to Wanda, after all.

You hadn’t realized that you’d started crying, your cheeks cold all of a sudden.

“Bucky.”

“She helped her, Peter. I know she did!” Bucky spat, pointing at you as you shook your head.

“No! I didn’t-! Peter,” you pleaded, looking at him, now. “I didn’t!”

Your voice was cracking, and you hoped they didn’t take that for an admission of guilt or something. You hadn’t helped Nat escape, but you knew that to them, the truth might as well be the same, and you couldn’t stop crying.

“Remind us again, Peter… Repeat to us the events of that night for you,” Steve finally spoke up again, his voice eerily calm as he looked at you both.

His words had you blinking, and you looked to Peter in confusion. He looked conflicted, almost miserable, in fact, and you watched him pull his lip between his teeth.

“What was it you said? You woke up…?”

You looked at Steve, hating him and his mocking tone. You hated the way he talked like he already knew the answers he was looking for, like he was the smartest person in the room.

“…because Y/N wasn’t beside me,” he finally answered.

Steve nodded, slowly and with a hum.

“…and why not? Where was she?”

Your heart dropped to the very bottom of your stomach, and the room swayed for half a second as you tightened your hand on Peter’s arm. You didn’t stare at any of them, your eyes falling to the floor as you fought to keep your food down. You felt numb and heavy all at once, and for the first time in a long time, you genuinely wanted to die.

“Where was she, Peter?” Steve asked again, not so nice this time.

Peter didn’t respond right away, and you wrapped your arm around him, forehead falling to his frame as you held in a sob.

“She was by the window,” he finally breathed, sounding defeated. “Looking out of it.”

You heard Clint mumble something, and although you couldn’t make it out, you knew it wasn’t nice.

Only another moment passed before Peter was harshly pushing you back, but it wasn’t fast enough. Bucky’s hand had gripped the sleeve of your nightgown, both ripping the fabric and scratching your skin in the process. You screamed in both shock and pain, hurrying back until you met the wall, clutching your arm as Peter harshly shoved the older man away.

“She didn’t do it!”

“Move, Peter,” Bucky hissed. “Anyone with half a brain can see that she helped her! She-.”

Bucky cut himself off, and when you looked around Peter, the other man’s chest was heaving as he stared you down.

“Anything could’ve happened to Nat,” he forced out. “Anything, and she-!”

“I didn’t help her!”

“Shut up,” he snarled at you, so harsh and violent that more tears fell.

You pressed your hands to your mouth, trying and failing to hold your sobs in.

“I don’t want to hear another word out of her mouth unless it’s the truth,” he bit out.

“Do not talk to her like that,” Peter told him, taking a step towards him. “Do you hear me?��

He continued before Bucky could say anything else.

“You’re angry, I get it, but if you think I’m going to stand here and let you talk to her like that, you’ve taken one too many blows to the head,” Peter sneered.

They stared at one another for what felt like too long, just staring each other down, and you felt yourself sliding to the floor. The room was blurry from your tears, and it felt so hard to breathe. You brought your knees up to your chest, squeezing your eyes shut as more tears fell.

“Let me talk to her,” you heard Peter whisper, the same thing you’d heard him yell earlier.

You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried, and you let your head fall into your hands. The room was quiet save from the sound of you, and it wasn’t long before you felt Peter’s hands reach for your own.

“Peter,” you sobbed.

“Look at me. Hey…look at me,” he softly said. “Please…”

You reluctantly peeled your eyes open, and you glanced up when Peter gripped your chin.

“Don’t look at them,” he told you, voice gentle. “Look right at me.”

His voice was soothing, and you reached up to grip his wrist as you met his dark gaze. His eyes were soft, but there was something swirling there that made you nervous. An underlying skepticism lie there, and you pressed your lips together.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he quietly praised, sadly smiling at you.

He wiped your face, tongue darting between his lips. He stared at you, running his eyes over your face, and drinking you in for a moment.

“Did you help Nat escape?”

“No,” you answered without hesitation. “I didn’t. I… I could never.”

…and it was true.

You weren’t like Nat. You were weak, passive at best, and you could never have the courage to actively help anyone in this house escape. At least, you didn’t think so. The best anyone would get out of you was…well…simply looking the other way, and that was why as Peter took a deep breath, hinting that he was not done, you feared what would come out of his mouth. You dreaded his next words…

…and Peter looked like he dreaded them too.

He looked like he dreaded them more than the question that had just left his lips, and maybe it was because he knew the truth in this moment.

“…but you saw her leave.”

He held your gaze, and you held his. You didn’t move…didn’t speak, but you didn’t need to. Your silence was confirmation enough, and you flinched when you heard Bucky break something. It sounded like a glass.

“Peter…”

“You saw her leave…and you didn’t say anything,” he sounded heartbroken, and you soon realized why. “You lied to me.”

Your head lowered, and you wiped your face, but more tears just replaced those. You reached for him, gripping his shirt, trying to keep him close.

“Peter… Peter, I’m sorry,” you choked out, trying to pull him closer.

“That’s why…” he trailed off, sighing to himself as his eyes fell closed.

He chuckled to himself, but it lacked humor.

“That’s why,” he said to himself, his own head lowering so that his forehead touched yours.

You felt him wipe your face, a shaky sigh leaving him.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he murmured. “…but I’m not who you should be apologizing to.”

You looked at him with wide eyes when he pulled away, and you released another sob. Just the thought of what was waiting for you had you breathing short, and you pressed your hand to your chest. Peter still had one of your hands, and you could feel his chin on top of your head.

“Anything could have happened to her,” he told you. “Nat could’ve been seriously hurt…she could’ve died.”

“We told you,” you heard Bucky harshly tell him. “We told you you were being too soft on her.”

“Bucky…”

Peter’s voice reeked of exasperation as he held you to him, letting you cry into his chest. You couldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding so much from your tears. What would happen to you now? Would you be going down into the basement? For how long? Or…

Or was Steve going to make Peter tie you to a tree?

“What? You’re going to look at us and tell us we’re wrong, now? Nat escaped!”

You flinched as Bucky raised his voice, sounding much closer, too close.

“…and she just let it happen,” he snarled. “If she wasn’t yours…if she was just some random woman on the street, I’d wring her neck.”

That was enough to have Peter pulling away from you, presumably confronting Bucky, but you couldn’t even care, couldn’t even focus on that. You couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard you tried. Every time you did, you almost choked, and between that and trying to suck in air…

“…and why would I be like you…? Or Steve? You don’t think you broke her enough when you killed her friends? What did you expect, for her to behave rationally all this time?”

