#peter sutherland

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 )  peter sutherland x fem!reader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ IN WHICH there’s an obvious comparison between peter’s first call from you and a call he receives when you are together. when it comes to your safety, peter doesn't play.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt/comfort, panic attacks, kidnapping, reader is rose's sister

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 ━━━━━━━━

Peter sat at his desk, the pen tapping rhythmically against the worn wood. A mountain of paperwork loomed over him ━━ shit, he was behind on that, he never got much sleep, figuring it could wait as he stared blankly at the moving pen. 

The sharp sound of ringing made his heart skip a beat. There was no covering the fact peter strived and wished he had a little more than just a desk job ━━ answering calls, more specifically ━━ he lived for the thrill. It was evident from his heart thundering in his chest. answering the night agent's phone was a step up from being a 911 operator, at least. 

Until━━ 

“Go ahead.” He said smoothly, his pen turning in the same hand as he rested his elbow on the desk. 

“Um━━uh, night action! night action━━” 

The frantic voice on the other end made Peter stiff. The pen stopped twirling between his fingers. 

“Yes, hello. Code, please.” He replied, like countless times before. Peter grabbed his binder out from under the desk on the shelf and opened it in front of him, flipping through the pages with his one free hand. 

“Please, you have to help up━━oh my god, my sister━━me━━they’re coming after us!” If even possible, the voice was more frantic, gasps heaving in and out from what Peter recognized as a panic attack or something along the lines. 

This didn’t seem like his usual business toned atmosphere once he answered. It sounded like they had got the wrong number, he never dealt with situations like this, especially from people who didn’t seem like they knew what to do with the number and him across the line.

“Ma'am, if you don’t have a code━━it seems like you have the wrong number━━” 

“No! I have ur flippi━━I have the code gimme a second.” The girl spat. Peter bites his cheek as he hears whispering on the phone━━likely the woman’s sister.  “Okay! It’s table, clock, water, fire. You got it, did you━━” 

“Yes, I got it.” Peter interrupted, eyes flying through pages in a matter of seconds. Settling on the 80th page, he looks at the code that was given to him. “Is this Benwire or Ramese?” 

“What? What even is that?” A pause followed, filled with nervous energy. “They just told us to tell you the code; I don’t know who these people are?” 

More whispering ━━ frantically. Peter’s chest tightened as he heard sobbing in the background. This sounded like something 911 would have to deal with. 

“What street did your friend Morsese live on?” 

The question just seemed to make the hyperventilating worse. 

“Maam, are you okay? I can dispatch you to 911 if you’re in any dang ━━ ” 

“No, they told us to call you ━━ this number, they made sure of it! God knows they’re probably fucking dead.”

“Whose they?” Peter sat up straighter, urgency sharpening his instincts as he abandoned the paperwork 

“Our aunt and uncle, Emma and Henry. Campbell. Emma and Henry Campbell.” 

Peter bit his cheek more, holding the phone in a wave of silence. It was clear this girl was probably on the brink of passing out; she wasn’t breathing right. But she wasn’t the only one clueless, Peter had no idea who she was talking about either. 

Peter always had his protective instinct towards others in danger ━━ it came in hand with him working in the FBI. If this girl's aunt and uncle told her to call the line it could have some relevance in later reports━━but he wasn’t going to hang up on her yet. 

“Hello━━?” 

“I’m here. Run me through what’s happening, who’s after you?” Peter asked, his tone less harsh, preparing to do what he thinks he’s always done best ━━ just like on the metro ━━ save people. 

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 ━━━━━━━━━

There was something Peter should be used to ━━ but now, with you in his life ━━ he never could be. It was the constant stress he was under, with you being associated with him and not knowing the minute something could blow up and ruin everything. 

Ruin your life. 

It’s why Peter has such a hard time leaving you in your guy’s apartment every day so he can go to work. In that shitty basement when he would much rather be spending every growing second by your side, ready to jump at anything that could put you in harm's way. 

