Frank Grillo As Brock Rumlow (looking At Steve Rogers) AVENGERS: ENDGAME (2019)

I'm am deceased, THIS MEANS SO MUCH OMG, especially coming from YOU....I love love love dark!Bucky and I never thought I would write dark!Sam but here I am I guess lol. I ADORED writing this, it was so so much fun experimenting with the characters. Thank you again! ♡

FRIGHTENING NEW WORLD

WE DRANK LOYALTY IN VINES...

...BUT YOURS TURNED TO BLOOD IN MY MOUTH.

⇀ word count: 1.1 K

⇀ pairings: dark! Sam Wilson x reader | dark! Bucky Barnes x reader (implied) | Joaquin Torres x reader | ✶✶✶

⇀ warnings: dark dark dark content, 18+ MDNI | violence; power imbalance; phsychological horror; blood: restraints; threats; mentions of rape; mentions of domestic violence; mentions of forced infertility; dacryphilia; swear words, my work is dark and triggering. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

⇀ author's note: i've finished this in ONE sitting, wow. I loved CABNW and this occured in my mind as soon as I finished watching it. Reblogs, comments, and more REQUESTS are appreciated. BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST |

⇁ tags: my soul sister @highonmarvel xxx | If you want to be added to my taglist, let me know. I love you all so so much! Thank you for reading!

Oaxaca, Mexico

You had never believed that the sun might shine over you again, but here you were, strolling peacefully through the bustling market, a woven basket nestled in the crook of your arm, its handle tangled in your fingers. Your gaze lingered on the ripe, sun-kissed fruit— apricots, blushing peaches, nectarines, and ruby-red strawberries—while the air swelled with their honeyed fragrance, laced with the mellow sweetness of…plums.

Even after almost one year, the scent rose stripes of terror up your spine, and whenever you saw their blue–burgundy color, the broken ribs, the slaps, the punches, even his gaze flooded your mind altogether.

The anxiety attacks were fewer, shorter and less frightening every week, but your previous life still lingered in the back of your head. The wounds were long healed, but small scars were visible here and there—up your arms towards your shoulders, on your thighs, littlest ones on the crook of your neck and up your jaw and one people were…not able to see. After he took your freedom, broke your will, terrorized you even of your own shadow, he took your right and your ability of…ever having a family of your own. Your pained gaze often fell upon children around your house, in the village and it was like his reminder that said ‘I did this to you. You’ll never have one of your own.’, and it always made you turn your head away from them nauseously.

You never thought you'd be able to flee James Barnes, you thought it was impossible and it truly was. But some divine force must have helped you gain the bravery you never knew was inside you, and guided you all the way here, in this forgotten speck on the map.

The bells of the wide church —the only major social point in the town, situated right next to the market— rang loudly, in an oddly comforting way and you inhaled deeply as you adjusted the long skirts of your summer dress.

A loud explosion interrupted your beautiful life, and you fell on the road. Dust, mud and pulp of crushed, rotten fruit from the ground stained your new dress and you let out a broken sob when you also saw blood on your palms. Small cuts lingered on the raw skin, and you struggled to get up. The freshly bought fruit were long forgotten in the dirt as you looked disorientated around and your teary eyes caught a pair of coal black ones.

Your heart leapt out of your ribcage when you remembered the face. Sam Wilson, a shadow from your past, was James’ best friend. His eyes glinted when he recognized you. He was like a falcon—you never doubted his superhero name—and you were most afraid to hide away from him back then when you ran.

You never got the chance to see the smirk that planted on his face because of how swift you turned your head away, somehow pleading to the divine force to help you again and make him forget your features. But a man about your age already got his orders about you.

Joaquin Torres furrowed his brows in confusion when he heard Captain America's orders.

"So let me get this straight— you want me to gather all the bad guys and jus' throw them in the cars myself, man? Are-are you sure 'bout this?", the young man asked, looking around him.

"Do you think you can handle them?", came the voice from the other side of the phone to which Joaquin nodded vigorously to himself, then replied affirmatively and maybe too excitedly.