You heard Bucky chuckle, and for some reason, you hated the sound of it. It was cold, nasty, and it sounded like something that preceded trouble.

“Get off your high horse, Peter,” Bucky threw at him. “You’ve done just as much damage to her as we have…”

Bucky’s next words made your breath stop entirely.

“…it wasn’t us who killed…what was her name? Was it Michelle? Was that the one you shot?”

You felt…paralyzed, and the distinct lack of sobs filling the room was evident. Your hands had been on your forehead, and you could only stare at the floor as you felt like nothing was below your feet, falling without an end in sight. A sharp pain in your head forced you to squeeze your eyes shut, and you shook your head.

No.

No…no…

That wasn’t right.

It couldn’t be.

Sam…Sam killed her. Hadn’t he?

Your chest was hurting so bad that you actually clutched it, gasping for breath, and your other hand reached for the wall, trying and failing to steady yourself. You felt like you were in pain, and when you tried to stand up, you only fell back down. You felt familiar hands on your arms, and when you looked up, you flinched.

Peter frowned.

“Y/N…”

“What…?” you breathed.

That couldn’t be true…and yet…you couldn’t recall actually seeing Sam shoot Michelle. You…you had just assumed… But Peter was the first one to get to you that day, but he’d also spoke as if it was Sam…but Peter… As you looked into his brown eyes, the brown eyes that you had grown to look forward to looking into, you realized that Peter was a liar…and a murderer.

…and you wanted to be sick.

His hands were on your face, and you tried to bat them away.

“No, no, no,” you repeatedly mumbled, shaking your head. “No!”

You shoved at him, but Peter wouldn’t budge, determined to get you to calm down. Too preoccupied with wanting to be as far away from him as possible, you were none the wiser to Steve’s approach.

“It’s a good thing you brought Nat back up to prepare for Bruce’s visit,” the blond said, shoving past Peter and roughly grabbing you. “…because now she’ll have the whole basement to herself.”

The scream that you let out hurt your throat, and despite your anger and disgust with him, you still reached for Peter as Steve dragged you away. Your hand just barely grazed his as your feet lifted from the ground, and you reached out, trying to grab onto anything you could. You could hear Peter following behind Steve, begging and pleading with him on your behalf.

You could hear something occasionally being knocked over by you, the sound of breaking glass reaching your ears here and there. When Steve finally did reach the basement door, you pressed your feet to it, trying in vain to prevent this from happening. You hadn’t been in the basement since your first few days here, and it was not somewhere you wanted to be again. Not now…not after…

However, enthusiastic to see you suffer for letting his wife get away, Bucky unlocked and opened the door for Steve, the darkness threatening to swallow you whole. When Steve’s arm pressed into the cut Bucky had made on your arm, you winced.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a long time…”

…and with those last words, Steve tossed you inside. Your hands slid over the steps as you fell, feet tangling together, and you reached out to grab the rail, but it only slowed your descent. It did nothing to stop it, landing at the bottom of the stairs in a heap just as the door was slammed shut. You were surrounded by darkness, but it was the least of your worries, a choked wail escaping you at the thought of Peter.

You pressed your face into the floor as you cried, lacking the strength and will to move.

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

The rhythmic sound of Peter’s heartbeat beneath your ear was the only thing keeping you grounded. It was the middle of the night, and he was sound asleep…and you were not. You hadn’t slept well in days, not since Nat had been caught. The thought of the redhead all alone down in the basement was one that almost brought you to tears on more than one occasion, and while it was something that could’ve easily been written off as concern, you didn’t want Peter to worry.

Ever since she’d been caught, you constantly fretted over if you did the right thing or not. Would Nat’s punishment have been less severe if you’d stopped her and spun some tale like Margaret had mentioned? You supposed that it didn’t matter because what was done was done, but you couldn’t help but think about could’ve, should’ve, and would’ve.

Peter shifted some beneath you, and you lifted your head a tad, gazing at him.

It was a full moon, and Peter knew how much you liked the moon, how much you enjoyed the light of it bleeding into the room at night. You stared at him as he slept, tracing his features with your eyes and wondering if you were crazier than you thought you were. You blinked, eyes burning.

It was also days since you accepted that you couldn’t live without Peter.

It was a heartbreaking realization for a myriad of reasons. It was one thing to lack the strength to fight back so fiercely or even try to reach for your freedom, but it was another entirely to become so dependent on the man who’d ruined your life. God, if only your mom could see you, now, she’d be so disappointed. Or perhaps heartbroken.

You yourself were heartbroken.

This was the man who had a hand in the death of your friends, a hand in your mother’s grief, and yet here you were…staring up at him…

Almost like you loved him.

You looked back towards the window at that thought with a grimace, something uneasy settling in your gut at that word. It was what Peter wanted, wasn’t it? For you to love him? After all, not only would that make him happy, but in turn…you too. If everyone thought you loved him—Steve most of all—then your life would be easier. The blond would trust you, would be less critical and harsh on you.

You sat up with a shaky exhale, staring at your hands as they settled in your lap.

It seemed inevitable anyway, that you would love Peter one day, but the thought made you want to bury yourself alive. It would be the biggest betrayal and not just to your friends and mom, but most of all yourself. You didn’t deserve to be treated this way—kidnapped and basically enslaved and at the whim of some man with a disturbing upbringing. You deserved better than that, and you knew it, but deep down you knew that you wouldn’t be getting better than that.

You stared at your fingers with a frown.

…and as long as Peter was happy…he didn’t treat you badly.

You remembered feeling so angry and sad that day Jane told you that Peter was one of the good ones. It was such a preposterous stance to you, and you had pitied her then for even thinking such a thought, that any of them could be ‘good’. Now, though…now there were times you felt so grateful to have Peter. Especially when in comparison to the other husbands and the methods they liked to use to keep their wives in line.

It was a feeling you’d been fighting for some time, but you were happy to have Peter.

Your face felt colder all of a sudden, and you reached up, realizing that you’d started to cry just as you felt a light touch on your waist. The suddenness of it made you jump, and you looked over your shoulder just as Peter shifted.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he mumbled, fatigue coating his own voice.

You shrugged, forgetting that he probably couldn’t see the action so well in the dark, when he decided to sit up too. It wasn’t long before light flooded the room, and you didn’t have time to turn your face away. The concern on his own was palpable, and you let him reach for you.

“What’s wrong?” he wondered, scooting closer. “Did you have another nightmare?”

You shook your head, unable to quite voice your internal dilemma. Peter would just tell you it was okay, and that it was a good thing to love him, but he wouldn’t understand—couldn’t understand. His hands on your arms were a comfort to you though, and you leaned into him.