Everything in the white house was total shit ━━ no one could trust anyone. But it’s been a few months since the attack at Camp David. Peter was offered a job as a night agent to serve in the field ━━ but decided to keep it safe, taking smaller jobs in the white house assigned by the president after what seemed like an ongoing thank you ever since he helped save her from the bombs. 

But he had no complaints ━━ and neither did you. He’s looked happier than he ever has, coming home and wrapping his big arms around you was his favourite part of the day, inhaling the soft vanilla scents of your (y/h/c) hair, bringing him to the present and the reality of it all, how the world brought him to you ━━ even in the worst circumstances.

Peter had no idea that these circumstances would repeat themselves.

After kissing you goodnight, he headed out, waiting the usual time he did outside the office door as the clock hit midnight. 

Peter nodded to his coworker in a firm greeting before entering and closing the door. He wasn’t sure how much time passed once he sat in that seat ━━ but the calls were quiet as they had been for the past few days. He didn’t work as much time on the phone as how Diane assigned him ━━ he got to get out a bit and work on other things, too. 

Then, after not hearing the old ━━ but familiar ring for a while, Peter’s head snaps towards it as it shakes once. He grabbed it quickly, unable to stop himself from imagining he could be on the other end. 

“Hello━━” 

“Peter Sutherland.” 

Peter’s brows snap together in alert and confusion, blinking a few times before shifting and resting his elbow on the table. 

“Code, please.” He’s said it many times before. 

“This is going to go very differently.” But he’s never heard that.

There’s a muffled scream. 

Or that. Was it━━ 

Fuck, he was not doing this, not today. Immediately, he jumped up, his chair flying back and almost hitting the back grey wall. 

“Who the fuck are you ━━ if you do anything to her ━━” 

“Yes, yes, I've heard that line many times before, during your whole night agent spiel a few months ago…you guys are really cute, the perfect partners in crime.” He laughed, it sounded awful, painful even. Peter’s head was racing, which seemed to match his heart. “Even recognized your scream right away, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

That was it. Peter pushed the chair out of his way as he paced around the room, fists balling together. He could hear your cries in the background, and his mind brought him back ━━ when you had been so scared, being prone to panic attacks under stress. 

And he couldn’t do a single fucking thing right now because he wasn’t already there. 

“Just tell me what you know about what happened with your dad, and then━━” 

“Fuck you.” Peter spat, hands angrily raking through his hair ━━ he hated how the caller knew how to get under his skin but he wasn’t going to let his guard down when it came to you, he needed to think ━━ he had to. 

“Ooh! we’ve got a bite. That’s not what the lovely lady wants to hear as her last words, I'm sure.” 

There's more shuffling. 

“Peter━━Peter,” your voice cracks, twisting into a desperate whisper, raw and fractured. “Please come back.” 

Peter’s heart stops hearing your voice in such a state, eyes widening with stress and concern. He can’t even picture you right now or he might have to sit down. He knew he could stall the caller to buy them some time so they could get to you without alerting him. 

“Hey ━━ hey, baby, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, and I'm going to be there, you gotta hold on for me, I know you can.” Peter abandons his usual name for you after that sick man used it as a taunt towards you, he couldn’t cloud your vision and get his voice mixed up with the callers in your already jumbled brain. He knew how terrified you were because he’s seen it through the countless sleepless nights and panic attacks. But it was all coming true, and Peter wanted to curse himself for letting this even happen, your worst nightmares that he promised so deeply to protect you from. 

A sniffle escapes from your end, the silence hanging heavy, a chilling agreement that doubles as a ticking clock. Peter thinks before hearing an even quieter whisper, barely heard.

“He’s got a gun━━took down both guards, but I think he’s planning on jumping out the big window, his buddy is coming in his truck.” 

Your voice is extremely shaky, but Your words shake him to his core. Peter steadies himself, whispering, “Okay.” Stopping his frantic pacing, he speaks as clearly as his racing heart allows. “(y/n), we’re coming for you. The FBI will surround the house, but I need to hang up and alert everyone. Just nod like you’re still on the phone with me until he takes it, alright, baby?”  

Your voice quivered in return with a sniff, yes. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and slammed the phone down without a second thought, running to the conference room to get someone to immediately track the call in case he kept the phone on him if they got to the truck ━━ shit ━━ before they could. If anything, they could trace the calls or texts he’s made to his buddy.