"Good, we'll meet at the agreed location in short time. I—", finished the older man, looking at the tiny, cozy cottage before his eyes, "—have some business to take care of."

You were stuffing clothing items in a bag with one hand and with the other you were looking through the bedside cabinet for your passport and cash. Tears ran down your face ever since you arrived home from the market and you simply couldn't stop them, despite the will to do so.

You zipped up the bag and you pulled on a pair of clean shorts and a large tee with leafy hands and then you climbed down the stairs. Regret, anger, fear, all these ate at you.

"It's good to see you again, honeybee!"

You almost stumbled across the last stair when the words hit you. Your lungs were rejecting the oxygen as more tears fell when your eyes caught the ones you knew so well.

His hands were carelessly caressing the chair before him, his gaze sticked on your trembling figure.

"You know, I really hoped to catch a glimpse of the pretty sight standing in front of me now earlier, it would've spared my pal of much suffering."

"Suffering?", you whispered, finding the voice under all the bitterness in your throat. "H-he suffered? He was the one t-that suffered?"

"Oh, and how he did. He refused to eat the week you left, he barely slept for months, he spent millions on men, private detectives, all types of shit just to find you. I also highly doubt he fucked since you decided to disappear into thin air."

Your face contorted into a disgusted grimace as you took a small step back.

"Honeybee—", Sam growled as he started approaching you, "—I'd reallyyy like to give you a nice, lil' chance to get the fuck outta this house and go back with me, but I'm afraid you lost that right looong ago."

You couldn't even resist when his rough, confident grip fell over your freshly healed wrists, and when you felt your back pressed into his broad, sculpted chest, a whimper escaped your lips.

Sam bent you on the counter and your face fell into the flowers you picked from your garden in the morning and you tried to block everything, simply not wanting to believe this was happening. You really believed you would be free and at peace, protected and joyful for the rest of your life. How pathetic and far away those hopes sounded. Scratchy plastic secured your hands together as Sam grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you up against him again. He knocked the door open with his foot and started pulling you out of your comforting shelter.

"Sam, I am begging you, don't t-take me back to him, pleaseeee.", you started crying as he forced you outside your home. "You can't d-do this t-to me, Sam, you can't! Y-you were my...my friend, too."

Sam slapped his palm across your mouth to muffle the screams, or maybe to stop the words that made him feel so guilty from coming. "I am James' friend, not yours. My loyalty is his, and everything you've done hurt him. Now it's jus' fair you suffer too, ain't it?". These words hurt more than anything he did until now. Sam knew what Bucky did, he had seen the bruises, he had heard the cries, yet he had done nothing against it. And maybe that unsettled you, but now? Now he was forcing you into the wolf's fangs, and it felt completely different.

Your lost eyes caught one of your neighbors, Ms. Solís , at the window. Another whimper escaped you pleadingly, directed to her, but she did not dare to do anything. Nobody ever did.

Your knees buckled under your own weight, and you collapsed in the dust despite Sam's grip. You heard him scowl and his hand came to the back of your shirt. He gripped it and pulled you up against his body again. You sobbed and you tried to elbow him but Sam was swifter. He caught your tied limbs and grasped. "Fuckin' walk, bitch. Bucky would want to teach you to behave first, but I don't mind starting myself right now, you hear me?". The threat made you cry harder and when Sam gripped your arms even harsher you nodded weakly. What Sam was doing to you felt like a short training considering what would wait for you back in New York.

A black SUV was parked there, behind some wide Madrone bushes. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might just burst right there. You hoped that, if you were to be honest.

"S-sam, just know th-that if you're taking me back....he'll k-kill me—", you tried calling Sam's mercy out one last time. He just turned his head away, letting your words fall into the abyss of desperation and nothingness.

A younger man peeked from behind the vehicle. His smile dropped when he saw your trembling form. His eyes darted from the blood on your chin to your restrained and bruised arms. Hair was cascading over your face and your lower lip trembled as you fought with yourself to stop the sobs and whimpers. Joaquin thought you were so beautiful. So, why were you here in this state?