“You know you’re scaring me, right?” he lightly joked. “You have to tell me what’s wrong, pretty girl…or else I can’t fix it.”

His lips grazed your hair as you leaned your head on his shoulder, just staring at the sheets. Again, you couldn’t speak, just shrugging and moving to wrap your arm around his waist. You just wanted to hold him and let him hold you for the time being. At least, that was what you thought, but as you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of Peter, you realized you just wanted to be as close to him as possible.

Peter said nothing when you lifted your head, just looking at you in question while you looked back at him. You ran your eyes over his face, your gaze lingering on his pink lips. Peter was still as you moved closer, hesitant and a little unsure. You were thankful for that, positive that if he moved an inch, you would lose your nerve.

When your lips met his, it was light, barely a kiss, but you remained there just focusing on the feel of his lips touching yours. When you kissed him again, it was firmer, and you placed your hands on his shoulders. You deeply inhaled, gasping when his own hands curled into your hips. Peter softly spoke your name into your mouth, and you fully leaned into him.

Peter was content to fall back, letting you rest on top of him while he kissed you back.

Once you started, you couldn’t stop, tasting him and lying on top of him. Peter’s fingers were twisting into your nightgown, some white short piece of fabric he’d brought home one day after work. Your body felt fueled by something stronger than you, desperate to feel him against you and in you. You truly didn’t know why, letting your body do what it wanted, trailing kisses along his neck while his hand came up to rest on your head.

He whispered your name again, but you didn’t want to talk.

Not now, anyway.

When Peter’s hands slid up your frame, sliding the white fabric with it, you didn’t protest. You shuddered when your bare chest brushed his own, but Peter didn’t do much more. He was happy to keep kissing you, basking in the feel of resting under your weight. Every brush of his fingers made you shudder, and you pulled your face away to catch your breath.

You slowly rolled off of him, keeping your eyes on his as you did. Your fingers twisted with his own, and Peter held your gaze while you pulled him towards you. His chest was heaving, and his normally brown eyes appeared almost black to you in the low lighting. His pants were pulled away as he settled himself over you, and you reached up to touch his face.

If Peter was shocked by your reciprocation, he didn’t show it, only content to let you touch him. When you kissed him again, your hands grazed over his shoulders and back, fingers gently gliding along his skin. Peter deepened the kiss when you wrapped your legs around his waist, one hand kneading into your side while the other rested on the side of your neck.

When he finally did find his way into you, you gasped.

You just wouldn’t ever get used to the feel of him pushing into you, you were convinced. You kept your hands on his face as Peter thrust into you, slow and as if he wanted to savor the feel. Underneath Peter, it was the only time you could just exist free of all the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind. However, tonight was different.

You couldn’t stop thinking.   

You clung to Peter in the hopes that maybe the feel of his body on top of yours and his cock in you would distract you from all of your thoughts, wipe your mind clean, but they were too overpowering. A shudder traveled through you when he placed kisses along your jaw, and you threaded your fingers through his hair. You just wanted him close, so close, and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Your chest was heavy, and your eyes burned, and you realized that you were going to cry again. You held Peter’s head to your neck, hoping to keep him from looking, but you reached up to quickly wipe your face when he lifted his head. He paused, and it was hard to name the look in his eyes.

“What… Y/N, what’s wrong?” he breathed, wiping your face.

You licked your lip, staring past him and trying to keep from crying. You felt so overwhelmed, and you just didn’t know why. You felt scared and panicked, and you couldn’t stop shaking. When Peter started to pull away, you were quick to clutch his arms, keeping him against you.

“You’re scaring me,” he quietly repeated. “Talk to me, pretty girl, tell me what’s wrong.”

You realized then as Peter tried to pull away.

You didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to ever.

“Will you ever stop loving me?”

It was clear he hadn’t expected that, and you slowly met his gaze again. You pulled your lip between your teeth as you searched his eyes, and Peter blinked. A frown formed between his dark brows, and he stared down at you like you were crazy.

“You’re asking me this now…?”

A slight smile ghosted along his lips, and it was clear he thought this was some elaborate joke until more tears fell. His smile fell as you squeezed your eyes shut, and he wiped your face again. He softly said your name, and you tried to stop crying, but you couldn’t.

“Hey…hey, look at me,” he whispered, urging you to open your eyes.

When you finally did, his expression was soft, dark eyes searching yours and drinking you in.

“I’ll never stop loving you,” he finally answered.

Your face crumbled again, and you blinked, looking towards the ceiling before meeting his eye again.

“Even if I do something bad? You won’t…you won’t hate me…?”

Peter blinked at you, his frown deepening and confusion growing.

“I could never hate you,” he assured you.

You let him go, pressing your hands to your face.

“Hey, hey, what-what is going on? What’s wrong?”

He tried to pull your hands away, and when he did, you immediately circled your arms around his neck, burying your face there. Peter let you cry, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. The feel just made you cry more, and Peter shushed you. His lips grazed your ear.

“I would never stop loving you,” he whispered, reaching up and loosening your hold as he leaned back. “It doesn’t matter what you could ever do.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking at him.

“Even if I do something really, really bad?”

Peter just chuckled at you before leaning in to kiss you. It sounded like he thought your concerns were so silly, and he brushed his nose against yours.

“Look at me,” he gently told you. “It doesn’t matter what you do, I’ll never stop loving you.”

You sniffed.

“I may get really mad,” he softly said, being truthful. “…but I’ll never not love you.”

You touched his cheek, lips trembling.

“You promise?” you choked out.

Petr sighed at you, looking over your face before pecking your nose.

“I promise.”

You pressed your lips together, playing with a dark strand of his hair.

“I’ll always love you,” he slowly whispered, moving his hips again. “Don’t ever doubt that. No matter what you do.”

Peter kissed you again, finishing what you started.

Peter was asleep…and you were not.

That was becoming common as of late, and while you hated it, your mind just wouldn’t settle. Nat had been down in that basement for two weeks, now, and you’d overheard Jane telling Christine something the other day. Something about Bucky just not knowing what to do with her. It was something that challenged your mind, how he could be so cruel to the woman he claimed to love and in the same breath, feel betrayed by her simply…wanting freedom.

You didn’t understand it.

Every time you saw Bucky, you could see the toll it was taking on him. After all, Nat had escaped. She’d left and had gotten pretty far, and you knew that beneath all the hurt and anger, Bucky had been scared. He was probably still scared, and he probably wasn’t the only one. Nat had come dangerously close to blowing this whole household up, and who was to say she wouldn’t do it again?

