Sweet Dreams Are Made of This pt.18 Dark Peter maximoff x Fem Reader (mob AU)
Guess who's back!!
Summary: Peter has felt like a piece of him has been missing ever since he was taken away from his mother to be raised by his father. But when you seem to fill that piece there’s no way he’s ever letting you go
Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of violence
Word Count: 2.1K
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11| Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17
His eyes were unwavering as he took it in and after a moment you broke the silence. “What is it?”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips and his eyes moved to look into yours, dark and unreadable. He made you wait a moment more before replying in a hushed voice that set you on edge. “You look like you belong to me.” Peter held your gaze, you waited for it to drop like it always did but they held sure. “Say it.”
“What?” You were taken aback by the tone shift in his voice.
“Say it.” His hand reached out to play with a strand of your hair, winding it tight around his finger as he stepped closer, his hips pressing against yours. He dropped your hair and his hands came to grab yours, moving them to hook around his shoulders. When he released them you let them hang limply. Peter clasped his own hands behind your back, tight and unbreakable. “Say you belong to me.”
The way he spoke sent a shiver all the way down your spine, dropping your heart into your stomach. It was different from the way in which he normally spoke, there was something darker laced in his tone. It reminded you of Erik, of the way everything he said was final and unquestionable. It reminded you that despite his moments of softness there was still a part of him that you had yet to see. Something cruel that he did his best to keep under lock and key, but in his moments of desperation managed to rear its ugly head.
You had glimpsed it once, during when you first tried to escape. You saw how quickly he turned to violence when his soft spoken cries weren’t enough. You had let yourself forget that moment, of how close he was to snapping, how badly it had hurt when he flung you to the ground. You had lost yourself in delusion and allowed yourself to get comfortable. Last night was proof of that.
Peter is something much more dangerous than his father, while Erik’s actions are justified and calculated using logic, Peter’s were guided by emotions. Emotions which he seemed to have very little control over. Peter’s dark gaze continued to stare you down until you said it. Yet he still regarded you with that unsettling gaze until you locked your hands behind his neck and played with the hair at the nape of his neck. You felt the tension release from him and his eyes fluttered closed. He leaned down to bury his face in your hair, breathing in your scent.
You did your best to keep your body relaxed, praying that he didn’t hear the pounding of your heart. Something had changed in him since you left. He had never been this way unless you had provoked him, now it seemed as if it was bleeding into his everyday without him knowing. You wondered how much longer it would be before there was nothing left but the version of himself that his father had created. You didn't know if you’d have any leverage over that version of him, you weren’t sure if your old tricks would work anymore.
Peter nudged his face against yours, a noise rumbling in him as you returned the gesture. For now it seemed you still had some, but you weren’t sure how long it would last. It wasn’t as simple as it was before. You couldn’t just play house with Peter because his father commanded it and do the bare minimum to keep them both appeased. Peter no longer seemed to be satisfied by your meager attempts at affection, he wanted it all. Peter’s obsession had grown in your absence and something darker had grown to accompany it. To ensure that you did as he wanted. You hated to see what would happen if you didn’t.
You needed to get out of here, you weren’t sure if you could keep doing this. You had barely been back one night but you noticed that Peter was becoming attached, even more than before. Meaning that there was no way you could leave, unless you could get him to come with you.. But you had no idea how you were going to convince him to leave. You knew you had to try before it was too late, this new side of him scared you. And you knew that if he wouldnt leave you’d have to go without him. You slightly shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts from now. The motion didn’t go unnoticed by Peter. He lifted his head, resting his forehead against yours. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” You mused, petting his hair with your shaking hand. “Are you hungry, let’s get something to eat.”
************
You didn’t know how to tell how much time had passed, all your days seemed to bleed together into one. Everyday was some variation of the one that came before. It usually started with Peter waking you up to get breakfast, which Peter prepared each day. The first day he did it, it had taken you by surprise, you had presumed that he knew very little about any domestic tasks, assuming that Erik had deemed them beneath him and had discouraged his son to learn them.
You had asked Peter how he knew how to cook and his motion of whisking the eggs had paused for a moment. His brow pulled together, as he looked down at his hands. “I don’t remember.” He mumbled, looking at his obscured reflection in the half whisked yolks. You had dropped the topic after that day, noticing that for the rest of breakfast he seemed lost in thought, as if trying to recall where he had learned how to cook. After that Peter would take you back up to his room, where you would lay together.