He was running like a madman ━━ alerting the night agent team members. It was all a blur once he grabbed his gun and vest and drove out of there, police sirens going off everywhere and other agents' SUVS speeding close behind him. 

Peter jumps out of the car, barely having time to slam his car door closed as he’s already looking at the fifth-floor windows ━━ wondering what the fuck you meant by jumping out the fucking window into his buddy's truck? Because if you had anything to do with being entangled in that escape, this man would never see the end of it. He would hunt him down ━━ but he wouldn’t kill him. He’d make him live with horrible bruises and broken bones, and once he goes to the hospital, he’s taken to jail for not only assault but for interfering with private information and everything that happened with his father. 

This man would never see the fucking light because of how many times Peter would knock him flat out. 

Raising his gun, he carefully follows behind many other agents dressed in all black, whipping his gun in all open doors as he runs down the hallway and up the flights upstairs ━━ orders being yelled in the background.   

His legs were outrunning his brain, screaming at him to stop running because of how exhausted he was ━━ but finally, he reached the door. “FBI, OPEN THIS DOOR━━” 

“Peter!” Your panicked scream breaks through the noise, the sound driving him to force the door open, gun at the ready, prepared to confront whatever horror lay inside.

But then he sees you. 

In an instant, his gun drops to his side as he looks down at you, arms tied around the banister in the middle of the kitchen and living room. You know you must have looked like total shit as he abandons any proper FBI protocol and falls beside you, concerned eyes locking with yours as if they’re holding onto you for the only source of comfort while his hands untie yours quickly. 

Your glossy eyes, stinging with tears and probably drugs from how drowsy you were feeling for the past hour, started pooling with tears. It definitely wasn’t because of the drugs. 

You choked out a sob, one that's been buried in your chest for what feels like forever, as you startled into a coughing fit once Peter immediately wrapped his arms around you, staying kneeled on the ground because you had no energy to even attempt to stand, you were too shaky and would probably collapse the moment you put any weight on your legs. 

“You’re here; you made it back.” You whisper into his shoulder, already soaked with tears, breath hitching as your body trembles against his.

You could feel Peter’s relieved smile. “I know, I’m here. I’m so sorry this happened sweeth━━” 

He paused as if something shocked him. 

“Peter, it’s okay━━” 

“No ━━ no, it’s not.” He was still knelt, now facing you once you pulled away, hand rubbing his temples. “You’ve been traumatized enough, and me not taking the night agent job ━━ I could’ve been here, protecting you. But I left you, now he’s messed with your head, I can tell.” 

You shut your eyes tight, a quiet sigh escaping you, and that sigh only serves to unleash a fresh wave of tears, cascading down your cheeks. Despite Peter’s stressed state, he softly wiped them away. 

“You’re perfect. Your head, how you think ━━ everything about you, (y/n), and when somebody messes with that, it messes me up because I cannot physically allow myself to let that happen to you.” He takes your hands in his gently, turning them first and looking around your body for any signs of harm. You hated how he beat himself up for not being able to protect you. But he did help, he found you, and his idea about staying on the phone bought the other agents some time to track him down. 

You wince to yourself upon noticing he’s looking at the ━━ what are probably now ━━ agonizing bruises on your jaw and throat. You’ve taken punches before. It wasn’t anything new, they hurt like a bitch, though. 

Peter’s thumb glides against the tender, purple skin as his other fingers come to the back of your head in your hair, just behind your ear, and you lean into his comforting touch. “I’m sorry.” He wretched, keeping his hand in your hair and bringing your head to his chest. 

The two of you sit just like that, grounding yourselves through each other's mangled breaths. 

The right people can cloud right judgement is what Peter’s father always said. It makes your job harder when you have someone to lose. Peter made a promise to himself that night as you both lay under the covers, his thumb running circles over your knuckles. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t work behind that shitty desk again. 

Then, he would visit that sick man behind bars.

 masterlist peter sutherland masterlist

Rose. NO. ROSE YES 👹