Not to mention the pressure he was probably under from Steve.

Nat was Bucky’s wife, but her actions had affected the entire household. You wondered if Peter had a say in her punishment too, and the thought left a sour taste in your mouth. You looked over your shoulder at him where he slept, biting your lip and sliding out of bed.

You hadn’t seen Nat in weeks, and on top of it being unfamiliar to you, now, you also couldn’t go about your life all the while knowing she was down there. It was all you thought about when you cooked and cleaned. Even during dinner, there was a huge elephant in the room in the glaringly obvious empty chair beside Bucky. You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at it sometimes, a pang going through your chest at the sight of it.

All you thought about these days was Nat, especially one of the last conversations with her. Whether or not Nat confirmed she was pregnant was something you didn’t know, but it was something you worried about regularly. When Bucky did finally decide on a punishment, there was no telling what it would be, and if Nat was pregnant…

Even now, the lack of nourishment she was getting down in the basement wasn’t good for her, but doubly so if she was indeed pregnant as she’d suspected. It was that thought that drove you down the stairs, walking on light footsteps as you maneuvered your way through the house. You knew it like the back of your hand by now.

Truthfully, you didn’t know how you’d get into the basement. There were several locks on the door, one of which required a key, and you knew it was kept somewhere close to the door. You were only concerned with making the sandwich though, just thinking about Nat going without food for days on end. Yes, you were concerned for her, but you also wondered if there was some guilt eating at you.

Again, you wondered if you’d stopped her, would she even be down there?

You just wanted to help in some way, and you unsurely approached the door. You stared at it in the dark, thinking to yourself if this was something you’d get in trouble for. You couldn’t imagine why, in truth, but there were plenty of things to get in trouble for in this house. You only wanted to check on her, make sure she was well…feed her.

“Nat,” you gently called.

Only silence met you, and you remembered the steep climb from the bottom of the stairs to the door. It was possible she couldn’t even hear you. Either that or asleep, and you had hoped you could ask her where the key was, she’d know after all, but you had resigned yourself to finding it yourself when the hallway light was turned on.

You flinched, and fearing the worst, you were shocked to come face to face with Bucky instead.

He stood in the entrance where the kitchen and hallway connected, and there wasn’t much use in denying what you were doing. It was obvious, after all with the plated sandwich in hand as you stood in front of the basement door. You weren’t sure what to say, and you felt your heart skip a beat at the sight of the brunette.

He didn’t look happy to see you, but then again, like Steve, he didn’t tend to look ecstatic around you. The feeling was mutual, you supposed, the memory of him shooting Wanda in cold blood fresh in your mind as if it had happened yesterday. Shockingly, you were resolved to whatever punishment awaited you for simply trying to bring Nat some food.

“I come down here every night,” he finally said, heaving a deep sigh. “Just to…stand here, sit here…”

It wasn’t what you expected him to say, and you blinked.

“I miss her too, you know.”

Again, you didn’t know what to say, especially since he put her down there.

“…but she’s down there for a reason, Y/N.”

You looked away, gripping the plate in your hand.

“I…I just wanted to make sure she’s alright,” you finally told him.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at you.

“I didn’t realize you two had gotten so…close before her grand escape.”

The way he said it, something about his tone didn’t sit right with you, and you shook your head.

“Not that close,” you hurried to say. “I just… I just worry about her a lot.”

Bucky eyed you for too long to be comfortable, and you squirmed under his blue gaze. He slowly made his way towards you, and you shrank beneath his stare. You were unsurprised when he took the plate from you, eyeing you before eyeing it.

“She’s being punished…and while I appreciate the sentiment for my wife, this,” he lifted the plate. “Defeats the purpose, don’t ya think?”

You didn’t have anything to say to that, and Bucky suddenly smirked.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’d be in if Steve caught you down here?” he suddenly wondered, and you looked down at the mention of the blond. “Hell…I imagine Peter himself wouldn’t be happy if he knew.”

Again, you thought that you were prepared for whatever punishment that was to come for simply wanting to feed Nat. Something like that shouldn’t warrant a punishment, anyway, but you were still surprised with Bucky’s next words.

“You should go back upstairs, Y/N,” he told you, making your eyes meet his again.

Like before, you thought that Bucky looked sad, and you didn’t understand it. Not one bit.

“Believe me, I understand, I do…but she has to learn some kind of way,” he continued, making you swallow. “…and I will be telling Peter.”

Your shoulders dropped at that, and the other man chuckled to himself.

“I doubt he’ll do much, anyway, so no need to panic,” a smirk danced along his lips. “His methods for you are…soft like that.”

The way he said the word didn’t make them sound soft, at all, and your frown deepened. Bucky suddenly sighed, looking towards the basement door. You took that as a sign to go, and you walked past him.

“Hurry on to bed,” Bucky’s words traveled to you from over his shoulder. “Before Peter wakes up and can’t find his ‘pretty girl’.”

The term of endearment was said mockingly, and you pressed your lips together as you climbed the stairs.

“You know better.”

You looked down at your toes, unable to keep eye contact under Peter’s disapproving stare.

“I know,” you whispered back.

You heard him heave a sigh, and suddenly Peter was in your line of vision, kneeling before you. He looked up at you with a small frown, lips pressed together.

“I know she’s your friend,” he said, taking your hands into his. “…but she’s down there for a reason.”

That conversation with Nat was still on your mind.

“I know that,” you replied, resigned. “I just know she’s not being fed as she should and…”

You trailed off, shaking your head.

“…and that’s part of it,” Peter reminded you.

“I know, but…”

Your words died on your tongue, and you slid back onto the bed, pulling your legs underneath you. You just kept thinking about what awaited Nat…and the possible child she was carrying. It was a given that if Bucky knew or even thought she was pregnant, it would change everything. He wouldn’t want her down in the basement…

“What is Bucky going to do to her?” you finally asked Peter.

When you looked at him, he moved to sit down beside you.

“He hasn’t decided yet. Truthfully, he can’t even think about that, right now,” Peter replied. “…and don’t try to change the subject.”

Peter threw you another stern look, and you bit your lip.

“I’m…not. Not really,” you whispered, and Peter frowned. “Peter…”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, hesitantly holding his gaze.

“If Nat was pregnant, would Bucky keep her down there…?”

His frown deepened, and he looked at you strangely.

“Of course, not,” he said it as if it were obvious, almost alarmed at your question. “Why are you asking me that…?”

His gaze was inquiring, and you hurriedly stood, turning away. He softly called your name, and you pulled your lip between your teeth.

“Peter…if I tell you something…are you going to tell Bucky I told you?”