Peter’s head laying on your chest, ear pressed close to hear the beating of your heart. You had noticed that after a while your breathing would sync, and any time you’d try to change it he’d follow. An unsettling revelation. During this time Peter would ask you vague questions, you knew he didn’t like to discuss your life before the manor but his curiosity would sometimes drift his questions in the direction. Asking you about past memories or about the kids you taught. But while he was allowed to ask you questions about your life before you were never allowed to do the same.
Every attempt to ask him about his life before was shut down immediately, like that day in the garden. He just pretended that you had said nothing at all. And each day he would leave at the same time, picking himself off of you as he moved his hair back into place with a sweep of his hand and stood up, pressing out the wrinkles in his shirt and dress pants. He would look at you with a forelong glance as he left, mumbling how he didn’t want to leave you. You would tell him that it would be okay as you softly kissed his cheek and let him close the door behind him. The act nauseated you, it made you feel as if you were a wife character stuck in an endless sitcom loop, bidding her doting husband goodbye each day as he left for work. But after a while you became numb to the action and a soft smile sometimes graced your lips at the way it would light up his otherwise dull eyes.
The first day he left you tired the door and found it to be locked from the outside, there were no other points of exit. You had tired the window and were delighted that it opened. But it was short lived when you saw how high up it was. Escape was futile. As the days passed you spent the majority of your time trapped in Peter’s room only leaving to eat during scheduled meals with him. You were no longer free to wander the manor, so you had no idea if anyone else had returned or if it was only just you and Peter.
You had no idea what Peter did all day, sometimes you could hear soft piano music coming from somewhere in the manor, those were your favorite days, you would lean against the wall and listen. The music was always soft and sad, it pulled at your heartstrings but despite it all you always longed for more. Heart sinking when it stopped and you were left with nothing but your thoughts.
Your least favorite days were when you heard the voices of men enter, you could never make out what they said but you could hear the malice in their tones. And there was always one who was different from the others, it was desperate and at times would scream once the doors were shut. It never lasted very long but each time it did you pressed your hands to your ears and waited for it to stop. You didn't know what happened to those men, after the main doors shut it stopped all of a sudden but you knew that it wasn’t anything good.
You also noticed that on the days the piano music played Peter would come back earlier, his actions as possessive as always. But there was a gentleness to him, he let you move at your own pace and never asked for more than what you gave him. But on the bad days he would come back with a hardness in his eyes, it would soften some when he saw you but no matter how much you coddled him it never fully disappeared. These days Peter was needier and more demanding with your affections.
But there was something else that was there, a sort of guilt. He wouldn't quite look you in the eye and when he spoke it was hushed. He would lay his head in your lap as you combed through his hair. Hand gripping your thighs in an uncomfortably tight manner. His hair was always wet, on the bad days he always showered before he came back to the room. But no matter how much scented body wash he used you could still smell something metallic on his skin.
Like tonight, you tried to ignore it as you brushed through his hair. “How was your day?” You asked.
“Fine.” Peter never said much on these days, just wanting to be with you after whatever it was that he had to do. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course.” You hummed, continuing your movements. As the days in captivity passed you found yourself being able to answer his questions with ease. He closed his eyes at your touch.
“I missed you so much.” He mumbled, turning his head slightly to look at you. “I wish I could stay here with you all day.” He took your hand and pressed a soft kiss into the palm. On these days Peter was more bold with his affections. “I wish it was just you and me. That all I did all day was stay in this bed with you.” Your eyes widened at his confession, snapping you out of your domestic trance.
“What if it was.” You whispered, tracing the bridge of his nose. His brow knitted together and he regarded you with an unreadable look. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to voice your ideas about leaving and him going with you. But the longer he looked at you the more you doubted the chances of him agreeing. “Nevermind, I wish you could spend all day with me too.” He smiled at that and went back to enjoying your gentle touches.
After that night you began to feel your desire to run waning, you had tired every means of escaping the room and found there to be none. And as you weighed your chances of escaping from Peter himself the hopelessness of it all seemed to crush your very will to try. You began to grow comfortable to the predictableness of each day.
That was until you awoke one night with a start, the feeling as if you were being watched becoming true as you regarded the dark figure in the doorway with wide eyes. A pair of familiar eyes and a cruel sneer filled with brilliant white teeth piercing through the darkness. “Did you miss me?”
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