"Whoa, man, what's happening? What did she do?" Joaquin started, coming closer to you with raised hands, showing you you don't have to be afraid of him. You still flinched when his caring hands came in contact with your pained limbs.

"Leave her as she is, Joaquin...", said Sam and you looked desperately at the man your age. He furrowed his brows and looked at his superior. "B-but—"

"You wanna be the next Falcon, don't you?" Sam asked, patting the younger man on the shoulder.

"Yes, of course I do!"

"Then—", Sam started again, looking into the boys' eyes, "—you gotta learn to close your eyes at certain things. These are the stories media don't care about, you hear me? The majority of people get saved, everybody's happy, but you should know there are...collateral victims. And she's one of 'em. Now, buddy, if you really wanna be an Avenger...put her in the car."

Joaquin took a big step back, accidentally bumping into you. He quickly caught you, preventing your body from falling again, and then looked back at Sam, which raised his brows and his hands, as if he was giving Joaquin an offer he couldn't refuse. And Joaquin didn't refuse it.

He opened the car door and he tried to carefully place you in the backseat. " 'm sorry, so sorry...", he mumbled as he gave you the pill Sam told him to. "This'll help ya sleep, okay?"

"P-please, please help me—', you cried, looking into his regretful eyes as he forced the drug past your lips.

"Shh, shhh...you'll be jus' fine, 'kay? Be good now, please—".

You knew you will be anything but fine. Sam and Joaquin both entered the car and as Joaquin was starting it, Sam dialed a number and put the phone on speaker.

"Buck, I think I've found somethin' that's yours, buddy. And you'll be really thrilled to see it...", Sam laughed, smirking at you in the reviewing mirror.

The quietness that followed the sentence was short, but dense.

"Hello, doll...", came the voice from the other side of the phone, and its maliciousness and calmness made your whole body shiver. He knew you were there. He was sure of it somehow. You felt his presence right there, in Sam's deeds, in the dark sky, in your rapid, choked sobs, in your heavy lids.

That fucking nickname wrote right then, right there the end of your world and marked the beginning of the Frightening New World.

Troy (2004) -> shades of blue.

still available! ♡♡

⋆⁎✽๛ 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 --- for requests

෴ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑: This content is dark and very triggering. Minors and easily triggered people, do not interact. Your mental health matters. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

෴ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: MY CONTENT IS DARK AND DARK ONLY. My requests are now OPENED. You can request as many fictions as you want, but you have to check out my CHARACTERS LIST and my WARNINGS first. IF YOU ARE ANON, USE AN EMOJI, SO WE CAN TALK MORE <3. Request via my INBOX. Please, also write a short summary of your ideas, do not just send in the number of the promp and the character. Thank you.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 I will use for these: Choking; chasing kink; Dacryphilia (tear kink); fear kink; dv + heavy violence; restraints; manhanding and others. Please choose a few in your request.

"You flinch like that again in public, and I’ll give you a real reason to." (1)

"I don’t remember asking what you wanted, sweetheart." (2)

"You can cry if you want. Won’t change a damn thing." (3)

"That’s the problem with you. You never fucking listen." (4)

"Go ahead. Tell me no again." (5)

"You move, and I promise it’ll be worse." (6)

"I told you to sit down. Don’t make me say it twice." (7)

"You think I give a fuck if you’re scared?" (8)

"I liked you better when you knew your place." (9)

"You’re only still breathing because I let you." (10)

"See how quiet you can be after I slap you around?" (11)

"You can beg if you want. Doesn’t mean I’ll stop." (12)

"Do I look like a man who’s gonna change his mind?" (13)

"At least make yourself useful, baby." (14)

"You act like I haven’t done this before." (15)

"If you were strong enough to stop me, angel, you would have by now." (16)

"C'mon, baby, don't cry...we haven't even started." (17)

"I'll destroy your pretty face of yours if you do that again." (18)

"Come here. Now." (19)

"I'd suggest you returned because if I catch you...you won't like what I'll do to you." (20)

struggling with writing Acacius rn, that man is making me wanna rip my skin off

⁎✵⋆࿔ VENUS'S NAVIGATION

✵ 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐒 / she/her | NINETEEN | DARK FICS FANATIC / "your love carved me open, and I bled burgundy." ๛༊ ASKBOX

CARNATIONS YOU HAD THOUGHT WERE ROSES...