When you glanced at him again, he was standing.

“Y/N…”

He almost said your name like a warning, and you suddenly regretted even opening your mouth. Peter could probably see the sentiment on your face, and he hurried towards you.

“Is Nat pregnant?” he demanded, taking your arm.

You opened and closed your mouth, glancing down. You heard Peter sigh, loosening his hold on your arm and rubbing his hand up and down it.

“I won’t tell Bucky you told me,” he whispered. “I promise, but…you need to tell me. Is she pregnant?”

“I…I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “Before she left, she…she told me that she thought she was.”

When you met Peter’s eye, he was tilting his head to the side, a deep frown between his brows.

“What?”

It came out curt, barely repressed shock there. You hurried to quell whatever negative emotion was threatening to bubble up.

“She didn’t know for sure,” you rushed out. “She just said she thought she was. I don’t know if she ever confirmed it, and then…then she was gone.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

There were accusations in his tone and eyes.

“…because! She…she didn’t even know for sure, and Bucky should be the one to know first. I assumed she would’ve told him,” you defended yourself, your words not completely untrue. “…but when he put her down there, that’s when I realized that she hadn’t. He would never put her down there if he thought she was pregnant, right?”

You watched Peter exhale, running his hand through his dark hair as he stared at you.

“No…he wouldn’t,” he reassured you, nostrils flaring. “This is serious, Y/N.”

You shuddered at the anger in his voice.

“I know,” you whispered.

“…and you didn’t say anything. Do you realize the damage that could already be done if she is or—God forbid—was pregnant?”

“I know,” you said, much, much quieter this time. “I’m sorry. She didn’t even know for sure, and I didn’t… It wasn’t my place to tell him that. I thought it was something that should be shared between them.”

You hesitantly looked at Peter again, watching him run his hands down his face.

“I will talk to Bucky,” he eventually told you, voice even as he eyed you.

The look in there made your heart sink, and you found yourself wondering what you just sacrificed to make this easier on Nat.

“You should’ve said something…” he continued when you nodded. “We need to know anything important that involves you guys.”

You nodded again, and Peter took your face into his hands. He stared into your eyes, thumbs brushing along your cheeks as he regarded you.

“Is there anything else you want to tell me? Any other important detail I need to know?”

The sight of Nat looking into your eyes that night was at the forefront of your mind, and still, you shook your head.

“No,” you quietly said. “Just that.”

Peter let out a breath, nodding before leaning in to press his lips to your forehead. He lingered there for a moment, just breathing you in.

“No more secrets. Do you understand?”

You started to nod when he made a noise of disapproval.

“Do you understand…?”

He pulled back, meeting your gaze. You reached up, wrapping your hands around his wrists.

“Yes, Peter.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the lie.

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XIV (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

You woke up to chaos.

The empty space beside you where Peter normally slept wasn’t even something you noticed at first, too preoccupied with the ache in your body. Memories of the previous night were only filled with Peter’s lips on yours and his hands on your frame. You’d felt halfway delirious with how many times you begged Peter to make you come and how many times he’d appeased you.

You remembered threading your fingers through his dark strands, trying so hard to distract yourself from your own thoughts.

…and when you remembered why, you sat up with a gasp.

You were the only one in the room, and light shone inside from the rising sun. It was a whole new day, and thoughts of the previous night reminded you of bright red hair and the shining moonlight. You blinked, trying to think if you’d made the whole thing up. After all, it had been the middle of the night and there was no telling what your mind had conjured up.

However, the noise coming from downstairs told you otherwise.

It was a wonder that you hadn’t noticed it before.

There was so much commotion…and yelling. There was lots of yelling. Slowing sliding out of bed, you made your way to the door, and the closer you got, the louder it got. You could hear a baby crying, it sounded like a little girl, and you surmised that it was little Sarah. So many voices were mingling together at once, but when you cracked the door open, one voice stood out above the rest.

“There’s no telling how far she’s gotten, Steve,” you heard Bucky sneer, and the venom in his tone had you stepping back a bit. “She’s not like the rest! She’s from here, she grew up here, and she knows this town just as well as we do.”

You thought you heard him hit something, and the sound of breaking glass only a few seconds later confirmed that. You pressed one hand to the doorjamb, struggling to swallow. The memory of watching Nat disappear into the night was burned in your brain, and you ignored the heavy feeling in your chest.

“Sam’s coming down shortly,” you heard Steve respond, and the anger in his voice wasn’t hard to miss. “We’ll leave then. Search the woods, the town, anywhere she could be. She couldn’t have gotten far, not on foot.”

Disgust stirred in your gut at the way the blond reassured the other man, and you blinked, pushing back tears. Softly closing the door, you stumbled back and sat on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t quite make out how you were feeling, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

On the one hand, you wanted Nat to make it out of this hellhole and to help. Of course, you wanted her to escape, even if she was the only one who managed to get out of here. This was no place for anyone to be, and you’d feel a whole lot better if even just one of you made it out.

On the other hand…

Nat getting help and exposing every man here for the rapists they were would separate you from Peter forever. You knew that’s what you should want. Peter had a hand in the death of your friends, and he was your very own captor and rapist. More than anything, you should want Peter arrested and put behind bars for the rest of his life, but there was a part of you—and that part was so much bigger than you wanted to accept—that would be devastated to see him go.

Your friends were long gone, and while there was some doubt that she ever would, there was a chance your mom was already mourning you, already accepting that you were lost to her forever. With Peter gone, what did you possibly have to return to? A voice in your head whispered to you that you would at least have a life and freedom…but what did that mean for you at this point?

You completely lost all rhyme or reason at the mere sight of blood, and those first few months here—and the complete lack of control you had over your body—were fresh in your mind. You were so far gone, so beyond broken, and who besides Peter would even put up with that? Who…who would even want you?

You leaned over, pressing your face into your hands as you fought back tears.

It was then that the door opened, and they spilled over just as you looked up. Peter’s hard gaze softened at the sight of you, and you watched his shoulders sag before making his way to you. He was quick to take you into his arms, holding you tight and pressing his lips into your hair. You didn’t quite understand why at first until he spoke.

“I just…I had to hold you,” Peter whispered. “I had to make sure you’re here.”

Slowly, you wrapped your arms around him too.

“Nat’s gone,” he finally whispered. “Snuck out some time last night or…this morning before day… I don’t know.”

Peter sounded exhausted and worried and angry all in one.

“Now, we have to find her,” he spat, pulling away.

You eyed him, eyed the anger on his face, and you looked down.

“I heard Bucky yelling,” you quietly said. “That’s what it sounded like, but I’d hoped…”

The rest of your words died in the air, stomach twisting as you fought to lie.

“After all this time…why would she do this now?” he said, moving by you to get to the closet. “I mean, you’re still adjusting…and Jane is pregnant.”

He disappeared into the closet, and you could hear him putting on clothes. You stared at the wall as he huffed, never having really witnessed Peter’s anger like that before. You didn’t know how to feel about it, and especially since it was due to a determined woman only wanting her freedom.

“She couldn’t have picked a worst time.”

You wanted to tell Peter that there was no such thing as a bad time when it came to someone simply wanting to escape the equivalent of a prison. You watched him exit the closet, and you wanted to talk to him, maybe make him understand Nat’s point of view. You hated how angry they were at her over something they had no right to be angry about. It made you think of what would happen to her if they caught her, and more tears spilled over.

Peter noticed.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, hurrying towards you and taking your face into his hands. “We’re going to find her.”

He held your gaze as he said this, sending you a reassuring smile, and you started to shake your head.

“She couldn’t have gotten far, and I’m one of the best trackers in the house…”

You stilled at that.

“With me, Steve, Bucky and Clint all tagging along…she doesn’t stand a chance.”

His words were meant to reassure you, settle your worries, but they only made you want to throw up. The way Peter talked about her…like she wasn’t even human…but instead some animal they had to drag back and lock in a cage.

You took a shuddering breath, vision blurry.

“What…what will you do to her if you find her?” you struggled to ask him, fearing the worst.

The way Peter’s face fell had your heart sinking, and he pressed his lips together, looking over your face before sighing.

“That’s not really up to me.”

There was a lot about his response that unnerved you. He spoke as if he had no inkling of what awaited her, but the drop in his expression told you differently. There was an apologetic look in his gaze that told you he knew exactly what she was in for, but most worrisome of all was that it was out of his hands.

It was in Bucky’s.

“What will Bucky do?” you murmured, and Peter looked away.

He swiped his tongue between his lips before taking a deep breath.

“There’s no telling…”

You struggled to breathe, throat tightening. All sorts of scenarios ran through your mind, but above all, all you could see was Margaret tied to that tree. All you could think about was one of the first days you’d been here and the full extent of Steve’s ire that Peter had made you privy to. Only this time, instead of Steve and Margaret…

It was Bucky and Nat.

The thought made you lightheaded, and you stumbled, collapsing on the edge of the bed. Peter reached for you, and you couldn’t stop crying. Maybe you should’ve stopped her somehow, ran after her maybe? Maybe they would’ve been nicer on her if they saw she changed her mind? Or maybe you should’ve told Peter? Peter wasn’t like Bucky or Steve…maybe Peter wouldn’t have punished her at all as he brought her back. Maybe you could’ve convinced him to let her off easy.

You suddenly reached out to him, pressing your fingers into his arms as you fixed him with a pleading gaze.

“You won’t hurt her, will you? If you find her…?”

Peter seemed to hesitate, and you let out a sob.

“Please, Peter, please, she-you don’t get it. You don’t understand,” you pleaded with him. “Please, don’t hurt her.”

Peter knelt before you, and your eyes followed him as he stared back at you with conflicting emotions flitting over his features.

“I have to bring her back…by any means necessary.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at that, and you felt Peter’s hands on your face, thumb’s brushing away your tears. You felt so exhausted all of a sudden, and you took a deep shuddering breath. You tiredly peeled your eyes open, begging Peter.

“Please, Peter…she’s my friend…and I don’t have many of those anymore,” you choked out, watching Peter sigh. “Promise me that you’ll try…and you’ll get them to try too.”

You watched him look away, deep in thought, chest rising and falling with another sigh. When he looked at you again, there was something in his eyes that looked…defeated. He gave you a small nod before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours. He then kissed your nose and forehead in that order as he stood.

“I promise,” he told you, lips pressed against your hair. “We’ll bring her back…and she’ll be safe.”

His hand lingered on your face before he finally turned to leave. You only looked away from the door when it closed completely, and conflicted with what you’d done, you turned over and pressed your face into the sheets.

“What was she thinking?”

Margaret’s worried tone reached your ears as you stirred the soup. Sarah was asleep on her hip, courtesy of Margaret’s nervous rocking. The woman hadn’t been still since you first saw her, and truthfully, you couldn’t fully blame her. Despite the obvious sentiment that it was perfectly understandable if things didn’t carry on as normal, almost none of you could force yourselves to remain still.

Margaret had been holding Sarah for hours, Christine had repotted every single plant in the whole house, and this was the fourth batch of soup you’d made. Of course, everyone else’s nervous ticks were not done for the same reason as yours, but it’s not like you could say that.

“I mean…it’s been years since she’s been here. What? Was she just…just biding her time?” Margaret wondered, breathless. “I thought…I thought she’d made peace with everything, I thought she was…happy.”

You could feel her eyes on you at that, and you slowly looked up. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Margaret something even akin to worried. With a husband like Steve, she just simply wasn’t allotted the same natural human emotions as everyone else. Steve wanted the happy picture-perfect family all the time.

Now, however, Margaret looked more worried than any of you.

“She seemed happy, didn’t she? Did she seem happy to you?”

There was some desperation in Margaret’s voice and gaze that made it easy to understand. After Margaret, Nat had been taken next, and when combined with how close Steve and Bucky seemed to be in comparison to all the rest, it had been easy to see that the two women had struck up a friendship and bond that had aged beyond all the others.

“Sometimes…yeah,” you eventually told her, and she frowned at that. “I mean, how happy could she really be…?”

Margaret didn’t reply right away at that, nodding in thought.

“…but…unhappy enough to run? She knows what they’ll do to her. She’s the only one to ever make it this far-they…”

Margaret tearfully looked away.

“They’re going to make an example out of her, and there’s nothing I can do.”

“If they find her,” you reminded her, and Margaret scoffed.

“They are going to catch her,” she sternly told you, holding your gaze. “Believe you me.”

The way she said it made it sound true, and even you felt your own doubts dwindling. Bucky’s angry voice from the morning was still burned into your brain, and even Peter looked far more upset than you were used to seeing him. Nat had made them all angry and determined, and such a combination was dangerous.

“I wish that she’d talked to me…told me…”

You looked up at her quiet voice, watching as she stared at the refrigerator.

“Does she not trust me…?”

You pushed away the memory of Nat disappearing into the night.

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to involve you…put you at risk too,” you assured her, and she looked at you. “I don’t doubt that she trusts you, but trusting you with something like this would be selfish, no?”

Margaret looked down.

“Think of the guilt, the worry, the way it would be eating away at you.”