REQUESTS: CLOSED | 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐉𝐈𝐒

IMPORTANT LINKS: BLOG AND WRITING RULES \ ⁎✵࿔࿐ CHARACTERS LIST \ MY READERS

...THAT'S US

©THEHYDRAETHEREAL 2025. My work might contain triggering elements. You are responsible for your media consumption. Do not translate or repost my work without my consent.

༊ ⁎۵࿔࿐ MASTERPOST AND BLOG INSPIRED BY @highonmarvel

you r just as genuine and precious!! hope u have a beautiful day, my love <3

MY LUV AHH MY DAY IS BRIGHTENED !!!

I FEEL VERY VERY LOW AND I'M SICK AND YOUR MESSAGE CAME XUXJZI TYSM

What the hell? Thunderbolts* In Theaters | dir. Jake Schreier

hii! i have a request please: dark steve rogers x reader where he is obsessed with her but she is bucky's gf (reader is clueless) steve kills bucky and forces reader to be in a rs with him. their friends notice how quick she got with bucky's bsf right after his death so they hate her for it but she can't say anything bc she's scared

I'VE DONE IT FOR LOVE

bucky's girlfriend.ᐟreader & dark.ᐟsteve rogers

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1.9k words

MY CONTENT WARNINGS && MASTERLIST && NAVIGATION

MY INBOX OPENED FOR MORE REQUESTS

“I’m sorry for your loss, miss.”

You loathe this phrase with a burning passion. Everybody said it with void eyes that lacked any compassion or empathy. The most people gave away from their hearts was pity. 

Despite all these, you nodded politely and thankfully at the mayor, and watched him head towards Natasha, Pepper and Tony. 

You felt your eyes burn with tears again as your gaze turned to the cause of your agony: your fiancè’s —the love of your life—, your Bucky’s…coffin. 

The concept made your insides churn with terrified anguish, the acceptance simply not settling in your mind. 

The coffin was carved from plum tree wood, its surface a deep, bruised violet with streaks of dusky red—like veins beneath dying skin. The grain curled and twisted unnaturally, as if the tree had once grown in a place it shouldn't have, somewhere tainted. Bucky loved plums. Every thought about him drained a tiny bit of life out of your soul.

You remembered the day you were announced that the person you loved the most in this world was now no longer alive. 

If someone had told you before this would happen, you wouldn’t have believed them. You wouldn’t have believed that you would survive these lacerating, tormenting days. But apparently you did. 

However, the idea of everything just coming to an end for you, as well, did not sound bad. You wanted to die. And you gladly accepted the desire of your heart.

“Sweetheart”. The voice behind you slithered through your nerves and coiled in your belly like a serpent. His voice.

The man that you and Bucky trusted with your whole beings was the one that inflicted this absolute hell over your life. You loved Steve Rogers dearly. But apparently he “loved” you as well, and that acclaimed love burned like venom. 

You did not turn around. Your body felt planted deep in the soil, with iron roots that kept you still. His forearm snaked around your abdomen and the muscle felt unyielding, a flesh-forged shackle pressing into your bruised flesh, earning a small whimper from you. You screwed your eyes shut to stop the tears of dread from spilling.  

His lips attached themselves to the back of your jaw and traced all the way up your mastoid process, his hot breath and moist lips sending shivers down your spine.

“P-please…”, you whimpered at him, desperate fingers clawing at his arm, “...n-not here. Please.”

He growled against your skin and your despondent eyes darted towards Natasha and Sam. 

Oh… They could not help you. They didn’t know the actual truth.

Steve started moving and dragged your body along with his, just by Bucky’s casket. A sob erupted your throat as you were forced to stay there in front of it. 