You felt like you were speaking to yourself more than Margaret.

“Nat just wanted to risk herself.”

You ignored the fact that Nat thought she was pregnant before she left. While part of you wondered if the reveal of Bucky’s role in the death of your friends pushed her over the edge, part of you also wondered if that had anything to do with that. What if Nat confirmed she was pregnant somehow, and the thought of raising a child with him and in this place was just too much?

She’d said to you that she’d made peace with who Bucky was only for an even darker part of him to be revealed. It was very possible that Nat just couldn’t stomach raising a family with a killer, and who could blame her? It wasn’t something you wanted to mention for obvious reasons, but also because Margaret was raising a family with a killer too. Sharon as well. You didn’t want to point that out and bring up things Margaret was probably still working on making peace with.

You admired Nat, but you were nothing like her, and if Margaret had been like Nat some time in the past, that version of her was long gone. She still smiled at Steve and fussed over him and loved him all the while knowing what he did, and you were sure it was because she thought like you did. What choice did she have? She had a baby to look after and protect in addition to herself. Like you, she’d made her peace with the fact that she was never getting out of here.

That was much harder to reconcile with than it seemed, and you had no desire to make it harder on her.

The both of you fell into a comfortable silence as you finished cooking while she leaned against the counter with Sarah in her arms. Both Steve and Peter had been gone most of the day, and you’d started to ask her how this normally goes, if they come back for a break or if they only return once one of you has been caught, when you reminded yourself that this was not the norm.

Margaret had said that no one had ever gotten as far as Nat.

…and that because of that, they’d also make an example out of her.

You shuddered to think of what that all entailed, and again, you hoped they didn’t find her while that part of you hoped for the opposite. Even hours later, you still found yourself at war with yourself, unable to decide on what you wanted more despite what you knew you should want.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. They’ll find her,” the familiar voice said from next to you as you stared out of the living room window. “I know you two have gotten rather close lately. They’ll bring her back.”

You didn’t know how to respond to Stephen, unable to voice your true thoughts on the matter. Yes, it was true that you and Nat had grown closer, a different understanding between you, but you’d happily sacrifice that comradery if it meant that Nat had her freedom.

When bedtime came, you were reluctant to go. You knew that you’d have trouble sleeping and not just because Peter wasn’t there. The night before, when you’d decided to keep quiet about what you saw, it was easy to categorize it as a problem for tomorrow, but tomorrow was here and the hypothetical chaos that would ensue was already upon you.

You were in bed and staring at the window when you heard your door open, and you sat up in surprise.

Peter’s tired face greeted you when you rushed to turn on the lamp, and you blinked at him. Exhaustion aside, Peter looked horrible. Shallow grime and cuts littered his skin, and you found it hard to imagine that he’d been in the woods searching for Nat all day. So much effort and for what? To bring back someone who wasn’t Bucky’s to keep to begin with? You shuddered to think of the effort Peter would have put it if you had ever found the strength to run away.

“You’re back…?”

“For the night,” Peter said, reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off. “Steve knows you can’t sleep without me…let me come back, and if they don’t find her tonight, I’ll be rejoining them in the morning.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, watching him get undressed while wrestling with your thoughts.

“I’ll be out in a little bit,” he softly told you, leaning over and touching your chin before disappearing into the bathroom.

You stared after him with your arms around your knees, wondering once again if you even wanted them to find her. Peter was such a permanent fixture in your everyday life now that you couldn’t see a future without him. As messed up as it was, it was true, and you knew without a doubt that you wouldn’t even be able to function without him.

You were fighting back tears when he finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly clean.

“Peter…”

He looked at you, expression inquiring.

“What’s going to happen if you don’t find her?”

His face changed almost immediately, and you almost regretted asking him that question. You watched him heave a heavy sigh, bare chest and shoulders rising and falling. He slowly sat down next to you, staring ahead before finally shaking his head.

“We will-.”

“…but what if you don’t?”

“We will!”

You jumped as his voice rang around the room, eyes wide and focused on Peter as he pinched the bridge of his nose. You could see then how stressful this was for him, and you wondered if he’d thought the same as you, if he’d been trying to ignore such thoughts only for you to bring them to his attention again.

“Don’t say that,” he slowly said. “We will find her.”

“…but Peter-.”

“Y/N.”

“If you don’t…what’s going to happen to you? Us.”

He gave you his full attention at that, a slight furrow between his brows as he studied you.

“I mean she’ll…she’ll find help, won’t she? She’ll come back with people who’ll arrest you?”

Peter thought for a short while before nodding.

“More than likely. Nat isn’t the type to only look out for herself,” he admitted.

You blinked back tears, fighting with yourself as your gaze fell to the sheets.

“What if we run…?” you slowly asked him.

You could feel his eyes on you, and the silence was loud, and you pulled your lip between your teeth,

“I mean, if it starts to look like you won’t find her…what if we run?” you looked at him now. “What if you and I just took off? Go into hiding somewhere and they never find you?”

You couldn’t describe how Peter was looking at you, and you didn’t know if you liked it. He stared at you for what felt like too long before exhaling through his nose before gently taking your arms. His dark hair was damp, a few droplets crawling down his face.

“I won’t abandon my brothers,” he firmly told you. “Do you understand me?”

You licked your lips, tears spilling over.

“…but what about me…?”

“Y/N-.”

“I can’t function without you,” you tearfully admitted. “I’m a mess, and you know it. Everyone in this house knows it.”

Peter’s jaw ticked as he listened to you.

“I’m the crazy one,” you cried.

“Don’t say that,” he argued, moving closer.

“I fly off the handle at a little bit of blood,” you spat. “I cry all the time, I…I pee on myself, Peter. They don’t even let me around the kids!”

Peter took your face into his hands, and you frantically shook your head.

“I’m the basket case,” you whispered. “I am…the way I am…because of you.”

You frowned at him.

“…and you’re telling me…that you won’t even choose me over them?”

Peter shook his head, making a noise of disagreement.

“It’s not that simple,” he told you. “We are a family. All of us. We don’t abandon one another-.”

“Who are they to me?” you screamed. “Why should I care about them?”

“…because they’re your family too! This affects all of us-.”

“No, this affects Bucky,” you sneered, and Peter froze. “Nat is his wife, right? Not yours, not mine, and this is a Bucky problem. You don’t have to make it yours…or mine. Peter, we can leave.”

You reached for him.

“It’ll just be us. You don’t have to go down with them, with him. You don’t, and especially not because he lost someone who was never his to begin with. Who cares if Nat ran away?” you cried.