His thumb caressed your cheek lazily, as your petrified eyes looked at the horrid thing that lay in front of you. 

Steve sighed, and you caught his broad chest tightening with the corner of your teary eye.

“I loved him, but good Lord…I couldn’t stand him having what I wanted, what I was supposed to have”. The lack of mercy in his tone scared you and his words were enough to have tears flowing down your chill-bitten cheeks again. His hand came up and wrapped itself around your jaw, pulling your face closer to his. He did exactly what you prayed he wouldn’t do. 

His lips pressed against yours, lacked any warmth or affection, and his teeth bit down on your lower lip in front of all your friends, family and people gathered at the funeral.

 The hot droplets fell from your eyes and wetted his face, as his tongue went past your swollen lips. He pushed his body against yours even harsher and your hand shot up to bare yourself on something. And that ‘something’ was your Bucky’s casket. You whined in Steve’s mouth when your fingertips came in contact with the frozy wooden surface, but his lips curled upon yours in a merciless smirk. He was enjoying the disrespectful act so much. Bile raised in your throat and blood was pumping so fast through your veins that, for a moment, you believed your temples would explode. 

“Let’s go home now.”, Steve decided when he finally released your mouth and your pleading eyes shot up into his immediately.

“N-no, please Steve, no…T-the funeral hasn’t even officially started”. Desperation clawed at your throat as you wrapped your wrists around his bicep and sobbed heartbreakingly. 

“Sweetheart, I was kind enough to even allow you to come here, was I not? Now…don’t make a scene, you really wouldn’t like what happens afterwards". The threat behind his words made you flinch, but you still didn’t let go of him. Your chest pressed to his in an attempt to beg him to let you witness Bucky’s last moments on earth. He didn’t do that. He never listened to your pleas, just as probably…he didn’t listen to his best friend’s when he pleaded for his life. 

Steve’s fingers caught your wrist and started to slowly walk you towards the car. 

“No. Steve, s-stop. What will they say? Steve, we haven’t even said goodbye, pl-please.”, you choked out as you were walking past the people you knew so well. Sam’s eyes caught yours, and the amount of hatred you saw in them made your gaze fall down in shame. 

“Behave.”, the Captain whispered in your ear and you swiftly shut your lips and followed him obediently. You knew what Steve was capable of and you surely didn’t want him to hurt others on your behalf. 

‘What a bitch, coming here and puttin’ up all that acting and fake tears, pretending she misses him and now she is leaving with his best friend and not even staying for the ceremony. How disgusting can some people be?’, you heard a couple of elderly women hiss as you approached the small groups of people. You wanted to yell and howl at everybody how your heart was shattered into millions of pieces and how you longed to just mourn your Bucky. You wondered, couldn’t they see your frightened features? Your dried tears? The small cuts on your cheekbones? 

No, all they could see was that another man was holding your hand, and it felt as if the word ‘WHORE’ was burnt in your skin with reddened iron. It was always the woman, never the man. It was never: "His best friend took his girlfriend”, but always: “His girlfriend moved on. With his best friend.”

With one last glance, you left your lover behind forever.

Steve and you arrived “home”, at the mansion that once produced you and Bucky only happiness. After years of savings, Bucky managed to buy it and that was like a symbol between the two of you and the beginning of a joyful life together.

Now, after Steve had taken it —he called it a “perfect gift” for the beginning of a relationship— it felt like the walls would constrict around you any day. 

The pictures of you and Bucky with your overjoyed faces were now only memories of the empty, saddened walls. You had them down, packed them up and wanted to take them with you to the small cabin your sister had in the mountains and heal there from the loss of your life. But fate had other things in store for you. 

Steve hauled you in the dorm that used to be yours and Bucky’s and you audibly gasped. You haven't been here since Bucky’s…death. Since your spitalization after you tried to finish off the pain in your heart.

“Wh-what are we doing here?”, you cried, now jerking away from him, breath sharp with fear. 

Steve’s nostrils flared as his fingers gripped around his hip bones. His tongue poked at the inside of his cheek and your shaky hand gripped the door knob tightly. 

In an instant, his eyes were on yours again and he pressed to you after a big step. You shrieked into yourself and your breath hitched. 

“I was good to you, patient, wasn’t I? Huh?”, he growled and you sniffled, nodding your head as tears sprung to your eyes again. “Answer me.”, Steve growled again and a ‘yes’ caught in your throat like a piece of glass. 

Steve’s right hand fisted itself in your hair and you groaned. You had the impression that, from Steve’s hands, Bucky’s blood was still dripping, and your breath was cut from your lungs.

“Le-let go, Steve! Pleaseee—”, you cried at him as he forced you towards the bed.

“No…”, you whispered, already knowing what he was willing to do. “NO! Steve, please…please, Steve, anywhere but here, not in h-his bed, please—”, you struggled to pry off his hands, hyperventilating. 

His ruthless fingers came forward and squeezed at your cheeks to stop your incoherent babbling.  

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stand this to happen on the bed you and Bucky were to share. You planted your feet on the polished, expensive floor, and tried to elbow at Steve's chest, ribs and stomach. 

Unexpectedly, he threw you in front of the bed with force, and you landed with a wail.

“You don’t tell me where I fuck you, when and how, understand? You are my wife now. Mine.”. His unfeeling words made you cry harder and your head was spinning so hard you could barely form out the objects in front of you. An unbearable ring was playing in your ears, blocking everything else but Steve’s words. 

“Wife? Y-you k-killed hi-him…”, you stuttered between sobs, fingernails gripping the plush carpet. “I fucking hate you! I ha-hate you, I f-fucking hate you, you psychopath—”, you screamed at him, the anguish tearing at your vocal chords.

Steve crouched next to your shaking body, and grabbed the nape of your neck, pushing your face down. You tried to hit at him, and when you did, he clobbered you and nextly you saw black dots dancing in your vision. 

“I can be very good to you, as I was all this time, but everythin’ can get really bad for you. So, close that pretty mouth and watch your tone and language because truuust me…”, he threatened in a sing-song voice, “...I can shut it for you and you won’t like that. There is nothing you can do about it. You are with me now, whether you like it or not.”

You flinched hard as his knuckles brushed the tear-soaked hair away from your bruised face. The sight of your glossy, widened eyes and your sigh-heavened chest rising in sorrow seemed to Steve the prettiest thing in the world. 

“I love you, and that’s why I'm asking you to be smart. I don’t want to pick a casket for my future wife too”. His words made you tremble even more, despite your struggle to stop. “I lost the man that was like a brother to me because of you. Now…don’t make me do to you somethin’ I’ll regret later, sweetheart.”

Was...was he blaming you for Bucky's death? Bucky's murder?

You simply nodded, what else were you supposed to do? You felt like your skull was on fire, as Captain's thumb played with your lower lip. His words were getting straight to your head.

He chuckled, as if shaking the previous threats off would make you forget about his dreadful being, and he started to tear off your sweatshirt. You didn’t fight him. There was no use in it. Then, he picked you up and sat you on the bed.

The mattress felt like nails pressed to your naked skin.

“Now—”, Steve groaned, pulling at your panties, making a sob choke you again, “—be a good girl for me…doll.” Steve never called you 'doll'. But he used to know someone who always called you that.

End.

✵⁎ TAGS: @highonmarvel ♡

throwback to this 😭 THANK YOU AGAIN ML

Can i request a rafe cameron oneshot please? With daddy kink, something like Rafe manipulating reader into believing he's the only one who would love her since not even her dad loved her, it can start with them figthing and making her cry just to console her with the same hands that hurted her <3

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ; ᴀʙᴜsɪᴠᴇ ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ; ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ; ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ! ᴋɪɴᴋ; ғᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ɪssᴜᴇs; ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ. ᴅɴɪ ɪғ ᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ!!!