Peter stared at you, eyes stricken and lips pressed together.

“He took her! What right does he have to drag ger back-?”

You swallowed the rest of your words when Peter’s fingers pinched into your jaw. His hand was tight on your face, and you winced in pain at the ache that began to stir in your bone. You reached up, grabbing his wrist, and Peter’s brown eyes appeared so much darker, so much colder as he regarded you. You realized that you’d said too much, revealed too much of your thought process as of late, and your lips trembled.

Peter blinked at you.

“Do not say that ever again.”

His other hand gripped your upper arm, and you winced.

“Do you understand?” he spat, shaking your head slightly. “Don’t you ever repeat that.”

“Peter-.”

“He has every right just as I have every right,” he lowly told you. “If you ever ran away, I would stop at nothing to have you in my arms again…and that is my right.”

A few tears skipped down your cheeks, and Peter took a calming breath.

“Do you understand?” he repeated.

You licked your lips, frantically blinking.

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Do you know what would happen if anybody else heard you say that? That…that Bucky has no right to bring her back? That Nat was basically right to run away?”

You couldn’t stop your tears, and when he let your face go, your head dropped.

“You’ve been here long enough to know that isn’t a welcome thought,” he coldly told you. “I thought you were further along than that. That’s disappointing.”

You jerked your head up at that, eyes wide as you looked at him.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, I… I’m just so confused.”

That couldn’t be any truer, and if only Peter knew just how confused you were. After all, if Peter and the rest of them thought you all were a family, that Nat’s transgression was a transgression against the whole family, that Bucky had all the rights in the world to drag her back… What did that mean for your own transgression? What did that mean for you if it ever came out that you saw her leave…and said nothing?

“Come here, pretty girl,” Peter whispered, and you slid closer, fitting into his awaiting arms.

He pressed his lips to yours, and you reluctantly kissed him back. One of his hands rested on the back of your neck, the other snaking around your waist as he held you to him. The kiss was gentle at first, and you relaxed, but it wasn’t long before his hands tightened on you, and he bit your lip…hard.

You jerked away from him, the taste of blood on your tongue when you licked your lips.

Peter’s face was the most serious you’d ever seen, and you watched him reach up to roughly swipe his thumb along your lip. It hurt a bit, and Peter harshly rested his hand on the side of your face.

“Those words will never come out of your mouth again. Okay?”

“…okay,” you whispered.

He didn’t look pleased, but he did look satisfied for the time being, and he leaned in to gently kiss the corner of your lips.

“Let’s get some rest,” he softly told you. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Peter laid down, pulling you with him, and you fought to ignore the possibility of a tumultuous future for you as he wrapped his arm around you, holding you against him.

You were repolishing a vase when Nat returned.

You hadn’t slept the best for multiple reasons, and you were kind of thankful that much wasn’t expected of you because you found yourself cleaning the same tables or same decorations two maybe even three times in a row. This whole ordeal was sickening, and several times now you’d had to fight the urge to vomit everywhere.

Either outcome was enough to send you into a spiral, but it wasn’t until Nat was walked through the door did you realize what outcome you’d really hoped for above the other. You were in the living room, so you were the first to realize they’d finally found her. You hadn’t thought much when the door opened, but the sounds of several pairs of footsteps had you looking up.

You almost dropped your vase at the sight of her.

Nat had looked better, that was for sure, but that wasn’t what you cared about. The relief that filled you almost knocked you over, and you hated yourself for feeling that way. Nat wasn’t fighting, but the even defiance on her face spoke volumes. Bucky had one arm while Steve had the other, and the malice you saw in her husband’s blue eyes had you shuddering.

It was then that her eyes met yours as she walked by, and they softened ever so slightly. If you hadn’t been familiar with her expressions by now, you probably never would’ve noticed. She held your gaze for a few seconds, and when she looked away, you felt tears kiss your eyes.

You mourned the brief bout of freedom that Nat had claimed, and you mourned the lifetime of freedom that was robbed from her yet again. You mourned your own possibility of a different future…but in the same breath…you were so relieved. The relief made your knees weak, and God did you hate yourself for it. Sure, there was some part of you that was sort of happy to have your friend back, but mostly…

You were just happy you wouldn’t be separated from Peter.

…and that did make you cry…because that was awful.

You slowly stumbled after them, peeking around Sam’s shoulder as Steve and Bucky led her down the hall. With a start, you realized they were taking her to the basement, and it took everything to swallow down your gasp. You pressed your hand to the wall, the other squeezing the polishing rag so tight it was a wonder it didn’t rip.

You jumped when a familiar hand touched your lower back, and you slowly glanced at Peter. His brown eyes were as kind as they normally were, no remnants of last night lingering, and he gently rubbed your back.

“She’s gonna be okay,” he whispered.

You looked down the hall again just as Bucky closed and locked the basement door. It looked like he struggled to do so, and you didn’t know if it was because of his anger or because of the supposed love he felt for her. He said something to Steve, and all three of them walked back down the hall. You avoided all of their eyes, only lifting your gaze to the basement door again when they were behind you.

You could feel Peter tenderly pulling on your dress, and you wiped your face.

You couldn’t stop staring at that door, wondering how long they planned to keep her down there, wondering just what they had in store for her. The urge to try and get her out was strong. After all, what had Nat done other than seek her own freedom? Why was that so wrong? Why was that befitting of a punishment?

“What?” you heard Buckly harshly ask. “You wanna join her?”

You turned around just as Peter spoke.

“Bucky,” Peter gruffly snapped at him, pulling you closer.

The two brunettes stared at one another, and you looked between them.

“I’m sorry,” the older of the two reluctantly relented. “I’m just… You don’t even understand how angry I am.”

His blue eyes met yours then.

“Don’t weep for her,” he told you. “She made her bed.”

You blinked when Bucky turned away, and you moved closer to Peter. It was hard to settle your heart, and Peter took your hand, trying to pull you along. Your eyes met Steve’s, and you didn’t like the way they narrowed at you. You were forced to look away when Peter touched your face, his gaze sympathetic.

“She’s gonna be okay…okay…?”

You gave him a slow reluctant nod, allowing him to lead you away. You could still feel Steve’s gaze on you, and you didn’t know what would be more suspicious: meeting it head on or avoiding it altogether. As Peter pulled you upstairs, you realized that the hardest part of this whole ordeal had only just begun…

…and it wasn’t just reserved for Nat.

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training X (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training XI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training X (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training IX (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training VIII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training VII (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON acts, DUB-CON acts, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading

[mindnightrunaway]

Basic Training VI (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MURDER, violence, kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers​

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

Keep reading