ᴀ/ɴ: ᴀʜʜʜʜ, ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ ɪssᴜᴇs sᴏ ᴛʜɪs ʜɪᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅᴅᴅᴅ! ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʜʜʜʜ! (ᴛᴀɢ: @rvfecamerons ɪʟʏʏʏ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ᴜ ғᴏʀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ sᴏ ᴋɪɴᴅᴅᴅᴅ)

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

You stand in the dimly lit living room, your heart pounding as you watch Rafe pace back and forth. His eyes, once a soft blue that you loved, now seem dark and unreadable. He's furious. You don't know why, but you assume it's his father. You’ve been building up the courage to say this for weeks, and the words finally tumble out, even though you know you shouldn't say this now.

“I’m leaving, Rafe. I can’t do this anymore.” you whisper, your voice shaking.

The air grows still. Rafe stops pacing and turns to face you. His jaw tightens, and you can see the fury building behind his gaze. You take a step back, regretting your choice of words, but it’s too late to take them back now.

You pity yourself. You know you're not brave or smart enough, actually. That's how you felt your entire life. That's why you thought leaving Rafe. He is everything you aren't: smart, rich, admired. You're just the dumb, overly emotional girl who has never been loved. And also...his agressive acts are getting worse, reminding you of your father. And you hate that with burning passion.

“The fuck did you just say?” His voice is low, dangerously calm, sending chills down your spine. You let out a shaky sob, closing your eyes to stop the tears threatening to fall.

"I asked you a fuckin' question!" he yells, the sudden change of tone making you flinch. When you don't answer, he laughs, half annoyed, half patronising.

"Oh, wow..." he says, raising his hands mockingly, "not so brave anymore, huh?"

"w-well..I-" you start, trying to make your voice sound steady.

In an instant, he’s in front of you, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. The suddenness of his movement and the intensity in his eyes make you gasp. His fingers dig into your skin, and you wince, the pain mixing with the terror that’s quickly rising inside you.

“Are you talkin' back, tryin' to get fuckin' smart with me?,” he shouts in your face. You screw your eyes shut, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your insticts make you pull away, but his grip tightens. "Hey!" he yells, pulling you into his chest, his hands gripping yours unforgivingly. "Open your fuckin' eyes and look at me!" he demands.

When you don't obey his command, one of his hands leaves your wrist and connects with your jaw. He holds your head up, forcing eye contact, and your teary eyes meet his dark ones, sending new waves of pure terror through your body. The grip on your jaw is painful, but not as the flashbacks that flood your mind.

You remember the way your father used to do the same thing when you talked back or refused to do something he asked you to.

Panic makes you choke on air, and you let out a frightened 'I cannot breathe, R-Rafe...'

The room seems to close in around you, and all you can focus on is the pain in your wrists and the darkness in Rafe’s eyes.

He doesn’t seem to hear you, or if he does, he doesn’t care. “You think you can just leave? Okay, do it, baby! Where you goin'? To your daddy's? That used to beat your ass?.” His voice is harsh, making you whimper. His words hurt more than anything.

He finally loosens his grip slightly, just enough for you to gasp for air. But he doesn’t let go. “You’re not leaving,” he repeats, his voice softer but no less menacing. “Do you understand?”

You nod frantically, desperate to placate him, to make this nightmare end.

For a moment, he studies your face, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he releases your wrists. You stumble back, cradling them to your chest, your tears falling freely now. Your heart races, and you feel a cold dread settle in your stomach. He approaches you again, pulling you into an intoxicating hug. You sob in his chest, tears soaking his shirt. He gently soothes you, caressing your back. It feels so wrong, but yet there you are, letting the man that hurt you also comfort you.

"Daddy's here, baby..." he says, the nickname he gave himself lowkey making you sick. "I love you, only me", he says, smiling as he grips your chin and makes you look at him. "I'm your everything, baby. Never forget that. I really love you, baby..." he whispers, resting his chin on the top of your head.

You nod again, unable to find your voice, the fear still gripping you tightly. You know in that moment that things have changed, that you’re trapped in a way you hadn’t fully realized before. And the worst part is, you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to escape.

"It's okay, baby...Daddy's here." he finished, making your skin crawl.

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